Dec 27, 2022, To Catch a Thief
10:43 pm
I got up early the next morning and went to the slot machine class. Today was the last day and we were
given a written test, followed by individual troubleshooting of defective machines set up by the
instructors. We had practiced in class, but this was sure to be a harder test. The written test was timed
at 45 minutes and then we would have 45 minutes for troubleshooting. The test was straightforward,
and I finished in 25 minutes. I completed it in 15 but took time to recheck my answers. I was satisfied
with my first choices and decided a congratulatory smoke was in order. I turned in my paper for grading
and headed to the nearest exit. It was a beautiful day in late October, light traffic enabled me to
appreciate the beauty of the Vegas Strip as the town spread south, east, and west. Housing subdivisions
were sold out before construction was halfway completed and the land in between was filled quickly with
food places and other standard strip mall tenants. The difference was that nearly all the businesses ran
24 hrs. and a lot were licensed for a few slot machines. A pleasant way to wait on your laundry, pizza,
or a quick haircut or manicure before heading to your shift at the casino.
I strolled back to the testing area and saw it was transformed into ten covered stations. Each had two
machines sitting on rolling stands. Each station was equipped with the required tools and electrical
equipment to check the machines. One of the machines was for a passing grade, and the second problem
was for bragging rights and adding to your resume. We were all directed to a tent and the signal was
given to start. The first step was to do a visual examination looking for damaged or missing parts. Next,
you check that power is supplied, and at the right voltage or amperage. The reels are checked for
correct operation, speed of spin, braking, and if the alignment of symbols corresponds to the cutouts on
the pay discs. My machine failed to pay when three oranges appeared on the centerline. I could rule out
a hopper malfunction because other payouts were ok. It turned out to be a flipper that controlled the
stop on the 2nd reel was bent causing the reel to misalign with the 1st and 3rd reels, preventing the
payout. Simple but time-consuming. I had twenty minutes left to work on the extra credit problem. The
machine was perfect except that it failed to pay on any winning combination. I removed the hopper and
checked its operation, fine. I tested the circuit board that signaled the number of coins to be paid,
worked perfectly. I was running out of time and ideas. Then I remembered a slot cheat who had devised
a tool that, if inserted in the correct screw hole in the rear cabinet of the machine, paused the payouts

until it was removed. The machine stored the payouts until the slot cheat was able to retrieve his tool. It
was used on machines that featured unusual payouts because the winning combos were not on the
traditional center line. There were eight minutes left when I exited my tent. The smile on my face
signaled I had solved the problem; the techs congratulated me and handed me my test paper with a big
red A plastered on it. I was awarded a certificate as the top student in the class. It was a great start to the
day. At noon I took the final for my calculus class and turned in my last paper on Early American History. I
was confident in both subjects. I ate a victory lunch and went home to get ready for work.
This was the slow season and the evening dragged on endlessly. Nola asked about Maggie and if I was
looking forward to her return. We had stayed away from placing ourselves in any situations that could
lead to something, out of both of our concerns for Maggie’s feelings. Nola was still a flirt, but we both
knew it was only for show. We had resumed taking our lunches together and tonight she filled me in on
her issues with raising two kids as a single parent.
“How do you think you are going to do as a dad?”, she asked.
“I don’t know, I’ve been with three women who had kids, but the circumstances were different. What
can you do with a three-month-old baby?”
“Take him to the mall or the laundromat and you’ll need a stick to beat off all the women.”, she laughed.
“I’ll need a stick to beat off Maggie if she hears any crap like that.”, I replied. “How do I keep getting
myself in these situations?”
“It’s because you’re a handsome, intelligent guy, with a heart of gold. Maggie talks about you constantly
and I think she’s looking for more than a roommate.”
“Thanks, I like her too. We’ll see how this baby thing works out. Hey, we better start back if you want
to go for a smoke. “
Nola still caused sexual tension to rise when we were together, even if we were just sharing a cigarette.
Nola noticed it and gave me a quick reprimand.
“You need to put your eyes and evil thoughts back in your head and start thinking about her
homecoming with your son.”
“Fantasies are made for things you know will never happen. Let me enjoy them.”
“I always do my part.”
“Believe me, you do it well!” I replied as we entered the casino. She walked away towards her duty station, and I headed in the opposite direction.

