Beads of Doubt (24 page)

“Not yet,” I said. “They’re only five.”

 

Eventually I started settling in, winning a few and losing
a few. Two players from our table were already out of the tournament. One of the college kids—the one with the red hair—and the cowboy. At different times they’d gone all-in, betting their whole stack, and hadn’t won the hand. I decided it was time to try asking about Andrew before any more went out.

I looked straight at the thirtyish guy with the shaved head. I used good-ol’-boy speak. “I didn’t hear what you said last time. Did you say you knew my friend Andrew Lynch?”

Shave head shrugged. “Name doesn’t ring a bell.”

“About five-eleven, slender, dark-haired with some gray at the sides?” Most of the players were looking at their cards.

Under other circumstances I might have mentioned, politely, how rude it is not to answer when someone asks you a question. Especially when that someone happens to be your elder, but since I wasn’t in familiar territory I wasn’t sure the same rules applied. Maybe I was being rude by talking. I gave it one more try. “Andrew handles investments for a living.” I was careful to keep it in the present tense.

This time the shrug showed even less interest. “I don’t recall him, but I come to play cards, not to talk.”

Which certainly put me in my place. No one else seemed to notice, except Cat’s Eyes, who smiled and winked. We played the hand, and I was trying to figure my next move when suddenly people were being shifted around. Two of the tables were taken down because they no longer had players.

I gave myself a mental pat on the back. I had outlasted at least twenty of the men. Or sixteen if those were small tables; either way I was doing pretty darn well for my first tournament. I was looking around for Beth when I was tapped on the shoulder. It was the woman who’d been at the door. “If you’ll move over there.” She pointed two tables down, and I picked up my Marilyn Monroe purse and waved at the guys. “It’s been a pleasure.”

“Don’t forget your chips,” Cat’s Eyes said.

“Good idea.” I scooped them up and moved along. When I got to the new table I discovered that I would be sitting across from Beth.

“Oh, Ki—Katherine,” she stumbled. “This is great. How are you doing?”

I set my chips on the table. “Not too bad.”

“I guess. That stack is almost as tall as Trump Tower.” She smiled at the men around the table. “Everyone, this is my friend Katherine Zoelnick, only we call her Acey. Acey, this is Gregg.” She gestured to a big man with professionally smooth silver hair.

“Welcome,” he said.

“Thank you. It’s my pleasure,” I said with something like stunned reverence for Beth’s social skills.

Then she went around the table introducing every man there by name and occupation.

How could she do that? “Nice meeting all of you.” No trace of my Texas twang.

“Oh, and K—Acey,” Beth said, beaming at everyone as if she were the hostess at a quilting bee, “Gregg is a lawyer. He used to practice real estate law, but for the last eight years he’s been involved in corporate law.”

“No kidding,” I said.

Beth was in go mode. “Yes, and he’s got a kitten as rowdy as Sinatra. Only Gregg’s kitten is orange and his name is Pippin.”

“They’re a handful, aren’t they?” I said.

Gregg laughed. “Pippin thinks he rules the house. He’s got the dog scared to death of him.”

Cat’s Eyes sauntered over to our table and took the seat next to Beth. “Seems I’m to join you good people.”

“Welcome,” Beth said. She introduced the entire group again. “And what was your name?” she asked him.

“Sandy.” He nodded toward me. “And there’s my arch rival.”

“Acey?” Beth said. “Has she been taking your money?”

“More than I’d like. And I’d really hate to play against her grandkids.”

Everyone looked a little surprised, but before I could explain, the call of “Deal ’em up” came. Gregg dealt.

Earlier that day I had told myself that I would be perfectly happy if could get a little information about Andrew at the tournament and if I didn’t make a fool of myself. Problem was that once I started playing, and won a few hands, my old competitive spirit kicked in. I wanted to win the tournament. I wanted my blonde hair back, and I wanted to tell everyone my real name, too, just so they’d know who the champ was.

