by Lois Lavrisa
“Raise.” Howie’s eyes didn’t blink while he slid in chips.
JJ’s forehead glistened with a slight sheen of sweat. He twisted his mouth, as though trying to decide what to do next. He paused before admitting, “I’m out.”
Ray placed his cards facedown in front of him and folded his hands over them.
I guessed that Ray had a good hand by the way he protected his cards with his hands held over them. His lips tightened in a thin line. His eyes averted toward the dealer.
“Call.” Ray leaned forward slightly as he moved one hand to place his bet.
Dickey’s hand shook ever so faintly as he drank his scotch and soda on the rocks. Although his outward signs of age, including his sun-spotted and wrinkled skin, might cause some players to discount him as a threat, I knew better. “Fold.” Dickey set down his drink and then threaded a hand through his thick white hair.
Patrice pushed more chips in. “Call.”
After the preflop betting ended, Maggie dealt the flop, placing the top card in the deck facedown on the table, followed by three cards face up. Another round of betting started for the three remaining players.
Patrice tapped her long fingers on the table as she looked around the room through her thick black-rimmed glasses. “Check.”
The last time I’d lost to her, she’d beaten me on the river, pure luck on her part.
“Check.” Howie kept his expression neutral. Having been his beat partner, I knew him through and through. This was good inside knowledge to have as a player against him in the game. Then again, he could read me just as well.
“Bet.” Ray smiled ear to ear. “I’m just getting warmed up. Why don’t we end this now, and you all just hand over all your chips?”
“Good idea. Push them my way, Ray. Call.” Howie glanced at the other cop’s stack. “I’ll be taking them all from you before long.”
“You both think you have good hands?” Patrice slowly slid more chips into the pot. “Don’t get too cocky. Those might be the only good cards you have all night. Call.”
“Or they could be the first of many.” Ray stole a glance at Maggie. She caught his eye, and he grinned.
Maggie dealt two more cards.
Was he flirting with her?
Patrice won that hand. For the next hour, we played several more hands. Dickey, JJ, and Howie had multiple losses, which were reflected in their dwindling stacks. Patrice won the most pots, followed by me and then Ray.
We had just finished a hand when Norman came over to the table. “Is now a good time for you all to take a break? The food is ready.”
“It’s a perfect time.” Patrice slung her purse over her shoulder.
“I’m ready for a break,” I agreed.
“Might as well.” Dickey stood. “I need to stretch my legs and rub a lucky rabbit foot. Heck, the whole damn rabbit, for that matter, as cruddy as my cards have been.”
I didn’t want to say that maybe his fortune might change if he took it easy on the scotch and sodas.
“I have to use the restroom.” JJ stretched his arms over his head. “And I might actually consider leaving out the back door and running away before I lose my shirt.”
I laughed. “You’re not doing so bad.”
“But not so good, either,” JJ replied.
Maggie fanned the cards on the table and then gathered her purse and sweater. She made her way to the back by the restrooms.
Howie and Dickey chatted near the table while Ray and I headed to the bar area. Bezu had set out plates and silverware, napkins, sandwiches, chips, potato salad, pickles, and a tray of muffins.
Ray moved next to Bezu, who was putting containers away in her basket. “Hello, there,” he told her. “Thanks for making us dinner tonight. I really appreciate it.”
“You are more than welcome,” Bezu replied. “I’m honored to do it.”
“I read the article in Savannah magazine about you. By the way, they took great pictures of you. You looked like a supermodel. And you do in person, too.”
Bezu blushed and stepped back. With an ear-to-ear grin, she looked at him and said, “Why, thank you. I will let my fiancé know that he’s not alone in his favorable estimation of me.”
“He’s a lucky guy,” Ray told her.
“I hope you enjoy the meal, Ray.” Bezu smiled.
“Thank you. I’m sure I will.”
Dickey sauntered over to Bezu and leaned on the counter next to her, clearly violating her personal space. “You know, it’s hard to find a woman who’s good in the kitchen and looks good, too.”
