Poker Articles

A House Full Of Death - A Poker Cop Murder Mystery

Part 11- A Ghost Of A Chance
By Robert Arabella

Many people believe that Las Vegas is haunted. Seeing, they say, is believing.

For example, there have been many "in-the-blink-of-an-eye" sightings of "The Craps Corpse," the man who refused, even as the flames licked at the felt, to leave the craps table before a 7 was rolled the night in 1960 that the old El Rancho Hotel & Casino caught fire and burned to the ground. Every year, people claim that, just for half-a-heartbeat, they've seen the ghost of "The Craps Corpse," still standing and waiting for the next dice roll on the now empty corner of Las Vegas Boulevard and Sahara Road.

An even greater number of people say they have sighted "The Slot Ghost," the elderly woman found by LVFD, fused by the heat of the fire to the nickel slot machine she was playing the day in 1980 that the old MGM Grand caught fire. People catching out-of-the-corner-of-their-eye glimpses of her at an old mechanical reel Bell-Fruit-Gum slot machine report she is screaming-either with delight, having just hit a Cherry-Cherry-Cherry jackpot, or in pain as the flames reached her. Whatever the cause of the screams that echo down through the years, there is a rumor that Bally's Casino keeps their muzak up extra loud in the spot where she was found to drown out the sound.

Ghostly visions are not by any means limited to the unknown victims. Sightings of "The King," Elvis Aaron Presley, dressed, so they say, in either white sequins or black leather, are made all the time at the site of the old International Hotel. People swear to this day that Liberace's piano can still be heard playing late at night in the Hilton Hotel's dark and empty showroom; Benjamin "Bugsy" Siegel is rumored to still be skimming money from the take at the hotel he named The Pink Flamingo; Howard Hughes, the reclusive billionaire, almost never seen in public while he was still alive, is said to still roam the site of the old Desert Inn; and gangsta rapper Tupac Shakur, murdered in a drive-by shooting, is said to have been seen countless times on the corner of East Flamingo Road and Koval Lane.

And then there are Las Vegas' three poker room ghosts-Benny, Stuie, and Stanley.

The ghost of the late Benjamin "Benny" Binion has been seen on and off for years by players just hanging around the Horseshoe's Poker Room. Proof of his after-death presence is said to be his picture hanging on the Poker Wall Of Fame which, no matter what is done to stop it, is always tilted at the same rakish angle he wore his trademark Stetson.

The ghost of Stuart Errol "Stuie The Kid" Unger, believed by many, especially himself, to have been the greatest no-limit player ever, is rumored to still be so competitive that it haunts the high stakes tables of the Bellagio Poker Room, a disembodied presence trying to buy into a high limit game and beat it one more time. There is an unconfirmed rumor that, in order to exorcise his restless spirit, a secret late night séance was tried, but, in the end, failed to convince Stuie Unger to cash out.

The ghost of Stanley "The Fat Lady" Ladislaus, the fourth victim of the 1998 Full House Murders, is said by many to still haunt the place of his death, the Arcadiana Hotel& Casino's Poker Room. People who claim to experts in "ghostology" say that his death was so sudden, and violent, that his spirit, unwilling to believe it is actually dead, waits patiently to be called to the next empty seat at the high stakes tables. His spirit waits, so the story goes, in the poker room's big, overstuffed easy chair in which he was shot to death. No ever sits in The Fat Lady's Chair. His widow, "Fat's Lady," the poker room's manager, sees to that.

Since "Fat Lady" was Stanley Ladislaus' poker room nickname, it makes sense that his widow, Evangeline St. Gabriel, manager of the Arcadiana Poker Room, is called "Fat's Lady." She was made a widow in 1998 when "The Fat Lady" became the fourth victim of Sammy deCiprio, The Full House Murderer. Now, all these years later, I have to tell her, "The Full House Murders have started up again. Another killer is on the loose re-creating deCiprio's murders and this poker room is his next stop."

Fat's Lady's eyes go wide and well up with tears. "Merde! This can't be happening! You told me you strangled that connard deCiprio to death with your own hands!"

Penelope Fallon's eyes go very wide. What Red Penny doesn't know can't hurt me. I don't let her ask any questions, simply telling Fat's Lady, "Sammy deCiprio is dead and gone to Hell. What we are dealing with now is a copycat killer. Someone who is re-creating the Full House Murders down to the last detail. That's why Miss Fallon and I are here."

