Death Plays Poker (20 page)

NOAH

Noah sat at the corner table in the downtown café, his plain black baseball cap pulled down over his eyes. The rest of his face was buried in
Crime and Punishment
. He was in an ironic mood.

Two tables away, Fiona sat sipping a latte. She was reading too —
Shopoholic and Baby
. Every now and then she’d giggle. Noah was tempted to ask to trade books.

A woman came into the café. She shook out her plain green umbrella, catching Fiona with a few drops of spray.

Fiona flicked hair from her face.

“Are you Fiona?” the umbrella lady said.

Fiona looked up from her book. She smiled at the lady. “Yeah. Do you watch a lot of poker?”

The woman shook her head. “This is for you.”

Fiona took the plain white envelope the woman handed her. “Have we met?”

“No. A man on the street asked me to give this to you.”

Fiona’s eyebrows lifted. “What did he look like?”

“He was wearing a hat.” The woman shrugged.

“A cowboy hat? A baseball cap?”

“I had my umbrella up. I don’t even think I saw his face.”

Perfect. Noah smiled behind his boring book.

“Thanks,” said Fiona.

The woman aimed her umbrella at the door and went back out into the rain. Fiona tugged the paper from the envelope and unfolded it.

Noah knew what the message said, because he’d written it:

Stop the broadcast.

Fiona set the note down, picked it up, and looked at it again. She seemed to smile. Was it possible she wasn’t cheating because she wanted to, but for some other reason? Maybe at this point, she was scared not to. Noah thought about the money that had been with the notes he’d taken from her suitcase. He’d left the cash in place — no need to take what wasn’t his until he won it fair and square by cheating. He wondered if she was saving up for something — maybe she wanted to hit the road and get the hell away from the scene.

Fiona slipped the note into her purse and stood up. She was definitely smiling.

Pity her good mood wouldn’t last.

ELIZABETH

Elizabeth stood on the wooden deck of
Last Tango
. Rain pattered on the blue canvas above her head. “What are you saying, Joe? Of course we’re canceling tonight’s game.”

“Because Loni died?” Joe said. “You’re sweet to care, but we have to go on with our lives.”

Elizabeth frowned to see a scuff mark on one of her shoes. “Do you not care at all?”

“Who was Loni to us? I can see T-Bone being gutted. Maybe Mickey. That should give us an edge at the table.”

“Did you really just say that?” Elizabeth squinted at Joe, wondering what she was missing. First Fiona had tried to capitalize on the death; now Joe’s business-as-usual reaction. Was Elizabeth the crazy one?

“I’ll take a more bleeding heart position in public, if you’re worried. Like on Twitter, I said, ‘Grieving loss of 1 of poker world’s strongest female characters @Loni_Licious.’ But be honest with yourself: will you miss Loni in your everyday life? The interesting question to me is: do Mickey and T-Bone show up tonight?”

“That’s the interesting question? Not how are they handling it emotionally?”

Joe opened the compact fridge and grabbed a Coke. “When did you become everyone’s den mother?”

“I have a social conscience. That doesn’t make me a den mother.”

Joe cracked his Coke and took a long sip. “You’re trying to feel an emotion you don’t because you think it’s appropriate. I’m willing to wear my sad face for the world because they expect it. But why should I pretend at home?”

Elizabeth wondered if Joe had a point, or if he was spinning rhetoric like usual. “Are you even curious who killed her?”

“That’s a different question,” Joe said. “I’m dying to know — hopefully not literally — who the Choker is. That’s why we
should
have the game tonight.”

Elizabeth laughed despite her confusion. “You think we can smoke out the killer at a poker game?” When Joe didn’t respond for a few seconds, she asked, “Is Tiffany coming?”

“I hope so,” Joe said. “I invited Nate, mostly because I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him and I want to find out what he’s about. Where Tiffany goes these past couple days, Nate is never far behind.”

Elizabeth was tempted to offer Joe her condolences about losing that prop bet. “You’re not suspicious of Tiffany?”