After work, I was still feeling the adrenaline rush from catching the slot cheat and decided to go to one
of the strip clubs I used to frequent while in the Air Force. The Palomino Club is located at 1848 Las
Vegas Blvd North opened in 1969. They are the only Gentlemen’s Club in Las Vegas that is allowed
to serve alcohol with totally nude dancers, as they were open before the current laws existed. The
atmosphere is more subdued than strip clubs and employs professional dancers that are sexy and
entertaining. There is a two-drink minimum, and the drinks are expensive, especially if you buy drinks
for a dancer. I found a secluded table and ordered a scotch on the rocks and a Michelob Dark draft. It
had been a decent night of skimming and I generously tipped my server. This led to a parade of
gorgeous girls asking if I wanted a lap dance. I told the best of them to check back later and turned my
attention to the performers on stage. The girls outdid one another in creating routines that were stylish
and well-choreographed and it was difficult to choose one for a lap dance or private performance in one
of the special rooms. I was about to order another round when my server returned and replaced my
drinks. She informed me that someone had sent them over and pointed to a tall black guy at the bar
when I asked who it was. It was the Asst Pit Boss from the Dunes. I had met him during orientation, but
we were far from being friends. I walked to the bar on the pretense of going to the restroom and
stopped to acknowledge his generosity.
“Hey, thanks for the drinks, you didn’t have to do that.”, I told him.
“I was at lunch during all the excitement, but I heard all about it through the grapevine, before I got back
to the Pit. Congratulations, and do you mind if I join you?”
‘Thanks, and yes that would be great.”
We closed the place around 4 a.m. and I don’t remember driving back to the
apartment afterward. I woke up the next morning, hungover and trying to remember the night before. I
remember sitting with Chris Jones, the black guy from the Pit, and we shared stories of how we got to
the Dunes. Chris began his career as a craps dealer and had worked his way up the ladder, to his current
position. He was recently separated, partly due to sacrifices he made for his gaming career, but
ultimately it was his wife’s and his unwillingness to change. He enjoyed the Las Vegas lifestyle and his
success in the gaming industry, and she wanted to move away to a smaller town and start a family. They
had no children and were waiting to see who filed for divorce. We spent our time talking, much to the
dismay of the late-shift dancers, who were looking to increase their tip income for the night. I put on
some coffee and took a shower while it brewed. I drank a cup and saw it was already 2 o’clock. After

putting on fresh slacks and a white shirt from my dry cleaning, I realized my Dunes’ sportscoat were
missing. I called the Palomino Club, and nothing had been turned in from last night. I must have left it in
the car last night, I said to myself. I went to the car, and it wasn’t there either. I went back inside and
checked everything, but still no jacket. I raced to work, and the cost of a new jacket was not a problem, but I was
sure they would not be happy about someone finding the jacket and using it to cheat a customer or the
casino. I went in to report the loss to the dayshift supervisor but before I could say anything, he said
someone had brought a package for me and it was hanging in the locker. I opened the locker and found
my jacket, freshly dry-cleaned, with a note attached.
‘Congratulations on a job well done, compliments of the Dunes Casino management team.’
I had to repeat my version of last night’s event and received more kudos before questions about my
jacket started. I decided to plead the fifth and leave it a mystery despite their demands for an
explanation. The note from the Pit insured the matter would be dropped. Later on, in the evening [ was
preparing to go to lunch when Bob walked up and handed me a sealed envelope from the Dunes
Surveillance Department. My heartbeat increased and my stomach turned as a wave of nausea hit me.
OH SHIT! They must have seen something suspicious on the tape and they’re on to us.
Bob looked at me quizzically and said, “Well, aren’t you gonna open it?”
“Yeah, I’ll see what it’s about during lunch, Nola’s waiting on me.” I brushed by him and sped up to catch
Nola. She was waiting by the elevator, and I shoved the envelope into her hand before she could say a
word.
“OH SHIT!”
“My words exactly,”, I replied. “I’m scared to open it.”
“Maybe they gave you a bonus or something. I’ll open it.”
Inside was a single sheet of paper. It was addressed to me and read.
You are scheduled to meet with the head of the Dunes Surveillance Department at 1 pm, on
October 15, 1981
Please arrive fifteen minutes and have your gaming card, Nevada Dr license, and Social Security
Card with you.

To be continued……….

Barron Broomfield