Shell Game (6 page)

Sharla was convinced had the woman tipped half an inch closer, her boobs would have spilled out onto Luke’s lap. But Sharla had to give him credit. His eyes remained fixed on the buxom redhead’s face. Apparently his self-control matched his superior physical conditioning, because even Danny would have taken at least a small peek at the goodies offered.

For a split second Nana frowned, then a bright smile slipped into place. “Of course. The more the merrier.”

Nana took her trivia seriously. And she had certain rules. A second sheet of paper and pencil were required for notes, since no one could actually speak a response that a nearby team might overhear. Another piece of paper was required to cover the answer sheet. Just in case the hundred-year-old woman ten feet away had bionic eyes. And of course, in control of the official pencil, Nana had the last word on the correct answers.

The bored husband kept trying to strike up a conversation with Herbie. Nana, having none of it, tapped her pencil and dragged both men into the game.

It didn’t take long to see why Nana had been so enthused about the guy from the gym joining them. So far he’d been the only one to know that an aircraft carrier is the largest ship in a naval fleet, that Floyd Mayweather is the highest paid athlete in the world and that 5:00 p.m. is the traditional hour for a bullfight to begin.

Sharla finally had a chance to contribute when the next trivia question wanted to know what was the more recognizable name for the chemical compound sildenafil citrate. To her surprise neither of the older men at the table came up with
Viagra
.

When it came time to trade papers for scoring, there was only one question their team truly pulled a guess out of a hat for.
What was Ed Sullivan’s wife’s name
? Once that shot in the dark was added to their official answer sheet, Nana then scribbled the words
Guys and Dolls
across the paper for her team’s name and handed it over to the folks at the nearest table.

The game had proven to be a good distraction for Sharla. Her heart rate had returned to normal, and saliva had returned to her mouth. Of course the second piña colada might have helped. As did keeping her gaze anywhere but on Luke Chapman.

Waiting for Becky, the staff person, to begin the answer round, Nana pulled out her schedule. She wore her room card around her neck clipped to a blinged-out necklace that could start a fire on a sunny day. Tucked in the back of the plastic case holding the keycard, she kept the daily schedule. Highlighted, circled and checked often, the data was her vacation bible. Having already looked at the paper a hundred times today, Nana consulted the page one more time. Sharla couldn’t imagine what Nana expected to find that she hadn’t already seen.

Paper in hand, Nana leaned forward. “Tell me, Luke, do you have plans for this evening at eight?”

One brow rose high on his forehead, and a wide grin took over his face. He leaned in as well. “What did you have in mind, Sophia?”

Even Big Red turned at Luke’s husky voice that warmed a girl from the inside out like a smooth aged whiskey.

“Tonight’s music trivia is the eighties. I’d be delighted if you graced us with your presence again.”

“Absolutely, Sophia.”

“Good.” Nana gave one brisk nod and looked to Becky, ready to move on. Everyone anxious to finish the game.

Except Sharla was pretty sure she was going to need a lot more liquid strength to get through two weeks of
games
while sitting next to Nana’s new best friend.

For the first time since the trivia contest had started, Luke’s and Sharla’s gazes caught, and he smiled at her.

Oh, yeah. Lots of liquid strength.

Chapter Six

Something wasn’t right. Luke felt it in his bones. The minute the redhead with the Double Ds had walked in, Herbie had grown stiff and serious. He’d made every effort to shake it off, to be cordial, but Luke could smell a rat.

And he didn’t have to be a guru of observation to know Mr. Double D was no banker. Not the legal kind. Totally unconcerned with the trivia game, the man only showed a hint of social skills when the chance of any conversation with Herbie had flared. From what Luke could decipher, the man seemed quite charming. Reminded Luke of the snake oil salesmen of old.

The pert brunette with the East London accent read the first correct response, and Sophia squealed with delight, marking a big X in front of the neighboring team’s answer. Sophia had been the one to insist that
From Here to Eternity
was the movie to win Frank Sinatra the coveted Academy Award.