Since those last two things couldn’t happen, I could at least win. During the first round of betting I started watching for tells, those little signs that showed a player was nervous. It wasn’t easy to spot them because I didn’t know these people. I didn’t know who bet even when they didn’t have a good hand, or who played conservatively. I would have to make best guesses and respond accordingly.

Luckily, I was dealt a jack and a four, and I didn’t figure I needed to throw any chips away on a hand like that. It gave me a chance to watch. Beth played tight, very conservatively. Two others dropped out midway through the hand, and Gregg was the guy with the biggest stack and the biggest bets. He also won the pot.

During the deal I glanced at Beth. “Well?” I mouthed.

She gave me a disgusted look and mouthed back, “Okay.” But she didn’t say a word.

The next hand was dealt, and I folded long before we got to the second round of betting. Eventually Sandy won, and Beth said, “You know, Acey knows Andrew better than I do. Acey, Gregg said that Andrew is usually here twice a week, almost every week.”

“Do the rest of you know Andrew, too?” I asked.

The men shook their heads no, except for Sandy, Mr. Cat’s Eyes. He had his poker face on, and those green-gold eyes of his were staring right at me. I couldn’t tell what was going on behind them.

I said, “Andrew’s a pretty good player, isn’t he?”

The man to my right chuckled. “He’s good, but he can get caught up in the hand.”

“Can’t we all,” Gregg said with a smile. “Making that bet just a few seconds too fast.”

“Not you,” someone said. “Never you.”

“I’m not as bad as some,” Gregg said. “We’ve seen some real hair triggers around here.”

Cards were being dealt again. That was the problem with trying to get information at a poker tournament: people insisted on playing poker. It was slowing down my questioning.

We finished out the hand, and Beth won. “Thank you, thank you. No applause please,” she said, collecting her chips.

“Hey, Lupe,” I said as she stacked them up, “did you know that Andrew worked for Houston Webber?”

Her expression said I was pushing things too far, but Gregg said, “He plays here, too, but not as often as Andrew. Isn’t Houston a Camden?”

I tried to read something into his question, but his expression was bland, as if he were just looking for confirmation.

“He is,” Beth said, and the cards were dealt and everyone got quiet.

“What kind of a player is Houston?” I asked.

We did some betting first, and finally Gregg said, “He’s pretty cagey.”

Sandy was staring at his cards, but he said, “I thought all the Camdens were cagey, until something gets their adrenaline running.”

“Usually at the after games,” Gregg said.

“What are those?” I asked.

“Oh, sometimes those of us who go out of the tournament early get together at someone’s house and play,” Gregg explained. “One night Andrew and Houston were there along with—”

“All in,” Sandy said.

“Are you kidding me?” another man demanded. “I’m sure I have five aces.”

“Then bet them,” Gregg said.

I wanted to hear about that after party; specifically I wanted to know what had happened between Andrew and Houston and who else was there. I was waiting for the end of the hand to ask, when the two men flipped their cards over. Sandy lost and he was out of the tournament.

“Break,” someone called from near the door. “Twenty minutes. Food is on the patio; if you’re going to smoke, take it out to the end of the parking lot.”

Beth came around the table, carrying her purse. “Come on, let’s freshen up.”

I hesitated, hoping I could get some more information, but the men had scattered.

“Sure.” I picked up my purse, and we headed for the ladies room. Halfway there, I said, “This is ridiculous. Every time I get ready to ask a question it’s time to play poker.”

“Yes. And every time I start to play poker, you ask a question.”

Inside the ladies room it was quiet, all the noise of the tournament filtered out. I looked in the mirror. “Oh, my God! I can’t believe I’m out in public looking like this.”

“It’s not so bad,” Beth said, going into a stall. “You just have to get used to it.”

I straightened the lime green sweater and wiped mascara from under my eyes. “Nice hair,” I said. I turned my head side to side to get a better look and the hot pink earrings swung around, catching me on the cheekbones. “Nice earrings, too.”

“Yeah. I was thinking I’ll have to borrow the whole outfit sometime.”

I grinned. “But we are learning things,” I said, taking out my lipstick. “I had no idea that Houston played Texas hold ’em! That’s pretty amazing.”

