Poker Chips and Poison

by Rodney Strong

  ‘Because I need you to be a lawyer,’ Alice said.

  ‘What?’

  Alice always enjoyed the look of surprise she could elicit on other people’s faces. Vanessa’s was a classic combination of confusion, puzzlement, and surprise.

  ‘A lawyer. We’re going on a field trip.’

  TWELVE

  ‘I WANT TO GO ON RECORD as saying this is a really bad idea.’

  ‘See, you’re talking like a lawyer already.’

  The previous evening when Alice had outlined her plan, Vanessa had seemed excited, but standing outside the building of McDonald and Hope Funeral Home, she was having second through to a hundred thoughts.

  ‘They’ll never believe I’m a lawyer,’ Vanessa argued. ‘I’m not smart enough.’

  Alice gripped her arm tightly and glared at her.

  ‘You listen to me. I never want to hear you say you’re not smart again. It’s that sort of thinking that will hold you back from what you really want to do in life. Self-belief is the most important tool in any woman’s arsenal.’

  ‘Tool belt.’

  ‘Eh?’

  Vanessa smiled. ‘You don’t have tools in arsenals, they go in tool belts.’

  Alice loosened her grip and smoothed the fabric on Vanessa’s sleeve. ‘And you say you’re not smart. You don’t have to be a lawyer, you just have to look like a lawyer.’

  Which she did, in a short black skirt, white blouse, and a black jacket. Her hair was swept back in a pony-tail and Alice thought it was a good thing Vanessa hadn’t managed to find some glasses on a string. It was a fine line between lawyer and librarian.

  Alice had borrowed some clothes from Teresa, supposedly to try them for size before she bought her own. Teresa had impeccable taste in clothing, and although she had a bit more meat on her bones than Alice, the grey dress and jacket, accompanied by a silk scarf and diamond brooch that Alice had acquired during her working days, meant that she looked the part of grieving friend.

  The building they entered was on the edge of Wellington city, an old concrete structure backing onto the railway lines, and beyond that the large sports stadium. A smartly decorated reception was painted in muted colours and furnished with soft chairs on one side, and a desk on the other. A subtle bell rang as they walked through the door, and a woman in a pale green uniform popped out of the door behind the desk.

  ‘Goodness me, please take a seat,’ the woman said when she saw Alice.

  Alice stifled her irritation. Everywhere she went these days people treated her like she was about to take her last breath just because she looked old, when she’d rather make the most of being alive to keep on moving.

  ‘Thank you, dear,’ she said in a frail voice, allowing herself to be guided by the arm to one of the soft chairs.

  ‘May I get you something? Tea? Coffee?’ the woman asked. She appeared to be in her late forties, and the name tag on her uniform declared to the world that her name was Beatrice.

  ‘Nothing for me, thank you,’ Alice replied with a smile.

  ‘If you’d like to wait here I’ll get one of our sales managers to come and talk over our package options with you,’ Beatrice said.

  ‘My client is not here for her own funeral arrangements,’ Vanessa began. ‘She has a more delicate matter to discuss with a manager.’

  ‘Your client?’

  ‘Viola is my lawyer,’ Alice informed her. ‘She’s a bit officious, but she is, on this occasion, correct. I would like to speak with your manager about something.’

  ‘Of course. I’ll see if Mr Watford is free.’ She hurried to the desk and picked up the phone.

  ‘Well done, Vanessa,’ Alice murmured.

  ‘I think I’m going to throw up.’

  ‘Later, dear.’

  ‘Mr Watford will be out in a moment,’ Beatrice relayed to them from across the room.

  As if waiting for the introduction, a door opened and a young man walked through. He wore the same uniform as Beatrice, and his name tag read “Greg Watford, Assistant Manager”.

  ‘Good morning. Would you come this way please,’ he said in a deep voice full of assurance.

  He led them through the door, down a short corridor, and into a small room with four chairs and a coffee table. He gestured to the chairs, and closed the glass door behind them.

  ‘How may I help you?’ Greg asked once he’d taken his seat, addressing his question to Vanessa.