Bezu laughed. “Then you must not be looking in the right places.”
For once, Dickey seemed at a loss for words. He retreated to the spot where the others were plating their food.
I gave Bezu a thumbs-up. Her cordial comebacks were one of the many qualities I loved about her.
Bezu pulled her shoulders back, tucked a strand of her long blond hair behind her ear, and curtsied.
I laughed out loud.
Chapter 8
A while later, we were back at the table.
Big Mike collected empty glasses and delivered fresh drinks to each of us. I thanked him as he set down my beer.
Maggie dealt the cards.
Howie looked at his hand and then nodded slightly.
Ray looked at his cards, placed them facedown, and rubbed his mouth. “The poker gods are looking down on me. Patrice, I’m knocking you out of the lead.”
Dickey peeled up a corner of his cards, cocked his head, and looked at them. “Hold off there, big-shot Ray. I think my luck has changed.” His words sounded marginally slurred. He finished off his drink and waved to Big Mike to bring another.
“And mine, too,” Howie said.
“Fortune is with me, as well.” Patrice placed her elbows on the table.
“I’ve got the best hand of the night,” I claimed.
“You wish.” Ray scratched his arm.
“Yeah, I’m not falling for that.” JJ smirked. “You’re all bluffing.”
“Am I?” Dickey raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, hose jockey, why don’t you try me?” Ray coughed and then took a sip of his beer.
“You want to mess with my head, and it won’t work.” JJ tapped his facedown cards.
“Won’t it?” Ray’s voice sounded hoarse. Sweat formed on his upper lip.
Howie interjected, “You know what they say, JJ. If you want your cat saved, call a fireman; if you want your life saved, call a cop.”
“Really, Howie, you want in on this?” JJ smirked. “I guess you have no choice. It takes two cops to equal one fireman.”
Howie held up his glass as if in surrender. “Touché, smoke eater. Touché.”
I always enjoyed hearing the ribbing between cops and firemen. “Not your best there, Ray. I think you could do better.”
Ray rubbed his throat. “JJ, maybe you should quit poker and go back to doing your difficult job: climbing ladders.”
“Really, Ray, you want to talk about jobs?” JJ shot back. “I heard you arrested the Energizer bunny and charged him with battery.”
We all laughed.
“Okay, boys, are you going to play or what?” Patrice asked. “’Cause I feel like I’m sitting in the schoolyard with a bunch of children trying to out-smack-talk each other.”
“I’m ready.” I had pocket aces. A great hand. This night had taken a turn for the better. I could almost feel my victory.
“Then let’s play.” Howie straightened his back.
Coughing and wheezing, Ray let his cards fall from his hand. He jumped up, bumping the table as his chair toppled with a bang. His cell phone clattered to the floor. He was shaking as he held his stomach.
Dickey looked at the cards Ray had dropped. “Damn, Ray. Two kings.”
Ray stumbled to the back wall. He reached in a pocket of his hanging coat and pulled out an EpiPen. He popped it open and then jammed it into his left thigh.
“What’s g
oing on?” Dickey asked.
I stood. “He’s having an allergic reaction!”
Everyone looked at Ray.
Ray had one hand on the wall as he doubled over coughing.
“Sounds like he’s gasping for air,” Dickey pointed out. “How long does the shot take to work?”
“Right away,” I said. Every cell in my body stood at alert, ready to pounce into action if needed.
Ray slumped to the ground.
I rushed over to Ray’s supine body and checked his pulse, which was faint. His breathing was labored. I immediately began CPR with chest compressions. His chest was sweaty, his breathing shallow, and his skin pale. As I tipped his head back to open his airway, his skin felt clammy.
JJ made it to my side. “Let me give it a try.”
I stood and quickly called 911, giving them my badge number, location, and details of what had happened.
“Why is the medicine taking so long to work?” Dickey set his drink on the table.
I began to panic inside. I had the very same question.
By this time, everyone had left the table.
Bezu was at my side, her hand on my arm. “Ray ate my food.”
“We all did.”
