Smile and be a Villain by Jeanne M. Dams

American man with expensive tastes and not a great deal of money to gratify them. He had a decent job, and the salary was sufficient to support him in modest comfort, but he wanted much more. He began to see chances to slip a little more into his pocket than he was entitled to. He was a trusted employee; he was in fact the boss at his place of business. And he was a charming, plausible fellow. Most people believed what he told them.’
    Alan finished his tea and poured himself another cup. ‘As his peculations grew and grew, it was inevitable that they would be discovered. By the time they were, he had piled up rather a nice little nest egg, enough to take him out of the country just before the authorities were called in. He had heard of a small island in the English Channel where gambling was not only entirely legal, but entirely respectable. He thought if he could get there with his nest egg and add a bit to it, he’d be in a very nice position to accumulate the wealth he had desired all his life.’
    â€˜Alan, he wasn’t a stupid man! He would surely have realized that gambling is a good way to end up in the poorhouse.’
    â€˜Ah, but he didn’t intend to be a gambler. He was going to set himself up in business.’
    â€˜What, a casino? Here?’ I could not wrap my mind around that idea. Casinos belong in glitzy places, not tranquil islands.
    â€˜Not a casino. A computer. Electronic gambling.’
    I abandoned my tea and made a pot of coffee. My brain needed stimulation. ‘Alan, I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.’
    â€˜That’s because you’re not a gambler, either. But you play card games online.’
    â€˜FreeCell, yes.’
    â€˜And you know that some online games are played against other players.’
    â€˜I suppose. I’ve never played those.’
    â€˜All right, then. I don’t know the details of the operation myself, but I presume that one can play such games as poker, or blackjack, or any card game online – for money. One would presumably have to pay to join the game, and make wagers, just as in a casino, except that it would all be done from one’s own computer. And computers, according to the man at the shop, are very important in Alderney.’
    I mulled that over. ‘How would you pay, though, or collect your money if you won?’
    â€˜Credit cards, probably. Or you could set up an account that would be debited. I’ll need to find all that out. The point is that, as with any gambling, the “house” always wins in the long run. So if one set oneself up to run such an operation, one could quite legally make enormous sums of money.’
    â€˜But … but … there must be regulations. And taxes, and all that. I mean, they wouldn’t let just anybody set up a cyber-casino, would they?’
    â€˜I’m sure not. I intend to find out. But wouldn’t it be a sweet little operation for a man who, we suspect, had very little in the way of conscience? Not only lucrative, but legal.’
    â€˜But it isn’t
right
!’
    â€˜That depends upon one’s view of gambling. Our man’s view may well be flexible. After all, he stole from unsuspecting parishioners to get the seed money. And remember all that expensive electronic equipment he was buying? Perhaps it wasn’t just for entertainment.’
    â€˜Somebody should do something!’ I raged.
    â€˜Simmer down, darling. Don’t forget that this is just a fairy tale I’m spinning. It’s a possibility, certainly, but probably no more than that. Although it would explain why he came to Alderney.’
    â€˜If that man was planning something like that, then I hope someone did push him down that hill! I wish I’d done it myself!’
    â€˜No, you don’t. You would have liked to give him a piece of your mind, I’ve no doubt, but you know you can’t even smack the dog