Luke had known the answer as well. But his information came more from a love of all trivia associated with
The
Godfather
movies than to any interest in Frank Sinatra. Though the crooner did produce awfully good mood music.

Sophia squealed again, rubbing her hands together. Her smile was so big and bright, she could put the Cheshire cat out of business.

And Luke loved it. It had been a long time since the urge to smile had overtaken him. The last two and a half years had been deep and dark and dirty.

By now Mrs. Double D and the granddaughter were building enthusiasm as well. The two women provided a great deal of contrast. The one as plastic as a credit card, the other as natural as a summer breeze. From his encounters with Sophia, he’d expected her granddaughter to be a geeky teen who loved ice cream and studied advanced-placement biology, but a fully grown brown-eyed woman had never crossed his mind.

Mr. Double D was back to conversing with Herbie.

While the two men had their heads drawn closer together, Sophia ignored their conversation, her eyes and ears only for the crew staff.

A word here or there reached Luke.
Resort. Yield. Profit
. He waited for the last of the trivia answers to be shared, the corrected answer sheets to be traded back, Sophia to do a little hip jig in her seat and Sharla to do the same before sharing a hearty high-five with her grandmother. She had the same spunk as Sophia. His grin grew wider.

Drawn out of their tête-à-tête by the hand slapping and laughter, Mr. Double D, whose name Luke had yet to learn, and Herbie joined in the celebration. Though Luke suspected the snake oil salesman was more enthused about his progress with Herbie than the key chain prizes Sophia had just happily collected.

Giddy with winning, despite not having known Ed Sullivan’s wife was Sylvie, Sophia hugged each of the team members. Sharla hung on extra long to her grandmother before turning to the redhead, Herbie and then…him.

For all of five seconds Sharla molded into him like a comfortable feather pillow. He’d barely gotten his arms around her waist when the redhead slid against him for her turn. An unexpected sense of loss overtook him as Sharla pulled away. Their gazes had locked a moment longer than they should have, and, for just a second, he thought she seemed equally stunned. In the brief time she’d held on to him, he’d felt he’d known her forever. Had come home. Not even the press of Mrs. Double D’s bought-and-paid-for superboobs against his chest could steal his thoughts away from Sharla.

Earlier he’d automatically scanned her left hand, pleased to see it remained bare. Only slightly disappointed to now notice the understated set of wedding rings on her right hand. Once again he wondered what was this woman’s story. The feel of her—now seared in his memory—spiked his curiosity. What was it about this woman that had him wanting to learn all about her? And not just the things that would make her scream his name at night. Her favorite color. Her first kiss.

“I’m going to try my luck in the casino before dinner.” Sophia latched the plastic cruise line key chain onto the sparkly lanyard hanging around her neck and, still sporting a broad smile, pushed to her feet. “Anyone else interested?”

The redhead shook her head, and spreading her fingers wide, announced she had an appointment at the spa.

No surprise there.

“I’m going to find a nice quiet chair on the promenade and do a little reading.” Sharla scooped up a small colorful cloth pouch with a long strap and slung it over her shoulder. “Just don’t spend too much money on the slots, Nana.”

“Slots?” Sophia huffed softly. “I’ll be shooting craps.”

Herbie’s brows rose with interest, and Mr. Snake Oil quickly added, “I prefer a sure thing.” Then the guy leaned back and motioned for a waiter.

Smooth. Drop the hook and wait for the fish. Luke had to give Snake Oil Man credit for playing it cool.

“I’ll have a scotch on the rocks,” Snake Oil ordered.

“Make mine a Bud,” Herbie added.

Might as well make it a triple play. “Bud for me too.”

The waiter walked away, and Snake Oil leaned across the small round table between them, extending his hand to Luke. “George Bailey.”

