Steele-Faced (Daggers & Steele Book 6)

by Alex P. Berg

  Johann stomped out the door, his thugs hot on his heels. After he’d left, Olaugh nodded to the room. “My apologies. Know that as the ship’s boatswain, security aboard the Prodigious is my number one concern. I offer you my sincerest assurances that none of you are in danger. Now please. Proceed with your tournament.”

  On cue, Patty gave the cards one more shuffle and held her hands out to the chairs. “Ladies and gentlemen? If you could take your seats.”

  I helped Steele into her chair and headed toward my own, all the while wondering about Johann’s outburst. He’d been downright furious, not only at the murder of his own man but at that of Verona. Why had he let everyone know? If he were behind either of the murders, wouldn’t it behoove him to keep their knowledge secret? Or did he have some reason to incite a panic in the remaining players as Olaugh had suggested?

  Either way, the cat had torn its way free from the bag, and it was time to play.

  26

  “Three of a kind, queens, ace high over three of a kind, queens, ten high. Game to Miss Skeez.” Patty gathered the cards and redistributed the chips. “And on that note, why don’t we pause for a quick mid-afternoon break. We’ll begin again promptly in ten minutes.”

  I stood and stretched. The morning session had flown past, followed by a quick lunch in the dining hall and more poker, but now halfway through the afternoon session, I felt the game wearing on me—despite having done fairly well for myself. I’d grown my fortune to about twenty-eight thousand crowns. Ghorza has similarly fared well, but some of the others hadn’t, namely Orrin and Shay, unfortunately. She was down to under ten thousand crowns, and if our fellow competitors were wolves, they’d be licking their chops.

  I made a quick trip to the facilities. When I returned, I found Shay standing at one of the corner tables. She waved me over.

  “Hello there, beautiful,” I said. “How are you holding up?”

  “What do you think?” Her face said it all.

  “Come on,” I said. “The situation isn’t that dire. You can recover.”

  “Really?” she said. “I lose leverage with every chip of mine that drifts into someone else’s pile. I’m on the ropes. It won’t be long before someone comes after me, either with a good hand or a strong bluff, and I’m not sure I can fend off either.”

  “Well then, you’ll just have to keep fighting and hope the right cards come your way. What other choice do you have?”

  Shay lifted an eyebrow and lowered her voice. “It’s sweet of you to believe in me, but let’s be honest. You’re better at this game than I am. There’s no sense denying it. And because of your wins you’re in a much stronger position than I am.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “You know as well as I do someone is going to take me out sooner or later. For our mutual benefit, it would be best if that person were you.”

  “Well, Orrin will be happy about this if he finds out,” I said. “It’s exactly what he accused me of the first time we talked.”

  “It may be dishonest, but the ship’s management let us play together,” said Shay. “It’s not strictly against the rules. And in poker, strategy stretches beyond the edge of the table.”

  “So how do you propose we do this?”

  “We establish a cue,” said Shay. “Some way for you to notify me you have a good hand, one you know you’ll win with. I’ll have my own cue to signify I have a decent hand, too. Not great, but good enough to make it look respectable. After there are enough cards down for you to know it’s a go, I go all in, you take the hand, end of story.”

  “And what sort of cue do you have in mind?”

  “Something simple,” said Shay. “Maybe something you already do every now and then so people won’t suspect anything’s amiss. Like rubbing your thumb and forefinger together.”

  “I do that?” I said.

  Shay nodded. “It means you’re thinking, so it’s not really a tell in the traditional sense. I’ll respond with a chew of my lip, just the edge, on the left side. Does that work?”

  Patty piped up from the table. “Ladies and gentlemen? If you could once again take your seats.”

  “Works for me,” I said. “Let’s do this.”

  We returned to our seats. The crowd in the gallery above similarly gathered, having been let back into the space following Olaugh’s announcement about Verona. I wondered what sorts of rumors swirled up there regarding her disappearance. Surely some suspected a nefarious exit, but if Olaugh was smart, he’d already spread competing rumors of an illness or excessive drinking being the cause of her absence.

