Dead Man's Hand

by Lorraine Bartlett

  When Katie walked into The Flower Child, her senses were nearly overwhelmed by the scents of sandalwood and eucalyptus. Moonbeam met her at the entrance, put a CLOSED sign on the door, and asked Katie to follow her out back.

  The shop’s tiny kitchen was quaint, with an apartment-sized stove, a cozy teal-painted cabinet filled with food staples, and an assortment of mismatched dishes. A bistro table sat in the center of the room and had been set with mint-green and lemon-yellow plates, pink cloth napkins, and vintage blue aluminum tumblers. Moonbeam was nothing if not colorful. A small white platter decorated with a green scallop was heaped with oyster crackers. A white enamel pot with a cheerful red stripe under the lip sat on one of the burners with a ladle peeking out of it.

  Moonbeam spooned generous portions of the bisque into heavy white bowls. “Have a seat and tell me what you’d like to drink.”

  “I’m fine with water,” Katie said, sitting at the table.

  Placing the bowls atop their plates, Moonbeam retrieved a pitcher from the refrigerator. She filled their tumblers before sitting down. “I sense from your deep red aura that you’re troubled today.”

  Katie gave a hollow laugh. “I am. Would you like to know all the reasons why, or would you prefer I stick to the top ten?”

  “How about the top three,” Moonbeam suggested. “Hopefully, I can offer you a possible solution for at least one of them.”

  Katie heaved a sigh. “Well, the Rochester paper ran a story trashing Tealicious,” Katie said and sipped her water. It was cold and refreshing. She took another drink.

  “I saw that,” Moonbeam said. “I immediately dismissed the idea of Jamie being poisoned at Tealicious. Not another person who ate there got sick that day. Certainly, other people will realize that.”

  “Certainly, they won’t. Traffic at the shop has come to a screeching halt.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m guessing you have a plan in place to remedy that,” Moonbeam said.

  “Yes. We’re planning an open house on Friday and inviting the public to give us a second chance.”

  “That soon? Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Katie smiled. “You’re wonderful to offer, but I think Brad and Margo have it under control.”

  “Margo?” Moonbeam asked.

  “She’s my former mother-in-law.” Katie gave her head a slight shake. “You’ll meet her soon enough. And probably love her. Everyone does,” she said with chagrin.

  Moonbeam’s lips twisted into a wry grin. “I’m guessing not everyone.”

  “Oh, I love Margo. It’s just—” Katie shrugged and decided a change of subject was warranted. “So, tell me what’s going on with you.”

  Moonbeam’s expression morphed from all-knowing to wide-eyed innocence. “I wonder if there’s any way I could become a partner in the Victoria Square merchants group that buys real estate. I was talking with Ann Tanner about the abandoned warehouse the partnership is interested in buying, and I’d like to be a part of that.”

  “I’ll speak to the others and if they agree, ask Seth what it would take to add you as a partner.” Katie sighed. “Given my troubles with Tealicious and the cost to replace so much of the second floor at Artisans Alley, I might have to sit this transaction out.”

  “That would be a shame. I understand that it was because of you that the Square has undergone a real renaissance.”

  “My magic touch seems to have deserted me of late,” Katie admitted.

  Moonbeam nodded sympathetically. “I hope things turn around for you soon.”

  Yeah. So did Katie.

  The women finished their soup and chatted for a pleasant hour before Katie bypassed Artisans Alley and returned to her apartment over the tea shop. Once there, she called Seth. Although she hated to bring up the matter of the abandoned warehouse so soon after the tragedy he’d suffered, she asked him how difficult it would be to add Moonbeam to the partnership.

  “It won’t be a problem. Text me her number, and I’ll give her a call tomorrow explaining the legalities,” he said. “Once she hears them, she might change her mind.” He changed the subject. “Are you ready for tonight?”

  “I must admit, I’m more than a little nervous about the whole thing. I can handle playing poker, but Margo wants me to come to Sassy Sally’s before I leave for the game so she can transform me. She says I always look frumpy and that a glamorous transformation would ensure no one at the club would recognize me.”

