by Kelly Oliver
“Are we playing poker or having a friggin’ picnic?” Vance asked.
The Pope finished his food and drink, but Alexander hadn’t touched his vodka. The weasel was too busy with his nose up the fat man’s ass to drink.
“Take your shot before it gets warm, Zander,” Lolita said, pirouetting around him to move his shot glass closer. But her encouragement was in vain as Alexander sat glaring across the edge of the table at Jessica. She wanted to drag him out into the hall and shake the little twerp silly.
On the next hand, Jessica was dealt big slick, an ace and a king, and came out shooting. But on the river, she still had only an ace and a king, and the Pope raised by $1000. Jessica was pot-committed, and so far the flop looked innocent enough, but she was already down half her stack of chips, and she had a bad feeling about his hand. She folded. Good thing too. The Pope won with three-of-a-kind, nines. He’d had the pair in his hole cards.
Jessica’s hands were sweating as she picked up her hole cards, a measly three of diamonds and a seven of spades. She folded when the first two community cards were a pair of queens. She watched the actor and the Pope going head-to-head when Vance started his coffeehousing. “I know better than to cross you Vladimir, so I’m going to warn you that I’ve got the nuts on this one.”
The Pope laughed. “You do, do you?”
“I swear on my mother’s grave,” he said looking the Pope dead in the eyes.
“Your mother’s grave…” The Pope quit laughing, glanced around at the other players, and threw his cards down onto the table face up. The flop had given him a pair of meat hooks, nines. He’d folded with two good pairs.
Vance started giggling and turned his cards over. Nothing but a five and dime. “Gotcha, big guy,” he said raking in the pot. “I’m good. I’m really good. Works every time, suckers.”
Red capillaries had sprouted at the top of the Pope’s head and were spreading all the way down his neck. He grabbed Zander’s vodka shot and downed it.
“How about I refill everyone’s drinks,” Lolita said, picking up empties and placing them on a tray.
Vance was still giggling and dancing in his chair like a kid who’d just gotten a pony for his birthday.
“Do you know who I am, pretty boy? You’ll pay for this. If your mother wasn’t already in her grave, I’d put her there myself.” When the Pope pounded his giant fists on the table, the chips bounced and a few skittled onto the floor. Jessica’s drink tottered and the Pope caught it in his big paw, polished it off, and slammed the empty glass on the table so hard it shook again.
Before Vance could respond, Alexander sprang up from his seat, then immediately sat back down staring at Jessica’s empty glass as he grabbed his hair like he was trying to pull it off of his head. “I’ve got to get something from the limo,” he said, and left in a huff.
Jessica hoped the something wasn’t an UZI to blow Vance’s head off. The actor was now howling and his whiny laughter echoed through the basement. He was trying to speak but could barely get the words out he was laughing so hard.
“My….my…..my mother’s not dead, you idiot.” He was on the verge of hyperventilating.
Actors! What an ass. Jessica didn’t like the Pope, but the way Vance reeled him in, made her sick. The Pope had gone all-in and lost his entire stack of chips on that idiot actor’s stupid bluff.
“One way or another, I’m going to take you out of this game, pretty boy. I want another buy-in,” the fat man said to Lolita. “You do take checks, don’t you?”
“Of course you can have another buy-in, Mr. Popov.” Lolita purred. “But this is strictly a cash only game.”
“I could give you $100,000 in cash as a down payment on the painting,” Nick said, pulling a briefcase from under the table.
The Pope nodded towards the painting and reached out for the case but Nick pulled it back.
“Is that a yes, Vladimir?” Nick asked, opening the brief case to reveal stacks of thousand dollar bills. “You’re selling me the painting for five million and I’m giving you $100K down. Just confirming our terms.”
“Yes, yes. Let’s keep playing.” The Pope waved his hand in the air over the briefcase. The weasel-sized dose of vitamin K in Alexander’s vodka didn’t seem to be affecting the Zeppelin.