  Patty dealt the cards. My first two hands were terrible, and I folded straight away. The third was better, but not by much—certainly nothing to try and take Shay out with. Unfortunately, it was a portent of things to come, as it set off a string of mediocre hands that left me betting little or nothing at all. After almost an hour, Patty finally dealt me something worthwhile, the king and jack of spades, but when I rubbed my thumb and forefinger together, Shay failed to chew on her lip. She had nothing.

  It wasn’t a total loss, though. I won a fair number of chips from Wanda with the hand.

  More time passed, and a well-dressed waiter came by with a tray full of appetizers: fried shrimp covered in a sweet and savory sauce, peppers stuffed with goat cheese, lobster balls, and something by the name of crudités—which sounded exotic and appetizing but turned out to be nothing more than thinly sliced raw vegetables. I helped myself to a small plateful and sent the man away with my drink order, with which he promptly returned. An old fashioned, similar enough to my go-to whiskey sour to be palatable but strong enough to keep me from guzzling it.

  I took a sip and ate a few shrimp and sat out another hand. Patty dealt me two more cards. A three and a seven. Another early fold. Lobster balls. More shrimp. Two more sips of my drink.

  My stomach gurgled, and I felt a twinge in my abdomen. Perhaps my belly’s way of reminding me of my diet? I fed it a carrot to appease it and took another drink.

  The carrot didn’t help. I felt another twinge, but this time it was accompanied by a feeling of warmth, spreading through me not from the belly up but from the heart out. Moisture beaded at my temples, which I dabbed away with a handkerchief I’d tucked into my front jacket pocket.

  What was going on? Was it the lobster balls? I didn’t have a shellfish allergy. Maybe the shrimp had been undercooked, but I’d only just eaten them. From prior experience, I knew stomach bugs took a few hours to wreck havoc on my colon.

  Patty dealt me more cards. A jack, ten, off suit. Not a particularly good hand, but I’d gotten it before. When Jimmy went out, I thought.

  Theo started the bet, putting forth the required small blind. Wanda put in the big blind and sent it to me. I tried to run the numbers in my head based off Steck’s simple mathematical system, but I was having a hard time remembering how it went. There were the points for the high card—a jack was five—and then you had to add points for straight potential. So I had, what…four there? How many points was that?

  “You gonna bet there, champ?” said Theo. “You know my strategy. If you’re on the fence, just go for it. I mean, come on, man. What’s the worst that could happen? You lose it all? To me? Doesn’t sound too bad, does it?”

  I felt Wanda’s eyes boring into me even through her glasses. Screw it. Why not? I tossed forward enough chips to match.

  I lifted my drink as Orrin folded, hoping a bit of booze might settle my stomach, but I paused before it reached my lips. Could it be the bitters? No, that made no sense. Bitters were alcoholic concoctions of herbs and spices and bark, among other things. I’d never had an allergic reaction to them before, so why would I now? And the only other ingredients in the drink were whiskey, sugar, and water. Unless…

  I recalled Jimmy, sitting at his chair the day before, sweating and swaying and looking green around the gills. I’d assumed he’d drank too much, but what if he hadn’t? What if
something in his drink had rattled his senses?

  I set my glass down, untouched, but the damage had already been done. A cloud descended over my mind, and it took all I had to sit up straight, keep my lunch in place, and not drown in my own sweat.

  The hand came back to Theo, and he raised on the flop. I folded, as I did on both of the next two hands, despite one of them being decent—I think. I couldn’t for the life of me remember the point values Steck had instilled in me. I felt as if I’d aged seventy years over a period of two minutes. I might not remember my own cat’s name if anyone had asked me. Not that I owned one, but I barely remembered that either. My head pounded, blood rushed through my ears, and the sweat continued to flow. I dabbed my head with my kerchief again, but I could tell it was soaking through. Surely the others had noticed. They’d be blind not to have.

  Patty dealt another hand. Shay started, putting in her blind, and Theo doubled the bet as was required. I realized I hadn’t even looked at my cards. While Wanda folded, I took a glance. Pocket kings. Even in my addled state, I knew those were among the best possible starting hands.

