side of the square where the Monday special was barbecued chicken and baked beans so spicy they served ice tea by the half-gallon. Harry Rex was re

Ellie, behaving himself, but he knew better. How many times could he crash before he died?

ng the river, seventy miles away, and with each trip back to Mississippi he heard more talk and gossip about the st

cross the highway. Everything was new in what had recently been cotton fields. New roads, new mo

night. He paid $39.99 for a double on the ground level, around back where there were no other cars or trucks

was convinced it was dirty. And it was probably marked in some way.

ousand-dollar stacks, and Ray counted those first - one hundred thousand dollars in one-hundred-dollar bills was about fifteen inches high. He counted the money from one bed, then arranged it on the other in neat rows

xact. Retrieved like buried treasure from the crumbling home o

ife would he gaze upon three million bucks? How many others ever got the chance? Ray s

it came from and w

would be an excellent place to get robbed. When you travel aro

k into the trunk of his car, a

convinced they could beat the house. They did not. Ray had rarely played cards. He found a home at the five-dollar blackjack table, and after two miserable days in a noisy du

tball field. A ten-floor tower attached to it housed the guests, mostly retirees from up North who had never

e'd counted in the motel room. He walked to an empty blackjack table where the d

where no one was there to hear it. She picked up the b

took the bill from Judge Atlee's buried treasure and put down two black chips. Ray played them both, two hundred dollars a bet, nerves of steel. She

they sat on their stools, pulling the arm down again and again, staring sadly at the screens. At the craps table, the dice were hot and a rowdy bunch of redne

ul of it. The pit boss produced a magnifying device that he stuck in his left eye and examined the bill like a surgeon. Just as Ray was about to break and bolt through the crowd, he heard one of them say, "It's good." He wasn't sure which one said it because he was l

e the matter once and for all. He pulled the other three hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and la

play

e dealer said loudly, and the pi

hand. The cash disappeared and was replaced with six black chips. Ray now had ten, a thousand dollars, and he also had the knowledge that th

ke in all the action on the floor. Or you could watch pro baseball or NASCAR reruns or bowl

the second dealer and his supervisor would probably be enough to get the bills examined by the boys upstairs. They had Ray on video, he was certain,

arms, they could easily

ls? "Mind taking a look at these, Mrs. Dempsey, see if they're real or not?" No teller in Clanton had ever seen counterfei

nd an expert to examine a sample of the money, all nice and confidential. But he couldn't wai

s who would walk up and say, "Gotta minute?" They couldn't work that fast, and Ray kne

He was the executor of the estate, soon to be charged with the responsibility of protecting its assets. He had months to report it to both the probate court and t

sor, who ambled over with his knuckles to his mouth and one finger tapping an ear, smugly, as if five hundred dollars on one hand of bla

o drink?" asked the pit bos

, and a cocktail waitre

hands, alternating his bets from a hundred to five hundred dollars as if he knew precisely what he was doing. The pit boss lingered behind the dealer

y only

nd reckless wager of a thousand dollars. He had another three million in the trunk. This was chicken feed. When

dinner, sir?" th

Ray

t anything

would

or a s

e said. He'd had no plans to stay there, but after two beers he thought it best not to drive.

id the pit boss. "I'l

five minutes, pushing beverages, trying to loosen him up, but Ray nurs

; otherwise he would've played it all at one time and gone down in a blaze of glory. He placed ten black chips in the circle and with an audience hit blackjack. Anoth

as within view he felt compelled to watch it. As tired as he was, he could not fall

gambling be the source of his fortune, a luc

f the money. To his knowledge, the Judge had never played the stock market, and if he had, if he'd been another Warren

t three million dollars to steal on the court dockets in rural Mi

Sure it was blind luck, but wasn't all gaming? Perhaps the old man had a knack for cards or dice.

've pull

ion dollars ov

paperwork for substantial w

not give it away like

p and left his complimentary room.