He pulled it open again, shocked to see Cassandra Quintana standing in the doorway.
She moved past him with an annoyed shake of her head, but it wasn’t until Brody offered her a drink that Jonah believed she really was here to play poker. He groaned inwardly, wondering how many cards she had up her caftan sleeves.
Dr. Manning glanced at his watch. “You’re late.”
Cassandra took her drink over to a chair at the poker table, obviously her usual one. “I wasn’t told there would be a guest tonight.”
“He’s not a guest,” Brody snapped. “He’s my cousin.”
She raised an eyebrow, her dark gaze going from Brody to Jonah. “I still wasn’t told.”
“You mean, you didn’t see it in the cards?” Jonah asked.
Manning actually laughed as he took his place at the table. “So tell me why you went into the FBI in the first place?”
“Damned if I know.”
Manning didn’t laugh this time. “What did they get you for?”
Jonah could feel the others listening with interest. “Nothing big. Falsifying records, selling documents, a little extortion.” He waited until Glasglow and McDougal sat down before he took the chair farthest from the bar. It was obvious that he was the mark—and not the bartender tonight. That was Brody’s job.
Brody handed him a beer as he sat down. The inquisition appearing over, Dr. Manning opened a new deck of cards, then handed them to Cassandra, who began to shuffle them like a pro—and certainly not with the reverence she used with tarot cards. More like someone who’d spent more than her share of time at a gaming table or a carny sideshow.
Jonah felt like a man in a tankful of sharks. They could smell new blood and they couldn’t wait to get their teeth into him. Especially since the meat was former-FBI grade-A stock.
It proved harder to lose at poker than he’d expected. No stranger to five-card stud, he had to fight the urge to prove them wrong about him—and yet at the same time not lose so badly that it made them suspicious.
Dr. Manning played cards with an intensity that even Jonah hadn’t predicted. Glasglow lost with an ugly temper tantrum. McDougal played quietly, competently and with little fanfare, just as Jonah had predicted. Cassandra played like the pro she obviously was.
“You have no business here,” she said during a break in the game. He’d gone out on the fire escape for some fresh air, or at least that had been his excuse, and she’d followed him.
“You don’t seem to mind taking my money,” he said without looking at her. “Any way you can.”
“This isn’t about poker—or money,” she snapped. “The stakes are higher than you think and you’re in over your head.”
He shrugged and turned to go back inside.
“You also aren’t a very credible loser at poker,” she said to his back. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”
Who the hell was this woman? And why did he believe her, that this wasn’t about money or poker? Then what? He had a bad feeling he already knew.
They played a few more hands, with Jonah winning some small pots but losing the bigger ones to Manning. Ernie, Brody and Glasglow were all behind, Ernie losing the most. Cassandra seemed about dead even, maybe a little ahead. Manning was making a killing.
Not surprising considering that Cassandra had been tipping the doctor off on what everyone had in their hands since the first. The problem was, Jonah hadn’t figured out exactly how she was doing it. Maybe the cards were marked. Or maybe she had some sort of mirror set up in this room, since she always sat in the same chair. All he knew was that she used her bracelets to signal the doctor, so it was obviously something they’d worked out.
“Are you aware that my personal research involves the descendants of witches?” Dr. Manning asked, his gaze penetrating as he swept up the cards Jonah had dealt him without looking at them.
Jonah didn’t even flinch as he picked up his cards and pretended to study them. And he’d thought Brody had invited him to the game to take his money. Instead, it seemed the invite had come from Manning, and for entirely different reasons—just as Cassandra had insinuated on the fire escape. And just as Jonah had feared.
“You know witches really never did fly on brooms,” Jonah said.
Manning regarded him intently. “For thousands of years, there is evidence to suggest, however, that they did possess psychic abilities and possibly other gifts that I believe were handed down from each generation to the next through the genes. Does that interest you?”