“But none of you are having issues except Ray.” Bezu’s voice shook. “José, maybe it’s my fault.”
I put a hand on her shoulder. “No, it’s not. If it had anything to do with your food, which it did not, he would have reacted immediately.”
“But what if he had some type of delayed reaction?” Bezu bit her bottom lip. “I was careful when I made the food. Really, I was. I followed everyone’s dietary needs and took note of any allergies. Dickey no dairy, Ray no peanuts, Patrice gluten-free bread.” Bezu breathed deeply and hung her head. “José, I wiped the kitchen counters down. I wore gloves, I—I—”
“It’s okay.” I locked eyes with her.
“You think so?” Bezu asked.
“Yes, trust me.”
Patrice stood near Maggie.
JJ called out, “His mouth and throat are swollen, and he’s not getting any air. He’s unresponsive.”
Ray’s eyes stared unmoving at the ceiling. Why wasn’t the epinephrine shot working?
JJ continued chest compressions.
The siren of an ambulance neared. Norman opened the front door and let the paramedic and EMT in. As they worked on Ray, everyone gathered off to the side.
We all seemed to hold our collective breath as we watched.
A few minutes later, JJ walked over to me. “They can’t do an endotracheal intubation because his throat is closed. They’re going to have to do a tracheostomy.”
“That bad?” Howie said.
“Yes. But the good news for Ray is that this team has experience doing the procedure,” JJ added.
“Good,” I said. How had this gone from bad to worse so quickly?
The room felt colder and seemed darker than it had a few minutes before. We all stood and continued to watch. The air felt charged.
As I observed the paramedics working on Ray, something gnawed at me. I couldn’t wrap my mind around Ray’s lack of response to the epinephrine. It usually took effect in seconds. It had been a few minutes now.
Howie sidled next to me. “I called his niece and let her know what’s going on. She’s on her way here.”
I didn’t like Ray, and that was a known fact. But he was in serious trouble, and I hated that the CPR I’d performed hadn’t worked, and now I couldn’t do anything but stand by and wait.
Howie added, “I’m sure he’ll be fine any minute. Back to his annoying self in no time.”
I grinned. “You got that right.” My body tensed as my pulse quickened. I hated not doing anything. Not being able to help when someone was in trouble made me anxious. Surely the epinephrine will do its job and Ray will be fine.
A few moments later, the paramedics stopped working on Ray. One stood followed shortly by the other. Their equipment lay strewn on the floor near Ray.
“We did all we could.” One of the paramedics looked at me and then at Howie. “He’s dead.”
Dead? I felt completely unmoved. I wasn’t proud of that. What I felt instead of sadness was irritation, as if I had a stone in my shoe. Only this stone was in my thoughts. Why hadn’t the EpiPen worked? How had Ray gotten exposed to the allergen? And what triggered Ray’s allergy so quickly?
Maggie held a hand to her head as if she were ready to faint. Bezu went to her and put her arm around her. Patrice looked shocked; her mouth hung open, and she hugged herself.
Norman paced in front of the bar. “Oh, shit.”
Mike shook his head as he put a hand on the counter as if to support himself.
“Why didn’t he respond to the shot?” Dickey called out.
“I don’t know.” I felt like a weight sat on my shoulders. I needed to take charge of the situation, secure the area. “No one touch anything until the police get here. They’ll definitely want to bag the EpiPen and then probably search the entire place.”
“José, I was just going to ask someone to do that,” Dickey agreed. “If that shot didn’t work like it was supposed to, then it could be a faulty product.”
I took a long breath, irritated with Dickey. “I know how to do my job.”
“This could be a huge lawsuit,” Dickey added.
“C’mon. Back off, a guy just died,” I told him. Even though Ray was a jerk, he still deserved a little respect.
“Now, hold on there. I have sympathy. Really, I do. But I also want to preserve his legal rights.” Dickey raised an eyebrow. “I need to get a hold of Ray’s family. Do you know any of them?”
