Poker Face

by Noelle Winters

  “How?” Ryan didn’t know how much Liv had been able to see through the window.

  “The scattered cards.” Liv exhaled. The memory would haunt her for a long time, those dangling feet and the red and white cards dotting the living room. “Who would do that?”

  Ryan’s voice was sad. “There have been stranger things.”

  Liv shook her head once, then dropped the subject.

  “Be careful, Liv.” Ryan stood, stuffing the files back in her back and finishing up her coffee and sandwich. “If it is murder, you could be in danger.”

  Liv nodded once. Ryan came closer, reached out and put her hand on Liv’s. It sent a tingling warmth surging throughout her body, reminding her of past nights of passion. She missed it, so much. But it was a risk. “Careful.”

  This time Liv didn’t have to nod, for Ryan turned on her heel and headed out of the coffee shop, leaving Liv behind.

  9

  Friday 30th September; 5pm

  The last couple hours at the coffee shop passed in a blur, Liv’s mind spinning in circles as she thought about what Ryan had told her. She thought it was a murder too. Otherwise she wouldn’t have asked what she did.

  “Need anything?” River stuck her head through the door from the kitchen. She had been cleaning up their food prep area while Liv had served the last few customers.

  Liv was so caught off guard she almost dropped her phone, instead catching it with her fingertips. “I’m good,” she said hastily.

  River raised her eyebrows.

  “Really.” Liv tried to smile and was aware it didn’t look entirely convincing. “Heading home now.”

  River studied her for a few more seconds. “Are you really doing okay?” Her voice was softer.

  Liv looked away. “It was hard.”

  River pulled her into a hug. “I heard.”

  Of course she had, Liv thought wryly. Nothing was sacred in her town.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” River told her. “Go home. Get some rest.”

  Liv opened her mouth to object, but River had already turned back to the cleaning. The weekend rush would be soon, and they had to be prepared.

  “Mocha.” Liv whistled, drawing her attention and picking up her leash. Mocha trotted over, pushing her head against Liv’s leg to get attention. Liv smiled down at her, scratching her behind the ear in her favorite spot. “You’re a good girl.” She bent down and gave her a kiss. Mocha nudged her face with her cold nose in return, her gesture of affection.

  “Let’s go home, girl.”

  Mocha rode well in the car, Liv’s co-pilot. At least when she was awake. Sometimes Mocha had more important things to do, like napping. The drive was short, only fifteen minutes. Her house was just on the outskirts of town, and she liked it that way. While the house was hers, she considered it Gram’s.

  When she pulled into the dirt driveway, she slowly stopped the car. All of the lights were off. Not just inside the house, but the porch lights, too. Considering the sun was almost below the horizon, it turned her beloved house into a haunted place of nightmares.

  Was Gram okay? Had something happened? Uneasiness crumpled her stomach into a ball, and she drove to the house faster than she should have.

  Knowing it was pointless to tell Mocha to stay in the car, she took her leash and let her stay right next to her. The door was still locked. That was good, right?

  Desperately wishing she had a flashlight, Liv inched inside. “Gram?” What if there was an intruder and they were still in there? What if Gram had fallen and needed help getting up?

  “In here, dear.” Gram sounded perfectly fine, which only added to Liv’s confusion. “Someone turned the lights out.”

  Liv’s heart skipped a beat at the wording, but surely it was a coincidence. “The breaker must have blown.” She walked inside enough to verify that Gram was sitting on the couch, knitting in the dark. And from what Liv could see, she hadn’t made a mistake yet. “How long have you been in the dark?”

  Gram shrugged. “I can’t tell.”

  Liv closed her eyes briefly. Everyone’s vision got worse with age, she reminded herself. It wasn’t anything to be concerned about.

  Denial was a river in Egypt!

  She held her phone in front of her like a light and headed out towards the side of the house where the breaker box would theoretically be. It had been a long time since she had had to find it, if ever, and the evening with the sun going down was not the optimal time.

