Murder or Bust (We're Not Dead Yet Club Book 3)

by Constance Barker

  “Very funny…”

  While the girls’ presence hadn’t exactly moved things on for Cecil, they’re idiotic and playful banter was certainly beginning to raise his spirits. He didn’t fully appreciate it at the time, but a short while later he would come to the conclusion that this might have been their intention all along. It was perhaps this that made him a little more relaxed when Ida May finally gave him a gentle nudge in the ribs and gestured to the staring man at the far end of the bar.

  “Who’s the guy making eyes at you, Sport?”

  Cecil shrugged. “No idea. He’s been staring at me like that for ages.”

  “Hmmm. Aren’t you curious why?”

  “I’m curious,” Clara replied before Cecil had a chance, a sparkle of an idea in her eye. “Let’s go find out what’s bothering him.”

  Before Cecil had a chance to stop them, the girls were up on their feet. But – more importantly – before they had a chance to make their way over to the far end of the bar, the staring man leapt to his feet and shoved his way rapidly towards them, his eyes blaring with fury.

  “What the hell are you playing at?” he spat as he came to a stop in front of Cecil and reached out to grab his throat. “Were you in on it, Buddy? You and your friends?”

  Cecil didn’t react in time. The man’s fingers closed in around Cecil’s neck and slowly began to squeeze. Kicking the stool out from under him, he struggled to maintain whatever balance he could while the air was slowly being forced out of him. And all the while, the man’s blazing green eyes stared hard at him, deep into his very soul…

  Cecil truly believed he was going to kill him…

  Luckily so did Ida May.

  Without warning, the man released hold of Cecil and took an unsteady step backwards. As he drew back, Cecil began to see what had caused an end to the man’s vicious attack – Ida May had kicked him in the family jewels. Even Cecil winced as he rubbed his throat.

  “That’s it,” Ida May said softly. “Sit yourself down and no sudden moves unless you want more where that came from.”

  The man sat roughly down in the stool, still staring at Cecil but seeming somewhat less threatening now.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I just…”

  “What’s your problem, Pilgrim?”

  The man looked up at Ida May. “I don’t really know. I just feel like I should be doing something. This guy – he’s friends with that Robert dude. And he killed my Ava so – I don’t know. I just needed to knock ten bells outta someone…”

  “Robert didn’t kill anyone,” Cecil growled.

  The man looked like he might leap to his feet again. Before he could, Clara stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on the man’s chest, seemingly settling him back down in an instant.

  “We don’t know anything for sure yet,” she said to Cecil, before turning back to the man. “Your Ava? You’re Steve?”

  The man blinked twice and nodded his head slowly. “We weren’t together no more. But I always thought that might change.” He looked up at Cecil, his eyes gleaming with genuine guilt and sympathy. “I’m sorry man, I know it’s not your fault. I’ve just been so caught up in this murder thing. And then the police were questioning me earlier, and I was so wound up… I’m sure they think I did it…”

  “Them and me both,” Ida May muttered, prompting a shocked look from the sorry-looking man.

  “Quiet, Ida May,” Clara muttered.

  Steve shook his head. “I didn’t kill Ava,” he said slowly. “I couldn’t… I wouldn’t… Not ever.”

  And the odd thing was that everyone believed him.

  Everyone except Cecil.

  Chapter Twelve – A Little Talk with “Cecil”

  Ely Jacobson was beginning to look very nervous. The mystery man in the corner was positively fuming. And Percy was very pleased with himself.

  This had been the third time in a row that Percy had taken Ely to the cleaners and now, as his opponent stared down at his meager collection of chips, Percy flaunted his own by repeatedly counting them. Even the other two men, whose names Percy still hadn’t caught, were beginning to look at him in a different way. They had imagined that the small-town buffoon would be an easy sweep – they thought they’d take his money within an hour and then watch gleefully as he sulked out of the room, dejected and broken. But now they stared at him with unfiltered suspicion.