“You think he and Andrew came out here together?”

“I doubt if they rode together. Who wants to sit around for a couple of hours if you’re out of the tournament and your ride is still playing? But they obviously did both go to the after game.”

I wondered if Rebecca knew that Houston played poker. Surely she did. What would be the point of lying about it? The other thing I knew is that when Rebecca was going through her surgery and then the chemo, Houston had been very attentive to her. I doubted that he would leave her home alone so he could hang out in a metal building. It just wasn’t his style.

As kids we had all played at the family gatherings. He was pretty good but not spectacular. He
was
cagey, though; I’d agree with that. Sometimes he’d get my brother, or more likely me, in competitive mode, pushing too hard, and then he’d trounce us.

What I wanted to know was how many times a week was Houston playing now? How much money did he spend on it? I did some math; if he played twice a week, it would run between six hundred and seven hundred dollars a month. And what was the cost of the after parties? I didn’t see these guys playing for matchsticks like we used to.

If he were playing somewhere else, as well as this tournament, then the amount could be closer to a couple of thousand dollars a month. That added up pretty quickly, particularly on top of Rebecca’s medical bills. I didn’t think Houston was in the income bracket that would allow him to absorb those kinds of expenses easily.

Then there was the fact that he and Andrew were playing poker together. Somehow I’d always thought they had only a working relationship, although a very tight one. Did something happen out here that gave Andrew an advantage over Houston?

I needed to find out about that occasion Gregg had started to tell us about.

Beth came out of the stall, washed her hands, and dried them. “What are you thinking?” she asked.

“I’m trying to figure how we’re going to get Gregg to tell us the story about Andrew and Houston.”

Beth turned to look at me. “Do you think it matters?”

“You bet I do.” While Beth put on lipstick, I tried to explain. “Houston is my cousin, and I love his wife. When I found out he was at the police station it didn’t even occur to me that he could have killed Andrew. I was positive that he wouldn’t do that kind of thing, but I didn’t necessarily have a good reason for believing in him.”

“No basis in fact?” she said. That had to be a law term she’d learned from her soon-to-be ex.

“I guess,” I said. “Now I’m wondering if I wasn’t a little hasty.” I picked up my purse. “Gregg seems like a nice man. I’ll try to track him down and ask him.”

“That’s what I wanted to tell you! Gregg is a legal shark. That’s what one of the other guys called him. He could be the lawyer you’re looking for.”

“I just knew coming here tonight was important.” I felt a tightness in my shoulders ease just a pinch. “Now if I can just win the tournament, the evening will be a total success.”

“I love how you always think small,” Beth said. “You could at least settle for second place.”

We stepped out of the restroom. The metal building wasn’t as big as it had originally seemed, and the men milling around were just regular men, not the hardened high rollers I’d expected. A few were drinking beers, and it was surprising how many were carrying around water bottles, just like the people in the chichi exercise clubs.

I wondered if Sandy had already left. I didn’t see him inside, but then there was still a pretty good crowd to my right and I couldn’t pick out everyone. I looked toward the windows to see if he was outside when Beth grabbed my arm.

“Oh, shit!” she said, pulling me backward. “Quick, get in the ladies’ room.”

“Beth. What’s going on?” I was trying to remain poised, but she was frantically jerking on me.

“There. Look outside the second window.”

I glanced out, and I could clearly see two men walking purposefully toward the front door. I studied them, and my eyes widened. “Oh, hell!”

“We’ve got to get out of here!”

I practically flew back into the ladies’ room. “How
are we going to get out?”

Beth and I were frantically looking around. At the same time we spotted a small window up near the very high ceiling.

“Don’t even think about it,” Beth said.

“I wasn’t.”

“Is there a back door?” she asked.

“Yes. That double garage door in the corner.”

“That’s not going to work, either.”

“How’s this,” I said. “We stay in here until the place closes and then we sneak out.”

“Your brain has seized up. If they’re raiding the tournament, I assume they’ll look in the bathrooms.”