A Sleuth Is Born

by Pepper Frost

  She pulled the third of Bea’s gift dresses out of her closet: the black sequined sheath with the low-cut back. She hadn’t planned it, but it turned out she’d worn the dresses in perfect order. Unlike the other two, this one hadn’t a whiff of cuteness or girliness or flirtiness. It was unmistakably an adult woman’s dress.

  After a quick shower, Angela did her makeup and blew out and pinned her hair into a voluminous half-up, half-down style. She put on her dress, the stilettos, and added sparkling chandelier earrings.

  Standing in front of the mirror, she appraised her appearance:

  Fancy? Check.

  Grown up? Check.

  Ready? Check.

  She grabbed the tiny black satin clutch in which she stowed her room key and her lipstick, then headed out the door to see how Maria was doing with dinner.

  §

  “Listen up, everyone,” pronounced Bea from on high.

  Just as the final night’s tournament was about to start, Perry and Pat had helped her climb to a precarious perch on one of the chairs. Now Bea was resting one hand on Perry’s shoulder to steady herself. Pat was tapping on a water glass to get everyone’s attention.

  “Before we get started, I’d like to announce a few changes to our rules for tonight,” Bea began.

  Across the room, Lee’s head whipped around to see how on earth such an announcement could be happening. Having just finished more or less reiterating the rules she’d established for the prior two nights’ events, she was visibly offended. Of course, for Bea, displeasing Lee was part of the fun. Bea grinned as she glimpsed of Angela’s beautiful face and saw she was enjoying the moment as well.

  “It has come to my attention that some players have had concerns about conduct—dare I say, even possible collusion or even cheating in the tournament.”

  Now it was Foxy’s turn to react, his jaw dropping open at Bea’s brazen insinuation. He looked at her and waited for the other shoe to drop.

  “I’m not accusing anyone of anything. And I won’t put anyone in an awkward position by revealing who among us thought there something unsavory might be going on. We all already know, though, that some qualms were expressed by poor, departed Billy Ray.

  “As your host and the owner of this fine establishment, I feel obligated to make sure everyone’s comfortable with the game. We’re playing for a whole lotta cabbage here! I know, I know—we can all afford it. But since the competition’s the thing, everybody still wants to be sure they have a chance to win fair and square, right?

  “I do hope you’re not getting upset, Lee,” Bea said, her tone turning unnaturally sweet. “I hope it’s unlikely that any cheating has occurred. A few safeguards will simply reassure all of us. And rest assured, the measures we’ll follow are consistent with the rules of the World Series of Poker and the tournament directors’ association.”

  Mrs. Glastonbury wasn’t taking Bea’s patronizing well. Her face had gone almost scarlet and her lips were tightly pursed. But she could hardly object to what Bea was announcing.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” Bea said. She explained that seat assignments would be drawn using Perry’s tournament seat cards—not the assignments predetermined by Lee. Perry placed the seat cards upside down on the felt and scrambled them for a minute to be sure they were randomized. Each player grabbed a card. Several exchanged looks when they learned where they’d be sitting. Perry flipped over the last card which would be Bea’s: seat #1, right next to the dealer. Foxy would sit to her left in seat #2.

  Bea explained that chip counts would be confirmed by Perry and the dealer before and after each break, “to ensure stack integrity.” She suspected she was on the right track when she noticed a couple of the players she suspected of cheating looking down as she spoke.

  “Lastly, we’ll be using these brand-new, custom-made Christmas-themed cards and chips for our play tonight. Aren’t they pretty?” A dealer wheeled in a small cart containing all the chips, divided into individual stacks that were still shrink-wrapped, just as the cards were.

  “As you can see,” Bea continued, “It will be clear to all of us exactly how many of each denomination will be in play. No one but Perry has had access to these decks.” The dealer distributed chip stacks to all eight players and shuffled one of the fresh decks.

  “With that, Perry, shall we shuffle up and deal?”

  “Sure, but we’ve got to get you into your seat first.” He stood in front of her chair so she could place both hands on his shoulders, then he surprised her by reaching under her arms and picking her up, then gently placing her on her feet.