  They knew Percy was cheating. They didn’t suspect – they knew.

  But Percy didn’t know they knew. For if he’d known that they knew he would’ve known to get out as quick as possible, to lose big before something horrific happened. But he didn’t know to do that…

  But he was about to learn.

  The cards were dealt and the first three had been placed on the deck. There was already two thousand dollars on the table and Percy was feeling confident. With two Aces in the hand and one on the table, his chances of winning big were looking pretty rosy. And this time he didn’t have to cheat. At least, not yet.

  Ely Jacobson flashed Percy a slight smile. “I’ll raise,” he muttered. “All in.”

  It had to be a bluff. There was maybe an outside chance that he had a full house, but nothing that could make him bet that confidently this early on in the game. He certainly didn’t have four Aces – although only Percy knew that.

  Percy turned to his fellow players. He expected them both to fold out of the game and watch the final showdown between him and Ely. They didn’t know what Percy knew, and there was no way they were going to take the chance…

  “Alright. I’ll buy it,” announced the player to Ely’s left, pushing all his chips into the center of the table. “All in.”

  Percy hesitated. “Is there something I should know about?”

  Ely smiled cynically. “You tell us, Cecil…”

  The next player put all in as well. If Percy called them out, the entire collection of chips for the whole game was up for grabs – and Percy was already sitting on three Aces.

  Without even cheating…

  “Call,” Percy announced, shoving the chips into the center. “But I think you’re all mad…”

  Ely chuckled. “Funny,” he muttered, his smile turning into a frown. “We were just thinking the same about you…”

  All eyes went down on the table.

  The next card was flipped.

  A King of Spades.

  Percy’s heart was pounding in his chest. He didn’t want to have to win on a cheat – but he would if he had to. There was over thirty thousand dollars sitting on that table, and he wasn’t going to pass up on that chance…

  A small bead of sweat dribbled down his forehead.

  Percy quickly grabbed the handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed it away…

  “Feeling nervous, Cecil?”

  Ely and the others were watching him like a hawk.

  Percy shrugged and continued to dab at his head. “There’s a lot of money at stake…”

  “Yes, there is,” Ely agreed, before turning to the dealer. “Last card folks.”

  Time seemed to stand still.

  The dealer flipped the card down on the table and all four players leaned forward for a good look.

  Percy’s heart skipped a beat…

  A fourth Ace.

  Before he could stop himself, he leapt to his feet and flung his cards down on the table.

  “Yes,” he cried out jubilantly. “Four Aces. Read it and weep, boys.”

  The three other players didn’t react – they simply continued to stare at Percy as he scooped up the winnings and thrust them into his jacket pockets. From out of the shadows, the man in the corner got slowly to his feet and sauntered around the table, coming to a stop next to Percy as he shoved the last of his chips into any spare space he could find.

  “Congratulations, Cecil…”

  “Thank you, Mr…?”

  “Call me Joe.”

  “Joe. Right. It was a good game, Gentlemen. But I’m afraid I must be off…” />
  As Percy tried to step around him, Joe pulled back his jacket to reveal a small 9mm pistol holstered on his belt.

  “I suppose being a Vietnam vet, you’d know what this is…”

  “Ah…” Percy replied. “Well, yes… I…”

  “What exactly are you pulling here, Cecil?”

  “Yes, well, you see…”

  Percy was retreating backwards. The other three players had got to their feet and were now crowding around Percy as they backed him into the corner. Joe’s hand crept slowly towards the gun on his belt, his eyes flashing like lightening.

  “You think you can come into my game and cheat the system?”

  “No. I mean – I don’t know what you mean…”

  “No one cheats in my games, Cecil,” Joe spat, his hand finally finding the gun and drawing it out of the holster. “No one but me…”

  Percy screwed up his eyes. He didn’t know what was about to happen, but he was certain that – whatever it was – he was better off not seeing it if he could avoid it. His mind circled to images of broken legs, gunshot wounds to the knee, kicked in ribs or – worse – a mangled body found some Las Vegas gutter…

  What an undignified way to go…

  In that moment of pure uncertainty, Percy found his mind focusing on only one thought, which seemed so bizarre and unimportant that it was a wonder that it even made it in there in that moment of utter panic:

  I wonder if the We’re Not Dead Club will investigate my death?

