Steele-Faced (Daggers & Steele Book 6)

by Alex P. Berg

  “How about putting it to use on the task at hand?” said Shay. “Namely studying your opponents. In addition to a murder to solve, we still have a poker tournament to win and a con-man to catch.”

  “Right. Gambling.” I glanced at the opposition again. “Still think we have a chance to win?”

  “Are you kidding?” said Shay. “Somebody was stupid enough to kill a man. They might’ve had the upper hand coming in, but these folks are playing on our home court now.”

  I smiled. I appreciated Shay’s attitude even if I lacked her confidence—if it was that. Could be she was already practicing her bluffs.

  The waitress returned with our meals. I began to scarf down eggs, sliced sausage, and fruit salad with little regard for decorum, but I hadn’t put my jaw to the grindstone for more than a minute when I noticed Ghorza stand and head for the exit. Theo and Orrin noticed her and followed.

  I gave Shay a nod and spoke between bites. “Something’s afoot.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “The tournament’s about to start. We need to hurry.”

  I looked around the room, but I couldn’t spot a clock anywhere. Apparently, Shay hadn’t lied about her internal timekeeper. Hopefully, she’d use it to keep us from being late.

  14

  An escort led us through the casino proper, past craps tables and roulette wheels already busy with patrons, to the high stakes poker room that would become our immediate home. It had all the usual trappings of a casino—beige on cream paisley rugs, lots of artificial light, and velvet drapes hung over solid walls, because windows would only give patrons an excuse to stand up and leave—but it had been outfitted in ways the common rooms hadn’t. Round tables with three high-backed stools apiece dotted the corners of the room, and on the side, a bartender with a black vest and bowtie staffed a bar with at least a hundred bottles of expensive liquors set into the wall behind him. A delicate crystal chandelier hung from the center of the space, and underneath it was a green felt-topped poker table that had never felt the touch of an elbow upon its unblemished edge.

  Of course, to call it a private room was definitely a misnomer. Above us, a second floor gallery allowed spectators to peer upon the gladiators below. The space was mostly barren at the moment, but I had no doubt that as the action on the table thickened, so would the crowds. Our poker tournament was intended as a draw, after all, and the casino’s operators would be remiss in their duties if they didn’t take the opportunity to sell drinks to onlookers and take side bets on our performances.

  A quick glance around the room revealed we weren’t the last of the players to arrive, though we were close. Orrin, Theo, and Jimmy were there, as was Ghorza with Vlad and Johann with Humpty and Dumpty. The textile mill owner didn’t look pleased, but then again, he hadn’t before one of his men had gone missing. He must’ve suspected Lumpty’s death. Why else wouldn’t the man have reported back to him following whatever task Johann had set upon him?

  In addition to the known commodities, I noticed a lone woman in the corner at one of the round tables. She was slight and of middling height, with raven dark hair cut in a pageboy, the bangs of which reached to just over her eyes—not that you could see them. Like Ghorza, she wore darkened spectacles, but with wide lenses rimmed in white. Rather than a dress, she wore a black turtleneck sweater and matching pleated slacks. She nursed a glass of clear liquid between her hands, probably water unless she preferred her vodka straight.

  She had to be Wanda. Seeing as she was alone and the game had yet to begin, she seemed a fitting target for investigation, but Orrin had isolated himself on the opposite side of the room.

  Shay noticed my gaze. “Divide and conquer?”

  “It’s the best strategy, if one has the resources,” I said.

  “I’ll make the acquaintance of the lady in black, then,” said Shay. “Best of luck in the tournament, my sweet.”

  We’d both firmed up our personas on the walk over. “I make my own luck. But you already knew that, didn’t you, dear?”

  Shay shot me an elevated eyebrow as she pivoted and glided toward the presumed Wanda. I could watch her walk away for hours on end, and the heels she wore made the sight even more pleasant, but I had work to do.

  I approached the scarred dwarf in the corner and extended a hand. “Orrin, is it? Thomas Waters.”

  Orrin’s hands were stuffed in his pockets. He eyed my hand and kept his in place. “Yes?”