  “Watch your hands, sir!” said Bea.

  “Oh no, I’m sorry!”

  “Just kidding,” said Bea with a devious laugh. “My boobs left that neighborhood years ago.”

  Remembering her persona for the table, he passed her cane to her, and she resumed her fragile posture. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Remember, you’re frail. And now I really like your chances. Sure you don’t want to sell me a stake?”

  When everyone was seated, Perry announced the starting blinds and instructed the dealer to “put the cards in the air.” The dealer started the game. After a few hands, everyone settled into a quiet, comfortable rhythm.

  “Got a rush coming on, Betty?” said Foxy. After an hour of play, Bea and Foxy were in a hand together, and Bea had just called his huge raise. The pot was by far the biggest of the night.

  “How did you know?” said Bea, flipping over two aces. “Two aces plus the one on the board makes three!” she said gaily. “Oh, and I guess with that pair on the board, I’ve got a full house. What you got, Foxy Fox?”

  Foxy didn’t answer, just threw his hand into the pile of discarded cards.

  “One of those poker books I’ve been reading said that if I call you, I get to see your hand. Isn’t that right, dealer?”

  “Strictly speaking, that’s true,” said the dealer. “But once a player’s cards are in the muck, there’s no way to retrieve them.”

  “Ooh, you’re one trickster fox, Foxy,” laughed Bea. “Does that mean you were bluffing?” Foxy shrugged and smirked. It didn’t matter to Bea. She’d figured out he was bluffing from the first bet. She’d asked to see his hand just for grins, to see his reaction. Foxy was at best a mediocre poker player—but Bea was positive he didn’t know that.

  The dealer pushed the huge pile of chips in Bea’s direction, and she began organizing and stacking them in the slow, inexpert manner of an amateur. There was little need to persist with the ruse. With the cheating contained, and a sprinkle of luck, she was eliminating her competitors in a systematic fashion.

  “Hahaha!” Bea roared with laughter as she raked another huge pot, slapping the table and disrupting the quiet atmosphere of the room.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, catching her breath. “Sometimes I forget how much fun playing cards can be. You’d never know it from all the long faces around here, though.”

  Chapter 24

  I guess I shouldn’t wear my tux tonight, Aseem thought. Who knows what kind of mess I could end up getting into?

  He debated whether he should even take a shower, but he decided he’d better in the end. What if he ended up dead, or in the hospital? Like his mum had always said, if the worst happens, you should at least be clean.

  Besides, he couldn’t get into position until it had been dark a while. He couldn’t help being antsy, though. He was on another bad streak, with all those annoying problems with the video. It bugged him that he still couldn’t figure out why the recordings were failing. If he succeeded, this little stakeout could make up for a lot of mistakes. Might take some of Angela’s attention away from that annoying Foxworth guy, too.

  Let go of that, he reminded himself. He knew he should be happy for her if she finds someone else. That Foxy, though. Ugh. Slippery, to say the least. A rich jerk who acts like everything in the world is his for the taking. How many broken hearts has Foxy left in his wake? He didn’
t want hers to be next.

  Aseem looked down at the revolver in its shoulder holster, laid out flat on his bed. He picked it up gingerly and reviewed all the steps Perry told him about how to use it. He released the cylinder and examined it: six bullets, all still there.

  Aseem took the bullets out, then practiced the stance that Perry taught him. Holding a real gun wasn’t much like he’d expected. He thought it would be more like a video game. Would he do everything right in the heat of the moment? Hadn’t Perry had said pulling the gun out would probably do the job on its own? Shooting it would almost certainly be unnecessary. Better to practice again, anyway. Better safe than sorry.

  He showered and put on jeans, a clean shirt, and a thick fleece hoodie. It might be a long, cold wait in that barn. Besides being warm, the thick fleece kept the holster—and the extra cell phone he was carrying—hidden from view.

  It was well past dark now. He stuck a candy bar in his pocket, grabbed a bottle of water, and headed out the door. As he walked to the barn from the casita, he envisioned confronting Cash. This improved his mood considerably. He savored the scene as it played out in his mind’s eye. It was going to be so good!