  Seth actually laughed. The sound was music to Katie’s ears. It gave her hope that he’d survive this heartbreak after all.

  “This I’ve got to see,” he said. “I’ll meet you at Sassy Sally’s in an hour.”

  Chapter 14

  After feeding her cats their evening meal, Katie took a deep breath and addressed them. “Wish me luck.”

  As expected, they ignored her, never lifting their kitty faces from their food bowls.

  As Katie crossed the expanse of asphalt, heading to Sassy Sally’s, she texted Ray: Would it be all right if I meet up with you at Wood U?

  He replied: I’m going home to get spiffed up, but I don’t have a problem meeting you at the shop. Afraid you can’t control yourself in your apartment alone with me, my dear wife?

  Katie scowled and declined to reply, slipping her phone back into her jeans pocket.

  Once arriving at Sassy Sally’s, Nick ushered her upstairs to Margo’s room where her former mother-in-law awaited. The room was filled with a stack of dresses and enough cosmetics to transform an entire theater group, making Katie feel like she was backstage at an amateur production of Moulin Rouge.

  “We’d better get to work quickly,” Margo told Nick gravely. “This might be more of a challenge than I’d anticipated.”

  “Wait a second—” Katie began righteously.

  “Nick and I hit the mall and did a little shopping on your behalf,” Margo continued as though she hadn’t heard Katie.

  “You shouldn’t have.” Katie leveled her gaze at Margo. “Artisans Alley’s new flooring has already cost me more than I can afford.” Thanks to you.

  “No worries.” Margo gave her a smug smile. “The tags are intact. I’ll return what we don’t use. I had to estimate your size. I know you’re larger than I am, so it was utter guesswork on our part.”

  Katie glowered past Margo to Nick, who shrugged innocently.

  “I think my judgment was accurate,” he said.

  There was a tap on the door, and then Don and Seth entered the room. Seth’s lips were firmly pressed together as though he were trying to keep from smiling, while Don appeared all too eager to escape.

  “Look who I found wandering around,” Don said.

  “Come to see the show?” Katie asked.

  “I wouldn’t have missed it.” He winked. “I can hardly wait to see the finished product.”

  She didn’t appreciate the idea of being a product, but Seth’s presence was the reminder Katie needed to keep from stalking out of that room. He needed her to go to this poker game, try not to be recognized as the proprietor of Tealicious, and glean as much information as she could about Jamie’s experience at the game in which he’d won so much cash.

  Nick grabbed a folded sheet from the bed, tossing it into the air so that it billowed over the full-length mirror. “I want you to be surprised by the transformation.”

  It took Herculean strength for Katie not to roll her eyes. Swell.

  Margo made Katie model each of the dresses they’d chosen, finally squeezing her into a tight scarlet sequined cocktail dress with a plunging neckline.

  Katie looked down at her chest, appalled at how much cleavage was exposed. “Shouldn’t I have some sort of double-sided tape or something to hold me in?” she asked doubtfully.

  “Don’t be such a prude,” Margo said. “Of course not.”

  “She’s right,” Nick agreed. “Men often bring seductively dressed women to these events to throw the others off their game. Of course, Don and I are immu
ne,” he said and laughed as he handed her a pair of strappy nude stiletto heels.

  Margo came up with a matching silk bolero jacket and sighed. “It’s a pity it’s already October. That dress was made for summer.”

  While Katie donned the tiny coat, her mind recoiled at the very notion of being tortured by the stylish shoes—such as they were—for the rest of the evening.

  “Go ahead and put them on,” Nick instructed. “I’ll help you get up once we’ve finished your hair and makeup.”

  Katie could’ve sworn Seth smothered a laugh. He really was enjoying watching his pseudo sister’s discomfort and Margo making a painted doll out of her.

  Katie had no idea what Nick and Margo were up to next. While Nick worked on her makeup, Margo fussed with her hair. She sat still, afraid that one would gouge her in the eye with a mascara wand or that the other would burn her scalp with a curling iron. She’d been in precarious situations before, but this one was on par as one of the worst. As the two stylists worked, Katie wondered if actors and actresses in their make-up chairs felt as she did—like a piece of meat to be ogled.