  This could be easier than I hoped, Alice thought.

  ‘Two days ago a woman was brought here from the Silvermoon Retirement Village,’ Alice began.

  Greg held up his hand. ‘I’m sorry, it’s against company policy to discuss the deceased.’

  ‘A wonderful policy, which gives me a great deal of comfort should I find myself in your care after...’ She studied his face without appearing to, so she could gauge his reaction. Sure enough his eyes narrowed slightly and he straightened his tie.

  ‘Of course,’ he said.

  ‘The thing is, this woman, Betty, there is a possibility that she might be my long lost sister.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes, it’s a complicated family history that I won’t get into. However I need to be sure as I’m...’

  She waited to see if Vanessa would jump in as planned.

  ‘My client is wealthy and she has no other family, and she is 97 years old and suffering from terminal liver failure.’

  ‘Why don’t you tell him all my secrets,’ Alice grumbled loudly.

  ‘You’re the one who wanted to come here,’ Vanessa reminded her.

  Alice glanced at her in time to see the eye role Vanessa gave Greg, who grinned at her.

  ‘As it stands Mrs Harper has two choices for her vast estate. Leave it to her cat, Mr Wigglesmith, or find the sister she last saw 70 years ago. We uncovered some information that suggested Betty might be her sister and we went to the retirement village yesterday, where they told us the bad news.’

  ‘That’s terrible,’ Greg said. Alice watched him not so subtly checking out Vanessa’s legs.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘I understand that Betty has children, and if she turns out to have been my sister I want to make sure they get some money. But I’m not giving it away to strangers. I need to be sure she’s my spaghetti,’ said Alice.

  ‘Your what?’ Greg asked.

  ‘Betty spaghetti,’ Alice said in a tone that suggested her own eye roll.

  ‘Ah, I see. What I don’t see is how I can help.’

  ‘I realise that she would have changed a lot over the decades, but I’m sure I would recognise her if I saw her.’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s not possible,’ Greg replied with a frown.

  ‘Technically it’s possible, just not permitted,’ Vanessa chimed in.

  ‘Well, there’s the wishes of the family,’ Greg began.

  ‘Of which, my client is saying she might be one. Tell me, will it be an open casket funeral?’

  ‘That hasn’t been arranged yet, we’re waiting for the deceased’s daughter to fly in tomorrow.’

  ‘However, if it was an open casket then the body would be visible to anyone, correct?’

  ‘Well, yes but—’

  ‘So all we’re really asking for is a preview,’ Vanessa said.

  ‘But we are still preparing the deceased,’ Greg protested.

  ‘Betty,’ Alice wailed, covering her face in a dainty handkerchief she pulled from the sleeve of her jacket.

  ‘It’s just...’

  Vanessa put her arm around Alice and shot Greg a disapproving look. Then, to completely shatter his defences, she reached up with her other hand, pulled her hair free from the ponytail and ran her hand through it.

  ‘I suppose a short, off the books, viewing would be alright,’ Greg said in a weak voice. ‘I’ll just go and set things up, if you will please wait here for a minute.’

  As soon as he closed the door Alice uncovered her face to reveal a smile.

  ‘The hair th
ing was a nice touch, although a bit premature,’ she said. ‘He was about to cave anyway.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Vanessa answered with reddening cheeks. ‘I got caught up in the moment and to be honest, I’ve always wanted to try that with a man.’

  ‘You never have before?’

  ‘It always seemed so corny.’

  ‘It is, but also highly effective. I used it when I was your age. Nice to know men haven’t changed that much,’ Alice said with a soft laugh, before adopting a solemn look.

  A split second later Greg opened the door. ‘This way ladies.’

  He led them through the door opposite the meeting room, down another short corridor and into a small windowless room. It was empty except for a table in the middle covered in a body shaped white cloth.

  Alice walked over to the table and folded the cloth down, revealing Betty’s face. She heard Vanessa gasp, and felt a twinge of sadness at seeing her friend’s still, pale face.

  She felt Vanessa step up next to her.

  ‘What are we looking for again?’ she whispered.