  Whenever he remembered how he’d fallen for Cash’s get-rich-quick scheme, he felt like such a dupe. He couldn’t have known at the time that Cash’s plan involved Bea and Angela—he didn’t even realize Bea was Betty Snickerdoodle back then. But now he knew, with hindsight, that he could have unwittingly helped Cash harm his friends—and it made him really angry.

  I’m not a vengeful guy, thought Aseem, but I’m starting to see how people get that way. It would be awesomely satisfying to be the guy that stopped that jerk this time.

  The thrilling upside of the plan filled him with nervous energy. He tried telling himself to calm down. In all likelihood, he’d be waiting for hours for Cash to come back for that phone. If he didn’t figure out how to relax, he might have an adrenaline crash just when it was time for action.

  Finally, he walked out into the starry night towards the barn. The tournament must be underway now, he thought, noticing the crystalline lights through the transom windows of the ballroom. Just as Bea said to, he avoided the handle of the door, instead drawing it back by grasping the side of the wood panel itself.

  Inside, it was just as she described. The grassy pile was there, in the darkness at the far end of the barn, with the hand-braided rope dangling down from the loft. He dropped the phone onto the mound of straw. Then he found a spot in the nearest corner, behind a bunch of old equipment, where he would sit and wait. When Cash came to retrieve the phone, he’d come right up behind him with the gun. Perfect set-up.

  He moved into the corner and tried to settle in. Should he stand there in the shadows? He tried sitting down on an old pail. Not bad, but would he be able to spring to his feet fast enough? He decided he could. As long as he listened for sounds outside the barn, he’d have time to react.

  Well good, glad that’s settled, he thought. He sighed. How much longer, he wondered? I’m bored already. He pulled out his cell phone and looked at the time: 12 minutes had passed since he left the casita. It was shaping up to be a long night.

  He supposed he could eat the candy bar now. No, better to save it for later. So bored, he thought with a sigh. So… bored.

  He looked up at the loft. Was that where Cash took pictures for his lousy blog? How would that work? Curiosity crept into his bored brain.

  I wonder if I can climb up there, he thought—just for a minute. Pat said the pictures were taken much later at night. There had to be plenty of time still. Why not take a look? Surely there’d be time to hustle back down if he heard someone coming. But how to get up there?

  Aseem peeked outside the barn door and saw the ladder lying on the ground. I see, he thought: you’re supposed to climb that ladder up to those second-story doors. But if he tried that he might be seen, even from a distance, if Cash were to show up unexpectedly while he climbed. If he moved the ladder inside, Cash might notice it missing and suspect something was up. Bea had told him to leave things as Cash would expect to find them.

  Maybe there’s another way up. He reached up and confirmed the loft was up too high to touch with his hand. He dragged the pail over from the corner and flipped it upside down. Standing on it, the underside of the loft was still out of reach of his fingers.

  The rope Cash had fashioned caught Aseem’s eye again. I wonder if it’s thick enough to climb up, he thought. If I can shinny up a foot or two, I could pull myself onto the loft. He decided to give it a try.

  He grabbed the rope and began to pull himself up. Not bad, he thought. Maybe climbing that fake rock wall at the gym has value after all. Too bad this rope is so skinny and frayed, though. It’s already cutting into my hand.

  After a few repetitions of hoisting his feet up, wrapping the rope in place around them, then pushing further up the rope and he rolled onto the loft. Yes!

  And then, his reward. He looked out of the loft door and saw what Cash had been after: a clear view of the Inn’s entrance, the driveway, and the ballroom windows. The drapes were drawn, but useless to prevent Cash’s spying. The loft provided an excellent view into the ballroom through the transom windows. He saw the players seated around the main tournament table. Angela and Lee Glastonbury stood off to the side. Lee looked cranky, as usual, but it seemed Angela was once more managing to placate the annoying battle-ax. Her ability to juggle it all amazed him—and her beauty took his breath away. He smiled. She has no idea how incredible she is.