  As a final touch before allowing Katie to see herself, Margo handed her a pair of drop faux-diamond earrings. She stood back and surveyed her work after Katie had put them on. Looking at Nick, she asked, “Done? Or do we need the triple-strand diamond cuff?”

  Nick stroked his chin and assessed their creation. “Let’s leave off the cuff. Seth, what do you think?”

  Nodding, Seth said, “The cuff would be overkill.”

  “Then we’re ready.” With the skill of a magician, Nick whipped off the sheet from the full-length mirror and cried, “Voila!”

  Katie stood, turned, and as she saw her reflection, her jaw dropped. Her hair—typically pulled back off her face and worn in a ponytail—fell around her shoulders in voluminous waves. Her skin was radiant, and the smoky eye makeup she wore was dramatic without being overdone. Her lips were lined and tinted in a nude shade, but they seemed fuller somehow.

  “Wow,” she managed to say after a few seconds. “I don’t believe anyone will recognize me. I barely recognize myself.”

  “You’re absolutely stunning,” Seth said. “Thank you for doing this for me.” He reached into his suit coat’s inside pocket, withdrew an envelope, and handed it to her. “Here’s the buy-in money.”

  Margo intercepted the envelope and placed it inside a small silver clutch. “There, you’re all set.”

  “One last thing,” Nick said. “Fast-play when you have a really strong hand. It’ll help you build the pot and make the others think you’ve been there before.”

  “Will do,” Katie said.

  “Take my arm and hold onto the railing as we go down the stairs,” Seth said. “I’ll drive you over to Wood U.”

  Margo, Nick, and Don all waved good-bye as Katie hobbled to Seth’s Mercedes, not at all confident she could pull off this charade.

  When they arrived at Wood U, the shop was dark and there was no sign of Ray. Seth suggested they get out of the car and walk a bit so Katie could get more comfortable in the four-inch heels.

  “Stay there,” he said. “I’ll come around and get you.”

  Feeling like a stuffed tube of manicotti, Katie waited until Seth opened the passenger side door of his Mercedes and helped her onto the pavement. They walked across the tarmac and slowly began walking in the direction of Artisans Alley.

  The couple was almost to Gilda’s Gourmet Baskets when Andy’s new assistant manager, Whitney pulled up, cut the engine, and got out of her car. Mouth gaping, she studied Katie’s outfit for a long moment before she ran to Angelo’s as fast as her platform boots would allow.

  Katie looked at Seth. “Good grief. What are the odds that—”

  “Don’t worry about that tart. Keep walking. We’ll turn around and go back once we’ve reached The Perfect Grape. We don’t want anyone to think we’re running from them, do we?”

  “No,” she said firmly.

  “Continue holding your head high,” Seth advised.

  But then Andy burst through Angelo’s door, and he jogged to meet up with Seth and Katie, while Whitney trailed in his wake.

  “What—? Why—? Who—?” he stammered.

  Katie couldn’t help but enjoy seeing Andy so flabbergasted he could barely speak. She smiled. “Yes?”

  “Whitney said she thought it was you on the sidewalk, but I told her no way would you be dressed like that!”

  Whitney caught up to him and was still catching her breath. “Honey,” she managed to say, “if you’d dressed like that for your man, he might still be your man.”

  Biting back the snarky retort that had sprung to her lips, Katie said, “Sorry, but I have an important event to get to."

  A car pulled up beside them. Katie recognized it to be Ray’s SUV, but Seth was between her and the vehicle.

  Ray rolled down his window. “Seth, would you please escort my wife to my vehicle?”

  Andy glared at Ray. “What the hell are you doing here? And what do you mean, your wife?”

  Ray shifted the car into park and got out. “I wasn’t talking to you. And you—” He broke off, seeing Katie for the first time. His jaw went slack, and he gulped. “Um—”

  She smiled. “Hello, hubby.”

  Andy looked as though he was about to explode. “What are you two talking about?”

  Katie shrugged. “Ray is escorting me to an event tonight, and some people just might have gotten the impression he’s my husband.”

