Poker Chips and Poison

by Rodney Strong

  She was too old to get back into it. She couldn’t trust her body, and although she was still more with-it mentally than many people her age, she wasn’t as sharp as she had been fifty years ago. One rule about the con game was always be the smartest person in the room (and if you aren’t the smartest, then be the most cunning).

  It was mid-January. The morning was mild and bright, so Alice decided to go for a walk. Vanessa was behind the front desk and they exchanged waves before Alice exited through the doors of the main building, otherwise sarcastically referred to by residents as Colonel Mustard due to its colour. She went down the stairs, and onto the driveway. Turning left would take her along the tree-lined drive to the front gate. Instead, she crossed to the paved path, turned right and followed its curved direction around Colonel Mustard. She nodded to two residents who were pulling weeds out of the community vegetable garden. Up ahead she spied Betty going through the door to the Wellbeing Centre, which was a fancy name for a place designed to keep your head and body from decaying too quickly. Residents had named it the Olympic Complex. She called out, but her friend didn’t acknowledge her as she disappeared inside. Alice didn’t think anything of it. Half the people here had some form of hearing difficulty. But Alice thought Betty had looked worried.

  She stopped outside the complex and peered through the large window. No one was in the small heated pool. Beyond that she could make out the back of a figure on one of the treadmills. It made no sense to her. They had to walk to get to a machine that walked for them. There was no sign of Betty, so maybe she was in the gaming room (the name of which had excited Alice when she’d first arrived, only to find that it was a room with cards and board games rather than casino activities).

  Alice hesitated, unsure whether to continue her walk or go in search of her friend. It was Tuesday, wasn’t it? Alice and Betty had a regular coffee date at 10am on Tuesdays. She would talk to Betty then.

  Continuing on the path, she looped past Charlie’s, the small café just for village residents, where she saw Teresa deep in conversation with a woman Alice didn’t recognise.

  She marched the length of Owen’s building, which was officially called Rimu House, and unofficially nicknamed Stumpy, rounded the corner and ended up where she started. Pausing on the top step, she leaned against one of the concrete columns (which seemed to be there for no reason other than to say “hey look how pretentious this building is”). She listened to her breath rattling. At least it showed she was alive, she thought, even as the disquieting thought crept in that it didn’t sound quite right.

  She pulled her phone from her jersey pocket and went to dial Amanda’s number. She stopped. Her granddaughter was working, which meant calls to her were in case of emergency only. A vague feeling that something, somewhere might not be alright didn’t constitute an emergency. Alice shoved the phone back into her pocket and slunk inside, ignoring Vanessa’s greeting as the elevator doors slid shut.

  ‘I guess ignoring people is catching,’ she mumbled to herself.

  In her apartment she stripped off the extra layers, made herself another cup of tea, and checked her emails. Most of the people she knew were dead or lived in the village, so she didn’t get many messages. Someone had emailed to warn her that her computer had been hacked and someone had videos of her watching pornography which was quite amusing; someone else wanted to give her millions of dollars in gold, which made her want to respond to say if she wanted gold she’d steal it.. Mostly Alice used the email account as an alternative way to keep in touch with Amanda, but there was nothing from her. After her daughter Carol passed away, Alice took Amanda in and raised her to be smart, cunning, and independent. There was never any need to worry when Amanda was working. Which is why Alice only worried a little bit.

  A few minutes before ten Alice walked down to Charlie’s. The day had warmed up since her early morning walk and she stopped on the path to remove her jersey before arriving just in time to see Betty approaching from the other direction.

  ‘Morning, Alice,’ Betty said with a smile.

  ‘It certainly is,’ Alice replied with a grin, which turned into a laugh when Betty rolled her eyes.

  Betty wore jeans and an apricot-coloured jersey. Her battered brown bag was slung over one shoulder.

  Charlie’s was small, comfortable and, most importantly, warm and quiet. A while back, when Alice had gone into Wellington city to meet Amanda, she’d found the cafes too noisy for conversation. Luckily Amanda knew of a quiet out of the way place where the only noise was their voices and the occasional hiss of a coffee machine. Here there was a gentle buzz of voices without any fighting for dominance. Three of the six tables were occupied, two by complex staff, and the other by Les and Freda, a couple Alice knew had been married for fifty years. As she watched, while Les was focused on topping up his cup from the teapot, his wife casually reached up and switched off her hearing aid. When Les looked back and resumed his discourse on the problem with society his wife nodded as if agreeing with everything.

  At the counter Betty surprised her by saying, ‘Order what you like Alice, my shout.’

  Alice was about to respond that it was her turn to buy, but she paused when she saw how intently Betty was studying the selection of scones. Normally Betty was strict with schedules, whose turn it was to do things, what time to show up, what to bring. They had met for a coffee every Tuesday for eight months, always alternating who paid. This was the first time Betty had muddled up the order. For a moment Alice wondered if she herself had mistaken whose turn it was to pay, but she distinctly remembered Betty paying for her savoury scone and herbal tea exactly one week ago.

  Determined to find out what had caused the lapse in routine, Alice told the man behind the counter her order, then sat down at one of the empty tables.

