Solution Nassau part 6

Mark went down to the lobby and wandered over to the touristy shopping mall adjoining the hotel. He browsed the $30 T-shirt selection and $80 hoodie sweaters advertising "ATLANTIS, Paradise Island". He purchased a set of clothes to get him through the next few days and walked over to the casino. It was still early in the morning for casino action and the place was mostly empty.  Mark headed over toward the cashier's cage.
The large slot machine near the entrance that Mark had played earlier was making a lot of cheerful music. A tourist lady with white hair stood at a distance from the machine and took a picture of the machine with her cell phone. Mark approached her.
"Hello ma'am," he said in greeting.
The lady turned and sat down at a nearby slot machine. She put several quarters into the machine and pressed the SPIN button.
Mark approached her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Excuse me," he began.
The lady jumped up and spilled her bucket of quarters everywhere. She started shrieking.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," said Mark. He held out his hand to quiet the lady down. A security guard approached quickly.
"What's going on here?" asked the security guard, eyeing Mark.
"Nothing, sir. I just wanted to ask this lady a question," said Mark.
"A question?" asked the security guard.
"Yes, I..." he bent over to help pick up some quarters for the lady. She saw him trying to help and bumped him rudely with her shoulder. She continued picking up quarters and putting them into her bucket.
Mark continued. "I was here yesterday and I think this lady took a picture of the machine I won on. I just wanted to ask her nicely if she still had that photo of me. I don't have any pictures of me winning the machine. I want to send it to my mom," he lied.
The old lady stood up. She looked carefully at Mark and frowned. "I don't remember you, son," she said.
"You took a picture of the same machine just now," said Mark. "I thought it was you, that's all. Can we check your pictures?"
The lady shook her head. "It's true I'm taking pictures of the machines. I hear them play their music and I take a picture to see if they're lucky or not. But I don't remember anyone playing that machine. And I don't recognise you," she said.
"Ma'am, we can't have you take photos inside the casino. That is against our policies," the guard said.
"Fiddlesticks to you and your policies," said the white haired tourist. "I'm 78 years old and I don't take instructions from the like of you or anyone else."
"Can I just see some of those pictures? Please?" pleaded Mark.
"Well, sure, I guess. But not if I get in trouble from the blue suits," said the lady. She jerked her thumb at the guard.
"We're okay, sir," said Mark. "You can go now. Thank you for your time."
The security guard left casting glances back at the pair often.
"You seem nice enough," said the tourist to Mark. "But you gave me a scare just now, appearing out of nowhere." She took out her phone.
"No problem, ma'am," said Mark. He walked around to look over her shoulder as she operated her phone.
"That's one I just took," said the lady. A picture of the big slot machine with huge wheels was prominently featured, if not completely centred. The wheels displayed BAR-7-7. The lady swiped left. There was a photo of an elderly man looking at the façade of the Atlantis hotel. "That's George," she explained. She swiped backward through several versions of George. She stopped on one sequence of an old man in a leather gimp suit, skin sagging in very bad places. Across his mouth a red ball was fastened in place by black leather straps. "George was being bad," the lady explained.
Mark waved his hand to move to the next picture.
George was being whipped, suspended, and stretched by bars in what appeared to be a hotel room for the next few photographs that slid by. "He was very bad," the lady said and smiled. Mark kept waving his hands, _move on._
"Ah, here," said the lady. She showed her phone to Mark. In the background Mark could see the big slot machine with the huge wheels set to 7-7-7. A yellow light was brightly lit on top, frozen mid-blink. Off to one side, was a blurry see-through version of someone like Mark.
Mark pointed at himself. "Who's that?" he asked.
The lady squinted and raised her glasses above her forehead. "I can't tell. Probably a tourist."
"I think that's me," Mark said. "But why is it blurry?"
"The camera's always moving," said the tourist plainly. "My hands aren't steady."
"So why wouldn't the background blur as well?" Mark asked.
"I don't know. I'm not a physics professor," the old lady complained.
"Any other pictures?" Mark asked.
The lady nodded and slid the screen back one more picture. It showed the same scene with a waitress frozen mid-step walking in between the camera and the slot machine. She was walking outward from the camera, from observer right-to-left.
"Who's that?" asked Mark excitedly, pointing. "That's the waitress who robbed me!" he said.
"What waitress? Robbed who?" asked the lady.
"Her," said Mark. "She was the waitress who came up to me after I won some money and she robbed me I'm pretty sure."
The old lady frowned. "Can't be," said the tourist. "The waitresses don't come in this early. The slot machine always rings in the morning and early afternoon. I've been tracking it. Plus, the waitresses here wear orange. It's the company colours. This lady is wearing a blue outfit."
Mark looked closer. The woman was indeed wearing a blue skirt and top one-piece. She was carrying a tray, but it could easily be a portfolio or a suitcase. Off to the observer right, next to the slot machine was a faded Mark character. It was definitely him, but translucent. Mark could see right through his hoodie and the logo to see the wall and a stool behind him. The faded Mark character was smiling like a Cheshire cat.
"Holy shit," Mark said.
"Watch your language. Didn't your parents raise you right?" asked the tourist. She turned off her phone and stormed off.
Mark turned his attention to the casino cage. He spotted the large man behind the window and approached.
"Hello, sir, I wonder if you can help me?" Mark asked.
"Certainly sir," answered the man.
"I won some money from the slot machine over there," here Mark pointed, "and I wanted to know who the waitress was who I met. I wanted to give her a tip," Mark lied.
The large man nodded. "I remember. You took your money in a bag. Ha!" he said. Mark nodded impatiently. "Well, now, I wish I could help you but we have a lot of waitresses. Was she off duty?"
"No," answered Mark. "She wore a blue outfit."
The large man shook his head. "No, I'm sorry, son. Our waitresses don't come on until at least 3:30 pm. And we all wear orange outfits. As you can see," the man said and displayed his orange uniform.
"No, I'm certain she was a waitress. She brought me some drinks on a tray... and..."
The large man was trying not to laugh. "I'm sorry, son. Happens all the time. I'm sure you think she was a waitress. Ha! I'm sorry. Totally unprofessional. I'm sorry."
Mark tried to continue. "Well, then, she's a thief operating on your premises. She stole me my money. You're responsible."
The large man held up his hands. "Whoa, now son. We're not responsible for anything you do on your own time. We try to keep undesirables out, but they might slip through. As for losing your money, that's on you. Unless this happened on our casino grounds, you're on your own. We guarantee your safety on our property, but can't guarantee it once you're outside."
Mark seethed. "Don't you have some security footage or something?" he asked.
"Sure we do. We could fill out a police report. And I'm sure we'll investigate it thoroughly. But you'll have to stick around for the results. And you're going to be liable for the money if we can't recover any of it. You'll also pay taxes for any winnings."
"Taxes?" Mark cried.
"Oh yes, son," said the large man. "You still owe taxes. I hope you have enough to cover the bill Uncle Sam is going to send you when we file our paperwork."
"I'll fill out a police report, I guess," said Mark. "Let's hope we can find this thief. I'll be here for a few days then I'm going to Washington D.C." said Mark.
"To visit Uncle Sam?" laughed the large man. "Sorry. Just a joke. Let me get the paperwork."