October 26, 2017--Audiological Tale: Previous Life (Conclusion)

"Now all we need," I said, "is to run into a woman who speaks Czech. You remember how Gary programmed my hearing aids to have a Czech woman talk to me? How I thought she was asking me to help her? As if she was in danger or had been kidnapped or something."

"I do remember that," John said, "But most important, don't forget Gary himself. None of this makes any sense if he's not here. He's at the center of this, whatever the this is. And thus far we haven't caught sight of him."

"I suspect since he's the mild-mannered type if he gambles at all we will find him at the quarter slots. He probably has a limit to how much he's willing to lose. I doubt he's into roulette or craps or blackjack. Unlike your Dunkin Donut guy who we spotted at a $25 blackjack table."

"So," John suggested, "why don't we inconspicuously slide over in that direction. To where the slot machines are. To see if maybe Gary's there."

This is the proletarian area of all gambling casinos. Where retired people, mainly women, are to be found perched with blank faces on high stools feeding quarter after quarter into the maw of the machines. 

Invariably, the players have jumbo soda cups in which they dispassionately scoop what cascades out when they on occasion hit three cherries. And then how they from these cups retrieve coins to use to satisfy the lure of the machine. Until they over time inevitably get cleaned out.

It is also the most depressing underbelly of casinos since one senses here that the money being slowly confiscated by the slots is money from Social Security checks that might otherwise be directed to paying rent or to buy healthy food.

"I doubt if we'll spot Gary here," John said, "He too would find this an unhappy place to chase Lady Luck. Much of his clientele, of course, is older--including the two of us!--but I am sure most of them would not want anything to do with this sorry scene."

"I agree. Why don't we take a break from this sleuthing and get a bite to eat. We've been at it since five this morning. I could use a cup of coffee and maybe a sandwich. In fact, I could use a nap."

"We're not here for that," John said, "We're on a mission. I'm OK with a bite to eat but don't need any rest. I'd like to press on."

"Me as well," I said, "I was just thinking out loud. Do you want something to go with your coffee?"

"Yes. I think maybe chicken salad on a roll."

We spotted a modest cafeteria and while I got on line to place our orders, John headed for the men's room. 

I picked up and paid for our food and drinks and took them to an table just off the casino floor where I waited for John. I began to feel concerned as ten minutes had passed and there was no sign of him. I was about to leave our food on the table and set out to find him. But before I could do that, John, almost running and out of breath, plopped down on one of the chairs. 

"What's happening? Are you OK?" I asked concerned about him.

Ignoring that, he said, "You're not going to believe this."

"This would not be the first time," I said. "I mean, not believing all the crazy things that have been happening. Tell me the latest."

"We were making a joke about the Czech woman whose voice your were hearing."

"Right. After Gary had reprogrammed my devices."

"I think I just met her."

"No way. Impossible."

"Apparently not," John raced on, "There's a lounge by the bathrooms with sofas and chairs where I guess gamblers can take a break. Only this one woman was sitting there since I assume when people come here to gamble they're not interested in taking breaks. She spotted me and waved me over to where she was sitting. A tiny blue-haired woman who was so small she was swallowed up by the armchair. She was smiling weakly at me. She felt lonely and sad. 

"I went right over to her. She had that effect on me. To draw me to her. She said something I couldn't make out. She was speaking that softly. The lounge is off the betting floor but still quite noisy. So I kneeled down to get closer to her to make it easier to hear and understand her. She had quite a think accent. European. She grabbed hold of my arm. And . . ."

My heart was pounding as I interrupted John, "I think I know where this is headed. She's . . ."

"I think so. Impossible as it may be, I think she's your Czech lady. Her accent was so pronounced I couldn't make out what she was saying. She was speaking in an Eastern European language. I of course couldn't understand a word of it. I asked her if she spoke English. She nodded and asked me to help her. Exactly what she was asking you through your reprogrammed hearing aids."

"That's it? Just her asking you to help her?"

"Isn't that enough? First, there's this Eastern European woman who speaks Russian or Czech. Then, and this is most important, she asks me to help her. Just what she asked of you. This can't be another coincidence. Including, why me? You're the one with the Czech person talking to you. I'm just your friend. I agreed to go along with you on this adventure and . . ."

