by Bronwen John
“À confesseurs, médicins, avocats, la vérité ne cèle de ton cas,” she said, lightly and thoughtfully. Ash threw her a confused look, and Esther snorted. “It’s a French expression: Conceal not the truth from thy physician and lawyer.” She sighed as Ash shook her head. “We’re as ready as we’re going to be.”
“Can we count on everything?”
“As much as we can.” Esther stood and grabbed her backpack, which contained her swimming costume and her towel. “From this point on, you are my subservient and you don’t much like it.”
“I can understand why.” Ash scratched her nose as she stood, looking around the room. “This is the last time we’ll be here, isn’t it?”
“Apart from our little hook-and-line session? Yes. Make sure you take anything valuable in your backpack.” Esther sighed as she packed away her cards, putting them into her leather jacket pocket. “One valuable lesson in this career, is that you should never have anything in your life that you can’t walk away from in a second.”
“Is that all you’ve got?” Ash asked, filling her own backpack with her precious goods.
Esther nodded.
“Not much.”
“Everything I hold dear is right here.” Esther pointed to her temple. “Memories nobody but death can cheat me of… and I’ve always wondered if I can con him.”
“Death?”
“Or the Devil himself. You know, there’s a grave in Liverpool; I forget the name of the gentleman, but in any case, his tomb is built in the shape of a pyramid. He was supposedly put in there sitting up, cards in hand. He is, according to the story, sitting at a card table and clutching a winning hand of cards… with a deck of cards opposite.”
“Who’s he going to play?” Ash snorted.
“The Devil. Story goes that this keen Scouse gambler had beaten the Devil once, and the Devil was so mad that he swore that when the scouse gambler died, he’d arrange another game. And in that game the Devil promised that he would win he’d claim his soul. So the old sod says that his body should never be committed to the earth as a means of cheating Satan out of claiming his immortal soul.” Esther chuckled to herself. “Got to admire the con.”
“Which one? The tourist crap or the story?”
“Both. I’d kind of like to go down as a dead living legend.” Esther crossed her eyes comically before standing. “Let’s get going. Never know; we might see Prue.”
“Prue?”
Esther flashed a smirk again. “Brett. Brett Higgins. You’d do well to remember that nickname.”
Ash shook her head.
“Now come on. The fish is going to need to be on the line by close of day today.”
Harry Holmes was sitting, enjoying his coffee and admiring the view from the poolside. And not the natural beauty of Norway, either.
Esther Crook was diving into the water from a small platform, dressed in an all-black swimsuit. He smirked nastily into the rim of his cup as she shot an angry look his way. He’d heard she’d pulled out of the tournaments last night. Even if she had no con on, it would cause a dent in her criminal finances. It was an added bonus that she’d not be able to con anyone aboard.
A kind of childish glee filled his belly as he looked around at the surrounding scenery. She was still pretty, and whatever deal Holmes had made during their short meeting only a day ago was worthless to him. He had a score to settle with her. He could remember her first escape. She’d broken into his home in Los Angeles with the intent of killing him. Barely sixteen years old. It had only been his wife’s entrance that had saved him, and only the distanced intervention of Esther’s father had saved her.
A frown marred Holmes’s face as he saw Brett Higgins join her with the grad student, interrupting his ornery and sadistic recollections of that fateful evening. The three shared a laugh over something before Esther pulled herself out of the water.
“Azeri, coffee, now!” she snapped in the direction of the teenager, who was sitting reading and occasionally looking out at the water. There was a frustrated sigh, and then a second call. “I don’t want to listen to it; coffee, and get yourself one too.”
Holmes chuckled at the glare directed at the young woman, who was now standing at the pool’s edge, talking lightly to the two men. He sighed and stood with his own coffee, deciding to take the better seat of the two once the girl had moved on. He walked leisurely towards the seat, seeing like-minded people scoot away from what was already, in his head, ‘his’ seat. It would no doubt amuse Ezra – yes, it was a pity the man and the sunrise were not on speaking terms. They could share a laugh over this.
He was so focused on this thought that he didn’t notice the approach of the teenager, who walked straight into him, tipping coffee onto him – barely missing more intimate areas, at which he howled. On the other side of the pool, Esther Crook was laughing hard at him.
“First time you’ve done something right today. I do like a bit of slapstick; do you do Buster Keaton stunts too?” she mocked, before throwing a look at the teenager. “I’m going to my cabin; don’t disturb me.” With that, she walked off.
“Oh, sir!” the girl said, obviously shocked. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right; just stay away from me,” Holmes snapped, wishing he could also snap the neck of Esther Crook for this.
The girl attempted to wipe at him, taking his book from him and resting it on the seat.
“I said it’s fine.”
“Well, I’m still sorry, sir.” The girl rushed off, blushing faintly.
Holmes shook his head and sat back down. It took several moments for him to notice it. To notice the lightness of his finger – something so comforting and familiar had been taken from him and he didn’t know how. He just knew something…
He looked down at his empty wedding finger. Rage immediately consumed him. He didn’t know how, but he definitely knew who.
Esther Crook.
“This is a serious accusation, Miss Voleur.”
“Just call her Crook and have done with it.”
