A Sporting Murder

by Lesley A. Diehl

  When we drove up to the rig, Grandy was just leaving. We hugged goodbye and she drove off.

  Grandfather continued to look morose, so I gave in. “Sure, go ahead. Open up again, but I’m telling you there will be no business. Grandy said she got only one or two customers all day.”

  Grandfather said something in Miccosukee, which I assumed translated into “hot diggity.” He opened the door, pulled out a chair and set himself up on the pavement.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to continue with my chanting,” he said.

  Why would I mind?

  Now I could pick up Jerry and drive us toward the casino and the grannies’ house. It seemed like a lot of trouble to me, especially when I had no reason to believe they would know about other games. Or maybe they did know and wouldn’t tell me. Or better yet, maybe I could promise them another run at Jerry. He was just enough of an idiot when it came to gambling that he’d want to try his luck with them yet again. Of course, he had no money, meaning I’d have to keep my promise to back him.

  “Nope, nope. This isn’t right. Wrong way again. Turn around.” Jerry sank back in the passenger’s seat of my car and leaned his head on the headrest.

  I reached over and shook him. “Stay awake.”

  We had been driving around the area adjacent to Deer Mound, dead ending when the street was cut off by a canal, then turning around and trying again, only to find we’d hit another street ending at a small lake or a patch of swamp.

  I peeked at my watch. I was running out of time. Alex expected me home and would want to know about the talk I hadn’t had with Frida. As usual my plan was unraveling.

  “Okay, let’s try this,” I said. “I’ll go out to the casino and you can try to route your way to their place from there. That’s what you did the first night you met them.”

  “Might work.” Jerry yawned.

  “Grab a short nap. I’ll wake you when we get to the casino. It’s about ten minutes from here.”

  I shouldn’t have bothered talking. Jerry was already asleep, breathing heavily through his nose. The breathing turned into a snore.

  As it turned out, I didn’t need Jerry. Pulling up behind me as I turned into the casino parking lot was a car filled with four white-haired ladies. I was pretty certain I recognized them from the evening Jerry gambled our motor home away. I got out of my car and rapped on the driver’s side car window.

  The woman took one look at me and gulped. “Honey, it was a fair game. You got your motor home back and your husband too. That grandmother of yours was a ringer. We should be furious at you.”

  “First of all, that guy is not my husband, not anymore. And second, Grandy is not a ringer. She was really just lucky and smart. She learns rules really fast—not that she obeys many of them. I’d like to chat with you for a minute. You might have some information I could use.”

  The driver conferred with her three passengers.

  “You buy us all a drink, and we’ll be happy to answer any of your questions,” she said.

  They all piled out of the car. When I saw them the other night in the dim lights of the flea market, I could have sworn they were clones, but in the afternoon light, they were quite distinctive. The driver, whose name was Sara, reminded me of Grandy. She was short, plump, favored the color combination of purple and red, and had short, bouncy white curls. Madeleine would look like that when she was sixty, I thought.

  The granny in the passenger’s seat was tall and angular, with long white hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck, but she wasn’t dowdy looking at all. Her makeup was expertly applied and her warm-up suit was designer quality. Her name was Gilda. She appeared to be the quiet one in the group.

  Sissy, whose hair shone a bluish-silver, wore a Western shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. She and the last woman, May Belle, had distinctive Southern accents. May Belle was a blonde with leathery tan skin. She smiled a lot, making it difficult to say whether the wrinkles in her face came from sun exposure or simply happiness.

  I left Jerry asleep in the car while all of us trouped into the bar area.

  “I’m surprised you’re at the casino this early in the day. From what Jerry said, you like hanging out here at night.”

  “Well, he’s right, sugar,” said May Belle, “but tonight is spaghetti night. Five dollars for pasta with sauce and two meatballs, small salad, and garlic bread. We like to come early, get in a game or two, then go off to dinner at six. The line forms at around five thirty. It’s popular with everyone so the food goes fast. They’re usually out of meatballs by seven.”