  As it happens, in that same moment, the door to the back room flew open and Percy instantly felt the dangerous tension subside as Joe, Ely and the others quickly retreated back from him. Opening a cautious eye, Percy looked towards the door and discovered – to his utter relief – that two burly men dressed in cheap black suits stood by the door.

  “Which one of you is Cecil?”

  The one that spoke was a terrifying sight to behold. He was at least six and a half foot tall, had a scarred and battered looking bald head and a broken nose that spoke of dozens of fights and – probably – dozens of victories. It was little wonder that Joe had quickly concealed his weapon and was now pointing earnestly at Percy.

  “That’s him,” he muttered. “But we’ve got unfinished business…”

  “Not here, you don’t,” replied the suit.

  Before Percy could mutter a word of thanks, the suit stepped forward, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and marched him quickly out of the room, leaving Joe and his crew behind, looking irritated and unsatisfied.

  They headed swiftly down the corridor. The suits stood on either side of Percy, guiding him roughly through occasional side doors, but saying nothing to him. Still clutching his winnings, Percy felt a wave of relief pour over him.

  “I just wanted to say thank you. If you hadn’t intervened, that could have gotten very ugly.”

  The suit didn’t reply. He didn’t even look at Percy.

  “I must say your Casino security is very thorough. I’d like to offer my praise to your supervisor, if that’s possible?”

  Still no response.

  They turned a corner sharply and, before he knew what was going on, Percy found himself outside the Casino and being moved quickly towards a car parked down the alleyway.

  “This really isn’t necessary,” Percy muttered, that familiar wave of uncertain fear coursing through him once again. “I’m perfectly safe now. I’ll take it from here…”

  “You’re coming with us.”

  The suit flung open the door and shoved Percy inside.

  “But I haven’t done anything wrong. This is just a big misunderstanding. I would never cheat…”

  But the suit didn’t care. With a quick flutter of his strong arm, the car door slammed shut, leaving Percy trapped inside. As the two suits climbed into the front seats, he clutched a tighter hold of his winnings and watched carefully as the car crept forward and turned out on to the main road…

  Chapter Thirteen – An Audience with the Bountiful Mounties

  The afternoon show for the Bountiful Mounties wasn’t exactly packed. In fact, if truth be told, it wasn’t even half packed. It was actually rather empty. A fact that, while somewhat unfortunate for the Bountiful Mounties, was something of a convenience for the three ladies who, upon entering the small theatre were delighted to discover that they had seats on the front row – in the very center.

  Of course, delighted is something of a relative term. Ida May was delighted. And Hazel could be described as delighted – if not a little bit apprehensive. Clara, on the other hand, while perfectly willing to be a part of this little outing, could not exactly be described as delighted. More apprehensive.

  “You do know there will be little left to the imagination,” she said as they took their seats.

  Ida May smiled wickedly. “Exactly. That's the main reason I'm here.”

  Ida May had taken to the idea with the same enthusiasm that a child rips open presents on Christmas Day. She had to admit though that it had done wonders in keeping her away from the slot machines, which she had barely mentioned since Steve’s altercation with Cecil at the bar.

  Beside her, Hazel opened up a bag of peanuts and started to munch her way through them. Although there was nothing to see on the stage, her eyes were glued to it with such intensity that it was a wonder that Clara could even get her to respond:

  “It’s not the pictures, Hazel,” she muttered.

  “I know,” Hazel replied, popping a few peanuts in her mouth. “It’s much better than the pictures.”