  Alice wasn’t quite sure. Any signs of foul play seemed a bit general, even if she knew what those signs were. She already knew there was something odd about Betty’s fingernails.

  Alice wished she’d done some of that googling thing, or at least got Vanessa to do it.

  ‘Is it...’ Greg asked.

  ‘I think so. It’s been a long time but...’ Alice paused and leaned in closer to study Betty’s face. She shuffled sideways a little to block Greg’s view, then reached out a hand and gently pried open one of Betty’s eyes. The pupil stared unresponsively at the ceiling and told Alice absolutely nothing except to confirm that Betty was dead. Something that had undoubtedly already been confirmed by several more qualified people.

  As she was straightening up Alice noticed several tiny sticks lying on the table in the space behind Betty’s neck. They looked like stray white hairs but the way they lay it seemed like they were stiff, like they were covered in hairspray.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Alice said in a wavering voice. She pulled her handkerchief out again on the pretext of wiping her eyes. As Vanessa put an arm around her shoulders Alice scooped up the hairs with the handkerchief, before turning to face Greg.

  ‘It’s not my sister. I was so hoping it was her, but this poor unfortunate lady is a stranger.’

  ‘I am sorry to hear that,’ Greg replied. ‘Let me show you out.’

  The way he hustled them out of the building it was obvious Greg was relieved to avoid the complications associated with a long lost relative.

  Before he closed the front door he did make a final attempt at a charm offensive on Vanessa, who responded by retying her hair into a ponytail and turning her back on him.

  ‘I feel a little bad at being rude,’ she said after he’d closed the door. ‘But he was being a sleezy pig.’

  ‘Then don’t feel bad.’

  They started the slow walk back to the car.

  ‘How do you do it?’ Vanessa asked.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘The way they treated you, like you were a child that needed their help. It would drive me crazy.’

  Alice slipped her arm through Vanessa’s and leaned on her a little as they walked.

  ‘I’m sorry, are you alright?’

  Alice grinned and straightened up.

  ‘Bugger, I just did the same thing,’ Vanessa said with red cheeks.

  ‘To be honest it does irritate me. I guess that’s one of the reasons I don’t like leaving the village anymore. I might still be the oldest there, but at least they’re all less than a half century younger than me.’

  ‘You’ve got way more patience than I have.’

  ‘Of course I do,’ Alice replied as they reached the car. ‘But I’ve had more practice at it.’

  ‘So did we learn anything? Apart from the fact that I don’t like looking at two day old corpses, especially ones I know.’

  ‘Let’s hope you don’t have to see too many then,’ Alice said.

  Vanessa indicated and pulled out into traffic. She made a noise like she wanted to say something but cut herself off.

  ‘Out with it.’

  Vanessa glanced across at Alice in the passenger seat. ‘It’s just, I don’t know much about what you used to do, and I wondered if...’

  Alice filled in the blanks. ‘Not too many but seeing dead bodies was occasionally an occupational hazard.’

  Vanessa nodded.

  ‘What exactly do you think I did for a living?’

  ‘Exactly? I don’t know,’ Vanessa admitted. ‘But presumably something that wasn’t always legal. I mean you called yourself a con artist but what does that actually mean?’

  Alice looked out the window at a city vastly different to the one she grew up in. She still had vivid memories of this place during the Second World War when she’d been young and full of confidence and together with her best friend Violet they had taken their destiny into their own hands with some morally questionable, but extremely fun, choices.

  But they weren’t all happy memories from back then, and suddenly Alice felt tired, not just her body, but her mind as well. She slumped in the seat and stared at nothing.

  ‘Did I say something wrong?’

  Stop this melancholy you silly woman, Alice thought. ‘No you didn’t. Sorry, just thinking about something. We don’t have time to go over the full job description of what I was, but when this is all over I promise we’ll sit down and I’ll teach you everything I know.’

  ‘Teach? I just wanted to know what it was like, not to become you.’

  Alice looked at her. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course,’ Vanessa replied in a tone that wasn’t quite convincing. ‘My parents would kill me if I turned to a life of crime.’