  I picked out some chips and threw forth enough to match Theo’s bet. Orrin sucked on his teeth, considering his options, but I felt as if I were forgetting something. Something important. Related to the poker game, undoubtedly, but what? Oh! The signal to Shay. But what was it? Chewing my lip? No, that was her move.

  Orrin matched, sending the bet to Ghorza. Oh, goodness, what was I supposed to do? Blasted drink! It was something simple, something tactile.

  I sat there, rubbing my fingers together as I desperately tried to think of what I was supposed to do when I noticed Shay chewing her lip. She knew? How’d she know?

  I glanced at my fingers. Oh. Right.

  Ghorza folded, and Shay matched Theo’s bet. Patty turned over the next three cards. The eight of diamonds, the eight of clubs, and the five of clubs.

  Shay eyed the cards. “Well, well. Interesting.”

  “Does this mean you’re finally going to play a hand?” said Theo. “Because for the last hour, you’ve been playing tighter than a, uh…” He glanced at the ladies present. “Well, let’s just say you’ve been playing tight.”

  “As a matter of fact, I will.” Shay pushed forward five thousand crowns worth of chips.

  Theo rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. Really? I guess this is what I get for egging you on. Fine. Have it.” He tossed down his cards.

  Between my two kings and the pair of eights, I had a decent hand going. Besides, I knew my role to play with Shay. I pushed some chips forward—hopefully the right amount. “Yeah. I call.”

  “And I raise.” Orrin pushed forth a huge pile of chips, maybe ten thousand crowns worth.

  Crap. Shay and I hadn’t planned on someone else hijacking our hand—had we? I couldn’t even remember, but it seemed a stupid thing to bank on.

  Shay glanced at the pile and chewed her lip. Was that part of her sign, or was she concerned?

  “Well, I suppose I’m all in, then.” Shay pushed the rest of her chips forth.

  My forehead felt as if it were on fire. My eyes wanted to pop out of my skull. I stared at Orrin’s chips. He only had about three thousand crowns worth left.

  “So, Waters,” said the dwarf. “What’s it going to be? You in on this one?”

  I swallowed hard. “Let’s make this interesting. I raise. By however much you have left.”

  A murmur ran through the crowd.

  “Fine. Let’s ride this one out.” Orrin flipped his cards, the queen of clubs and the queen of hearts.

  Shay flipped hers, the jack and ten of clubs. I tossed my two kings down, and Orrin growled. Patty flipped another card. The three of clubs.

  “Oh, ho, ho,” said Theo. “And the script flips.”

  With the fifth club, Shay now had a flush, beating both of my and Orrin’s two pairs. I blinked. That hadn’t been the plan, right?

  Shay smiled, though it seemed forced.

  “Don’t get cocky,” said Orrin. “One more queen and those chips are mine.”

  I kept my mouth shut. Patty flipped the final card. The eight of hearts.

  Theo whistled. Orrin grunted and swore under his breath. The crowd oohed. Shay seemed relieved. I wasn’t sure what had just happened.

  “Full house, eights over kings,” said Patty. “Game to Mr. Waters.”

  I blinked. I’d won—apparently.

  Patty reorganized the chips and collected the cards. “Given the hour and the departures of Mrs. Waters and Mr. Wyvernjaw, I’d suggest we end the betting for today. For those still in the game, we’ll meet tomorrow morning at the same time.”

  Orrin pushed free of his chair and headed for the bar. I nodded to Patty, loosened my necktie, and bolted for the exit.

  27

  “Thomas! Thomas, wait up!”

  I barreled through the ship’s hallway, Shay’s voice distant and muffled in my ears. I couldn’t slow. Our room beckoned. The bed, specifically.

  I’d almost made it to our door when Shay caught up with me. She grasped me by the arm and twisted me to face her.

  “Daggers, what’s going on?” she said in a hushed voice. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

  “Drugged,” I said. “Somebody…spiked my drink. Must’ve. I feel…dizzy. And lightheaded. Can’t think straight, and there’s a…cloud of some sort hanging over my brain.”

