Player & the Game

by Shelly Ellis

  She was starting to wonder if his silence was supposed to be some kind of a punishment. So she was a little late getting ready this morning. Big deal! It didn’t mean she deserved the silent treatment.

  She stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest and glared out of the windshield, deciding to ignore him if he insisted on acting this way. Minutes later, they turned onto a long, winding road and finally pulled onto a gravel driveway bordered by cypress trees. When Stephanie saw the house sitting on the crest of the hill, she gaped in amazement.

  Stephanie was accustomed to opulence. Her mother’s mansion was one of the largest and most finely decorated in Chesterton and was only eclipsed in size by a few others, including the property owned by Stephanie’s brother-in-law Crisanto Weaver. But the house in front of her looked like something straight out of Gone with the Wind. She was sure she had stepped out of the present day and landed smack into the antebellum South. Pretty soon Scarlett O’Hara was going to come rushing out the door to battle with the Yankees.

  It was a plantation style house with six ionic columns holding up a white veranda. Green shutters were on every window. Brick steps led to the green French doors. The front porch was flanked by flowering rose bushes, and ivy climbed up the latticework along the sides of the mansion to the roof.

  Two women stood on the front porch. Both were smiling. One was a middle-aged white woman in a gray maid’s uniform, wearing a lace-edged apron. In her hands was a silver tray covered with a few glasses and a sweating pitcher of lemonade. Beside her was a white-haired, sepia-toned black woman who looked to be in her mid to late sixties, but she had the physique of someone much younger. Her flowing white hair was held back on one side by a black hair comb. She reminded Stephanie of her own deceased grandmother Althea. She was certainly wearing a dress that Althea would have worn herself, were she still alive. It was red and slightly low cut. The bodice was form-fitting, showing her small waist, but the skirt flared, ending at her brown calves. Her bare legs were nicely sculpted.

  When the SUV pulled to a stop near the house’s entrance, the black woman’s smile instantly widened. She walked down the brick steps toward the Explorer with round hips swaying.

  “Mr. Hendricks, I presume,” she drawled as Keith threw open his car door. She extended her slender, well-manicured hand.

  “Ms. Beaumont.” He nodded and took her hand in his own. He shook it.

  “Please,” she said, giving him a wink, “call me Myra. Any time someone calls me ‘Ms. Beaumont,’ I feel like an old schoolmarm.” She laughed and placed her hand over his and squeezed. She then let her dark eyes trail over him slowly. She licked her red-painted lips. “My, my, my! I didn’t expect you to be quite so handsome, Mr. Hendricks! I was expecting a—”

  She paused when Stephanie opened the car’s passenger-side door and climbed out of the SUV.

  “Well, who is this?” Myra released Keith’s hand. She narrowed her eyes at the younger woman, looking annoyed. “I don’t remember you saying you were bringing a guest with you, Mr. Hendricks.”

  He sighed. “I didn’t.”

  Myra cocked an eyebrow in confusion. “I’m sorry. So who is she?”

  Stephanie shut the car door and quickly stepped forward. She extended her hand. “Hello, Ms. Beaumont. My name is Stephanie Gibbons. It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

  Myra stared at Stephanie’s hand warily for several seconds before finally taking it. When she did shake it, she did it as if it pained her. “Pleased to meet you too, Miss Gibbons,” she said flatly. “Welcome to my home.”

  “Thank you. You have a very beautiful home, ma’am.”

  “Nice of you to say.” Myra pursed her lips. “So you are Mr. Hendricks’s companion. Are you also a detective?”

  Stephanie shook her head. “No, I’m—”

  “She’s my assistant,” Keith interjected. “She’s just . . . tagging along.”

  “Oh, how nice!” the older woman exclaimed, eyeing Stephanie again. “Isn’t that charming? Does your assistant always ‘tag along’ with you, Mr. Hendricks?”

  “Only when she refuses to be left behind,” he muttered, making the older woman throw back her head and laugh.

