Death Plays Poker (21 page)

CLARE

“Yeah, I have a secret passion.” Clare was very close to grabbing Nate and following the next path off the beaten track to seclusion. But Tiffany would play it cool, and besides, it was fun to be seduced. “But you’ll think it’s dumb. It’s common.”

“You want to be a princess.”

“An actress. Same thing, right?” Clare had never wanted to be an actress in her life. The only acting she ever did was on the job, and that was more like lying, which she hated. But she figured someone like Tiffany would have dreams of being onstage.

“Did you do any acting in school?”

Clare nodded. “I was in every school play since kindergarten.”

“Were you the little prima donna who was always given the lead?”

“I was a little prima donna. But I didn’t usually get the lead.” Clare definitely saw a fish jump, just past the rocks near the shore, but she didn’t bother mentioning it this time. Nate clearly didn’t care about the majestically beautiful scenery all around them.

“Did you stomp your foot and scream if you got a role you didn’t like?”

“No.” Clare might not like Tiffany, but that was no reason to make her unlikeable to the rest of the world. “I knew I wasn’t a good actress. I just like it.”

“You like pretending to be someone else.” Clare thought she heard accusation in Nate’s voice.

“Does that upset you?”

“No.” Nate flicked his cigarette into the water. “As long as you don’t act in real life. My last girlfriend had, like, seventeen personalities. She was phonier than Joe Mangan’s smile.”

“But let me guess. She gave blow jobs like a pro and that made it all okay.”

Nate grinned. “Fine. Guilty.”

“Men,” Clare said. “You practically wag your tongues and beg women to deceive you. Then when you find out they’re phony you think it’s their fault.” Nate had pretty much defined the reason Clare hated dressing up and wearing makeup. Life without illusions made a hell of a lot more sense to her.

“You’re defending my ex-girlfriend?”

“No.” Clare met his eye under the rim of the umbrellas. “Can we talk about what’s really going on, though?”

“You mean the undercurrent of lust that we feel for each other?”

Clare gave him a small smile. “I mean the murders. The poker scene. I’m scared I made a bad decision coming here.”

Nate took her hand. The umbrellas crashed into each other a bit, but it felt good. “We’ll stick together. I’ll make sure no one hurts you.”

“How?” Clare trusted him and she didn’t; her instincts weren’t working. “Do you know who the killer is?”

Nate shook his head.

“Then how could you possibly make sure no one hurts me?”

GEORGE

“I’m taking you for dinner.” Fiona bounded into George’s room and started stripping off her work clothes.

“You are?” George was happy to shut down his computer. He’d been working all afternoon and aside from Loni’s death scene, he hadn’t gotten much done.

“Yup.” She pulled a green cocktail dress from his closet. Almost all of her things were in George’s room now. “We’re celebrating.”

“What’s the occasion?” George found his lone pair of dress pants at the bottom of his suitcase. He held them up to assess whether they were too wrinkled to wear.

“The cheating is finished. I’m free and clear.”

George set his pants on the bed. He was about to throw his arms around her but he stopped himself.

“What was that?” Fiona laughed. “Do you want to hug me or not?”

George sat down. “Not.”

“Come on, George. Tonight we celebrate. Tomorrow we can go back to our miserable ambiguous relationship.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. She pulled him close and kissed him, open-mouthed and full of feeling.

He kissed her back. What else could he do? He kissed her and he slid his hand under her thong and he followed his impulse, like he always did. When they were finished — about fifteen minutes later — he said, “Wow. What just happened?”

“It was you and me,” Fiona said. “Come on. I’m starved. I made a reservation downtown.”

“The cheating’s really over? No more hole card scam?”

“It really is.” Fiona’s eyes were wide.

George wondered if she was trying to convince him, or if she was successfully fooling herself.

ELIZABETH

“Hey, Elizabeth, grab me a beer.”

Elizabeth did not budge from the sofa.

“You want me to get up and get it myself?” T-Bone looked baffled, like a woman had never told him no before.

