Against The Odds (Anna Dawson #1) (17 page)

“Maybe,” I said noncommittally.

“Ask Chuck about him betting the Steelers in the Superbowl.”

I almost dropped my plate, but my face never changed. “Which one’s Chuck again?”

“The one in the green cardigan.”

“You’ve all been very nice to allow me in your game. I’m hardly going to go out of my way to piss one of you off, Len,” I said.

“Taking our money would piss us off more.”

I laughed. And, I might have imagined it, but I swore Jack’s back stiffened just the slightest at the sound. I looked beyond him, to the windows which now reflected the men back to me. His head was down slightly, looking at his chips, but there was just a tug of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

“Besides, it’s nothing like that. It’s just an old joke. Ancient,” Len explained.

 
“We’ll see.”

Len shrugged. “Any advantage at the table, right?”

“I guess,” I said, and headed back to my seat.

Talk of football was still going on. To the Steelers’ chances next year, who they should take in the draft.

A couple of hands later I was in a hand which whittled its way down to Jack, Chuck and Ralph. I raised and all three of them stayed in. “So, Chuck, Len tells me you do some sports betting. Me too,” I said.

“Really?” Chuck said, looking at Len suspiciously.

“He said you might be able to give me some advice. Who do you like for next year’s Superbowl?”

The entire table erupted into laughter.

Well, not the entire table. Chuck, of course wasn’t laughing. Nor was Jack, who wasn’t supposed to be in on the joke anyway.

But the rumbling laugh I’d heard from Ralph throughout the night was missing. I looked over at him and he was smiling, laughing even, but no sound was coming from him.

“Call,” Ralph said and pushed some chips into the pot.
 

There.
Blatant as any tell. His hand clenched into a fist for just a second when he drew it back. It could have been because he was bluffing. Or because he had a good hand.

But somehow I sensed that wasn’t it.
 

I looked across the table at Jack. He was staring straight at me, and though no brow was raised, no nod was given, I knew he was telling me he saw it too.

“Sorry, Chuck,” I said. “Len said it’d be a good joke.”

The other men laughed. Chuck shot Len a dirty look then folded his cards. Len was right, any advantage…

The flop came up and it gave me absolutely nothing, but I figured this was a good time to bluff, as I’d already bet high—they’d think I had good cards in my hands. I bet and turned to Ralph. He, Jack and I were the only ones left in the hand.

“No harm done,” Ralph said. “It was a long time ago, Anna, but you know how old men love to rib each other.”
 

“I do know about that, yes,” I said, looking right at him.

He watched me for a long time, trying to read me. I let him watch, my face a study of composure, giving nothing away. He’d learn nothing from me.

At some point he seemed to realize that, looked at his cards once more and called. Jack called almost instantly and my eyes flew to his face. Nothing there to read.

The turn card came and I still had garbage. I bet high trying to chase them away. Ralph took even longer this time, nearly burning a hole in my forehead with his stare. Finally he threw in his cards, “I fold,” he said, disgust in his voice. At me or himself, I wasn’t sure, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t be invited back to one of Mr. Stankowski’s games anytime soon.

I didn’t blame him.

“See, Ralph,” Jack said as he watched me. “I think she’s bluffing.”

The other men all turned to me; I guessed so they could see what a pro looked like bluffing. Believe me, it isn’t any different than what a pro with good cards looks like.

At least not this pro.

“You’ll have to pay to know for sure,” was all I said.

“Either you’re bluffing or…” Jack looked at his cards again, he looked around at the other men and their stacks of chips—or maybe he was just looking at their drinks with longing. I didn’t know what he was looking at, but it was beginning to bug the hell out of me, though not a thing in my demeanor changed.

“Either you’re bluffing or…”Jack repeated. “Or. And this is probably it.”

He looked me straight in the eye. “You’re looking for a jack.” The men looked down at the cards on the table, trying to figure out how a jack would help me.

It wouldn’t.
 

“A jack won’t do me any good,” I said, to the astonishment of those around me. They’d kibitzed about their hands throughout the night, but I’d never mentioned anything about mine. No trash talk, not much talking at all.

Jack raised that damn brow at me. “Oh, I don’t know. One, solid Jack can round out a lot of so-so hands.”

I was trying to think of a witty comeback that involved solidness when he said, “I believe I
will
pay to see. Call.” He pushed his bet in.

The river card was a jack, and the other players leaned forward in their seats. “All in,” I said, putting the chips in quickly. The second I did I cursed my impulsiveness. It wasn’t a bad play. He only guessed I was bluffing.
 

I was committed to the pot, as much as I’d already bet. Putting all my chips in was one way to
really
make him guess. And from the cards on the table, he couldn’t have had too much of a hand. A pocket pair, probably. Nothing he’d feel real great about calling me with.

But somewhere deep inside I knew I wouldn’t have made the same bet against anybody other than Jack Schiller. He’d goaded me into it, and that had never happened to me before.

 
But it was too late, the bed was made. The bet. The bet was made.

“Call,” he said with no hesitation and turned over pocket jacks. The one on the table making three jacks.

Four too many at this table.

Chapter Fourteen

T
he game broke up shortly after that. Only a couple more hands were played. Len ended up being the big winner. Jack, as far as I could tell, was up twenty thousand.
 

My twenty thousand.

Ralph was up and I was glad for that. He’d been a good host.

 
It was near six in the morning. Just a hint of sun was beginning to shine through the enormous windows of Ralph Stankowski’s poker room. I’d stuck around even after I was out because Ralph had promised me a ride down the Mount in the Incline and I wanted to do that. Besides, it was less humiliating to leave when everyone else did than to have to have Mr. Lee call me a cab.