  “You mean, the poker game,” Andy accused. “I thought you were going with Seth.”

  “I can’t attend,” Seth said, with a questioning glance at Katie. “Ray graciously agreed to take my place.”

  “But—” Andy ran his hand through his hair. “I should be the one to go. I happen to be a much better poker player than Ray Davenport.”

  His words gave Katie the opening she’d been hoping for. “Sorry, Andy, but I don’t need you. In fact, I don’t need anyone to accompany me to this poker game, But Ray has graciously agreed to escort me.” She looked pointedly at Whitney. “And I thought my telling you I planned to play poker this evening was in confidence.”

  “You should’ve known better than that,” Ray muttered.

  “We need to get going,” Katie told Ray. “We don’t want to be late. I’m feeling particularly lucky tonight.”

  Ray raised an eyebrow and grinned. “So am I.”

  Chapter 15

  The not-really-married couple rode in uncomfortable silence for nearly five minutes before Katie broke the quiet. “So, what’s our story?”

  “I saw you on the street, you took my breath away, and I asked you to marry me. The rest is history,” he said. “How’s that?”

  She hid a smile. “That might be a bit hard for our audience to believe. Our first hurdle is that you’re supposed to be Nick Ferrell. How will we keep anyone who might’ve played poker with Nick from questioning your fake identity?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that.” He braked at a traffic light. “I’m a retired banker from Connecticut. What a coincidence that someone living in the area has the same name.”

  “Why Connecticut?” Katie asked.

  “Why not?” The light changed, and he pulled forward. “Do you have a problem with Connecticut? If so, we can be former residents of New Jersey.”

  “No. I prefer Connecticut. I don’t think I can do that Joizy accent.” She flicked her wrist. “Keep going.”

  “As I said, I’m a retired banker. You’re an insurance adjuster. With your past experience, I thought you could make that work.”

  She was flattered that he remembered that prior to taking over Artisans Alley, she’d worked in an insurance office. “How did we meet?”

  “My daughter from my first marriage had a fender bender. You handled her claim.”

  “I’m impressed,” she said. “You’re good at this.”

  “I spent a few years working vice before I became a dete
ctive,” he said modestly.

  “Do you miss it?”

  “Vice or police work in general?” he asked.

  “Both.”

  Lifting one shoulder, he said, “I do sometimes. I’d be lying if I told you I hadn’t been looking forward to this game tonight.”

  Feeling contrite, Katie said, “I’m sorry I said you might be rusty. I was only razzing you because—”

  “Because you don’t like my going out with Carol.” He spoke matter-of-factly, but Katie still bristled.

  “That’s not true.”

  Ray raised his brows at her. “Really.” It was a statement rather than a question.

  “Okay, maybe—maybe—that’s part of it,” she admitted. “I don’t think Carol seems right for you. For one thing, she’s trying to talk you into going back into law enforcement—a dangerous occupation—and giving up your shop.”

  “She isn’t trying to get me to do anything,” he said. “She’s merely offering encouragement. The other night you were practically throwing me at her. What happened?”

  “Nothing. I just—” Katie sighed. “I just think you might want to play the field a little more before you decide to see Carol exclusively.”

  “That’s a good point. I hear there’s a new assistant manager at Angelo’s.”

  She uttered a cry of indignation. “Don’t make me take off this shoe and stab you with it!”

  He laughed. “Married ten minutes, and you’re already nagging me mercilessly.”

  “Keep it up, Nick.” It occurred to her that she didn’t know her cover name. “Wait? Who am I—other than Mrs. Nick Ferrell, I mean?”

  “Let’s go with Kelly, if that suits you. It’s still close to Katie, so if you start to write your name for any reason and jot down that K, you won’t panic.”

  “You really are good at this,” she said.

  He winked. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

  Ray deftly drove them through the streets of Rochester to the East End, pulling into a lot beside a tidy, squat brick building where the poker game was being held. Ray parked the car and then came around to help Katie from the passenger seat. She noticed that he put on his new persona the way another man might wear a hat. He got out of the car as Ray Davenport. He opened her door as retired Connecticut banker Nick Ferrell.