  After we ordered our drinks—I stuck to coke, but the ladies each ordered a Cosmo—I got right to my questions. Time was a-wastin’, and I would soon be in trouble, my cover blown.

  “Tell me about the games that people run off site, like the four of you,” I said.

  The ladies exchanged looks with one another. I could tell by the way their butts shifted around on the seats that the abruptness of my question made them uneasy.

  “Look, I could care less about what you’re doing. I’m interested in some other games, and I thought you might know something about them.”

  Gilda took a sip of her Cosmo, smacked her lips, and said, “We usually play at my house and bring in some of our friends from around here who like a more casual setting. Jerry was somewhat of a fluke. We were glad we asked him to play with us. He wouldn’t have had a shred of clothing left on his back if some of these guys got a hold of him. Oh, by the way, we returned the rental car we won off him. We wouldn’t keep it. And we kind of suspected that motor home wasn’t his to gamble away. Sometimes we get bored and then we like to play jokes on people—fun jokes, not mean stuff. Your husband, or whatever he is, is such a patsy.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Sissy held up her drink to the light then took a tiny sip. “We know there are guys around here who take their private games very seriously. They would eat your Jerry alive.”

  “It may be that they ate some friends of mine alive,” I said.

  The grannies told me about two other games they knew were operating at private locations, but neither of them was run by guys who sounded dangerous—like the types Oscar had mentioned, the ones who’d helped Bernard win and then lose.

  “We’ll keep our feelers out to see if anything else turns up,” said Sissy. “The guys we know who set up games are like us, people looking for another person or two who wants to play some serious poker. They’d never let someone like Jerry into a game and then allow him to bet someone else’s property. But Jerry was kind of a fun guy, and he was someone we knew we could beat. The four of us play together so much, it gets to be dull. We know one another’s “tells” and styles. Jerry was a breath of fresh air.” She paused, then added, “Say, wasn’t he in the car with you just now? He wouldn’t be interested in a game later, would he?”

  I explained that he would be interested in a game, but that he had no money.

  Three young men came into the bar, took a look around and then headed back out. I watched them move toward the room where the Texas hold ’em tournament had been held. One of them turned his head and looked back at me. He said something to his buddies when he caught up with them. They changed their minds again and backtracked toward the entrance.

  “Excuse me a minute,” I said to the ladies. “I’ll be right back.”

  I started to follow them to the door. They picked up their pace until they were almost running. They were the young men who’d been with Oscar the night Sammy was taken. I knew they weren’t the ones who’d grabbed Sammy, and Oscar had told us they weren’t the ones who got Bernard into those poker games, but I thought they might know something they hadn’t told Frida, and I was anxious to talk with them. She told me Oscar had told the cops nothing. Maybe he didn’t know any more than he’d told Sammy and me. He could have at least described the men who ran the poker games in which Bernard lost money, but Frida said he clammed up and acted frightened. I couldn’t pass up the oppor
tunity to talk with Oscar’s friends. Maybe these guys would give me more than they and Oscar had given the police. It was worth a try.

  The three men were through the doors and outside. I was right behind them, but was blocked by a crowd of people who were jammed into the doorway. My quarry managed to thread their way through the crowd, and I lost sight of them.

  An ambulance and a sheriff’s car had pulled up at the entrance, but curious onlookers blocked my view of what was going on.

  “Hey, I thought you were going to back me in a game.” Jerry had sidled up behind me. “You owe me, Eve.”

  I swatted him away like a pesky insect, intent upon seeing what was happening.

  He grabbed a hold of my arm and clung to me. “I helped you find the grannies.”

  “You helped me do nothing. I found them myself.” I pried his fingers from my arm and worked my way forward, losing Jerry in the crush of people behind me.

  “I think he’s dead,” said a woman in the crowd.

  “Did you see what happened?” asked a sheriff’s deputy of one of the casino employees.