  “I’m introducing myself.”

  Orrin didn’t flinch.

  I pulled my hand back. “The customary response is to reply in kind, but it’s alright. Perhaps you have an infectious disease you’re trying to keep me clear of, or you suffer from erratic seizures that prohibit you the full use of your arm. Those are the most flattering explanations I can come up with, anyway.”

  “I’m not here to make friends,” growled Orrin.

  “I think we’re all here for the same reasons,” I said, “but neither am I here to make enemies. I think it’s a mutually compatible goal with making money.”

  “Not the way I play,” said Orrin. “Or the way you do, for that matter.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve watched me play before?”

  “Don’t act stupid, Waters. The first hand hasn’t even been dealt and already you’ve more than doubled your odds of winning. I’m not sure who you bribed to make sure your wife would get a spot at the table alongside you, but I assure you, that kind of underhanded move hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

  “Samantha?” I said. “Well, I could try to convince you we’re playing independently and that she’d secretly love to win it all to get out from under my oppressive boot heel, but I don’t think you’d believe that. Still, we each put up our own entry fee. Should we lose, we lose twice as much as any of you.”

  “You’re right,” said Orrin with a scowl. “I don’t believe any of that. But believe you me. Whatever signs you’ve established to share information with each other through the game? I’ll figure them out. And I’ll use them against you. So you’d better hope you can take me out early, because otherwise I’ll run you into the ground late.”

  Orrin stormed off toward the bar, leaving me to wallow in solitude. If Orrin really thought Shay and I’d be working in tandem to win the tournament, he’d be sorely disappointed. There was too much risk involved in such a strategy, and with less than a day to prepare, we simply hadn’t had the time to put such a system in place. Still, I was glad Orrin had voiced his concerns. Better to know you have a target painted upon your back to give you some chance of avoiding the arrow when it comes.

  “Lovely guy, isn’t he?”

  I looked down. Theo had snuck up on me again. “Not particularly, no. I’d ask him what I did to anger him, but he told me right to my face, unprompted.”

  “I wouldn’t take it personally,” said Theo. “He didn’t like me either. Said I was too chatty. Me. Too chatty. Can you believe that? And all I did was come up and try to be nice to him at breakfast. The poor guy was sitting all by his lonesome. Figured he could use some company, as could I. Might as well break our fast together, right? But I tell you what. I had to carry that conversation. He didn’t pull his weight at all. By the end of it, he all but told me to shove off.”

  “Orrin did that?” I said. “And after you went out of your way to brighten his morning, with no ulterior motive or possible gain on your part. How dare he?”

  Theo smiled. “I know, right? Some people…”

  I nodded toward Shay and the woman in black. “You get a chance to meet Wanda?”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Theo. “She’s a real chatterbox. Look at her go. I think she’s uttered three whole words to your piece of arm candy over there. Oh, wait. Scratch that. Four.”

  “What was it you said last night? About some people hiding behind a mask of silence?”

  “In her case, maybe it’s not a mask,” said Theo. “Maybe she’s naturally quiet. Or maybe it is a mask but the kind
that hides a painful secret, some yawning chasm of darkness within her that’s screaming and clawing as it tries to get out.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “That’s a little dark.”

  Theo laughed. “Oh, come on, man. I’m kidding. Or am I?”

  Verona entered the room, a drink clasped in one hand and her jade smoking stick held in the other. Her eyes were glazed, but she walked without any missteps despite wearing three-inch high stilettos. My guess was she’d had a lot of practice—both at drinking and walking in heels while inebriated.

  A woman with dark blonde hair wearing black slacks and a blouse with white suspenders over it followed her. She paused in front of the poker table and cleared her throat. “Excuse me. Ladies and gentlemen. May I have your attention, please?”

  Theo rubbed his hands together. “Oh, yeah. Here we go, baby. Let’s do this.”