  Stephanie put her hands on her hips, not amused at being the butt of his joke. She knew why Keith was irritated with her, but she had done nothing to earn this woman’s disdain. Obviously, this hot-to-trot old biddy thought she would have Keith—a strapping young buck—all to herself.

  Hate to disappoint, lady, but I’m not going anywhere, she thought.

  “Well, come on inside,” Myra said, waving them forward. She walked back up the stairs to the French doors, but paused to stand in front of the maid. “Would you like some lemonade?” She held up the ice-cold pitcher and gazed at Keith adoringly.

  “Yes, I would love some,” Stephanie said politely.

  Myra dropped the pitcher back to the tray with a clink. “Then Helda can pour you some.”

  Stephanie quietly seethed in frustration and glanced up at Keith. She could see him fighting back a smile. The maid handed each of them glasses of lemonade and a minute later they walked through the French doors into the foyer that smelled like hyacinth and lemons.

  Stephanie gazed around her in wonder. A winding mahogany staircase led to the second floor. A sitting room with French country wallpaper and Queen Anne furniture was to her right and the dining room with a table that looked like it could seat a dozen people was to her left. An awe-inspiring glass chandelier hung overhead in the center of the foyer. There were several paintings on the wall, mostly in rococo style.

  This lady certainly doesn’t believe in skimping, she thought grudgingly.

  “So,” Myra began as she ushered them into her brightly-lit sitting room, “you wish to find out about Isaac.” She turned and waved her hand toward a pale yellow satin sofa, gesturing for them to take a seat. “Or at least that’s what he’s calling himself now.”

  “Yes,” Keith said, sitting down. “You said you two knew each other.”

  Stephanie took the seat beside him.

  “Oh, we knew each other very well!” Myra gave a thoughtful nod. “I’ve known him since he was nineteen years old. I was the one who taught him everything he knows.”

  Keith leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

  Myra paused. She crossed her brown legs and tilted her head. “How candid can I be with you, Mr. Hendricks?”

  “As candid as you’d like.”

  “I mean, sir, that I want to know whether I have to worry about you blabbing to the authorities and telling them what I am about to tell you. If that is the case, then we can end this conversation right now.”

  Stephanie raised her eyebrows, taking a sip from her glass. She wondered how Keith would handle this one.

  “If it’s anything pertaining to the case I’m now investigating, I have to tell them,” Keith said. “But if it’s anything related to any other crimes, I will use my own discretion.”

  “Uh-huh,” Myra said. “That’s a very diplomatic but honest answer, Mr. Hendricks.”

  “You don’t want me to lie to you, do you?”

  “I suppose not.” She waved her slender hand. “Well, what I’m about to say doesn’t paint me in the best light. Thank God for the statute of limitations or I could face jail time for half the things I’ve done in my life!” She cleared her throat. “But I will tell you anyway.”

  “Why?” Stephanie asked.

  Myra turned her gaze to her. “Because Isaac betrayed me, and the first rule I’ve ever taught him is that you do not betray your teacher. Now he has to pay the price for what he’s done and the price he pays could be a hefty one, but so be it. He brought it on himself.” She sat back in her chair. “When I met Isaac, he was a little street thug from a small town in Florida. He was what you young men call today a booster, I believe.”

  Keith nodded. “He stole cars.”

  “Yes, indeed, honey! He was working for some backwater kingpin named Big Red.” S
he pinched her lips. “He was still wet behind the ears back then. He thought he knew more about the world than he really did, but I could see that young man had potential. He was good lookin’—very good lookin’—and he had a natural charm to him. I decided to take him under my wing. I refined him. I taught him how to seduce and how to turn up the charm. I taught him how to run a con. He excelled at every lesson that I threw at him. He took to being a conman like a fish would take to water.”

  “Why’d you go out of your way to teach him these things?” Keith asked, taking a drink of lemonade. “You didn’t do it out of the kindness of your heart.”