  The employee held up a finger for the deputy to wait a moment, then he spoke into his walkie-talkie, his words lost in the rumble of people’s voices.

  The employee turned his attention back to the deputy sheriff. “Here’s what I saw. A car drove up to the entrance, going really fast, screeched to a halt and someone opened the rear door and threw out this guy. Whoever did it had to be strong. Look at the size of the guy. He must have been dead weight.”

  I got a funny feeling in my stomach, and I pushed a woman standing in front of me to one side.

  Lying on the sidewalk with two EMTs kneeling over him was Sammy Egret.

  Chapter 17

  “Sammy, Sammy, can you hear me?” I leaned over the hospital bed and held Sammy’s hand. Grandfather Egret stood beside me.

  Sammy was alive, and I wanted to lend my voice to the chant of thankfulness Grandfather sang softly as we drove together to the hospital.

  “I don’t think he can hear you,” said the doctor who had entered the room after us. “He’s sustained serious injuries, some broken ribs, lacerations, a bullet in his shoulder and a blow to the head. He’s lucky to be alive. And he’s dehydrated—probably had no food or water for several days. It looks to me as if he’s been outside for forty-eight hours or so. If he does awake, don’t tire him. I’ll give you five minutes, no more.” I saw Frida enter while he was speaking. The doctor gave us all a serious look and a cautioning wag of his finger, then left the room.

  My heart leaped with joy. “Are you back on the case?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I’m here as a friend only.” She came over to Grandfather and me and gave each of us a hug. “Does he know about Bernard yet?”

  I shook my head. Grandfather continued with his quiet chanting.

  “Have the police had time to check on the bullet they removed from his shoulder?” I asked.

  Frida looked away for a moment, then fixed a sorrowful look on me. “I’m sorry. Eve, but the police charged Dudley with Bernard’s murder and the attempted murder of Sammy. The sheriff seems to think Dudley was simply following orders—David’s.”

  “Oh, isn’t that great. So the authorities finally think Sammy wasn’t just some Indian who wandered off to get drunk.” Frida started as if I’d slapped her. “Not you, Frida. I know you don’t think that. The sheriff has conveniently removed you from the case and wrapped the two murders plus Sammy’s attack into one tidy package. I can’t help but wonder how much Reed had to do with that.”

  A groan from the patient in the bed drew our attention. Sammy’s eyes fluttered open. “I feel like I wrestled a gator and lost,” he said.

  “You’re here and alive, so I’d say it was a draw.” I touched his unbandaged shoulder lightly.

  “The police want to talk with you,” said Frida.

  Sammy looked puzzled. “You are the police.”

  Frida’s brow furrowed in irritation. “I’ve been taken off this case for now, so you’ll have to talk to Linc or someone else from the station. I think they’re waiting in the hall.”

  “They can just wait a little longer. Can you help me up so I can use the bathroom, Eve?”

  “I don’t think you should be getting out of bed. Here, use this.” I extracted the bedpan from where it sat on a shelf on the bedside stand.

  He shook his head.

  “We’ll turn our backs.” I tried to suppress a laugh at Sammy’s shyness.

  Something passed between Sammy and Grandfather. The communication lasted only a second. Maybe I imagined it.

  “I think the ladies should leave the room,” said Grandfather, breaking off his chanting.

  Frida and I joined Detective Tooney in the hallway.

  “Did he say anything?” asked Linc. “Did he tell you what happened, where he was, who kidnapped him?”

  Frida gave Linc an annoyed look. “No, no, no, no to answer your questions, but he did say something significant.”

  “What?” Linc leaned forward eagerly.

  “He said he had to pee.” Frida turned on her heel and stormed toward the elevator.

  “I guess she’s still a little peeved that the captain took her off the case, huh?” Linc said to me.

  “Yeah, it’s not you she’s mad at. It’s Sheriff Leopold. How could he not see her for the great cop she is? The guy must have swamp cabbage for brains.”

  That got a chuckle out of Linc. “The sheriff can’t get beyond her makeup and body. The guy’s a piece of work. A holdover from when the dinosaurs roamed the earth.”