  Once the chatter died, the new woman continued. “I hope you’re enjoying your time aboard the Prodigious so far. Let me be the first to officially welcome you to the ship’s inaugural high stakes, no-limit hold’em poker tournament. My name is Patty Hiller, and I’ll be your dealer for the course of this event. I’ve received word from our head manager that you’ve all deposited your initial buy ins, and with the arrival of Madam Quivven, we are complete. So, without further ado, place your drink orders with our bartender if you so desire, please have a seat, and let’s begin.”

  I eyed Steele across the room. She gave me a curt nod. I took a deep breath and approached the table.

  15

  “Aw, come on, man,” said Theo. “Are you serious? You can’t be serious with these cards right now. It’s like the gods have a vendetta against me or something.”

  “Don’t you ever shut up?” said Jimmy. The big bruiser sat wide with his elbows out to his sides. Even accounting for the size of the table, he would’ve been tight on space if not for that fact that he’d been seated between Theo and Wanda.

  “Not really,” said Theo. “Besides, I haven’t said if I’m going to check, raise, or fold yet.”

  “After all that, you’re not going to fold?” said Jimmy.

  “What?” said Theo. “Nah, I’m kidding. I’m folding.” He pushed his cards toward the dealer.

  Jimmy drained the last of his whiskey and soda—his third so far—and tapped his fingers on the table to indicate he checked, sending the bet to Wanda.

  Clockwise from the dealer, we sat: Johann, Shay, Theo, Jimmy, Wanda, me, Orrin, Ghorza, and Verona. We’d played for several hours already if my rumbling belly was any indication, but in that time no major changes had taken place. I’d grown my pile of chips slightly and Shay’s had dwindled by a similarly small amount. Wanda had done the best for herself so far, building her fortune by about twenty percent, and Johann had fared the worst, but even he was only down about five thousand crowns.

  Only five thousand crowns… How quickly my estimation of the value of money had declined.

  Wanda folded, and I did the same. Orrin scowled and grumbled and pulled on his beard, but eventually he folded, too, sending the bet to Ghorza.

  The orc woman had remained quiet and reserved so far, hiding under her hat and shades, but I’d yet to figure out if it was her intended strategy or merely a result of her hangover. She finally removed her glasses and set them on the table. She puffed out a breath of air, took off her hat, and fanned herself with it.

  “Oh, my,” she said, breaking her silence. “I feel warm. Am I the only one? No? No one else? Goodness. Vlad? Be a dear. Get me more chilled water?”

  The elf servant stood at the back of the room. He sprang into action on request, heading to the bar.

  “Hey, Ghorza,” said Theo. “Nice to see you’ve joined us. Finally fighting off that brown bottle flu?”

  “I don’t know what you’re insinuating,” she said. “I’ve simply been feeling under the weather.”

  “Hmm.” Theo elbowed Jimmy and gave him a wink. “Sure she doesn’t. Am I right, big guy?”

  “Don’t make me eat you,” said Jimmy. “Flossing afterwards would be a nightmare.”

  Theo held up his hands in mock horror.

  Vlad brought the water. Ghorza took a sip, waited a moment, and raised. Verona folded. Jimmy matched, and Patty put the three flop cards down. Jimmy and Ghorza went back and forth a bit before Ghorza eventually took the hand on the river.

  Patty collected the cards, shuffled them, and dealt everyone a new pair. “Next hand. Madam Quivven to start.”

  Verona took a peek at her cards before pressing them back against the table. She took a drag from her cigarette holder and pushed forward her required bet due to her starting position, known as the small blind.

  Johann played with his chips, intertwining and separating them one-handed with fingers far more deft than age would indicate. His face was cool and composed, and to my observation, he hadn’t shown any signs of disquiet following the disappearance of his man. Humpty and Dumpty, who sat at one of the round tables in the corner nursing their drinks, seemed far more on edge by comparison.

  By virtue of his secondary position, Johann was required to double Verona’s initial bet, but he pushed forward a much larger pile of chips than he needed. About two thousand crowns worth. “Let’s raise the stakes.”

  “Aw, come on, man,” said Theo. “And I finally had a good hand.”

  “Then play it,” said Johann.

  “And waste a good hand on you? No way.” He pushed his cards forward. “I’m saving my good hands for Jimmy, and I can already tell he’s not going to play. You going to play, big guy?”