  Finally she found it on the far side of the house facing the woods, which blocked any remaining light from the sun and gave it extra creep points.

  At least Mom had taught her how to maintain a house before she’d passed. That they still lived in the same house helped a lot. She opened the breaker with the key, peering at the fuses. Then she frowned.

  Someone had flicked the main switch. Some thing. Goosebumps raised on her skin, a chill going over her. Had someone been there and done it? Or had Gram done it and just forgotten about it?

  She forced herself to relax. Gram accidentally turning the breakers off and forgetting about it was the most logical option. It wouldn’t be the first or last time she had forgotten something. “Chill,” Liv advised herself. “Or you’re gonna give yourself a heart attack.”

  Still, she almost felt like there was a bullseye between her shoulder blades. Her gaze flickering between the woods and the breaker box, she flipped the switch and watched the electricity come back to life.

  Liv yelped and covered her eyes, almost blinded by the bright rays of light. At least the fuses weren’t dead. She wasn’t certain she knew where any new ones were.

  She took a deep breath and shook some of her jitters out. It was fine. Everything was fine. She headed inside. It was time to make dinner.

  Woof!

  Woof!

  The barking was loud enough that it pounded into Liv’s head, rousing her from sleep. “Mocha?” Liv sat up, gazing blearily around the room. Mocha was at the window, her paws just up on the sill, bouncing and barking.

  “Come back to bed,” Liv said. Mocha had probably seen a deer or something and had gotten sidetracked. She patted the bed, then blearily rubbed sleep out of her eyes. A quick glance at the clock revealed it was midnight. She groaned.

  Mocha bounced and barked, her attention on the window.

  “C’mon.” Liv tried to look sad, as if that would bribe her eternally stubborn dog into doing what she wanted her to.

  Not surprisingly, it didn’t work.

  Sighing, Liv got out of her bed and walked over to the window. Something moving outside caught her attention, sending chills down her spine. But the figure wasn’t dressed in black.

  She was dressed in Gram’s nightgown.

  Ignoring the fact that she was in mismatched pajamas, Liv bolted down the stairs, Mocha at her heels. She headed straight out the front door, ignoring the rain pelting down against her skin as she figured out where Gram was and headed for her.

  Gram was wandering around, her hands held up to protect her from the rain.

  “Gram!” Liv yelled, trying to be heard. At least there wasn’t a proper storm. She was no match for thunder or lightning.

  Gram didn’t respond. Liv’s adrenaline kicked in, and it wasn’t long before she had her arm around Gram’s shoulders and Mocha was right on her other side. Both were shivering now, and the rain was still trying to drown them, but at least Gram would be inside soon.

  Once she kicked the door shut behind them, she sat Gram down and went to turn the heat up. Her teeth were chattering, and she rubbed her arms, trying to warm her up. Next stop was the bathroom for towels, and clean clothes for both. Soaking wet pajamas did little to help restore body temperature.

  She was especially worried about her Gram. If she wasn’t able to get her warmed up soon, Liv knew she’d have to call 911, and that was the last thing Gram wanted.

  Liv closed her eyes, between a rock and a hard place, then brought the towels and clothes out and got t
o work.

  Privacy was the most valued thing in her family. It was drilled into her when she was little. No matter what others said, unless they were ‘Trusted’, you didn’t speak to them. And even then, things were need-to-know.

  It was the second to last time she saw Ryan. Liv was sitting on a park bench, staring at the ground. Stage 4. Her mother was going to die. It wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

  She didn’t let the tears fall to the ground. She didn’t let the emotions come to her face. “A private woman is a proper woman,” she could hear her mother say. Gram was the same way, but she showed it with looks. Gram, at least, was warm with her. Mom was distant.

  Still. Mom was dying, and that fact rocked her to her core.

  “Hey.” Ryan sank down onto the bench with her.

  Liv didn’t react. She couldn’t react. She was falling apart inside, and she didn’t trust herself enough to share it with Ryan. She didn’t trust Ryan enough.

  Thanks, Mom.