“I understand, and of course, who this Crook character is, I don’t know!” Esther leaned on the doorway to the cabin. She’d been waiting patiently for the stewards to arrive. She’d heard the commotion coming down the corridor, and chuckled to herself.
“I demand my ring.”
“You can demand and I’ll tell you again, I don’t have it.” Esther sighed. “But you are welcome to search the room for it.”
She stood, arms folded, as the security walked ahead of her into the state room and began the search. It was the second one since the previous evening. She had suffered this indignity along with the rest of the ship. Thanks to the robbery of the ruby, there had been a thorough search of every cabin and mouse hole aboard the ship. She walked to the champagne ice bucket.
“Am I permitted to drink?” she asked, gesturing at the bottle. “There are few things I can’t stand, and one such thing is drinking a Dom Pérignon ’53 above the temperature of thirty-eight degrees Fahrenheit. It’s as bad as being… I don’t know, I’ll think of an analogy later. You can check the bucket – as you can see, nothing but ice.” She received the briefest of nods from the security. “Thank you.”
“It’d seem Miss Voleur’s room has been searched thoroughly.”
“I’m telling you, she stole it! Honestly, it’s the truth!”
“Every decent con man knows that the simplest truth is more powerful than even the most elaborate lie.” Esther sipped her champagne as she leaned on the doorway and looked in at the ongoing search. “It is quite possible that you took it off when you went swimming.”
“I haven’t been swimming,” snarled Holmes.
“It’s an occupational habit that one who becomes an expert at lying eventually, or should I say conveniently, forgets how to tell the damned truth.” Esther glared at the steward. “As yo
u can see, there is nothing here. I have been searched for both the damned ring and the damned ruby, and now, if I’m honest, I’m bored.” She looked hard at the gunrunner. “If you don’t want to be a victim then don’t act like one. I can assure you, I’ve spent the morning drinking coffee downstairs with Brett Higgins. I only recently went up to the pool and just got back. Where you seem to think I’ve been, and in case you didn’t notice, I wasn’t anywhere near enough to you to filch the ring. Though why the hell I am explaining myself to you of all people, I have no flaming idea.”
The steward and security conducted a few more cursory checks, although they made no eye contact with her as they searched the inside of the cabin and even the balcony. Esther sat at the desk and opened a book that she had resting on there, ignoring the constant glare that Holmes was conspicuously giving her.
“I can only apologise, Miss Voleur,” said one of the security men.
Esther nodded.
“I’m certain Mr Holmes has made a mistake in identifying you.”
“I’m not going to lose sleep over it,” Esther said, raising an eyebrow.
“What do you mean, ‘certain’ – she obviously stole it! All the evidence is against her.”
“What evidence?! I was in the same place as you when you sat down,” Esther snapped, frustration breaking through. “If I’d wanted your damned ring, I would’ve used it as a bet.” She glared. “Christ, you’re an idiot. Just get the hell out of here, the lot of you!”
She watched them depart and waited, closing her eyes in moderate complacency and total calmness. Now it was out of her hands; she had no further cards to play in this act of the carefully rehearsed play. It was all on Ash’s young shoulders. Esther could afford to rest.
As the door opened she looked up and smiled at Ash, who showed off the ring dangling from her necklace.
“Nice work, kid. He’ll be nice and hot.” Esther wiped her forehead and grinned, ebullient in victory. “Hot enough to blow a fuse and definitely hot enough to want to murder me at the least.”
Ash grinned. “May as well wait. Haste has no blessing.”
Esther shot a confused look at her protégée.
“Haste makes waste… it’s Swahili.”
Esther grinned. Christ, the kid was looking at her with hope. Gaines knew what he’d been doing. “I’m rather fond of an expression my mother taught me and my brother. Patience is a virtue and the best warrior of its master: time. Very poetic”
“Which are we?” Ash joked lightly.
Esther chuckled and nodded.
“Hey, you didn’t say what the way out was?”
Esther shrugged. “That’s my job right now, as it happens.”
Ash stared at Esther as she shrugged. So blasé. So calm. Yet she saw some of the nervousness – or was Esther conning her? To be honest, she really didn’t know if Esther was being serious or joking. She was impossible to read.
“Get going. Before he calms down.” Esther picked up the phone from the table. “Got an unpleasant call to make.”
Ash took her time to exit, and chuckled as she heard Esther’s voice.
“Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I got a favour to ask ya… no… no… list… will you stop yelling at me?! I haven’t even asked you yet! What the hell’s the matter with you?”
Ash walked calmly and slowly down the corridor, turning sharply to the left and rehearsing her acting presence to the final nuance. Her name was Ashleigh Azeri, her father had lost a bet at poker with Esther Crook, and she was the collateral. She hated the young woman for that. It made her an indentured servant, and although she liked Esther as a person, she knew better than to fake that.
She knocked on the door to the cabin. Paulsen, the goon that Holmes kept around, opened it.
“Yeah?”
“Esther Crook sent me.”
There was a call of assent from within and Paulsen allowed her to slide into the room. She looked around. It was smaller than Innocent’s – talk of the Devil, as he walked from the balcony, flanked by the more congenial black man, Nate.