“Sounds more up Cassandra’s alley to me,” Jonah said as he pulled three cards from his hand and dropped them facedown on the table, glancing over at her.
Her gaze didn’t even waver as she threw in her hand. Brody, Ernie and Glasglow did the same, both Brody and Glasglow adding a few choice expletives.
“How many cards would you like?” Jonah asked the doctor.
“I think I’ll keep the ones I have. Your lack of interest in this matter surprises me, given that your family is descended from one of the town’s most famous witches, Seama,” Manning said, obviously not going to let the subject drop.
“If you listen to local gossips, most everyone in town is related to Seama.” Jonah smiled. “But if it were true, then I would be able to read your mind and know exactly which cards you have in your hand. Hell, I might even be able to know what the next cards in the deck are.”
Jonah met Manning’s gaze and saw a flicker of concern—and interest. Manning didn’t want to lose this hand—or any hand for that matter. He also desperately wanted to know if Jonah possessed the gene he believed triggered these powers in families like the Rieses.
“Are you going to play poker or talk?” Ernie asked irritably.
“Mr. McDougal here has no psychic abilities at all,” Manning commented. “Nor social skills.”
Ernie shook his head in disgust and leaned back in his chair.
Jonah slowly drew two cards off the top of the deck, smiled and looked over at Manning before he dropped three jacks and a pair of eights to the table. “It seems the next two cards were eights.”
Manning fanned his cards out on the table. Three kings and a pair of tens.
“Just my luck.” Jonah got up from the table abruptly, pretending to be upset as he started to clear the table of glasses, careful not to smudge Cassandra’s prints as he headed for the bar where he hid her glass until he could get it to a fingerprint lab.
“Don’t go away mad,” Glasglow said, sounding pleased.
“Perhaps you’d like to play one more game, try to win back what you lost?” Manning, it seemed, hadn’t gotten enough blood.
“Not the way my luck is running,” Jonah said.
“It will give you a chance to save face and win back some of your money,” the doctor persisted.
“Or let you take my last dime,” Jonah said, turning from the bar.
Manning shrugged. “It’s entirely in the cards.”
Yeah, right. Jonah felt Cassandra watching him, waiting, as if knowing exactly what he’d do. It made him more uneasy than he wanted to admit, because he still hadn’t figured out how she was cheating. Or why she was working with Manning. Or worse, why she seemed to have taken an interest in Jonah himself.
“One more game,” the doctor demanded.
No one had moved, although everyone but Manning had picked up his money for the night.
Jonah now knew why Brody had brought him here. “Sorry, but I’m a working man and I have the early shift at the bar in the morning.”
Brody looked as if he might have a coronary. “Hey, I can call in another bartender for your shift—”
“If you want to always be a bartender…” Manning made a show of gathering up the money he’d won.
Jonah got himself another beer. “Oh, what the hell.” He went back to the table. He could almost taste Brody’s relief.
“Count me out,” Ernie McDougal said. Everyone else echoed him, but didn’t move. It was obvious they were al
l staying to see this.
“I’ll take another drink,” Cassandra said to Brody, settling into her chair across from Manning and to the left of Jonah.
Manning handed Jonah the cards. “You may deal.”
Jonah nodded and began to shuffle, trying to decide how to make this work to his advantage. The cards were good to him and he upped the ante to everything he had on him.
True to form, Manning raised it, knowing Jonah had nothing more to bet.
“Sorry,” Jonah said in defeat. “I’m busted.”
Manning seemed to consider that for a moment. “Perhaps you have something to bet besides money?”
Playing dumb, Jonah looked down at the cheap watch on his arm then at Manning. The doctor shook his head. “Other than the shirt on my back—”
“Perhaps a sample of your blood,” Manning suggested impatiently.
Jonah could feel the tension, tight as piano wire as they finally got down to their real reason for being here tonight. He smiled. “And if you lose, Doc?”
Manning’s gaze bored into him. “Did you have something in mind?”