  Jimmy scowled and folded. Wanda and I did the same, minus the scowling, but Orrin matched. Vlad had taken over fanning duties for Ghorza, but the big orc woman took her time sipping her chilled water before eventually folding as well.

  Verona wore a similar outfit to the one she had the night before, a ruched golden dress, a heavy fox fur shawl, and twenty pounds of jewelry. She trailed a hand down the fur to her martini—like Jimmy, her third—lifted it, and took a sip. In a drinking contest, I’d have to go with Jimmy thanks to his bulk, but Verona had that glazed, even keel look of a functional alcoholic, never fully alert but never truly drunk either. Her liver was probably so porous by now the alcohol passed right on through.

  She set down her drink, took another long drag from her cigarette holder, and blew the smoke roughly in Johann’s direction. “Very well, Johann. Let’s see where this goes.”

  She pushed her chips forward to match the bet.

  Patty flipped three cards down onto the table, the flop: the queen of hearts, seven of diamonds, and five of hearts.

  Johann stroked his chin. “So, you’d like to dance, Verona? I have to admit it’s been a while. Though my feet have slowed in my old age, I think you’ll find my mind is as deft as ever.” He pushed forward another three thousand crowns worth of chips.

  Orrin grunted and cracked his neck. He stared at his chips, but after a moment of contemplation, he flicked his cards back to the dealer.

  “If nothing else, I’m glad to see you haven’t lost your nerve.” Verona matched Johann’s bet. “But let’s be honest, dear. It’s not enough to keep one’s mind from dulling. If anything it needs to sharpen over time.”

  Dear? It wasn’t necessarily a term of endearment—many women referred to men in such a fashion, especially those who’d been groomed in high society—but I couldn’t recall Verona greeting me that way last night.

  Patty turned over the fourth card, the turn. A seven of hearts.

  Johann tapped his fingers on the table to indicate a check.

  “You see what I mean?” said Verona. “You need to stay sharp. To be able to anticipate the cards.” She pushed forward another two thousand crowns worth of chips.

  “The cards can’t be anticipated,” said Johann. “Only the opponent. I’m all in.”

  The stately old man pushed the rest of his chips forward into the middle of the tabl
e, soliciting a murmur from the crowd that had started to gather in the gallery. He sat back and leveled his gaze at Verona.

  She took a long drag from her cigarette holder and let it out slowly. “Of that, you are undoubtedly correct. It’s too bad you could never anticipate me.” Verona waved at her chips. “I match.”

  Patty set down the fifth and final card, a two of diamonds. Johann flipped his cards, a pair of queens.

  “Full house, queens over sevens,” said Patty.

  “What’s the matter, Verona? You’re looking a little flushed,” said Johann.

  Verona waved her cigarette dismissively. “Not as much as you will be.”

  She turned her cards. Rather than a pair of hearts, as Johann clearly expected, she revealed a pair of sevens.

  “Oh, snap!” said Theo.

  “Four of a kind,” said Patty. “Game to Madam Quivven.”

  Johann’s cheeks reddened as the crowd above gave him a smattering of applause, but to his credit, he took his loss with poise. He stood, straightened his jacket, and nodded to the remaining players. “Ladies. Gentlemen. Best of luck in the rest of the tournament.”

  He motioned to his men, turned, and exited through the door at his back.

  Patty collected the cards. “On that note, I suggest we break for lunch. We’ll resume the tournament in an hour and a half’s time.”

  Everyone rose, other than Verona who busily stacked her chips. Orrin and Jimmy headed toward the bar while Theo headed for Ghorza, apparently thinking some jawing could help banish the remnants of her hangover. Wanda, however, made a beeline for the exit.

  Shay joined me. “Well, that was interesting. I was starting to think the table would never see any real action.”

  “Can we talk it over in a minute? There’s something I’d like to follow up on.” I nodded at the door. “Save me a spot at lunch?”

  Shay caught my drift if not necessarily my intention. “Sure. See you in the dining room.”

  I nodded and hastened for the door, hoping my pace wasn’t too obvious.