  ‘I suppose you’re wondering why I’m paying two weeks in a row,’ Betty said when she joined Alice.

  Alice nodded. That she realised the change was a good sign. Betty wasn’t cracking up.

  ‘There’s no problem I promise you.’

  ‘You looked a little worried this morning,’ Alice replied.

  ‘I didn’t see you this morning.’

  ‘I was out for a walk and I saw you go into the Olympic complex. You seemed preoccupied.’

  Betty waved her hand. ‘Ah I see. I was going for a workout with Peter and he told me last time he was going to try a new exercise with me. I guess I was nervous about it. I’m not used to exercise that doesn’t involve moving livestock.’

  Their scones arrived and they both smiled. Alice had chosen a cheese one with a small dollop of butter on the side, while Betty had gone for the more adventurous date and herb scone. The café had a suggestion box on the counter and every week they made one of the combinations suggested by residents. There had been some very interesting results, not all of them successful. Alice wasn’t convinced about date and herb.

  While they cut and buttered and sampled tiny bites, Alice considered why her friend was lying to her.

  THREE

  THERE MIGHT BE ANOTHER explanation of course, but a career of dealing with liars and thieves made Alice assume that everyone was lying until proven otherwise. She knew for a fact that Peter wasn’t working that day. She’d run into him the previous evening and he’d mentioned he was taking Tuesday off to get a spray tan. Peter had been training for a body building competition and apparently getting his skin painted deep brown was part of the preparation process. Alice had never been a fan of artificial colouring, but she had to admit his muscles looked pretty good, even if she had to suppress a surprising urge to tell him to put some clothes on every time she saw him striding around the complex in shorts and a singlet.

  She realised her thoughts were wandering and reigned them in while sipping the milky foam off the top of her drink. Betty had quickly moved on to talking about how Gordon had behaved in the dining room the night before. Alice nodded to show she was listening, which she wasn’t.

  Maybe it was not
hing. Maybe Betty was secretly meeting a man (or a woman which, thanks to her granddaughter, didn’t shock her as much as it may once have done). Maybe her friend was simply confused and her own mind was too used to nefarious explanations for simple behaviour. She smiled ruefully and tried to focus on the conversation.

  ‘...honestly don’t know why he bothers. We’ve all said no to him at one time or another. He reminds me of this ram we once had on the farm. He wouldn’t leave the ewes alone. Would always find a way through the fence and start harassing them.’

  ‘What did you do?’ Alice asked.

  ‘Took away his reason for visiting,’ Betty replied, using her fingers to mimic scissors.

  Alice shuddered. The closest she’d ever been to farm life was once staying at a bed and breakfast where the owners had three chickens and a pet goat. She preferred animals that were small and self-sufficient. Silvermoon had a resident cat that was constantly scamming food from the residents. Alice had once watched the little brown and white cat gobble up a bowl of food she’d left out for it, then walk straight to another door and meow pitifully until a second bowl was produced.

  The staff called her Maddy.

  Alice called her a hustler. She approved.

  ‘...don’t know what they are going to do about Gordon. Honestly, I’ve complained to management twice about him and they don’t do anything.’

  Alice looked at her friend, thinking it was ironic she’d used the word honestly twice while Alice believed she was lying about something.

  ‘Did you know Owen is sick?’ Alice said in the brief silence, while Betty sipped her drink.

  ‘How sick?’

  Alice smiled at her sharp tone.

  Betty caught her expression and screwed up her face. ‘I’m just concerned,’ she grumbled. ‘The same way I’d be worried if you were sick.’

  ‘Not quite the same way.’

  Betty shuffled in her chair and picked at the remains of her scone. ‘Maybe not exactly the same.’

  Alice nodded. Those words confirmed one thing and ruled out another. Betty wasn’t the sort to cheat on someone so whatever she was lying about didn’t have anything to do with a man.

  ‘Perhaps I should check in on him,’ Betty glanced at her watch.

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be alright, Betty. I spoke to Vanessa this morning. There’s a Dora in place.’

  Her friend’s face betrayed her conflict and she picked up and put down her bag several times.

  ‘Oh for goodness sake. Just go.’

  Betty’s face relaxed in relief and she was out of her seat in an instant as if afraid her friend would rescind the offer.

  ‘I’ll see you later, Alice.’

  ‘Remember the big game tomorrow,’ Alice called as Betty hustled out.

  Unlike their more intimate game, the annual Silvermoon Village Poker Tournament was played for prestige rather than wealth. For Alice, it wasn’t about the shiny trophy the winner got to flaunt for a year. Nor was it about the side bets that occurred between residents. For Alice, it was purely bragging rights, and a clear sign that she could still outthink and outwit a bunch of retired office workers and housewives. She had won the tournament for the past two years and knew there were some murmurings amongst the other competitors that she should be banned from future events. She had heard that several had looked her up on the internet, convinced she used to be a professional gambler. The thought had her grinning into her coffee.

  ‘You look pleased with yourself, Alice,’ Les called out.

  ‘Leave her be,’ his wife scolded.