When Lolita motioned for Jack to deal the next hand, Jessica wiped tiny beads of sweat from her brow with the back of her sleeve. Detective Cormier would be there any minute and she needed a good hand if she was going to recoup her friend’s grubstake.
After three more hands, she was dealt pocket cowboys, so she came out shooting again. Everyone called and the pot was a monster. When another king fell on the river, she knew she had the nuts. Vance started his bluffing table talk about having the better hand, but she ignored his chatter and went all-in. Vance pushed his massive pile of chips into the center of the table and went all-in too.
Crap. Maybe she’d miscalculated. Maybe she didn’t have the best possible hand.
The Pope did a rough count and called. Vance was the first to turn over his hole cards, a pair of aces. The Pope turned over a pair of sixes, for three-of-a-kind with the community cards.
Her three kings beat them both. Jesse James rides again. She blew imaginary smoke from the tips of her index fingers on each hand and then racked in the pot. By the looks of the monstrous pile of chips, she’d just won over fifty thousand dollars, Lolita’s tuition. Damn, it felt good to be back in the saddle!
Cursing under his breath, Vance went to the bar for another carrot juice, and she overheard him mumble something about “F-ing bitch.” What a jerk.
She was still raking in the pot when a large hand stopped her. The Pope had grabbed her wrist and held it so tight his grip was cutting off her circulation. She tried to pull away but he was too strong.
“What do we have here?” The Pope asked as he pulled a card from her sleeve.
“Stop it!” She was stunned and her wrist hurt like heck. Crap. Now what?
“Annie Oakley here is a card cheat. Do you know what we do to cheaters in Skokie? Do you, little miss?” The big man reached across the table and took hold of both of her arms and was shaking her. He shook so hard she fell off her chair, bit her tongue, and then tasted the bitter blood coating her teeth.
Trembling in terror, she kicked at him, trying to scoot away across the floor, but he still had ahold of her wrists. Twisted between the table leg and the fat man’s feet, she didn’t know which way was up.
“Vladimir, please,” Nick said, getting up from his chair. “I’m sure Jessica isn’t cheating.”
“Oh you are? Are you?” From under the table, she saw the fat man glance at one of his bodyguards and jerk his head towards Nick. When the Pope dropped her arms, she scooted out from under the table in time to see the bull round the table and put Nick into a chokehold.
“Gentlemen, please,” Lolita said. “This is a friendly game. Let’s calm down, everyone.” She walked up behind the Pope, bent down, and whispered something in his ear as she poured him another vodka. A sly smile split his giant face as he grabbed one of Lolita’s bare arms and pulled her down onto his lap.
“You think you can run a game in this town just because you’re the Oxford Don’s granddaughter. You think you’re so smart, college girl. Well, I’ll teach you a thing or two.” The Pope wrapped both arms around Lolita. “I own this town. Got that, sweetheart? Do you?” Lolita narrowed her steely eyes, reared up from his lap, elbows flying, and escaped the grizzly bear embrace. Then she twirled around and landed a black boot on the side of the Pope’s head.
When she saw her friend attack the fat man, Jessica lunged towards the thug choking Nick. But by the time she reached him, it was too late. Nick’s eyes had rolled back in his head and he’d collapsed into the bull’s arms. When the thug released him, Nick’s limp body fell to the floor at her feet.
Chapter Forty-Six
"Freeze!” The baritone was familiar. Jessica turned and saw Detective Cormier in the d
oorway flanked by several uniformed officers. When she sensed a breeze behind her, she turned to see Jack slipping out of the backdoor to the room.
“Everyone! Hands in the air. Now!” The detective moved into the room, gun first, heading straight for the Pope. Two uniformed officers followed him into the room, holding their pistols in both hands, surveying the room.
“Why if it isn’t our city’s finest?” the Pope remarked. “What’s wrong detective? This is just a friendly game of poker. A family game really.” He stared at Lolita.
“It’s an illegal game,” Detective Cormier said. “Everyone move away from the table with your hands in the air. Stand up slowly, and put your hands up. Now!”