I walk over to where the off-limits-to-all overstuffed chair that Stanley Ladislaus was murdered in sits empty. "The Fat Lady's life was folded right here and this is where the Full House Murderer will strike next."

I sit down in it and wait for a killer.

His widow starts shouting. She starts with an order, "Talbot. Get up out of Stanley's chair or you'll be the second man to die in it!" and, after I refuse to stand up, ends with a plea, "Talby, how can you even think of trying to catch this copycat killer by offering yourself as his next victim? Mon dieu! You can't be serious!" Evangeline St. Gabriel reverts to the French of her N'awlins girlhood when she's upset. Right now she's very upset. No matter how upset she become I don't get out of the dead man's chair. Red Penny, for once, is silent. Finally Fat's Lady throws her hands in the air, shakes her head in disbelief, yells, "On your head Talbot! Mon cher amour Stanley was shot dead right where you are sitting! It serves you right if you die like him Comprendre!!" I nod and with a final shouted, "Ee-dee-o! Tu es completement ee-dee-o!" she walks away.

I say to Red Penny, "I don't understand a word of French."

"She just called you a 'complete idiot.'"

"It sounded better in French."

"It's just as true no matter the language. Are you planning to get yourself killed here tonight?"

"Why? Will you weep for me, Penelope?"

"If you die tonight? I will. I have you in next week's death pool. The way you've been eating, by next week you'll have flat-lined."

"Let me help you out." I flag down a waitress and place a big food order.

Red Penny counts up the calories, "That's a heart attack on a plate," and when I shrug it off her curiosity gets the best of her. "While you're waiting for your last meal to arrive can I ask you a question?" Without waiting for an answer, Red Penny asks another, "Did you murder Sammy deCiprio?"

"Sammy deCiprio wasn't murdered. The Coroner's Jury ruled his death a suicide."

"Were there any witnesses to this supposed 'suicide'?"

"Two."

"Let me guess-you and your then partner, Detective Rook."

"Yes."

"Talbot. Can you spell conspiracy?

"I don't know. I'll try. Conspiracy. C-O-N-S-P-R-I-R-A-S-Y. Conspiracy. Is that right?"

"No. It's not right."

"Well, now you know my deepest, darkest shame, Penelope. I can't spell. I also abuse grammar and misuse punctuation. Neither of which I can spell."

Red Penny refuses to bite at my Hooked On Phonics bait.

"I'm going to ask you again."

"To spell conspiracy? Conspiracy. C-O-N-S ..."

Red Penny ignores this as the stalling tactic it is, stares me down, and asks, "Talbot, did you or did you not murder Sammy deCiprio?"

I have a poker tell, one of many, but one of the few that I'm actually aware of. When I'm being stared down while trying to run over an opponent with an all-or-nothing all-in bluff, I have the uncontrollable habit of putting my head down to hide my lying face. I put my head down and ask, "If I say 'no,' will you believe me?"

"No."

I put my head back up. "In that case, my answer to your first question is, 'No. You can't ask me a question.'"

"Miss St. Gabriel says you told her you strangled deCiprio to death."

"His death certificate says otherwise."

"What does it say?"

"It says that Sammy deCiprio strangled himself to death."

"What?! How can anyone strangle themselves to death?"

"Sammy deCiprio swallowed his tongue."

"I don't believe you."

"I don't care. The Coroner ruled his death a suicide, which is what it says on his death certificate, which you can get a copy of at the Clark County Office Of Vital Records. Their hours are 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. Monday through Friday." I check my watch. "They're closed right now."

"Talbot. I think you killed him! Tonight Miss St. Gabriel said you told her you strangled deCiprio to death with your own hands! Also tonight Detective Rook, your witness to this execution, told you he's not going to cover up for you again."

"Why do you want to know the truth, Penelope? What good will it do you? The first Full House Murderer, Sammy deCiprio, is dead and buried. It's the second murderer, Sammy, Jr., you should be worried about."

"The person I'm worried about is you. These copycat killings are a down-to-the-last-detail reenactment of the original Full House Murders, right?"

"By sitting right here where the fourth victim died, I'm betting my life that it's exactly right, aren't I?"

"Yes. You are. Which means that you're planning to end these copycat murders the same way you ended the original ones. You're not here to catch the Full House Murderer. You're here to kill him! Talbot, you got away with murder once. You won't get away with it a second time. Rook may have lied for you but I won't." She turns to leave ...