Jonah went for the one thing he knew Manning would hate the most. “I’d like to see your lab.” Manning didn’t let anyone into the inner sanctum of his laboratory and, since he’d never accepted any federal funding, he’d never had to.
He saw the doctor’s startled expression, the hesitation, the uncertainty. Manning shot a look at Brody. Brody looked like death warmed over. The tension in the room rose like a high-pitched squeal, high enough to break crystal, had there been any.
“I can assure you it would be of no interest to you,” Manning said carefully. “It is much like any other lab.”
“I hate to hear that,” Jonah said. “When I was a kid I heard you had the heads of witches and warlocks floating in gallon jars.”
“That sort of thing interests you?” Manning’s gaze was hot enough to fry eggs.
Jonah let out a snort. “Hell, those heads could be members of my family.”
Manning appeared relieved. Jonah was just a ghoul with a morbid curiosity and Manning was a doctor with a maniac need to get true Ries blood under a microscope. All Manning had to do was take the bet. After all, what were the chances he’d lose?
“All right, Mr. Ries. If you win, you may see my personal laboratory. If I win…” He smiled. A cold feral smile that lacked any trace of real humor. Like Fortier and Girard, Manning was visibly salivating at the thought of his blood.
“You know,” Jonah said as if reconsidering, “I’m not sure I want to see your lab that bad,” he added with a laugh. “You probably don’t really have heads floating in jars, do you?”
“There is only one way to find out.”
Jonah nodded. Unfortunately, that was true. “You’re on then. How many cards?” he asked the doctor.
Manning looked across the table at Cassandra as if considering. For the first time tonight, she didn’t touch her bracelets. The doctor looked down at his hand, then up at the fortune-teller. It appeared she was no longer helping him.
“Two,” he snapped, throwing down the two cards he needed replaced.
Jonah dealt Manning two cards and himself three off the top of the deck, watching Cassandra. She sipped her drink, seemingly off in her own world. Manning suddenly appeared to be damn nervous.
Jonah looked at his cards although he already knew what he’d drawn. Two aces and a jack. The aces went nicely with the two aces he already had in his hand. He glanced up at Manning and smiled.
Manning’s disappointment was almost palpable as Jonah dropped the four aces to the felt. Angrily, the doctor slapped his cards down on the table, facedown.
Ernie started to reach for them, no doubt anxious to see what Manning had been holding, but the doctor stopped him from showing everyone what Jonah already knew Manning had: three queens, a deuce and a four.
Manning got to his feet, signaling that the game was over. At least for tonight.
Everyone got up to leave, all apparently anxious to get out of there. Everyone except Jonah. He leaned back in his chair and finished his beer. Brody and Cassandra were having a heated conversation over by the door, with Cassandra doing most of the talking. Jonah wished he could hear what was being said, but nearby Glasglow and Ernie McDougal were loudly discussing what time to meet for a boat charter in the morning.
“When do you wish to visit my laboratory?” Dr. Manning demanded, suddenly blocking his view of the others as he came to stand beside him.
Jonah shrugged and took a drink of his beer. “I’m afraid once I see your lab, you’ll destroy all my grisly illusions of it and your work.”
That seemed to take some of the starch out of the doc. “You were exceptionally lucky that last hand,” Manning said, pulling up the chair next to him. It was obvious that the good doctor hated losing but was also dying to know if Jonah had gotten those aces strictly through luck—or had known they were coming up in the deck.
“As you said, it’s all up to the cards,” Jonah said.
Manning motioned for Brody to get him a drink, interrupting the conversation with Cassandra. Glasglow and Ernie left without even a goodbye.
As she left, Cassandra shot Jonah a look as if she knew what he was up to and that he would come to no good end. He didn’t need a fortune-teller to tell him that.
Brody seemed in a real nasty mood as he went behind the bar to make Manning a drink.
“You know what’s wrong with your theory on descendants of witches? If you were right, Brody would have special…powers,” Jonah joked, watching his cousin pour Manning a drink, all the while grumbling under his breath.
