Bar None - The Hustle
Setting the Scene
I've got a great story to tell. It actually happened last summer. Me, Shelley
and Tracy picked up one of those cheapo holidays to
That's how I ended up alone in a flash cafe bar on the marina. It was late
morning and I was the only customer. The owner was standing behind the bar all
smug and excited in an arrogant Spanish sort of way, with two fat piles of Euro
notes in front of him. Kept looking at the money and smirking, couldn't leave it
alone. He was old - at least 50 - all gold chains, gold watch and thought I
wouldn't notice how his head was showing through his hair. Real creep, smooth
and up himself. He actually clicked his fingers to get the bored faced waiter to
bring my coffee. Then, because he seemed bursting to talk and I was the only
person around, he started telling me why he was so jolly pleased with himself.
Toni's Story
Let me tell you young lady, you're talking to one very clever man. I've seen
them all pass through this bar, but I, Toni Romero, I'm sharper than any conman.
You like your coffee? Of course. This the best bar on the Costa. Why? Because
Toni knows this business. He is the king.
Con men, they land here like flies on meat. They come, they go. But Toni, he
stays, he makes the real money. Why? Because he's the smartest.
Let me tell you about Mr Jonathon Porter. He strolls in the other day - orders a
vino tinto. Smart, smooth, charming - English. Those smiling eyes you women
can't resist. You know? Yes?
He was good. I watch him. I know who he'll pick on. Sure enough it's a German
couple. Wealthy. Moored in the
Porter starts showing them conjuring tricks, which those gullible Germans find
highly entertaining.
He had no idea I was on to him. Some con man, eh? Never heard of Toni, the man
nobody can con.
At my usual hour I stroll down to Alfonso. We have a glass of brandy - not as
good as Toni's of course, but acceptable. I get back and check the till and I am
annoyed. I find a 10 Euro note with an autograph scribbled on it.
“What's this?” I ask my stupid barmaid.
The idiot girl, she laughs as if it's some children's game. Porter has been
playing tricks, getting someone to sign a note from my till, making it vanish
into thin air, then, as if by magic, she opens the till and there it is - no
damage done.
“And who bought a drink while all this was going on?” I thunder.
Her smile falters.
“Er... I don't remember...”
Stupid, stupid. Porter slips the note to an accomplice who goes down the other
end of the bar and buys a cheap drink - with my money. That note didn't find
it's way back into the till by any supernatural means.
Aagh! That girl. I don't usually employ English girls, I only took her on last
week because she is pleasant on the eye, keeps the customers leaning on the bar
buying drinks.
Nobody rips off Toni. I got my revenge on Mr Jonathan Porter.
Next day I watch him chatting up a charming young English lady and I tip her off
that he's just a hustler after her money . “I don't believe you” - she says.
I could see it in her lovely blue eyes, she was really shocked.
Selling her an apartment - that old trick. Cash of course, two hundred thousand
Euros and she can have the keys tomorrow. She's even seen the place apparently.
You young girls are just little birds waiting to be plucked. Lucky for her I'm a
man who knows a thing or two. I warn her there's no apartment for sale, just a
vacant holiday let. Go back tomorrow and a family have moved in. She sees that I
am right.
That's how I set up a sting of my own to show this cheap con man who's master in
this bar. Teach him to try and swindle a smart chap like me.
Annie Jones - that's the young lady's name - and I put our heads together and
agree a plan that will prove me right and save her losing all her money.
This morning Porter breezes in to meet Miss Jones. He orders wine to celebrate
the deal. I wink at Miss Jones as I take his payment.
We have the cash here on the bar. See. Look it's in the special bands I use for
my banking. Well that's because the money doesn't belong to Miss Jones. It's out
of my safe. No need for her to take a trip to the bank, it won't take long to
prove to her what a scoundrel Mr Porter is.
It's all going very well.
That clumsy barmaid knocked the wine bottle over and she just managed to snatch
the money off the bar before it got drenched. Nearly put my whole little plan at
risk.
That was her final mistake, I sacked her on the spot. Out.
But it's OK. As Miss Jones and I had planned, she turns to Porter. Can I have
one more look at the apartment before I hand the money over she says. Toni will
you hold on to the money for half an hour while we pay a second visit.
Porter hesitates. I see his mind racing, working out how to extricate himself
from this tricky situation.
“OK” he says, bold as anything. And off they go.
He'll get to the corner of the street, make some excuse and disappear. Miss
Jones will be back any time now. You can meet her. It's a good joke, eh?
You wait here, have another coffee. I'll just go put this money back in the
safe.
Conclusion
As I said to Shell and Trace back at our hotel room, if I'd left then I'd have
missed one of the best moments of my life. I watched Toni pick up his piles of
dosh and you wouldn't believe his face. All that Spanish macho just drained. He
turned away so I wouldn't see - but I'd spotted it. Under the top notes the rest
was just plain paper.
I made a quick exit, it was pretty obvious Porter had out smarted the old boy,
and I reckon Annie Jones was in on it too. They knew Toni brags that nobody can
rip him off. It must have been irresistible to take him for two hundred thousand
Euros.
Shelley worked out how they actually did it. The barmaid was the third member of
the gang and she hooked him in with the small scam of the autographed note. She
was the only one who could have switched the cash when she spilled the wine.
What a great team. Up the Brits!