  “Of course not! Honey, I was forty-five and Isaac was nineteen. I’ve always liked my men young and virile. They’re the only ones that can keep up with me! And that boy was as good in bed as he was pretty! He certainly had no problem with stamina.” She gave Keith another long, assessing gaze. “You know, you remind me a lot of what Isaac was like back then—very tough, very manly. You grew up in a rough neighborhood too, didn’t you?”

  Keith glanced at Stephanie and nodded. “East Baltimore.”

  When their eyes met, he looked away again. Stephanie suddenly wondered what the childhood version of Keith was like. Did he put up the same walls that the adult Keith often did?

  “Uh-huh,” Myra said with a nod. “I thought so. It’s just something about you boys. The hardness doesn’t go away. I like a tough man though, honey! Oh, the things I could have taught you . . .” She slowly shook her head and clucked her tongue. “. . . You couldn’t imagine.”

  Stephanie nearly choked on her lemonade. She started to cough. Keith bit back his laughter.

  “Well,” Myra said, getting back to the subject at hand, “every bird leaves the nest eventually. Isaac started to work his own cons, but he would always come back to visit every once and a while. He’d spend a few nights with me, then head on his way.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?” Keith asked.

  “About three months ago, before he headed to Virginia. That’s when I found out he had stolen money from me.” She slowly shook her head. “Me! Of all people! How could he do that? I was practically like a mother to him!”

  Stephanie raised an eyebrow. I’m pretty sure most men don’t get lessons in the bedroom from their mothers, she thought dryly, but kept that opinion to herself.

  “I swear the old saying holds true . . . there is no honor among thieves!” Myra continued. “If he comes back this time, he is not welcome. I told him never to darken my doorstep again.”

  “When was the last time you spoke to him?” Keith asked.

  “Oh, a few weeks ago.” She tilted her head. “He tried to smooth talk his way into my good graces. Whenever he finishes a con, he has to go into hiding for awhile. He wanted to come here but I told him no. He told me he had just swindled some silly real estate agent who thought he was going to marry her.” She chuckled. “Marry her! Can you believe that? Honestly, I swear some of these women are so gullible! They make cons so easy!”

  Stephanie instantly stiffened. Her hold around her glass of lemonade tightened to the point that she thought it would shatter in her hand.

  Keith glanced at her anxiously and cleared his throat. He then returned his attention to Myra. “Did Isaac say where he was going? Where else does he go when he wants to lie low for awhile?”

  Myra took a deep breath and thought for a bit. “If he doesn’t come here, he usually goes to his hometown in Florida. Something with the word ‘swamp’ in it. It’s not far from Pensacola.” She sneered. “I tried my best to get him to leave that Podunk town behind. I especially wanted him to lose contact with that fat thug Big Red because that man is nothing by a liability, but it didn’t work. Old roots run deep, I guess.”

  Keith nodded. “So if I want to find Isaac, I need to head to Florida then.”

  “I guess so, Mr. Hendricks.”

  “Can I count on your silence, Myra?” Keith asked, gazing into the older woman’s eyes. “You aren’t going to suddenly forgive Isaac and give him the heads-up . . . tell him that we’re looking for him?”

  She rose from her chair. “Trust me. You don’t have to worry about me telling him anything. He crossed me and I’m not one to forgive and forget. He knows that.” Her face suddenly brightened. “How long do you plan to stay in our fair town before you leave for Florida, Mr. Hendricks?”

  He shrugged and stood from the sofa. “Not long.”

  Stephanie followed suit and stood with the rest of them. She guessed that was the end of the interview.

  “Hopefully, for one more night, at least. You know, you’re welcome to stay here, if you wish. My home has plenty of rooms!”

  Stephanie noticed that she hadn’t been offered a similar invitation. She watched as Myra took a step toward Keith. The older woman lowered her thick, dark lashes.

  “You have an open invitation to one room in particular, Mr. Hendricks . . . if you’re interested,” she said to him with a saucy wink.

