Poker Chips and Poison

by Rodney Strong

  ‘It’s all too much. Another friend gone,’ she wailed.

  Tracey and Owen immediately stepped towards her.

  ‘When will it all end?’ Alice continued. ‘Why must they be taken before their time?’

  ‘Before their time?’ Tracey repeated.

  Now everyone was shuffling towards Alice, the ambulance staff looking a lot more excited about a living patient.

  ‘Are you alright, Alice?’ Owen’s face was filled with concern and she felt guilty.

  Behind everyone she saw Vanessa give a thumbs up.

  ‘I’m fine. Just silly.’ She sat up straight. ‘It just became too much for a moment. I think I’d better go and lie down.’

  ‘Of course,’ Tracey said. ‘Vanessa, will you escort Alice back to her apartment please.’

  ‘Yes, Tracey. Come on, Alice.’ Vanessa helped Alice to her feet. They were in the elevator before Alice let go of her arm.

  ‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on?’ Vanessa asked.

  ‘Do you know how to google?’

  Vanessa grinned. ‘Alice, I’m a millennial. You might as well ask me if I know how to breathe.’

  ‘Good, because Betty didn’t die of natural causes.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She was poisoned.’

  SIX

  ‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE was poisoned?’

  They were sitting on the couch in Alice’s apartment.

  ‘Show me the picture of her fingernails.’

  Vanessa pulled her phone out and tapped and swiped until a picture filled the screen.

  ‘See those lines?’ Alice said pointing to them.

  ‘Oh yeah, that doesn’t look right.’

  ‘I don’t think it is right. I’ve got this vague memory of lines like that but I can’t recall exactly. Can you look up the possible causes of those lines on the google?’

  On her phone, Vanessa brought up a search box. She typed in ‘lines on fingernails’ and selected the first item. They both scanned the article.

  ‘It says here that slight vertical ridges commonly develop in older adults,’ Vanessa said.

  ‘That’s the opening sentence, Vanessa. Read faster. It also says deep horizontal ridges may indicate a serious condition.’

  ‘Health condition, not poison. You can’t really believe Betty was poisoned.’

  ‘I’m not sure what to think,’ she admitted. ‘But what if Betty’s death was murder. No one is going to look into it. Everyone is convinced that it’s just a case of another old person dying.’

  ‘Murder?! Alice, that’s crazy. Why would anyone want to murder Betty?’

  Alice looked out the window at the leaves on the trees swaying a little in the breeze. It made them seem alive. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘But I’d be the first to admit I don’t know everything. It couldn’t hurt to ask a few questions.’ She turned back to Vanessa. ‘You said yourself, not much is going on at home, so you can help me.’

  Vanessa dropped her gaze to her hands, turning her phone over and over. ‘You don’t think this has anything to do with...’

  ‘With what?’

  ‘Well, you’ve seemed a little bored lately, since you helped that writer out. Sort of... restless. Twitchy. You don’t think you might be looking for things that aren’t there? Just to do something exciting?’ She looked at Alice, sadness and embarrassment mixing on her face.

  Alice bit off the retort that sprang to her lips. Vanessa was right, she was bored.

  But that wasn’t it.

  She patted Vanessa on the leg. ‘You could be right. Maybe this whole thing will be a complete waste of time. So let’s pretend it’s a game, just between you and I. Humour me.’

  Alice could tell Vanessa still wasn’t convinced but she nodded. ‘Where do we start?’

  ‘We need to talk to everyone that was in the room and build up a picture of what Betty was doing just before she died.’

  ‘Okay, I think I remember most of the people.’

  ‘Why don’t you go back to work. Tracey might be looking for you. Write down a list of everyone, and let’s meet back here at the end of your shift. I’ll shout for pizza.’

  ‘I thought pizza gave you gas?’

  ‘Honey, everything gives me gas these days.’

  ‘TMI,’ Vanessa leapt up and headed for the door.

  ‘One more thing.’ Alice waited for Vanessa to turn before continuing. ‘There’s a difference between humouring me and patronising me. Understand?’ She realised the words would sound harsh so she tried to keep her tone light.

  Vanessa’s face flushed and she shrugged. ‘Fair enough. See you soon.’ This time she made it all the way to the door before she paused. ‘Alice? Are you okay? About Betty.’

  ‘I was fond of her and I shall miss her quite a lot, once I’ve had a chance to think about it. So let’s delay that for a while, shall we?’

  Vanessa nodded and disappeared through the door.

  Alice got to her feet and went into the kitchen. She opened the cupboard next to the fridge and shifted a canister of flour. Tucked away in the back corner was a second silver hip flask.