  Alice snorted at her use of the cliché.

  ‘Back to my original question. Did we learn anything from that?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Maybe. There’s these strange things I found by her neck.’

  Alice carefully unfolded the handkerchief and stared at the thin white hairs. She reached out her fingers to pick one up and accidentally stabbed herself with it.

  ‘Damn!’ she said as she tried to extract the object with her other hand.

  It was only once she’d successfully removed it that she realised she had lost the feeling in her finger. She waggled it and it seemed to work fine, but when she tapped it on the window her brain didn’t register any sensation.

  ‘Damn,’ she repeated.

  ‘What happened?’ Vanessa asked.

  ‘I think I may have just poisoned myself.’

  THIRTEEN

  ‘WELL I DON’T KNOW WHAT you stuck yourself with, but the effects seem to have worn off and all your blood tests came back normal.’

  ‘That’s not good enough,’ Vanessa told the ER doctor. ‘Do you mean to tell me you can’t find what caused this? That’s ridiculous, what sort of doctor are you?’

  ‘A busy one. However I can assure you that we have ruled out any immediate danger, and if Mrs Atkinson still refuses to stay the night...?’

  Alice nodded. Staying a night in the hospital was a slippery slope at her age. It starts with one night, then suddenly it’s two, and eventually you never leave.

  ‘Then there is nothing more we can do at the moment. Your blood pressure is a little low, but that’s not unexpected at your age. Do you have someone at home that can look after you?’

  ‘I can take care of myself,’ Alice said firmly.

  ‘I’ll make sure she’s alright,’ Vanessa replied.

  ‘Right, then I’ll arrange the discharge papers.’

  ‘Before you go, any idea what the little white hair things are?’

  The doctor shook his head. ‘No idea, although they look organic to me.’

  ‘Organic?’ Alice asked.

  ‘Plant. You could try asking at a garden shop. Palmers garden shop in Miramar, the staff there might know. Someone will be in s
hortly with your discharge papers. ‘

  The doctor left the room, sliding the curtain closed behind him.

  ‘See, I told you I was alright,’ Alice said.

  Vanessa stared with a look of disbelief. ‘You were the one who said you’d been poisoned.’

  ‘I said I might have poisoned myself.’

  ‘You said the word poison, that’s all I heard. After Betty, what did you think I was going to do? Drive you back home and give you a cup of tea?’

  ‘That’s what you can do right now. I’m fine. I can feel my finger again, and you heard the doctor, I’m in no immediate danger.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean there isn’t something nasty working its way through your body right now.’

  Alice shuffled to the edge of the bed and slid her feet to the floor. ‘I’m closing in on a hundred, dear. It’d be a miracle if there wasn’t something nasty working its way through my body. Now, let’s get the piece of paper from the cute doctor and go ask someone about these hairs that aren’t hairs.’

  Vanessa threw her hands up in disgust. ‘You’re so...’

  ‘Stubborn? Frustrating? Annoying? Yes.’

  Before Vanessa could argue further the curtain slid open and a nurse handed them the discharge papers.

  ‘Take it easy for a few days, Mrs Atkinson, and if any further symptoms appear then please come back in.’

  They thanked her and the nurse hustled out of the room, followed by the women at a more sedate pace.

  ‘I’m taking you home,’ Vanessa said.

  ‘Yes, dear. Right after we go to Palmers.’

  ‘No, I’m taking you home now. Then I’ll go to Palmers by myself.’

  Alice considered continuing the argument, but the truth was she was tired, and Vanessa could easily find out the information without her.

  ‘Okay.’

  Vanessa frowned at her with suspicion, then nodded and marched towards the car, only to come back after a few paces to offer her arm to Alice.

  ‘You know, you make it hard to exit triumphantly,’ she muttered.

  ‘Yes, dear.’

  ‘Stop it,’ Vanessa grumbled.

  So Alice did, remaining quiet the rest of the way home, and not even objecting when Vanessa insisted on accompanying her up to her apartment, although she drew the line at the suggestion of a Dora.