  Stephanie closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. “Actually, we’re staying at a local motel, but thanks for the offer, Myra,” Keith said.

  “Oh, well.” Myra shrugged. “I tried. Like I said . . . I’ve got a weakness for young men.”

  Chapter 18

  “God, someone give that woman a cold shower!” Stephanie exclaimed as they walked down the brick front steps and the length of Myra Beaumont’s gravel driveway back to his Explorer. “I thought your sex drive went down after menopause! If she’s like that now, what the hell was she like at forty-five?”

  “Too much for any one man to handle, I’m sure,” Keith muttered as he walked beside her.

  The temperature had increased since they had gone inside and it was now so sweltering hot and humid that their clothes instantly stuck to their skin. Stephanie fanned herself with her hands though it did little to cool her off.

  “So it looks like we’re headed to Florida now,” she said with a smile. “I’m glad I packed a sundress. I wish I had taken one of my bikinis with me too though.” She snapped her fingers. “You know what? Maybe I can buy one while we’re—”

  “I wouldn’t plan your wardrobe just yet,” he murmured, catching her off guard.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m going to Florida. You aren’t.”

  Stephanie came to a stop. She yanked off her sunglasses and stared at him. “What do you mean I’m not going?”

  “I meant exactly what I said.” He opened his car door and climbed inside. “Our deal was that you got to come to South Carolina. That’s it. You didn’t mention anything about tagging along after that.”

  “Because I didn’t know there would be anything after South Carolina!” Stephanie argued, climbing in after him.

  “Well, that’s tough luck for you, ain’t it?” He stuck his key into the ignition. They pulled off seconds later, kicking up gravel as they went.

  “Look, what is the big deal about having me here? I asked you before if you had a problem with me. You said that you didn’t!”

  “Well, I lied,” he said as he drove down the highway. “I’m tired of your complaining. I’m tired of your whining. I’ve met toddlers that were less huffy.”

  “Excuse me?” She was absolutely shocked at what she was hearing. “Did you just call me ‘huffy’?”

  “Stephanie, I don’t have time for the spoiled princess . . . prima donna routine. I’ve got a job to do! I suggest you go back home and let me do it.”

  “And what if I refuse to go back home?” she challenged, crossing her arms over her chest. “What are you going to do? Toss me on the side of the road?” She glared at him, raising her nose into her air.

  “No, I’ll quit the case,” he answered succinctly. “I’ll give you back your money. Your contract with Stokowski and Hendricks will become null and void. We end it at that.”

  She stared at him in outrage. “You wouldn’t!”

  “Yes, I would. Just try me, lady!” He tore his gaze fro
m the roadway to glare at her. “Listen, I take my job very seriously. This isn’t just fun and games for me.”

  “This isn’t fun and games for me either!”

  “I need to be able to do my work. I don’t need any distractions.”

  She pointed at her chest. “And I’m a distraction?”

  “Yes . . . a big one,” he mumbled.

  He looked away then, and she wondered what she had done to make this guy dislike her so much. Men usually adored her. This was the first guy she had ever met who seemed to find her outright repugnant. She found it hard to believe that this was the same man who seemed so attracted to her less than a month ago that his desire for her was almost palpable.

  “So that’s where we stand, huh? Either I leave or you quit?”

  “Exactly.”

  Stephanie balled her fists in her lap. She was so angry, she couldn’t see straight. He wasn’t dumping her on the side of the road, but he might as well with the way he was treating her.

  The rest of the drive was carried out in silence with Keith focused on the road and Stephanie obstinately staring out the passenger-side window with her back to him. They arrived back at the Starlight Motel to find that the rooms they had checked out of earlier that day were no longer vacant.

  “A church group came through at around two o’clock and booked almost every room we had available,” the clerk explained while popping his gum. He scratched his oily head and glanced up from his computer screen. “We’ve got one room left if you want it though. It’s a double. It can fit the both of you.”

  “One room?” Keith dropped his head into his hands and leaned his elbow on the counter. “Great. Just great!”