"Penelope, wait. I need to ask you a favor."

...and turns around, "A favor?"

I nod.

"Do you need me to go get you a better suit to die in?"

"This is my better suit. No, I need you to be here when the gunfight starts."

"What do you think this is, some kind of a face-to-face High Noon showdown?"

"As impressed as I am that you have actually seen that movie, I was thinking more along the lines of The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance."

It seems Red Penny has spent far too many Saturday nights watching TV. "You want me to shoot Sammy, Jr. in the back?"

I reach into my pocket, pull out a wad of cash and hand it to Red Penny "Here's a couple of hundred bucks. Go sit down in that empty chair next to the dealer at the $20/$40 limit hold'em table."

Red Penny looks at the poker table and looks back, "Why would I want to do that?"

"Sammy, Sr. shot The Fat Lady point blank in the face. The only way Junior can walk up to this chair and deliver a kill shot like that is to walk past that poker table were you, hopefully, will stop me from being murdered."

"Again. Why would I want to do that?"

"Maybe I'll linger long enough for you to win the death pool."

She thinks this over. "There's a problem."

"With you there's always a problem. What is it this time?"

"I can't play poker."

"Neither can I and I play poker all the time. I don't care if you can play poker and nobody else at the poker table will be in the least upset if you can't. Just pay the blinds, fold your cards, and watch my back."

"It's not your back that should worry you."

"How's that?"

"You just told me Sammy, Jr. wants to shoot you in the face."

Red Penny takes my money and buys into the $20/$40 limit hold'em game, taking the seat that faces towards me. Behind her on the wall hangs one of the nine different versions of the famous "Dogs Playing Poker" paintings that hang all around the Arcadiana Poker Room. And, looking at Red Penny surrounded by men with their tongues hanging out of their mouths, it's easy to see the resemblance.

Penelope Fallon picks up the first two cards dealt to her-KK-and folds. AK goes next into the muck as does QQ, JJ, and AA. She ignores the play of the game and closely watches the coming and goings of poker players, paying special attention to those walking anywhere near the late Fat Lady's overstuffed chair.

This is what she sees. The overstuffed Poker Cop, one hand holding the bottom of a large plate while devouring a huge Muffuletta. a large, round, fat sandwich filled to overflowing with meats, mozzarella cheese, pickles, and olive salad. What she does not see is the gun being hidden under the plate. Penelope Fallon gives a vegetarian shudder and turns back to the table to find herself looking directly into the eyes of the man to her left, who says, "You're a very beautiful woman. I'm just wondering ..."

Truth be told, Red Penny is a very beautiful woman, and, as an unfortunate result of her beauty, is constantly hit on. Her preferred defense to all these unwanted sexual advances is to offer shocking sexual offense-"You're just wondering what? If I'm available for cheap anonymous meaningless sex with you? Is that what you're just wondering?"

99.99% of the time this in-your-face tactic works. 01% of the time it does not. "No. Not really. You're not my type. I was just wondering why a beautiful woman like you would play a game she's obviously not at all interested in?"

"What makes you think I'm not interested in this game?"

"You've folded Aces, Kings, Queens, and Jacks. I'm just wondering why."

"I'm wondering how you know what cards I've folded."

"You're so busy looking at Dagwood Bumstead over there, you're not protecting your cards. What's so much more interesting around the table than the cards on it?"

Penelope Fallon has no idea whatsoever who "Dagwood Bumstead" is, was, or ought to be, but knows the question refers to Talbot. She immediately looks over towards The Poker Cop and almost looks away when in her peripheral vision she catches a glimpse of a barely seen someone moving quickly towards the Poker Cop.

In a half blink the shadowy figure is almost in front of Talbot, who seems strangely unaware of the mortal danger he is in. An odd piece of long forgotten poetry flits through Penelope Fallon's mind as she goes for her gun, Something wicked this way comes.

"Come on, be friendly," says the man to her left, "I'm Vladimir. My friends call me Didi. I'd like you to call me Didi. What would you like me to call yoooooooooouuuuu!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!."

Red Penny has drawn her gun and is turning towards him.

"NO!" pleads Vladimir, who his friends call Didi, falling to his knees. "NO! Please Don't Shoot! DON'T ... !"

Too late. Penelope Fallon takes aim and fires.

Copyright ©2007 by Robert Arabella