“Sure I am,” Joe said. “She shows up on the scene loud and clear after Oppal got done? You know Willard Oppal was a cop, right?”

Of course Elizabeth had known, but she found it a funny connection to draw between Oppal and Tiffany. “Tiffany can’t do anything
unless
it’s loud and clear. She could dress in all black Poker Stars gear and pull a hood over her face and she’d still stick out here. Just like T-Bone could cut his hair and lose the hat and he’d still get funny looks at any country club. If you’re looking for a cop, look at Nate.”

But Elizabeth’s mind had started churning. Her brother hadn’t found anything yet — no one called James who owned any furniture importing business in Canada, at least not large-scale enough to fund Tiffany’s long-shot attempt at becoming a professional gambler. Peter was checking into the U.S. and U.K. markets next.

“I don’t think Tiffany’s a cop,” Elizabeth said. “The
FBI
might get creative like that with a cover, but the
RCMP
is too boring.”

“Yeah, good point,” Joe said.

“But maybe her arrival right after Oppal’s death is uncoincidental for a different reason. Maybe the cheating ring is running a relay team — switching up the players so no one notices any one player’s win rate spiking.”

Joe cocked his head. “You know, you’re actually starting to make sense. You think Tiffany threw the first game so it won’t look suspicious if she starts winning now?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a theory. Nate, though — he could easily be a cop.”

Joe shook his head. “Nate doesn’t have cop character. I think he’s here to learn — and cheat — but he says mob to me. As in, gambling for the cause, to take the intelligence back home.”

“He’s not Italian.”

“He has dark hair. Maybe Wilkes is really Wilconi. Do we have any normal snacks? I don’t feel like anything organic just now.”

Elizabeth felt her hands begin to tremble. She should take George’s advice and get a
CT
scan. Her family doctor was a few blocks away; she could probably get an emergency referral and a scan within a day. But if there was something wrong with her — something fatal — she wasn’t sure she was ready to find out.

“There should be some Sun Chips,” she said.

Joe must have seen her fear, because he took her hand. “Don’t be scared. I’m sorry I was callous. I’m freaked out by Loni’s murder, too — it’s just my dumb reaction.”

Elizabeth gazed out the plastic window at the rain-drenched dock. She thought of Josie and all the others who had died over the past few months. “I’m scared because I’m sane.”

NOAH

Noah stood in line at Starbucks in English Bay. He thought about ordering a black coffee to give Tiffany when she arrived. Women liked it when you noticed what they liked. But maybe she wanted something different today, a cappuccino, or a tea to go with the rain. He pulled out his phone to send a text.

In line @ Starbucks. What coffee u like?

The message from Tiffany came back fast.

Giant & black. Stupid cab dropped me on other side of street. Waiting 4 light 2 change.

Noah looked out the window. Though she could only have been standing in the rain for a few seconds, Tiffany’s dark hair was already matted against her face. He watched her cross the street and push through the double glass doors with an exasperated sigh.

“Your poor jacket.” Noah left the line to greet her at the door. He put an arm around her. “You want to stay inside and dry off?”

“No, I love being out in the rain. And leather is nature’s original raincoat — but thanks for caring about my clothes.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “Here’s the umbrella you ordered.”

He had taken his time choosing the umbrella — black with silver piping — and he was pleased when Tiffany clapped her hands and said, “It’s the same color as my motorcycle.”

“You have a motorcycle?” If she did, Noah was about to fall unapologetically in love.

“No,” Tiffany said quickly. “But there’s this bike I have my eye on. I’m trying to work up the courage to buy it.”

Great. He was falling for someone who wanted to live her life but was afraid to. But maybe that wasn’t a bad thing — it would make it easier to leave when he would inevitably have to. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.” Tiffany smiled. “You’re thinking I should start living my life sometime soon?”

Or yesterday. “The poker tour was a good start.”

“It was.” Tiffany nodded slowly. “But I only signed up once my father agreed it was smart.”