  Clara shook her head in dismay. “What are you too like? Anyone would think you hadn’t seen a man in decades…”

  “Well, I haven’t,” Hazel replied innocently. “Not without his clothes on at any rate.”

  “I have,” Ida May, a slight twinkle in her eye.

  Clara ignored her. “These men are young enough to be our sons.”

  “True,” Hazel replied popping another peanut in her mouth. “I haven’t seen a younger man naked since I got married…”

  “I have.” Ida May’s eyes sparkled mischievously.

  Clara was fighting a losing battle. Besides which they were there now and the show was only moments from starting.

  “As long as we remember why we’re here.”

  “I don’t think we’ll be able to forget, dear,” Ida May replied.

  “Yes,” Hazel piped in. “It will be rather in your face when we’re this close…”

  “I mean Steve,” Clara hissed through gritted teeth. “Our chief suspect is almost certainly in this show. It’ll be a chance to observe him in action.”

  Ida May and Hazel giggled excitedly.

  “In his natural environment, I mean…”

  “Calm down, Clara, dear. The show hasn’t even started yet.”

  Clara shot Hazel a vicious look. “Don’t start, Hazel…”

  Ida May hummed happily to herself. “What makes you think he’s in the Bountiful Mounties anyway? If he’s not, are we going to watch all the acts until we find him?”

  Clara didn’t reply.

  The lights dimmed around them and the music began to blare out of the crackling speakers on either side. The stage burst into life with swooping and diving lights of red, pink and purple as the Bountiful Mounties strutted on stage and immediately launched into their set routine.

  It didn’t take long for the clothes to come off and – despite her claims of watching for work purposes – even Clara found her eyes wandering down their chiseled bodies. As Hazel and Ida May screamed for the clothes to come off, Clara found herself joining in. Her eyes weren’t focused on the faces of the dancers – she was no longer looking for Steve. She was just staring at the pure display of manhood in front of her.

  After a few minutes, the group parted. A man on a loudspeaker announced the name of a solo dancer, but none of them really heard it. The man strutted forward, his top already discarded on the floor, and he slowly began to unbuckle his jeans.

  It
was only then that Clara saw his face.

  Clara stared at Steve. And Steve stared at Clara. He seemed to freeze to the spot, unable to move or to carry on, despite the encouraging cheers from Ida May and Hazel.

  Then, in a flash, his head darted towards the side of the stage. There was a sheer look of panic in his eyes and, all around him, the other dancers seemed to come to a stop as they wondered what was going on. The moment was over in a flash but it had been plain for everyone to see.

  Finally, Steve began to move again and – as subtly as he could – he began to slowly move towards the side of the stage, dancing as normally as possible, before disappearing out into the wings.

  Clara turned to Ida May. She could tell by the look on her friend’s face that she’d seen it as well.

  “Quick,” Ida May muttered. “Come on.”

  They gathered their things and moved swiftly along the row of seats, heading for the exit. They kept their heads down, desperately trying to ignore the flailing items of clothing as the rest of the Bountiful Mounties thrust their bodies in their general direction. It was only when they reached the doors that they stopped and looked at each other.

  “Where’s Hazel?”

  They turned back to where they’d been sitting.

  Hazel was still there, her hands reaching out towards the perfectly toned body of one of the dancers, who was sitting on the edge of the stage, thrusting his pelvis towards her. She cackled with glee as her hands flung dollar bills out at him, while she edged further and further off her seat as though she might race up on stage to join them.

  Ida May was with her in a flash.

  “Come on…”

  “But the Mountable Bounties…”

  “Behave yourself, Hazel,” Ida May hissed. “We have work to do…”

  Chapter Fourteen – Cecil’s Warning

  Percy sat in a dark room, rocking back and forth on the wonky chair he’d been given to sit on. His hands grasped a tight hold of the chips in his pocket, which – for some unknown reason – the security guys hadn’t thought to take off him.

  They can’t know I cheated for sure, can they? Percy thought to himself. I mean they would’ve taken them off me straight away if they could prove it…