I didn’t know Ray’s father but could guess what he was like after overhearing their conversation the other day. Meanwhile, two policemen walked in. I told Dickey, “There’s Officer Nowak, Ray’s niece.”
Officer Nowak and Homicide Detective McFalls made their way to us.
I leaned in toward Dickey. “I would tread lightly here. I wouldn’t be jumping to conclusions.”
Dickey tilted his head and held up a hand. “I’m a professional.”
I continued, “None of us knows what really happened. Neither of us have all the facts.”
Dickey glanced at me. “I’m just saying, if it turns out to be wrongful death, I need to be there to help his family.”
Dickey was acting like an ambulance-chasing lawyer, which annoyed me to no end. I put my hands in the air. “Dickey, do what you gotta do. I’m gonna do my job.”
Dickey greeted Nowak with an outstretched hand. “I’m sorry for your loss. I want you to know I will do everything in my power to help you.”
Chapter 9
While Dickey talked nearby with Nowak and McFalls, Howie and I waited by the bar.
Howie leaned against the counter. “Do you believe this? Ray is gone.”
“No. It still hasn’t sunk in yet that he’s gone.”
“I know. I think we’re all shock,” Howie glanced around the room. “I can’t believe he died.”
I lowered my voice. “Between you and me, I think there’s more to this than an accident.”
“Really? ’Cause I think there’s nothing more to this. It was a tragedy, pure and simple.” Howie ran a hand through his hair. “A freak one at that.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, there’s something off about it.”
“Like what?” Howie asked.
I answered even as Nowak and Dickey came up next to us. “How did Ray get exposed to peanuts in the first place? And why didn’t the EpiPen work? He got worse instead of better.”
Dickey joined our conversation. “Sorry about eavesdropping, but I gotta jump in here. I can understand why Ray didn’t get better. There’s a recall on EpiPens. Faulty auto injectors.”
Howie rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised you know that?”
“It’s my public service responsibility to stay up-to-date on product recalls.�
� Dickey glanced at Nowak. “Plus, I just Googled it.”
Nowak started to weep. “So if my uncle had one of those bad ones, instead of working and saving him, it might have killed him?”
Dickey handed her a business card. “It could be a case of product liability. Put me to work, and I’ll help you chop through legal issues.”
Nowak sobbed as her body shuddered. “I heard my uncle was having an allergic reaction, so I wanted to be here with him. I had no idea that I’d come here and he’d be dead.” She let out a loud wail.
Bezu rushed to Nowak’s side, putting an arm around her and guiding her to a chair.
“Poor kid. It’s a tough situation she’s in. I gotta make some calls.” Dickey waved as he turned and walked off.
Once Dickey and Nowak were out of earshot, I told Howie, “I’m not sure anyone should leave.”
“Hold on there, José,” McFalls said, apparently overhearing. “This is my call. I’m in charge here. And this is not a crime scene. Everyone is free to go. Plus, I’m not authorized for overtime, and my shift ends soon. And my fiancée, Caroline, is making dinner for me.”
“If this turns out to be something other than an accident, I know you’d want to make sure you covered all your bases,” I advised.
McFalls put up his hands. “It’s a tragedy, for sure, one of our own gone and all. A terrible accident. But that’s it. Don’t make a case where there is none.”
I shook my head. “Can you at least bag and tag anything Ray could have touched? It won’t take long. The EpiPen especially. I already told everyone not to touch it and leave it where it was.”
McFalls looked at his phone. “I think it’s unnecessary.”
“But you’ll take it and log it?” I pointed to the EpiPen lying on the floor next to Ray’s body. Since I wasn’t the cop on duty and I’d been a part of the poker game when Ray died, I knew I shouldn’t handle it.
“Fine. Whatever.” McFalls rubbed his neck. “But this is nothing more than an allergic reaction. It seems like you’re trying too hard to make something out of it. Besides, I have enough open cases now, and this doesn’t belong on my desk.”
“I’m with McFalls,” Howie put in. “Do what you gotta do. But in my opinion, you’re trying to make something out of nothing. If I were you, I’d leave it alone.”