Signed up. Like the ten-thousand-dollar entry fee didn’t matter at all. Noah wondered how much of that was an act. “So is it advice he gives you? Or decrees?”

Tiffany laughed. It was a cute laugh, an open one. “He words it like decrees. But I suppose I could consider it friendly advice.”

“You still live with your parents.” A statement, not a question.

“That obvious?”

“Yup.” Noah hoped Bert would confirm her identity soon. He could deal with Tiffany being a liar; he just wanted to know who she was.

“Let me guess,” Tiffany said. “You moved out when you were twelve, and you’ve been living on the mean streets ever since.”

“Eighteen.” Noah smirked. “But I’m a bit older than you. I’ve been on my own for ten years.”

“Oh so world-weary.”

They left the café armed with giant coffees.

“I like your umbrella, too.” Tiffany nodded at Noah’s choice for himself. “That color blue suits you. Very moody.”

They crossed the street and walked into the park.

“Are you feeling better?” Noah asked. “Or are you still weirded out from this morning?”

“I guess both. I don’t really know what I’m doing here. I’ll probably leave after this leg of the tour.”

Noah took Tiffany’s hand and squeezed it. “Have you ever had sex in the rain?”

“You mean outside in the rain? With water falling all over you?”

Noah nodded. He wanted to win this prop bet here and now, so no matter what Bert uncovered he could collect the twenty grand from Joe. Or maybe it wasn’t the twenty grand.

“No,” Tiffany said. “Have you?”

Noah shook his head. “Don’t you think it would be amazing? You’d feel so at one with the elements.”

A smile crept onto Tiffany’s face. “I’m not having sex with you. This is our first date.”

“We had drinks the other night. And coffee yesterday. I’d call this date three. The sex date.”

Tiffany laughed. “So you wouldn’t think less of me for putting out.”

“Are you kidding? I’d think highly of the first woman who had sex with me in the rain. I’d remember you for the rest of my life.” Noah looked out onto the water, where only the large commercial boats were braving the rain.

“But if I wait to sleep with you in a hotel room,” Tiffany said, “you’ll forget about me by the time you get back to New York?”

“You never know.”

“As romantic as you make it sound, all I can picture is slipping around in the mud, getting disgustingly dirty.”

“That sounds unpleasant to you?” Noah tilted his umbrella back, slipped under Tiffany’s, and kissed her. Her lips were sweet — which was odd, for a smoker. It was hard to pull away, but he wanted to leave her wanting more.

Tiffany pulled her cigarette pack from her pocket and held it open in front of Noah.

“Thanks.” He liked the gesture. Some women would take a smoke if you offered them one, but when they got out their own pack they were only thinking of themselves.

“I get turned on by conversation,” she said. “Not so much by being badgered with direct propositions. In case you’re wondering how to turn your fantasy into reality.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Noah pulled his Zippo from his pocket, lit Tiffany’s smoke, then his own. “What topics turn you on?”

“Anything that gets my brain going.”

“Like astrophysics?” Noah asked, while thunder sounded in the distance.

“That could work,” Tiffany said. “Do you know about astrophysics?”

“No. Can I invent stuff?”

“It’s better if you at least sound intelligent.” Tiffany stopped walking and pointed to the rocks beside the path. “I think I just saw a fish jump.”

Noah smirked. “If you’re looking for a marine wildlife expert, I am definitely not your man.”

Tiffany started walking again. “So why don’t you tell me who you are. I feel like you know my whole family, including Buffy the dog. And I know nothing about yours.”

Damn right. Because he didn’t plan to tell her.

“Or maybe you have a secret passion?” Tiffany said. “Art? Chemistry?”

Noah laughed. “Art or chemistry?”

“I was pulling things at random.”

“I got that. I love photography.”

“Do you have a darkroom?”

“I only use digital. I guess my passion doesn’t run too deep. Do you have a secret passion? Other than getting ravaged in the rain, which
will
happen, by the way.”

Tiffany’s eyebrows lifted quickly, and Noah knew he could make his move anytime.