"I feel badly that I somehow enticed you into it. I only thought that . . ."

"No need to apologize. I'm here because I want to be. But this was so upsetting. You should have seen her. She looked so lost and helpless. I guess that's why she keeps asking to be helped."

"From what I don't know. Did she say anything else? And, of course, what happened? Did you just leave her there? That's not you. You wouldn't do that. You're too . . ."

"I didn't just leave her. A huge man in his 40s, stuffed into a suit, came and took her away."

"Took her away?"

"Not literally. But when he came out of the men's room and saw her with me, he raced over and almost lifted her bodily out of the chair and whisked her off. I got up and tried to follow them but they disappeared into a crowd of conventioneers who were hooting and hollering. I thought it best to come find you. Did I do wrong?"

"About all of this I have no idea what's wrong or, for that matter, what's right. Let's try to calm down and have our lunch. After that, we can figure out what to do next."

*   *   *

After we finished--we gulped down our sandwiches--I said, "Maybe in the first place it was a crazy idea to come here. To drive all that distance. A wild goose chase. I am thinking we should back off. Just resume being normal audiological patients. Leave all this spy stuff alone. I am feeling we're getting drawn in too deep. I didn't mean to speak for you, about being drawn in, but that's how I feel."

John said, "I don't disagree. This is beginning to be very funky."

"Beginning! I'd say it's been funky for months. In the meantime, what should we do? Leave? Stay? Play the slots?"

"I hate gambling," John said, "So that's not an option for me. You're probably right. We should leave and try to forget about all this funny business. But, having said that, we came all this way, we're here, we have a long drive back, and so I'm thinking let's maybe take one more pass around the casino to see if Gary's here. I say that because, again, there's no story, this is all an incredible bunch of coincidences, unless Gary's here to tie all the pieces together. I suggest let's give it another half hour and if he doesn't turn up, get back in the car and head to Maine where things are not so crazy. What do you think?"

I agreed and so this is what we did. Even though we didn't think Gary was a slot machine player that's where we started. We worked our way from the nickel slots to the ones that ingested silver dollars. 

No sign of Gary.

"Let's try the roulette tables next," I suggested, "Though roulette is for suckers since the odds are so in favor of the house, it is a classic game. Europeans love it--think James Bond--and who knows, it might appeal to Gary's romantic inclinations."

There was no sign of him at the roulette tables.

"How about blackjack? Remember that's where we saw the Dunkin Donut guy." So we threaded our way from the five dollar to the hundred dollar tables.

Gary was nowhere to be seen. 

"We're running out of places to look," I had already taken off my cap and dark glasses as a sign of capitulation. And we were no longer talking in whispers.

"How about the craps tables? That could appeal to him. Like me, he was born and raised in New Jersey and could easily be a craps player. It's similar to the dice games we used to play in the streets."

"In Brooklyn too," I added. But though we checked out the half-dozen dice tables, again there was no sign of Gary.

"We're about out of luck," I said, which is never a good thing in a casino--to be out of luck.

"There's just one more area," John said, pointing to an elevated part of the casino, off in a dark corner, with a velvet rope and security guard to keep out casual players. "It's for high rollers."

"Gary a high roller? That would stretch credulity much too far. I'm OK with the donut guy and even the Czech woman--though both being here is totally inexplicable--but Gary playing baccarat or some other exotic high-stakes game for big bucks is more than I'm willing to entertain."

"Well, maybe you'll have to rethink that," John said, whispering again. With a shrug he directed my attention to someone standing just inside the rope. "It's the . . ."

"I can see who it is," I said with a hint of exasperation  How much more of this can I take. 

"Your donut guy. And if you really want to make yourself crazy, check our who's in the chair next to the baccarat table."

I looked first at the man and then at the person almost invisibly curled up in the chair.

"The little old . . . ?"

"None other," John said.

"And if you look at the one player at the table, the man facing the dealer, the one wearing what looks like a white dinner jacket with a black bowtie, I think it's . . ."

Not needing me to complete the sentence, John, sounding shaky, said, "Let's get out of here." 

I was feeling more than shaky. And so, trotting, I followed him to where our car was parked, making sure not to look back