Manning followed his gaze and shook his head. “Brody’s line is flawed.”
Jonah couldn’t agree more.
The doctor dropped his voice. “He’s the bastard child of a seafaring man with a low IQ and crude tastes, not a true Ries.”
It seemed Manning had done his homework.
“You, however, I suspect are the real thing,” Manning said, turning his attention back to Jonah. “One of the cleanest lines I’ve traced. I believe you not only knew exactly what cards I had in my hand tonight but also what the next ones in the deck were. That’s an amazing talent, wouldn’t you say?”
“If that were true, it would be a curse,” Jonah said. “Knowing everything, feeling everything. Can you imagine how that could drive a person crazy?”
“Yes,” Manning said. “I believe it had that effect on both your mother—and your father.”
Jonah flinched.
The doctor drained the drink Brody handed him and rose from his chair, seeming pleased with the response he’d elicited from Jonah. “Tomorrow night. Ten. I’ll try not to disappoint you.”
Jonah glanced at his watch: 9:15 p.m. As he watched the doctor leave, he reminded himself that Kat Ridgemont was going out to Manning’s tonight. Hopefully not for a tour of the doctor’s lab. Again he wondered what could possibly possess the woman to go out there this late at night.
Chapter Nine
“I know what you’re trying to do,” Brody accused the moment everyone else had left. His cousin still looked a little pale and upset after his talk with Cassandra, making Jonah wish more than ever that he knew what that had been about. No doubt the fact that Cassandra hadn’t helped Manning during the last game. She had been doing most of the talking, it had seemed to Jonah, making him figure she had her reasons.
“You think you can buddy up to the doc and maybe get in on some of my action,” Brody charged.
Jonah watched his cousin go to the bar and pour himself a stiff drink, his head down, shoulders hunched. Trouble.
“I also heard you’ve been asking around about a boat,” Brody snapped. “And about Leslie Ridgemont’s murder.”
It seemed Brody had ears in a lot of places. Jonah had known it was just a matter of time before Brody got wind of what he’d been doing. “Yeah?”
“What the hell?” his cousin demanded. “I can see how you m
ight be interested in the boat, but Leslie Ridgemont’s murder?”
“I met the daughter, Kat,” he said mildly. “I was just curious.”
“Sure. Like you were just curious about genetics and Manning’s lab?” Brody swore. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He shrugged. “Just checking out all my options.”
“Listen to me. You have no idea what you’re getting into or who you’re messing with.” Brody acted scared. Certainly not for Jonah’s well-being, that was for sure.
“Maybe you should tell me just what it is you think I’m messing with,” Jonah suggested as he moved to the bar.
Brody took a sip of his drink, then set it down carefully on the bar. In one swift motion, he grabbed Jonah’s shirt collar and jerked him partway over the small, makeshift bar. Jonah had seen it coming. Just as he could have stopped the attack, had he wanted to.
“Listen to me, you little bloodsucker,” Brody spat in his face. “If it turns out that you’re still working for the FBI—”
“If I was still working for the feds, I would have already busted your ass for bringing in illegal booze by boat once a month from Canada,” Jonah whispered, having found the shipment last night on a boat out of New Brunswick—just not the boat he’d been looking for.
Brody blanched and let go of his collar. “How did you—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jonah said. “If I wanted a piece of the action, I’d have already asked.” He smiled at his cousin. “I have bigger fish to fry.”
Brody swore. “What you’re going to do is find yourself swimming with the fish.”
Jonah laughed and straightened his shirt. “I think you underestimate me.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Brody said seriously. “You’ve even got Dr. Fortier at the college calling the bar, thinking you’re going to give your blood to science.”
Jonah shrugged. “Like I said, I’m exploring all of my options.” Except Fortier had been a dead end. The doctor hadn’t come up with enough money when Jonah had offered his blood—certainly not near enough to suggest anything illegal going on at the university.
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