  I dug in my pocket for the keys, stumbling as I brought them out.

  Shay helped steady me. “Here. Let me.”

  She unlocked the door and took my arm, herding me into my room. She led me to my bed, fluffing a pillow for me before easing me onto my back.

  “Let me get you some water,” she said.

  I nodded, regretting it as the pounding in my head worsened, but Shay had already left. She returned a moment later with a tall glass from the bar. She held my head as I gulped the contents down greedily, then removed my shoes and tie and undid the top few buttons of my shirt.

  “Stay right there,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where would I go…?” I said, but Shay had already disappeared again. She returned with a cool, damp cloth that she lay over my forehead, as well as another glass of water. She made me drink it all, which I did though more slowly this time.

  “Feeling any better?”

  I rested my head on the pillow, the coolness of the towel seeping into my skull. “Yes, actually. Thank you.”

  “What are your symptoms?” she asked. “Take your time, with breaks if you need to, but I need to know them all.”

  “Let’s see,” I said. “Dizziness. Sweating. Hot flashes. Stomach pain. Confusion. And, uh…there was something else. Oh, right. Memory loss.”

  “Was that a joke?”

  “Was what a joke?”

  “Never mind.” Shay sat next to me on the bed. She extended two fingers and held them against my throat.

  I gave her a few seconds. “How am I—”

  She shushed me and held up a finger from the opposite hand. I went quiet again. After fifteen seconds, she pulled her hand back. “About a hundred and ten beats per minute. Elevated, but not to the point of serious concern, especially if you’re starting to feel better. You are feeling better, right?”

  I gave her a thumbs up. “Honestly. Truly. I am.” And I wasn’t kidding. Since becoming horizontal and guzzling the water, the fuzzy cloud over me had started to break, and the rushing torrent of blood through my ears had dwindled to a mere flood.

  “I should get you something to calm your stomach,” said Shay. “Food to absorb whatever chemicals were given to you. Bread or crackers, probably. And I should get the medic. Zander may not have been much use dissecting a corpse, but this seems more in his wheelhouse.”

  “There’s no need, Shay,” I said. “Really. Some rest, more water, I’ll be fine. Physically, anyway. I’ll still want to strangle whoever spiked my drink.”

&n
bsp; Shay shook her head. “No. I’m finding Zander. He may know some tricks I don’t. You stay right here, okay?”

  “You got it.”

  “Great. Be back soon.” Shay exited the room. I heard the pitter-patter of her feet, the slam of the door, and then nothing.

  I took a few deep breaths, closed my eyes, and enjoyed the silence—until someone ruined it with a knock.

  “What is it?” I called out. “You forget something? Or just change your mind?”

  A voice came back, muffled and distant, but from the closed door, not the drug-induced cotton jammed into my head. “Mr. Waters? Sir? Can I have a moment?”

  It sounded like Steck.

  “Come on in,” I said. “The door’s open. I think…”

  Again I heard the creak and close of the door, followed by footsteps. I didn’t lift my head from the pillow, but I shifted my eyes toward the entrance to my quarters.

  Steck appeared, pausing at the foot of my bed when he saw me. He was breathing heavily. “Daggers? Are you feeling alright?”

  “Splendid,” I said. “This is how I relax after an invigorating poker game.”

  Steck’s eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Force of habit. Truth be told, I’ve been better. Somebody spiked my drink.”

  “You’re kidding,” said Steck. “With what?”

  I sighed. “You know, if you’re trying to avoid the wrath of my snark, you should stop asking me stupid questions whose answers are either plainly obvious or totally inscrutable.”

  “Fair enough,” said Steck. “I don’t suppose you saw who dosed you?”

  I thought about shaking my head but instead chose a more headache friendly option. “No. Must’ve been the waiter or the bartender. I’d guess someone paid them off.”

  “And Steele?”

  “Went to get the ship’s medic,” I said. “Should be back soon.”

  Steck snorted and planted his hands on his hips. “Of course she did.”