I was light twenty k but that wasn’t totally out of the norm for me. I’d be out of debt tomorrow and would be able to recoup that at one of Vince’s games next week. Or whenever I felt it was okay to leave Ben and Saul long enough to play.

And I had a couple of names. Chuck and Ralph were definitely at the top of the list as far as looking into Danny and Gus’ shootings. Len offering up that information so easily had to put him on some kind of list too.

All in all, a pretty good night. Except for losing to Jack Schiller.

“Mind if I ride down in the Incline with you, Ms. Dawson? I’ve never seen one before, either.” Jack said in front of the group of men as we stood in the foyer.

“No,” I said and started out the door.

Ralph walked with Jack and me about a half mile to the Incline station. “I didn’t mean to cause this much trouble,” I said.

Ralph waved my comment aside as nonsense. “It feels good to get out and get some fresh air after a night like that.

It did, and the crisp winter night felt refreshing, if not colder than my Vegas blood was used to. It reminded me of Wisconsin in the winter; when you’d breathe in deep and feel the insides of your nose freeze up.
 

My leather jacket wasn’t really warm enough, but I didn’t mind.

I walked ahead of Jack and Ralph, heard them talking but couldn’t make out the words. I heard Ralph laugh, so I assumed Jack wasn’t reading him his Miranda rights or anything.

We got to the Incline station. Depot. I don’t know what they called it. I hadn’t seen anything like it in the U.S.—though granted, my experience was limited to Wisconsin, Vegas and the cities that JoJo frequented.

Ralph opened the building with a key and after entering some numbers into a keypad. When we got into the building, he went to a control panel and inserted his key and pressed some more numbers into a different keypad.

A loud hum surrounded us and I saw the Incline car start its way up the hill along the metal monorail track.

“It’ll take a few minutes for it to get up here,” Ralph said.

“This is great,” I said. “Thanks, Ralph.”

He nodded. “Once I get you on the car and get it started, I’ll call a cab company and have one meet you at the bottom of the hill, it’s still too early for the regular traffic to be out.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” Jack said.

Ralph acknowledged the thanks. Then he put his hands on his ample hips, looked at us both like we were misbehaving school children and said, “Do you appreciate it enough to tell me what the hell the two of you were doing at my game tonight?”

I looked at Jack. Let him field this one.

“No. I’m afraid not,” Jack said, his cop face firmly in place.

Ralph tried to read him as if we were still playing poker. I could have told him not to bother. Jack’s cop face was as unreadable as any pro poker player I’ve run across.

Ralph looked from one of us to the other, than back again. He sighed, rubbed his hands over his eyes. “I get two calls. Both from people I do a lot of business with. They both have someone they want to get in my next game. I say yes, because I respect and trust these people.” He looked at me. “And fear them.”

I figured that had to be Jimmy’s “guy”, but I said nothing. He’d probably scare me, too. Hell, Jimmy scared me sometimes.

“At least you only won each other’s money, so I won’t have to explain too much to the other players.”

Jack nodded, like that had been our plan all along. Again, I said nothing. Jack winning my money had been nowhere in my plans.

The Incline car had reached the top of the hill and Ralph, sensing he’d get no more out of Jack, walked us to the loading area.

The car sat at a forty-five degree angle with the track, so that it jutted straight out. The car contained three rows of seats that sat two or three per row. The rows were at a slight angle, stadium style, so that each row could see the spectacular view.

We said our goodbyes, shook Ralph’s hand and entered the car. I went to the front row and sat at the edge. Jack sat in the seat behind me. The car began its slow downward journey. I should have been enjoying the view—which really was spectacular.
 

I should have been talking to Jack about Chuck and Ralph and telling him about Len so easily giving up the information about Chuck and the Superbowl.

But instead, I continued to face forward and blurted out,
 
“How’d you know I was bluffing that last hand? And I don’t mean my needing a
jack
.”

He leaned forward, his lips near my ear. “You have a tell,” he whispered.

I turned my head slightly, not facing him, but I could see him out of the corner of my eye. “My necklace. I try to –”
 

“Not your necklace. I saw that fake tell coming a mile away, although you got that one guy to bite with it earlier.”

I turned fully around now. “That’s the only tell I have. And it’s not a tell, it’s a trap.”

He nodded. “And it worked. Just not on me.”

I studied him, trying to see if he was bluffing.

“I’m not bluffing. You have a tell.”

“What?”

He snorted. “Yeah, right, like I’m going to tell you.”

“We’ll never play poker together again, you might as well tell me. As a thank you,” I nearly cajoled. I’d watched hours of tape of myself playing making sure I never gave anything away that I didn’t want to.
 

This guy thinks he can read me in one night?

“A thank you for what? And don’t be so sure we won’t… play again.”

I ignored the second part of his statement, and went right for the first. “Thank me for getting information out of those guys. You’ve got Ralph Stankowski as a prime suspect now, with the names of two others to check out.”

“And I have you to thank for that?”  
He didn’t ask who the other name was. So he’d picked up that Len must have given me that Superbowl tip while we were at the buffet. It didn’t surprise me.

 
“Come on. What tell?” I said, and was shocked to hear the small amount of whine in my voice.

He chuckled, shook his head. “Unh unh, no way,” he said then sat back in his seat.
 
He looked outside, nodded. “You’re missing the view.”

I turned around in my seat, looked outside, barely seeing through my frustration. I took a deep breath. He had to be yanking my chain. No way did I have a tell, I’d worked too hard on it, for too long.