“Yeah?” Holmes snapped.
“She’s told me to give you this,” Ash said, pulling her necklace off and holding it up to the light.
The platinum ring glittered, highlighting the years of imperfections and delicate scratches on the less durable metal. Ash took a breath, remembering how easy it had been to slide the ring from Holmes’s finger once she’d hurt him by banging into him and spilling the coffee on his more delicate areas. Holmes’s ice-blue eyes stared at the band of platinum before he sprang to his feet. Ash stood coolly, though inside she was shaking. Innocent had crossed the room in a few strides, his gentlemanly persona gone. Now there stood a dangerous man, and luckily Innocent placed himself between Ash and his business partner.
“You thieving—” Holmes began.
“Easy, Harry,” Innocent cautioned. “What is the meaning of this?”
“She wants him angry to con him.”
Holmes and Innocent glared.
“You ruined her poker season. There wasn’t a con in existence before then. You tipped her hand.”
“I could throw you overboard, you cocky little—”
“Wouldn’t do you any good, anyhow,” Ash said, as Innocent tensed. “She got the fundamentals of an idea for a con without me down. Now, I can either con you, or get even with you.”
“She’s been hanging around with Brett Higgins and that Russian student a lot. They got a play?” asked Nate, arms crossed against his chest. “You’re not the only one that watches.”
Ash shook her head. “Nah. She fancies the one. The other she amuses herself with.” Scratch the truth, then cover it with bull. She heard the voice of Luke in her ear. Then take the offensive. “If you don’t want my help, just say and I’ll hand you back your ring and we’ll meet through the con, but you’ll be a hell of a lot poorer.”
Holmes’s breath was evening out now, the rage simmering down again and that cold, calculating smile crossing his features. “Did she tell you I was into movies? Sounds like The Sting to me, where they shake down—”
“Not all con artists consider The Sting to be the Holy Bible of con artists,” Ash said, scowling. She pulled the ring off its silver chain and put it on the table between them. “It’s up to you, but regardless, here is the ring back.”
“Why the double-cross?” asked Holmes quietly.
“Because I am sick of her telling me what to do, how to eat, how to look, to act like the slider, act this and act that, and never letting me in. I’ve been doing this since I was thirteen; I know what I’m doing.”
Holmes gave her a contemptuous look. Ash rolled her eyes at that; better to act like a spoiled brat who had had enough of education.
“You’re a smart kid if nothing else.”
“Great, glad to know. See you on the other side of the con, Mr Holmes.” Ash turned sharply on her heel to exit.
“You got time later?” he asked.
She merely nodded.
“I expect to see you portside at three o’clock sharp.”
“Next to the cinema. She’s going swimming with Higgins.” Ash coughed into her hand and then grinned, adding in what Esther had said to her earlier as part of the con. “Seems she has a pet name for him. Prue.”
For some reason, Innocent’s eyes widened briefly and a snarl came over his features as Holmes’s dour expression lit up with an outlandish delight.
“Prue! The family name; Proulx. No wonder they were playing good poker with each other, Ezra! The twins are together.”
Ash looked up sharply.
“It seems she didn’t trust you all the way, and with good reason. She’s been playing with her brother. Who’s the older twin?”
“Never sure,” Innocent hissed, his emerald eyes looking balefully into Ash’s. “It would seem, Miss Azeri
, that you’ve been with the Crook twins.”
Ash felt her mouth dry up, realising she’d sunk Esther and now her brother. Whereas Holmes, at this moment, seemed untouchable, Esther now had a weak valve to test. Ash forced herself to straighten her back proudly. “Three o’clock. Portside. Cinema.”
She headed out, walking the part as well as acting it. She felt her stomach lurch as she walked to the starboard side of the ship, and, once reassured that she was fully out of the way of Holmes’s and Innocent’s goons, she ran to her shared cabin. She found it locked and knocked on the door, only to be met with a tired-looking Brett Higgins.
“Are you Esther’s twin?” she demanded immediately.
Brett merely raised his eyebrows with amusement. “So we’re not dead in the water, then?”
“I don’t think so,” Ash admitted as the man allowed her in and ruffled his auburn hair with a fond grin. Esther was sitting cross-legged on her bed. “Why didn’t you tell me—”
“That there may be other members of my crew aboard?” Esther asked calmly as she looked at some papers. “Easy. I needed Cael – oh, I do apologise; I’ve just realised I’ve not introduced you properly. This is Caelan Brett Proulx Crook. My baby brother.”
“By all of two minutes.” He smiled, shaking Ash’s hand before joining his sister. He sat in front of the mirror and pulled out a large bag. “Do you know how long it took me to get that through customs?”
“Probably as much time as it took you to build your reputation as state champion when you were born and bred in Lyon.” Esther looked at her brother, who was now dampening a rag in some sort of liquid, which he began to apply to his nose and cheeks. “Very nice touch.”
“You know me, sis; I’ve always got a plan…” He glanced at Ash, whose gaze was flicking between them in confusion. “Sorry. Forgot that you’re new to our double-talk. And, in answer to your earlier question, she needed you to slide one side and me to sit and watch the other.”