“You’ve got nothing on me. You know this won’t stick.” The Pope smiled and folded his hands on the table in front of him.
“We’ll see about that,” the detective said, pointing to the painting with his gun. “Back away from the table and put your hands above your heads, all of you.”
The Pope stood up and raised his hands, then gestured with his head for his men to comply. Suddenly, he grabbed his chest and his eyes opened wide. In response, one of his bodyguards leapt at Detective Cormier. The detective was struggling with one thug when the other pulled a pistol from his pocket. A mass of bodies fell to the floor, twisting and punching. With their guns already drawn, the cops had the advantage and started shooting.
At the sound of the explosive shots, her instincts kicked in, and she covered her ears with her hands and dove head first under the table. The Pope’s mountainous body quaked and he slumped back into his chair, his torso bent over the mound of flesh it rested upon.
From her crouched position, Jessica was peering up into his bulbous dead eyes. She saw Lolita’s red-nailed fingertips reach down and lift the Pope’s phone from his jacket pocket. Jessica gasped, tears welled in her eyes, and she bit her lip. It wasn’t any easier seeing a dead man the second time around. Shaking, she huddled under the table until the room quieted.
Once the shouting and shooting had stopped, Jessica slowly crawled out from under the table and scooped her chips into her satchel. She glanced down and saw the two bulls writhing on the floor. Both appeared to have flesh wounds, and the officers cuffed them and then hauled them to their feet. Detective Cormier called for backup and soon more officers appeared in the doorway.
“He’s dead,” he said, standing over the fat man’s body. “He’s not shot. Must have been a heart attack. Looks like Mr. Popov’s going away for good, but not to prison. No one can escape the final justice. Take him away.”
It took three men to move the big man’s body. Detective Cormier was holding onto his right arm above the elbow and Jessica noticed blood was running down his sleeve, dripping onto his black leather shoes.
When the officers laid the Pope on the floor, he seemed even bulkier stretched out flat with his massive mound of belly protruding from the floor, a mountain coming straight out of the sea. His bug eyes were staring at the ceiling and his lips were turning blue.
Sitting on the floor nearby, Jessica felt like she was going to barf. She was relieved when one of the officers reached down and closed the dead eyes. On hands and knees, she crawled over to Nick. Semi-conscious, he was still lying on the floor by the bar where the thug had dropped him.
“Nick?” She squatted next to him. He pulled himself up onto his elbows and gave her a weak smile.
The shriek of sirens was growing closer as she glanced around the room.
Lolita was sitting at the table along with the other poker players; the police officers were busy with the Pope and his men; and the detective sat down on the edge of the table, still holding his arm.
“Consider this a warning, Ms. Durchenko,” Detective Cormier said to Lolita. “Your first and your last. No more poker Tsarina.”
Lolita nodded.
“We’d make a good team,” he said, extending his good arm.
“You take down the Russian Brotherhood,” Lolita took his hand, “and I’ll take care of the fraternity brotherhood.”
“That goes for the rest of you too, no more illegal gambling,” the detective said to the players. “Leave your names and numbers with Officer Marino over there by the door. We’ll need to get your statements. Marino will give you instructions on the way out.” Except for Nick and Jessica, the other players left with Officer Marino.
Once they were gone, Nick picked up the crate leaning against the wall behind the Pope’s chair. “I would like to personally deliver this to your father, if I may,” he said to Lolita. “I need to apologize for the other night.”
“I’m afraid we have to take that downtown,” Detective Cormier said. “You too Mr. Schilling. We have to remove the wire and get your statement.”
“My father is not a forger, detective,” Lolita said.
“We’ll get to the bottom of it. Don’t’ worry,” the detective said. “But it’s evidence in a murder investigation. I assume this is the painting stolen from the professor’s office, but we’ll know soon enough. Odd that nothing else was taken, not even his computer.”
“How would you know nothing else was taken?” Jessica said a bit too forcefully. “His office is such a mess. He’s got student papers piled up in there from three years ago… That reminds me, where’s Alexander?”
