how much he drinks

"What do you mean by pool?" Piccolo asked with a smile, which Ray returned, Barker quickly joining in. While all three were smiling, Ray said, "Okay, another hypothetical about our consistent winner. Let's say the guy plays one night at the Monte Carlo, the next night at Treasure Cove, the next night at Alladin, and so on down the strip here. He works all the casinos, and he wins a lot more than he loses. And this goes on for a year. How much will you know about this guy?" Piccolo nodded at Barker, who was pinching his lips between a thumb and an index finger. "We'll know a lot," he admitted. "How much?" Ray pressed. "Go on," Piccolo said to Barker, who reluctantly began talking. "We'll know his name, his address, his occupation, phone number, automobile, bank. We'll know where he is each night, when he arrives, when he leaves, how much he wins or loses, how much he drinks, did -he have dinner, did he tip the waitress, and if so then how much, how much did he tip the dealer." "And you keep records on these people?" Barker looked at Piccolo, who nodded yes, very slowly, but said nothing. They were clamming up because he was getting too close. On second thought, a tour was just what he needed. They walked down to the floor where, instead of looking at the tables, Ray was looking up at the cameras. Piccolo pointed out the security people. They stood close to a blackjack table where a kid who seemed like a young teenager was playing with stacks of hundred-dollar chips. "He's from Reno," Piccolo whispered. "Hit Tunica last week, took us for thirty grand. Very very good." "And he doesn't count cards," Barker whispered, joining the conspiracy. "Some people just have the talent for it, like golf or heart surgery," Piccolo said. "Is he working all the casinos?" Ray asked. "Not yet, but they're all waiting for him." The kid from Reno made both Barker and Piccolo very nervous. The visit was finished in a lounge where they drank sodas and wrapped things up. Ray had completed his list of questions, all of which had been leading up to the grand finale. "I have a favor," he asked the two of them. Sure, anything. "My father died a few weeks ago, and we have reason to believe he was sneaking over here, shooting dice, perhaps winning a lot more than he was losing. Can this be confirmed?" "What was his name?" asked Barker. "Reuben Atlee, from Clanton."