  It was hard for people to understand, the sway that parents could hold over their child. Liv knew it was her own weakness, in a way, her ability to believe everything her mother was saying. But she couldn’t tell Ryan about her Mom. She couldn’t tell anyone. There would be no obituary, no funeral. Mom would just disappear.

  “Are you okay?” Ryan leaned forward, her gaze concerned.

  “Yeah.” Liv forced a smile to her face, which was, predictably, met by a frown from Ryan.

  “You’ve cancelled our last four dates and I barely see you any more.” There was a hurt to Ryan’s voice, one Liv could understand.

  What Ryan didn’t know was that Liv was in charge of taking her mother to chemo, to cancer treatments. Anything at this point to prolong her life, keep her there a little bit longer. But Mom would be so angry if Liv mentioned it.

  Ryan let out a long breath. “Liv…” She trailed off, as if she regretted the words she was going to say. “I can’t do this any more.”

  “What?” That drew a reaction, but the word was a monotone. She couldn’t have any more feelings, they were going to break her.

  “You’re shutting me out. You’ve been shutting me out for months now.” There was definitely hurt in Ryan’s voice. “I can’t deal with it.”

  Liv shut down the feelings that threatened to rise in her. “Sorry.” It was all she could manage without bursting into tears.

  A tear trickled down Ryan’s face. “Me, too.” She sat there for a moment longer, then stood and walked off. They would see each other once more, but that was it.

  Liv waited until she made it home, to her bed, before she let the tears fall. Above all, she couldn’t let anyone see her weakness.

  It had cost her Ryan, and she was still doing it. When was she going to learn?

  Saturday 1st October; 6pm

  Ryan chewed on the tip of her pen, flicking it against her teeth as she thought. The computer had turned up nothing, neither had the interviews with friends and family. Cairo had surprisingly little of both.

  “That’s not good for you,” Dane pointed out. Ryan waved a hand in his direction, dismissive, and then used the same hand to stifle a huge yawn.

  Despite the fact that they had papers from Cairo confirming a settlement, they had testimony from the lawyer claiming the opposite. Were they forgeries? Or was something else going on? Did the lawyer have any reason to lie? No, Harrington didn’t have a long background with the Levitt family.

  “Here’s the phone records.” Dane passed her a thick folder. Ryan looked at it, her eyebrows arched. “She was quite the talker.”

  “Huh.” Ryan took it, placing it on her desk and flipping it open. She grabbed the highlighters from the cup on her desk, laying them within easy reach. Three lines down and she grabbed one, highlighting four rows in pink. International numbers were easy to identify, not just by their numbers but by the charges attached.

  “Anything interesting?” Dane asked, looking over from his computer.

  “A lot of international numbers.” Ryan tapped the butt of the highlighter against her cheek, continuing to skim the numbers with tired eyes. “Do we have a list of the local numbers she might have called?”

  “Family and friends are included.” Dane handed her a sheaf of papers with a list of names and numbers. He had asked Cairo’s fiancé and family to give their numbers so they could be excluded from the phone records. All had agreed.

  “Did you get the financial records?” Ryan looked at him, alert.

  “Yup. But there wasn’t much.” Dane grimaced, handing the papers over. “Some deposits a few years ago from international accounts, but not much recently.”

  “Did she have a credit card?” Ryan frowned at the papers. Cairo apparently didn’t use much money. “Or share an account with her fiancé?”

  “I doubt it.” Dane shook his head. “From what I can find on Steven, he’s quite close-mouthed.”

  The poker cards flashed into Ryan’s mind. “Do we know if she had a gambling problem at all?” Maybe there was a gambling debt, or something. It wasn’t something they had much of in Amaranth, but she had heard of it in the larger towns.

  “I think the mother mentioned something about that.” Dane turned back to his computer, clicking and searching. “Here. She was a professional poker player a few years ago. Made thousands, then suddenly retired.”

  “Then why doesn’t she have any money in her accounts? Was it offshore?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” Dane said with a shrug.

