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he breathed over the house phone. “I need your help.”
    â€œWhoa, I don’t think I can help you there.” I barely fought off Tami myself. “I’ve been around, but not that far.”
    â€œBut you’re a woman.”
    â€œThat’s not the answer to all problems, Richard. I mean, it’s not like compounding or anything.” But she agreed to meet him down by the gleaming black Dodge Stealth in the lobby.
    â€œSo where’s”—she almost slipped and said Tami—“this wonderful new love?” Surely, Tami wouldn’t accost Charlie in all this public.
    But Richard led her around the Stealth, a prize for some contest that offered yet another opportunity to part with your money, and through the rows of bleeping, blinking slots to the blackjack tables. He pointed to Bradone McKinley.
    She played at the same table as yesterday, the same pit boss keeping watch, the one with the clenching fist. Suddenly, he was watching Charlie too.
    â€œIs that class or what? I took one look at her, Charlie, and knew. I just knew. Like in them dumb romance novels. Me, Richard Morse, can you believe it?”
    Richard, who’d never read a novel, let alone a romance novel, often talked like a truck driver, but he always dressed well, everything tailor-made just for him, and not in Hong Kong either. Most agents dressed like used-car salesmen. Today, he was suitably dressed down in a tan blazer and shirt open at the neck. Charlie had seen this outfit before, but she’d never seen his face so radiant.
    â€œRichard, that’s the woman who turned a hot shoe into a fortune yesterday morning. Remember, I told you at the pool?”
    â€œCan’t be—she’s losing like a just cause. But look at her—serene and happy as a lobster anyway. That’s—”
    â€œClass. I know.” Losing is what she’s supposed to be doing now. Or lose her livelihood. But Charlie had to admit Bradone McKinley was a whole flight of stairs up from Tami. Richard’s dapper outfit included a silk scarf like film directors used to wear in black-and-white movies. It mercifully concealed his Tami hickey. “Richard, you’ve been divorced three times.” And survived our bodybuilder. “What do you need me for?”
    â€œThis is different. I wanted you to get to know her. Find out if she is married, involved, you know.”
    â€œI had dinner with her last night. She’s not married. She has a houseboy. I don’t know if she’s involved.” And she’s no kid. Probably no more than fifteen years younger than you, which is not your style, boss. “I do know she travels a lot and is very independent. She’s a practicing astrologer.”
    â€œI don’t care if she’s an astronaut. And as long as you know her, you can introduce us.”
    â€œLet’s wait until she’s done losing, okay? She’s also very serious about blackjack.”
    They didn’t have long to wait. Bradone was one of two at the table, the other player—an Asian gentleman. The house cleaned up. Bradone rose and bowed slightly to the dealer and her partner in loss, an almost-smile on her lips.
    â€œJust look at that,” Richard the smitten effused. “That’s elegance. That’s Greta Garbo meets Julia Roberts, right?”
    Bradone, in powder blue with navy accents today, walked toward them, the grin turning unmistakable, the eyes in full satisfied hilarity. To Charlie, she resembled more Faye Dunaway meets Agent Scully.
    â€œCharlie, how nice to see you again.” The mesmerizing voice took hold of Charlie as before and Bradone took her arm, overlooking Richard Morse completely. “You know, I realized after we parted last night where I remembered seeing you. You’re a very close friend of Mitch Hilsten, right? You lucky girl. And you didn’t even mention it. I told you all about me.”
    â€œShe doesn’t