Wander looks a little cranky for some reason. The Precinct detective signing him out gives me a neutral glance, but something in his manner suggests that, whatever-was-about-to-happen-ought-to-be-taken-outside, kind of thing. The net call had broken up an interesting bowling match. I had just gotten the hang of the sport, and was bowling a three hundred line when the police nagged me to come in and give a report. Of course, I left immediately, and sent a deposition file in advance while on my way. They seemed juiced that I hadn't just stayed on the scene. As a machine, this makes little sense to me. Why hang around muddying up the crime scene? What if someone else had come into the office? Did they think they would get a different detail file if they could stare directly at my vid sensors when I produced it? People.

Anyhow, Wander stomps his diaper-pants way across the reception room, briskly motioning me to follow, and we leave the station.

Baldy barely clears the entrance before turning hot eyeballs on me.

"What part of just turn over the scrambled cube and keep your ears open was toughest?"

"Hey, could have been you in the office, instead of me. You said it might get rough, and it did. How did your meeting go?"

A varietal bouquet of expressions crossed Richie's mug, but finally he seems to give up on the exercise. A bunch of excess air escapes his lungs, which apparently helps regulate his facial coloration some.

"Ok. It was a girl. We got the job, if the money comes through. Anyway, you get to collect it..."

Richie checks his watch, then shoves a plastic baggie containing a bunch of church bingo cards at me. "...Right now. Go to St. Andrews and play these cards. Supposed to net us 1500 Cr. I'll be at the Bonne Hotel...again, thanks to this little dance of yours. Get right back to me on it. If it doesn't pan out, we're done. If it does, I fill you in, and we go from there. That OK with you?"

This is way cool by me. Bowling and an aberrant game of chance, all on the same day. I wonder what kind of odds I will be trashing if this fixed event pans out. I put on my twenty millimeter smile and nodded a full one inch arc. "Count me in. The caper's in the bag, Richie."

Wander rolls his gray irises up under the eyelids, turns and waddles off. I had already glanced at the cards, and memorized the grids, so accessing the GPS map of the area, set off for St. Andrews. This part of the city is a little grimy, not clean and bright like uptown. The church had done its best though, colored pennants draped the sooty front over large curved archways and open, lit doors. I show my pre-purchased game cards to the greeter out front, and go right in. I get a folding chair next to a nice old lady busy laying out a row of cards in front of her.

An online database check explained how this event went. All I really had to do was sit here and catalog the numbers, then mark up the winning card with the right letters, declare "Bingo" and turn them in.

A mess of permanent stampers litter the rickety banquet table. The game started. A drone of matrix addresses come reeling from the cheap PA system they have rigged up for the event.

"B17...N28...O42...G6..."

The old lady next to me glances my way suspiciously as she pours over her cards, occasionally marking off a "hit" here and there. I had tried to start a conversation with her, which earned me a snake-pit of shushes from the neighboring players. I understood these things were generally chatty and social, but I guess stakes for this one were a good deal higher than usual. The pre-sold cards, according to notes on the card-backs, went for 20 Cr. each. The old dame's face turned steadily redder as I chatted, her eyes narrowing as she continued to scan her cards. Finally she turned angrily towards me. "If you don't be quiet, young man, I will have you removed! If you aren't going to play, you should leave. Oh! Now I've missed a call out... Hush!"

Of course, I have a complete list of all the calls filed in RAM, and had set a routine up to scan the game card grids for matches and winning completions, should they occur. Laying them out and poking at them made little sense to me. Well, when in Rome, as they say... I unpocketed my cards and quickly stamp up all twenty of the pertinent fifty or so call-outs. It only takes a few seconds, and as luck would have it the next announcement completes two cards. So I stood and and pronounced the Bingos. A checker comes over while the old lady eyes daggers at me. The cards trade for three hundred credits each. A few minutes later, another one makes a double intersection bingo. I call it out, marking up the appropriate card as I sang it. This time, the hag's gaze has venom dripping from the daggers.

The checker is one of the priests. He checks the card carefully and silently hands me an additional nine hundred credits. I follow him back out to the aisle, having completed my work.

The priest turns and whispers, "a word, if you will, my son?"

"Sure Dad." The priest stiffens. I recheck my references. "Eh, I mean, Father. Sorry, I ah, I'm not a member here...meant no disrespect."

The man in the black nightie relaxes and gives me a watery smile. "You are forgiven, my son. Congratulations, a remarkable run of luck. I wished to mention that the proceeds are raised for charity. We hold this rather expensive game only once a year. It is customary for members of the church to tithe a portion of their winnings back for the St.Andrew Orphanage Fund. Perhaps you would consider a donation? For the orphans?"

I snap off 500 Cr, and hand it to the Padre, who beamed.

"Thank you, my son. I will keep you in my prayers."

"A friend of mine recommended you. A Miss Becky Randall. Is she a member of the congregation?"

The priest slowly shakes his head. "I don't recall the name, though it could be a new member. Perhaps just a former bingo participant."

The guy seems straight forward about this. As the Bingo caller was another cleric in a black nightgown, I wonder how our client had managed to rig the game. Once the number of cards in play and the number of balls used was known to me, the odds calculated out pretty high against my run of wins. About eighty thousand to one, in fact. Wander would find that interesting. I head back to the Hotel.