  ‘You haven’t won that trophy yet you know,’ Les said with a stern expression on his face. ‘I’ve been practicing every day for the last month and I’m feeling confident.’

  ‘Care to make it interesting?’ Alice replied.

  ‘No, he wouldn’t,’ Freda said before he could open his mouth.

  Alice left the remains of her scone on the table and the bickering voices in her ears as she walked outside. Les was a good man, a little too self-important, and that was why he would never win the trophy. He always adopted a smug expression whenever he had a good hand, and his eyes darted to wherever his wife was sitting in the room when he was bluffing.

  The warm sun on her face and ceaseless cheerfulness of the bird-filled trees around her convinced Alice that she might have been mistaken about Betty lying to her. She took the long way back to her apartment, and by the time she walked through her front door she had almost forgotten it.

  Almost.

  Which was a mistake.

  FOUR

  ON WEDNESDAY, THE POKER tournament started at exactly 10am in the communal room. This year there were twenty players vying for the title, with an equal number of spectators. The players were split into four tables of five. Each table would play until a single player had won all the chips. Then the top players would assemble at one table to decide the overall winner. It was usually over by lunchtime, when the trophy was officially awarded to the winner by Tracey Miller, the manager of the complex. After which, Silvermoon put on a light lunch of sandwiches and cakes for everyone.

  As they were milling around waiting to start, Vanessa sidled up next to Alice.

  ‘Owen is feeling better.’

  ‘I see that, dear.’

  Owen was standing in a small cluster of people on the other side of the room. He still looked a little pale, but appeared much better than the previous day. Betty was glued to his side, ready to offer a steadying hand if needed.

  ‘Of course you do,’ Vanessa said, her eyes conveying the laughter she was suppressing. ‘He was a bit brighter yesterday at dinner time. I don’t think Betty has left his side since yesterday morning, so a Dora wasn’t really necessary.’ This time she did laugh, and dropped a wink in for good measure.

  Alice snorted. ‘Really, Vanessa. You ought to worry more about your own sex life and less about other peoples.’

  ‘Unfortunately mine is on hold. Ben is away for a couple of weeks on some work thing, so it’s just me and the roommate at home eating ice cream and binging on Netflix.’

  ‘What’s a Netflix?’

  ‘You don’t know about Netflix? Oh Alice, you should get it. It’s amazing.’

  A small bell rang to signal that the players should to go to their tables. Alice sat down opposite Les, who’s face suggested he wasn’t as confident as he’d stated the day before. On his left was a retired army general by the name of Gavin. They’d tried calling him General Gavin but the first stern look from him put paid to that. To his right was Sofia, a retired dance teacher whose body vibrated with excitement at everything, as if the very act of being alive charged her with electricity.

  The fifth player took her seat and Alice thought it was good that she was already in poker mode, otherwise her surprise might have shown. She didn’t know this woman, although she had seen her the day before with Teresa at Charlie’s.

  ‘Nanci Katz,’ the woman smiled and shoved her hand out.

  ‘Alice,’ she replied, briefly but firmly shaking the offered hand.

  She studied the newcomer while Nanci introduced herself to the others at the table. She was young, in her early seventies, with light coloured hair. There was a bit of padding to her face now, but Alice could see the beauty that would have had men drooling a few decades earlier.

  A new player certainly made life interesting from a poker perspective, but it also raised some questions. And it changed Alice’s game strategy. Her original plan had been to win as much as possible early on so she could take a break and watch the other tables. However now she would have to be more cautious, at least until she understood how Nanci played.

  ‘...moved in?’ Les was asking.

  ‘No, I’m here for a week teaching sculpting classes to the residents and Tracey graciously said I could sit in and play. Not that I really know what I’m doing I’m afraid, solitaire is the limit of my card experience.’

  Alice smiled. In her experience anyone who proclaimed a lack o
f knowledge on a subject was either exaggerating or outright lying. The obvious explanation of course was that Nanci genuinely didn’t know anything about poker, but Alice hadn’t often dealt with those types of people through the years. Honest people.

  Regardless, the first few hands would tell her everything she needed to know.

  She suddenly realised everyone at the table had gone quiet and were looking at her. ‘Sorry, what?’

  ‘I asked how you got so good at poker?’ Nanci repeated.

  ‘How do you know I’m good?’

  ‘Pretty hard to miss it.’ Nanci gestured to the plaque hanging on the wall next to the door, clearly showing Alice’s name in the list of tournament winners.

  ‘Of course,’ Alice smiled, inwardly cursing herself. She preferred being the one pointing out the obvious, not the other way around. ‘Well, I’ve had a slightly longer life than most of you, it gives me an advantage in some areas.’

  ‘Life experience gives us everything, am I right?’ Nanci looked at the others around the table and they all nodded enthusiastically.

  Like getting up five times a night to pee, Alice thought.

  Vanessa sat down in the remaining chair. Alice exchanged a smile with her before looking around to see Silvermoon staff taking their places at the other tables. Officially they were there to make sure the game ran smoothly. Unofficially, Vanessa had confided, they were supposed to stamp out the more obvious cheating.