  Lost in that thought, Aseem didn’t notice the sound of a scooter moving up the road near the Inn. He heard the muffled sound of feet on the grass nearby and he realized Cash was coming. Now what? If he climbed down now, he might not get back into his corner in time. Cash might see him and run.

  Too late now. A tall figure moved through the door. Aseem scuttled back from the edge of the loft, hoping he was hidden from view, and pulled the gun out of the holster. Lying on his belly, he peered down into the barn. He watched Cash anxiously scan the bar floor, then smile as he spotted the phone and reached down to pick it up.

  “Don’t move, Cash. I’d like to say it’s nice to see you, but… no.”

  Cash froze for a moment. Still hunched over, phone in hand, he turned his head towards Aseem.

  “Oh, it’s you. Still looking for your big break, huh? Tech thing still not working out for you?”

  Aseem pointed the gun at Cash. “I see the crime thing’s still not working out for you. Put your hands against the wall and don’t move. Then I’ll come down and explain how this is going to go.” Aseem was glad for the dim light. Hopefully, Cash couldn’t see how much his hand was shaking.

  Cash moved towards the wall and did as he was told. But then he changed his mind and reached down instead. “I don’t think so, Aseem.” He picked up the pail and tossed it at Aseem’s face.

  “You’re an idiot,” Aseem said, thinking fast. He ducked the pail and scrambled off the loft, landing on top of Cash and pinning him to the ground on his stomach. The gun landed about a foot away. Cash tried to grab it, but Aseem rewarded him by leaning on his arm with all his weight, jamming his elbow into the barn’s hard dirt floor.

  “Owww!” wailed Cash.

  Aseem stretched his arm out and snagged the gun. He poked the nose of it into Cash’s back.

  “And here I was planning to offer you a stay-out-of-jail-free card. Maybe you’d like to tell me why I shouldn’t change my mind. Because it will only take one quick call to the police and you’ll be right back in jail, genius.”

  Chapter 25

  Bea was strutting about with even more spirit than usual. It was past midnight, and though she’d complained about various aches and pains all night at the table, she was miraculously doing without her cane as she milled among the players in the ballroom.

  “So Lee,” she said, grabbing the client’s arm with inappropriate familiarity, “I guess we should fill everyone in on the plan for the ca
sh awards tomorrow. Mind if I do the honors?”

  “Of course,” Lee hissed through gritted teeth. “As you made clear earlier this evening, your house, your rules.”

  “Why thank you, Lee. Listen up, everyone.” The players gathered round and stood in a semi-circle for Bea’s announcement.

  “It’s late, so I’ll be brief. As Lee said on the first night, the awards ceremony will be tomorrow morning, where the prizes will be presented to the three winners—James, Walter, and yours truly.” Bea dramatically pointed at herself with her thumbs, the fresh irritation on Lee’s face only sweetening the moment. Angela and Perry were applauding enthusiastically. Bea thought for a moment she saw Walter and James exchange anxious glances. Everyone else looked ready for bed.

  “We’ll have breakfast here in the ballroom tomorrow as part of the festivities. Lee asked that we start by 8:30AM, so please don’t be late. There’s still time for us all to get our beauty sleep. You won’t want to miss the special treats we have planned for our last morning together.”

  Rex and Max and their glamourous, silent girlfriends were the first to say goodnight, genially promising to “attend the morning fun,” despite no claim to any winnings.

  Lee followed right behind. She left without saying goodnight to anyone. “Don’t let the door hit your butt on the way out, Lady G!” hollered Bea. Angela shook her head at Bea’s rudeness, but kept on smiling.

  Walter, Harry, James, and Frank stood together, apart from everyone else and close to the ballroom’s French doors—the ones that led out to the patio. The moonlight was still streaming in through the transom windows, although the heavy drapes still blocked the doors entirely.

  “I’ll see you all in the morning,” said James. “Looking forward to collecting my winnings.” Bea thought he didn’t sound all that excited. Could Foxy have been right that the winnings weren’t important to her opponents? Nah, she thought. Walter followed James out with a friendly wave to the room.