"Sorry, but I'm not here to play." I took Reba's picture from my bag, unfolded it, and held it out to him. "Look familiar?"

"Reba Lafferty," he said, as though the answer was self-evident. "You remember when you saw her last?"

"Sure. Monday. Night before last. She sat at that table. Came in about five and stayed until we closed the place at two. Played Hold 'Em most of the night and then switched to Omaha, for which she has no feel whatever. Had a roll of bills about like this," he said, making a circle of his thumb and middle finger. "Chick's been out of prison a week, or that's the scuttlebutt. You her parole officer?"

I shook my head. "A personal friend. I was the one who went down to Corona and drove her home."

"Should have saved yourself the trip. Before you know it, she'll be on the sheriffs bus, heading the other way. Too bad. She's cute. About the way a raccoon's cute before it bites the shit out of you."

I said, "Yeah, well, there you have it. She took off last night and we're trying to track her down. I don't suppose you know where she went."

"Off the top of my head? I'd say Vegas. She dropped a bundle in here, but you could tell she was on a roll. She had that look in her eye. Bad luck or good, she's the kind who keeps going till all the money's gone."

"I don't get it."

"You don't gamble?"

"Not at all."

"My theory? Chick runs on empty. She gambles for the hype, thinking she can use that to fill herself up. Ain't never gonna happen. She needs help."

"Don't we all," I said. "By the way, why the Double Down? I thought the term was blackjack."

"We used to have blackjack until the owner phased it out. The locals prefer poker – skill over luck, I guess."

As soon as I reached my office, I grabbed a pencil and notepad, hauled out the phone book, and chose a travel agent at random. I dialed and when she answered, I told her I needed information about a trip to Las Vegas.

"What day?"

"Don't know yet. I work until five and I'm not sure what day I want to go. What flights do you show for weekdays after six P.M.?"

"I can check," she said. I heard tappity-tap-tap in the background and after a silence, "I see two. USAir at 7:55 P.M. by way of San Francisco, arriving Las Vegas at 11:16, or United Airlines 8:30 through Los Angeles, arriving LV at 11:17 P.M."

"Where else would I find poker parlors?"

"Say again?"

"Card parlors. Poker."

"I thought you wanted to go to Las Vegas."

"I'm looking at all the options. Anything closer to home?"

"Gardena or Garden Grove. You'd have to fly to LAX and find ground transport."