“I didn’t know you had beer on the boat,” Elizabeth said. “Which case is yours? The Kokanee I picked up this afternoon, or the Grolsch Tiffany and Nate brought with them?”

“Didn’t know it was
BYO
.”

“It isn’t, because we’re not sixteen anymore,” Joe said. “Lizzie, grab T-Bone a beer. Please?”

Elizabeth shrugged, got up, and went over to the fridge. If Joe had taken the night off from poker, she doubted the guys would treat him like their waitress.

“Grab me a drink, too, hon.” This from Joe.

Elizabeth plucked a Grolsch swing-top from the fridge and glared at the back of Joe’s head. Who called people “hon” unless they wanted to be diminutive? She mixed him a vodka seven. He didn’t normally drink when he played poker, but tonight he’d relaxed his customary standards.

“Here you go,
muffin
.” She set both drinks in front of Joe with a loud plonk. The beer was closed, but a couple of drops of Joe’s drink spilled over onto the table.

“The fuck’s her problem?” T-Bone said as his bottle got passed his way.

“You guys are treating her like shit.” Thank you, Tiffany. “Especially you, Joe. T-Bone’s an ass; he can’t help that. You could be nicer if you wanted.”

T-Bone grunted and said to Tiffany, “Not too grateful, are you? For a novice to be invited to a game like this is a one in a million opportunity.”

Tiffany seemed to contemplate that. “I guess I could ask you the same question, T-Bone.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

Tiffany took a quick sip of beer. “It means you don’t seem so grateful either. For a fairly ugly, foul-tempered old man to be welcomed into the company of two sexy, intelligent women — my guess is that’s also about one in a million.”

Elizabeth snorted iced tea through her nose. For the first time since she’d met the kid, she hoped Tiffany wouldn’t be the Choker’s next victim.

T-Bone threw a sneer to Elizabeth. “What are you laughing at? I never agreed the pair of you were sexy or
intelligent.”

“Lay off them.” Mickey folded his hand so forcefully that his cards nearly flipped over. “We’re sorry for your loss. Hell, Loni’s more my loss than yours. But you can’t take it out on us. We’re not your friends.”

Elizabeth watched T-Bone’s face as Mickey said this. If the old cowboy had ever felt an emotion in his life, she doubted if so much as an eye flicker had given it away.

“That’s harsh, too, Mick.” Joe pushed some chips into the center of the table. His costume tonight was minimal — a pair of geek glasses and a pocket protector with a fake pen stain. “Of course we’re each other’s friends. More like family. We’re all we have.”

Hearing Joe say that made Elizabeth feel more alone than ever. Had she traded her own family in for this? She grabbed the boat key from Joe’s shirt pocket. “I’m going to start motoring back.”

“In the dark?” Joe said. “You don’t even like driving the boat.”

“I feel like it tonight.” Elizabeth wanted to fight with the waves, keep her eye out for logs, and feel like she was doing something physical and real. And she wanted everyone off the boat.

CLARE

Clare envied Elizabeth. She wanted a job where she could be herself, too — natural, bitchy if she felt like it, open about where she came from. Playing Tiffany, she felt like a traitor to the trailer park, like her real past was some dirty secret she had to hide. Clare missed home, suddenly. She wanted to take a walk by Lake Couchiching and sit under a tree, maybe study a car or motorcycle manual, and not be playing poker on a boat.

She looked across the table at Nate like she could eat him. She couldn’t help it. Clare had seriously wanted to take him up on his offer that afternoon, to have sex in the woods, in the mud and the rain. The slipping and sliding sounded awesome. But it would have been gratuitous — not what Tiffany would have done, just a perk for Clare. And the last thing she wanted to do was betray Kevin.

Thinking of Kevin made her smile — literally; so instead of folding her king-ten offsuit, she raised with it in middle position, in case observant opponents thought her involuntary grin meant she had aces. Kevin was the first guy in a long time who made Clare feel like she could be herself, with no apology or explanation. With Nate, Clare could tell, the dynamic would be far more complicated.