  “Maybe an asteroid will hit—one exactly the right size to wipe just him out. We can only hope.”

  Linc looked around to see who might be listening and suppressed a smile. “I shouldn’t say any more,” he said.

  We waited a few more minutes, thinking Grandfather Egret would summon both of us back into the room. When that didn’t happen, I reentered to see what was going on. The room was empty. No Egret of any generation. The bathroom door was closed, and when I tried to turn the knob, I found it was locked.

  “Okay, both of you come out of there. Sammy, you’ve got to talk to the police sometime.” I pressed my ear against the door, trying to hear any sound from the other side. Nothing. I knocked again.

  Still no answer.

  “I’ll get the duty nurse,” said Linc.

  The nurse arrived quickly and pounded on the door, but she was no more successful than I had been. She extracted a key from her pocket and opened the door. The bathroom was empty, but the door on the other side, the one leading to the next room, was open.

  “How far can a six-foot-five Indian wearing a hospital gown and toting an IV stand get?” asked Linc.

  “As far as he needs to,” I said. “Besides, he’s got help. Grandfather Egret is with him.”

  Linc and several uniformed officers searched the building and questioned anyone who might have seen the duo escape, but no one inside or outside had seen anything. The pair had evaporated like the fog rising off the lake in the early morning.

  “I’m gonna get it from the captain,” said Linc. “I should have pushed my way into the room sooner, insisted he talk with me.”

  “What good would that have done? He’d only just regained consciousness.”

  “So you say.” Linc shot me a doubtful look, then raised his eyebrows helplessly. “Don’t mind me. It’s just that I get my first case without Frida, and I blow it. I’d better get back to the station and tell the captain.”

  Where had our escapees gone? Not far, not in Sammy’s condition, but far enough. They’d be headed back to a world they found more hospitable than a, er, hospital.

  My cell rang. It was Alex. Again I had forgotten all about him when I should have kept him in the loop. I hit my forehead with the palm of my hand. I was such a dummy.

  When I told him, he was not happy with what he called “your version” of the afternoon and evening.


  “What do you mean, you found Sammy and then lost him again?” Alex asked.

  “I didn’t find him, and I certainly was not responsible for losing him.”

  “What then?” His tone was accusatory.

  “You know, Alex, not everything that happens to my friends is my doing. I’m not God. I do not control the universe.”

  “I know that, rationally, but sometimes I wonder.”

  I heard a deep sigh from the other end of the phone. “Okay, let’s try this. Do you know where he’s gone?” asked Alex.

  “I think so.”

  “Where?”

  “Well, I can’t be certain, but where would you go if you were hurting and wanted to heal?” I asked.

  “Your place?’

  “Don’t be dense. Sammy would not go to my place. He would go home.”

  Sometimes Alex can be so literal. It’s probably what makes him such a good detective, not taking anything for granted, spelling out the alternatives in a clear and rational way, but sometime the concreteness of his thinking infuriates me.

  “I’ll meet you there,” he said.

  “His home, not mine,” I said in case he did not get it, but I was talking to dead space.

  When I got to my car in the hospital parking lot, Jerry was standing beside it. Whoops. I’d left him at the casino when they’d loaded Sammy into the ambulance.

  “How did you …?” I began.

  “How did I get here, Eve? Well, luckily some gambling grannies took pity on me and drove me. How’s Sammy?”

  I could tell he was peeved at being left behind, but not peeved enough to make an issue of it. He didn’t like needles, people in white gave him the creeps, and blood made him faint. This hospital phobia increased as a result of a concussion he’d suffered several months ago when a pair of robbers accosted us and hit him with the butt of his own gun. Jerry might have been angry at my insensitivity at leaving him behind, but he seemed happy not to visit Sammy.

  “Get in. You might as well ride along.” I unlocked the car door.

  “Where to?” Jerry buckled up, eager to accompany me wherever I was going.