  Ryan resisted the urge to hit her head on her desk. “So we have a possible suicide, possible homicide, and this case just keeps getting more ridiculous?”

  “Yup.” Dane turned back to his computer.

  Ryan sighed. Her phone rang. Turning back to the paper records, she picked up the phone and tucked it into the crook between her head and neck. “Hello?”

  “I have someone on the line who may have a lead for the Turner case?” It was the front-desk secretary.

  “Patch them through.” There was a flutter of excitement in Ryan’s chest. Was she getting close to finding the missing girl? Her photo was still pinned to Ryan’s desk, a reminder of what was at stake.

  The phone rang once or twice, then someone answered. “Hello?” It was a masculine voice, one she didn’t recognize. Probably not a local, then.

  “Hello, this is Detective Olsen.” Ryan cleared her throat. “Mary-Beth said you might have information on the Jasmine Turner case?” She grabbed a notepad and a pen, prepared to jot down any information. It would be her first lead in half a week.

  “Jasmine used to hang out at the bar,” the man said.

  “Which bar?” Ryan wrote underage?? at the top of the page. According to her records Jasmine wasn’t even twenty.

  “Sports. It’s the one behind Main Street.”

  Ryan wrote that down. She’d been there quite a few times when she was a patrol officer, to break up fights and help remove drunk and disorderly customers. She had heard that it was under new ownership. Was that relevant? A thrill went through her. “Can I get your name, Sir?”

  “No.” The line hung up.

  Ryan held the phone for a few moments as she thought it through. Still, all leads were worth investigating. “Do you need me for anything?” Ryan looked at Dane.

  “Nope.” He waved a hand at her. “I’m going to do some digging and try and find out where these payments came from.”

  “Thanks.” Ryan grabbed her purse and darted out the door.

  10

  Saturday 1st October; 7pm

  Sports was a dive bar, tucked into the corner of an old shopping mall that had died out ages ago. The roof needed repairs, and the paint was peeling, but she could see the lights and hear the music. Still, Ryan would talk to the staff and see what she could figure out.

  The fact that the tip was anonymous worried her somewhat, but there had been prior anonymous tips in other cases that had borne fruit. There were a lot of reasons someone
wasn’t comfortable giving their name.

  She pushed open the door and squared her shoulders, immediately assaulted by loud, thumping pop music and the sound of people cheering on the TV. How anyone in the place still had any eardrums was a mystery to her. Yet there were at least a dozen people at the bar, and mostly they looked like they had been there for quite some time.

  Walking up to the bar, she took stock of the bartender. He was tall and good-looking, with sharp cheekbones and flashing dark eyes. He was dressed plainly, a nice shirt and jeans, and his large hands were occupied with cleaning some glasses.

  “How can I help you?” His voice was melodic and deep.

  Immediately Ryan marked him off the list of potential callers, unless he had a very convincing voice changer. “My name is Detective Olsen and I’m here about Jasmine Turner?”

  The bartender frowned, thinking. Then his eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh, her. I think she worked here about six months ago.”

  “Do you own this establishment?” Ryan looked around.

  He shook his head. “Just the bartender,” he said cheerfully. “The name’s Ross.” He extended a hand to shake.

  Ryan shook it, quite aware he probably had no shortage of lady friends, even in their small town. “I’d like to talk to you about Jasmine?”

  Ross cast a glance around the small dive bar. “One sec.” He disappeared into the back.

  It always made Ryan nervous when people did that. Were they going to run? Was she going to have to chase them?

  Then a woman, probably early twenties, appeared from behind the bar. Her eyes were chilly, but her lips were soft. Like she had smiled but it wasn’t going to reach her eyes. “This is Veronica, she owns the bar.”

  Veronica nodded and extended her hand.

  Then Ryan placed her. “You’re Cairo’s cousin?” She shook her hand out of habit, but there was curiosity bubbling beneath the surface. Was it a coincidence? Then again, there were limited places to work in their small town. “I’d heard the bar was with new owners.” She hadn’t been at Pat’s when Ryan had been there. Where did she live?