T-Bone, in the big blind, called. So did Joe, who had limped in under the gun. The flop came ace-six-four. T-Bone checked. So did Joe. Clare could bet, repping a high ace, or even pocket aces. But Mickey had told her to let the flop go, in last position with nothing, and bet the turn if it was checked to her again.

A ten came down. T-Bone checked. Joe bet two-thirds of the pot. Clare thought about it for a moment — she had second pair, but Joe was playing a multi-way pot, and his bet might actually mean something. She folded. T-Bone folded. Joe grinned, scooped the modest pot, and turned over two queens. Clare thanked Mickey silently for not letting herself fall into Joe’s trap.

“What? No all-in raise?” T-Bone lifted his eyebrows at Clare. “That’s your signature move, ain’t it?”

“No,” Clare said. “It ain’t.”

“Oh. Society Lady is making fun of my grammar.”

“Would you prefer I make fun of your hat?”

“You should stop talking,” T-Bone said, “if you know what’s fucking good for you.”

“Are you threatening me with something?” Clare smiled sweetly. “Because there are witnesses here.”

T-Bone snorted. “Great. A member of Generation Wuss. Don’t stand up and fight; hide behind witnesses and regulations.”

Clare wasn’t quite sure what he meant. Was she supposed to fight the guy with her fists? She doubted that, so she stayed with her weapon of choice: “Which is why my nose isn’t ugly from being broken in so many places.”

T-Bone touched his nose.

“And it’s why, unlike some present company, I’ll save myself the humiliation of being raped in jail.”

“You know fuck-all about my prison time.”

Mickey smirked at Clare across the table. He’d given her the line about jail to use on T-Bone, and apparently it had worked. T-Bone looked like one of those angry cartoon people with a red face and steam coming out of his ears — minus the actual steam, of course.

“Sorry.” Clare feigned an apologetic tone. “I guess I don’t.”

“Hey Joe?” Elizabeth said from the captain’s seat. “Does the engine sound funny to you?”

Joe got up and went to the back of the boat. He poked his head over the edge. “Looks funny, too. We’re dragging a big log.”

“Should I turn the engine off?”

“I think so.”

Elizabeth cut the motor and walked around the poker game to look over the back edge with Joe. Clare nearly got up to help them, but stopped herself in time. Tiffany’s first impulse would not be to take a look at the engine.

Joe looked at the other players sheepishly. “Anyone know anything about engines?”

“Sorry, man.” Nate shook his head.

“Can’t help you,” T-Bone said.

Fuck, that wasn’t hot. Clare had expected as much from T-Bone, but she’d hoped Nate would prove to be more of a man.

Mickey stood up and moved to the stern. He looked over the edge. “Maybe take the log out of the motor.”

Joe leaned over and tugged at something. “It’s lodged right in there.”

Mickey tried, too. No luck.

“Should we call that towing number?” Elizabeth said. “Or should we drive slowly and try to get back to the dock?”

Clare tried not to scowl. It didn’t take a genius to realize that if the log had been caught by the motor, it could be uncaught. Maybe something was broken, but they could probably get back to the dock with some creative maneuvering. For a bunch of so-called clever people, they all seemed to lack common sense.

Finally, Nate got up. “I know nothing about boats, but let me see what I can do.” He leaned over, stuck his hands over the side, and in half a minute or so, said, “That’s the bulk of the log unstuck. There are a couple of twigs I can’t reach from here. I don’t know if it did any damage to the engine.”

Right. And the way to find that out would be to lift the engine cover and look inside. But at least Nate had redeemed some of his earlier helplessness.

“I’ll drive back to the dock,” Elizabeth said. “You guys keep playing cards. I’ll go slowly.”

Everyone except Clare seemed to think this was a great idea. But since Clare wasn’t on this boat — just some prissy thing called Tiffany — she didn’t get a say in anything mechanical.

After a few minutes, Elizabeth said, “I don’t think we’re moving.”

She was right. The land was in the same place. They might have even drifted back a few feet.

Joe laughed. “Let’s call it in.”