“Who?” Detective Cormier asked.
“A student. Alexander Le Blanc, he was here with the Pope,” Jessica said, her voice trailing off when she saw Lolita was narrowing her eyes and scowling. “He left just before you got here.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll find him and pick him up for questioning,” the detective said. “I’ll coordinate with campus security.” Detective Cormier called to security guard Jimmy, who was watching from the hallway. Two ambulances and a fire truck arrived, and loaded up the wounded bodyguards and the Pope’s corpse. After the EMTs bandaged his arm, Detective Cormier escorted his men out of the building, and insisted Nick accompany them.
“I’ll meet you at the station in a few minutes,” Lolita said. “ I’ve got to clean up here. Jessica can stay and help me.” At the sound of her name, Jessica went to her friend, put her arms around her, and buried her face in Lolita’s soft shoulder. She couldn’t help it, she started sobbing.
“We’ll need to get your statement too, Ms. James, once you’re able. You too, Ms. Durchenko. Please come by the station when you’ve finished cleaning up. Jimmy, make sure they get to the station within the next hour.” Jimmy nodded.
When the detective had gone, Lolita asked “Did you set up a meeting with Alexander at the café before he left?”
“I thought Jack was supposed to arrange to buy drugs from him.”
“Jack is fetching something from the professor’s office,” Lolita said. “We’ll get Alexander ourselves.”
“No, you won’t. Alexander may be dangerous,” Jimmy said.
“Not as dangerous as we are,” Lolita said. “Jimmy you stay here in case Alexander comes back.” Jimmy stood with his mouth open, his sad eyes worshipping Lolita.
“Let’s go,” Lolita said turning to Jessica.
“Go where?”
“To the café, of course, after we fetch Jack from the professor’s office.”
“What? Jack went back to Wolf’s office?” Jessica sat down on one of the chairs.
“We have some unfinished business. Come on.” Lolita pulled her up from the chair, and then led her out of the door.
Chapter Forty-Seven
When Jessica knocked on the door to room 24B, it creaked open. She peeked inside.
“Hey there, cowgirl,” Jack said. “Look what I found.” Grinning from ear to ear, he held up a manila envelope.
Jessica tiptoed into the office and glanced around. The police must have confiscated the trash because there were no more pizza boxes, candy wrappers, or half-full Pepsi bottles. Only books and stacks of papers still gathering dust in Wolf’s creepy office. Jessica waited for Lolita to scoot inside and then shut the door behind
them.
“What is it?” Jessica asked.
“Come see,” he said, waving the envelope in the air.
“Let me see that,” Lolita said, grabbing the envelope. “Is this the book Fingal O’Flannery stole from the professor?” She opened the envelope and pulled out a manuscript.
“Our Montana cowgirl came up with a thesis so brilliant, those boys were fighting over it.” Jack laughed.
“What are you talking about?” Jessica asked.
“Take a look at this!” He snatched the envelope out of Lolita’s hands and pointed to the address on the front, Oxford University Press. Then he seized the manuscript and thrust it at her. As she fumbled through the pages, her mouth fell open.
“Holy crap. It’s my thesis. What does this mean?”
“Amber found an email message confirming Wolf sent this manuscript to Fingal for feedback and then he planned to send it to Oxford. That’s why I came back to snoop around his office. Obviously, when Wolf croaked, Fingal saw his golden opportunity. Jesse, your work is in high demand. Just change the return address on this envelope and you might have your first publication, Oxford University Press, no less.”
“This is all very interesting, but we’ve got to catch that weasel Alexander before he gets away. He’s supplying the damn rape drugs on campus and we’re going to bust his balls.” Lolita turned on her heels to leave the office.
“What about my thesis?” Jessica ran after her, pages flying as she went.
“Jack will stay here and gather it up and we’ll sort it out later,” her friend said as she strode down the hallway. “Right now you’re going to the Blind Faith to find that drug dealing scum.”
“Wait!” Jessica was scooping up papers off the floor and trying to put them in order.
