Poker News

Poker Cop

Giuseppe “Gyp” Maggiolo opens the hotel room door and yells, “Jack!” Howahya? Hey, fellas, meet Jack Thayer.” The “fellas,” four middle-aged men, are seated around a card table. They look me up and down, unim-pressed. Good. A young blond wearing not much hands me a Stoli straight-up. Gyp says, “Then let’s get da game stahted.”

I pay Gyp, a small time hood, a third of my winnings for gathering this Saturday night Goldfish Game. The game is no limit hold’em poker. The buy-in is $50,000 cash. The blinds are $5,000/$10,000. In three hours I’m up $100,000. One of the losers whines, “You play like a professional.”

“Me?’ I shake my head “No. I’m just lucky. Ask Gyp.”

“Whatsamattawityou,” says Gyp. “Jack’s no cardslinger. Jus’ dumb luck, dats awl. Fahgedaboudit.”

On the next hand I show just how dumb. I’m in next to last position with QsQh. There’s a rainbow flop, 2d/7c/10s. “All in the family,” says Gyp, who, as usual, has been too cheap to hire a dealer. Fourth Street brings a rag 3c. Three of the stooges in front of me, Moe, Larry and Curly, check. I check. The last stooge, Shemp limps in for $10,000. Moe, Larry and Curly fold. I raise, $50,000. Shemp calls. Fifth Street brings a rag 6h I check. Shemp sweats, frets, and bets $10,000. I count 1…, 2…, and never making it to 3, raise all-in. Shemp comes all-in over the top. I (stupidly) call. Shemp turns up Pocket Rockets.

“Ya see,”says Gyp. “No pro poka playha would evah loose a hand like dat.” I go off to the bathroom to drown myself in the sink.

A knock on the door. “Room Service.”

Gyp yells, “Go away.”

“I’m sorry, sir. The Manager’s sent up Caviar and Champagne Compliments of the House.”

Gyp frowns. There’s $250,000 on the table and Gyp as usual has been too cheap to hire a gorilla. “Leave it,” he orders.

“I…, I can’t. Someone has to sign. Hotel rules . . .”

“Gyp,” says one of the Stooges, “Let him in, we’re getting hungry.”

“I sent the goil out for food. She’ll be back in a minute.”

Another Stooge says, “Why don’t we go downstairs to eat?”

Gyp, fearing the fish will swim away, puts his hand on the gun in his jacket, goes to the door.

I didn’t hear the gunshots. I was face down in the sink. I then took out my “Lucky Deck” (what poker player isn’t superstitious?) and shuffled the cards to change my luck. I then opened the bathroom door and found Gyp’s dead body.

I take the revolver out of his hand and look around. The Stooges are slumped and crumpled around the table.

Suddenly the blond walks in the front door, “Gyp, I’m back I . . .”

She sees me standing over Gyp’s body with a gun in my hand.

“Murderer!!” she screams and runs off.

I start after her, “No, I . .”

Behind me the bedroom door opens. I turn to find a small man with a big shotgun standing in the doorway. “Drop it,” he says and I let go of the revolver.

I always wanted to die at a poker table looking at AA. Instead I’m going to die looking down a shotgun barrel’s OO. “No one,” says the gunman, “cheats The House of Cards.” I close my eyes.

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