Seriously? Jimmy Stewart’s George Bailey? Years of hard-core training in life-threatening situations made it easy for Luke to keep a straight face. George Bailey, the sainted friend and neighbor from the beloved movie
It’s a Wonderful Life
. The man everyone trusted. The consummate big brother looking out for the little guy. Sadly the subliminal connection probably worked too well on his unsuspecting prey. “Luke Chapman.”

For the next hour they talked sports, switching from the upcoming NBA championship games to MLB trades to NFL draft picks. Just a few guys hanging out over beer and pretzels. No oil for sale yet. The guy was biding his time. He had almost two weeks. Maybe Luke wasn’t the right demographic. Or maybe the guy was on the up-and-up and just had the misfortune to smell like a rat.

Either way, for the next twelve days, Luke had nothing but time on his hands.

* * *

“You won how much?” Sharla’s hand froze midbrushstroke.

Nana tightened the bathrobe belt, shrugged a shoulder and pulled a dress for dinner out of the closet. “Only two hundred.”

Only
? Sometimes Sharla worried her grandmother had too cavalier an attitude about money. Wasn’t the Depression-era generation supposed to be more frugal? Although, if she thought about it, most of today’s elderly seniors hadn’t come from a family of grifters either. Nana making her money the hard way at the crap tables was probably a hell of a lot safer than running a con. Not that Nana had been involved in the family business over the last few decades, but her determination to keep her skills sharp by playing with marks from time to time worried the heck out of Sharla.

The times the police had brought Nana home for returning a mark’s wallet to their pocket or purse, after successfully picking her prize, were coming more frequently. How long would it be before she got caught doing the picking and not the returning? Yep, crap tables were definitely safer.

“So what do you think about Herbie?”

“He seems nice enough.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” Nana slipped out of the robe and into the dress. “Just one teeny flaw.”

“And what would that be?” Crossing her fingers, she hoped her grandmother wasn’t about to say something really awkward.

“He’s a retired cop.”

Sharla nearly choked on her own spit. Of all the “nice” men for her sticky-fingered grandmother to get friendly with. “Nana, a policeman?”

“Retired, dear. It makes a difference. And he is very nice.”

There was no arguing that. Sharla had just said so herself a few moments ago, and she did like the way Nana’s face glowed at the mention of Herbie. That wasn’t something Sharla was used to seeing.

Grandpa Garibaldi had passed on before Sharla was born. After years of supporting his family by running some of the most complex, successful and probably dangerous long cons out there, the man had dropped dead from a brain hemorrhage when crossing a street.

Sharla wasn’t sure which was worse. Having a life cut too short because of an act of nature or in the line of duty. Both sucked. Big time.

At least Nana and Grandpa had had enough years together to raise a family. Sharla and Danny hadn’t reached the point of even discussing children. They’d thought time was on their side. She’d fought the tightening in her gut every time he’d walked out the door in uniform. She’d clung to the numbers. Odds were he’d live to retirement with an uneventful career. The odds had been wrong.

And now there was Luke Chapman. Not since the first time she’d laid eyes on her future husband had Sharla been so intrigued by just the sight of a man. And that brief hug. She’d felt the warmth of Luke’s embrace all the way to her toes. And a few other places too. But it was more than that. She’d felt cared for. And safe. Only a five second hug from a stranger and he’d made her feel totally safe. She liked that.

It was time to think ahead, instead of staying in the past. A nice life with a regular guy who didn’t put his life on the line every day.

* * *

If Luke was going to use his connections to gather info on Good Old George, he was going to need more than a first and last name along with a list of the guy’s favorite sports teams. Sophia hadn’t invited the couple to join the team for the evening’s entertainment, but, when George had stood to join his wife, he’d promised to see everyone here again the next day.

Tonight after supper Luke would find a quiet corner and do a little digging. See what he could come up with. If the universe was kind, George would be a real idiot and an easy takedown. If he was sharper than he looked, Luke might not be getting that rest Conway wanted him to have after all.