  She unscrewed the lid and sniffed the whiskey inside. Technically she wasn’t supposed to be drinking with all the medication her doctor made her take. But if ever there was a time to break that rule it was now. Alice took a swig, swirling the liquid in her mouth, letting it kick all her taste buds into live before swallowing.

  Her lips trembled slightly and she felt the corners of her eyes moisten. Alice took another drink. At least she could blame the alcohol for this uncharacteristic display of emotion.

  Maybe this was more about her than Betty. She hoped that she was wrong, that Betty’s death was natural. But she owed it to her friend to find out the truth. And if Betty’s death wasn’t natural, then someone was going to be in a lot of trouble.

  SEVEN

  THE TROUBLE WITH SECRET investigations was that you were prevented from asking a lot of the more obvious questions. Like, “did you know anyone who wanted Betty dead?”

  Luckily Alice had spent a lifetime perfecting the skill of getting information out of people without them realising it. It was very useful, especially in the age of computers, where stealing passwords was often required before you could steal anything else (though Alice was mostly retired by the time computers really took off). However before she could ask any questions about Betty’s death, Alice needed to ask one very important one. Which was why she was knocking on Owen’s door.

  He took a long time to open it and when he did his eyes were red and puffy. ‘Hi Alice. Come in, please.’

  He turned and she followed, closing the door behind her. His apartment was a smaller, although no less plush, version of hers. The biggest difference between the two were the mementos of his life scattered around the place. Framed pictures of family highlighting the passage of time, little knickknacks dotted along the windowsill and in the corner of the kitchen bench, and a truly hideous woollen rug underneath the coffee table. Alice had never been a knickknack type of person, she never saw the point, it was just another thing to dust or pack when you moved.

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Owen asked her.

  She was about to say no, then thought it might be good for him to be busy so changed her mind. ‘Yes please, but only if you’ll have one too.’

  He nodded absently and walked into the kitchen to switch the kettle on.

  ‘How are you, Owen?’ she asked as he busied himself with cups and milk and teaspoons.

  ‘In a bit of shock, really. You know, I moved here when my wife died. We’d been married for fifty years and I didn’t take her death terribly well. It was my children who suggested, insisted really, that I move in here. I think they wanted me to be around other people all the time so I didn’t do anything silly.’

  ‘Silly?’ Alice asked.

  ‘Oh, nothing permanent,’ he shook his head. ‘But you hear about it all the time,
don’t you? Married couples who have been together for so long, when one goes the other gives up. Not my sort of thing of course. I miss Karen very much, but life is like a job, you can’t quit halfway through just because things get a little rocky.’

  Alice nodded.

  ‘Then I met Betty, and I grew fond of her, and I felt a little...’

  ‘Guilty?’

  Owen gave her a smile tinged with sadness. ‘Yes, I suppose so. Anyway I think Betty felt the same, we hadn’t really discussed it.’

  ‘You mean you hadn’t discussed it at all.’

  ‘Well, no. You see it’s been over half a century since I told a woman I was fond of her. I’m a bit out of practice.’ He paused and straightened his tie a little before pouring the tea. ‘Funny, really. I spent a lifetime working in offices, first hating the bosses, then admiring them, then copying them, and finally becoming them. I learned when to speak and when to listen and as a result I did fairly well for myself.’

  Alice knew he was being modest. When he retired he had been the most successful CEO in the history of the bank, taking them to record profits and being universally admired.

  ‘But talking to women in matters of the heart has always eluded me.’ He smiled. ‘Sounds a bit old fashioned doesn’t it?’

  ‘I hate to tell you this, Owen, but you’re not exactly young anymore.’

  ‘You can talk,’ he shot back.

  ‘A useful skill I’ve found,’ she smiled back at him.

  ‘Touché.’ He handed her a cup of tea. ‘Now be quiet and drink your tea.’

  ‘Actually I wanted to ask you something. I was wondering if Betty had said anything to you about feeling unwell lately.’

  Owen frowned and shook his head. ‘No, but then she was the sort that didn’t talk about her aches and pains. Remember last year with her ribs?’

  She remembered well. Betty had cracked two of her ribs during a severe coughing fit, and lived with the pain for a week before going to the nurse. Not once had she complained and no one had noticed anything.

  ‘I just wish she would have said something if she had been feeling ill. I wish I’d paid more attention to her today instead of worrying about poker.’

  Owen patted the back of her hand. ‘Don’t you blame yourself. I spoke to her several times during the tournament and she looked and sounded fine. In fact she’d just made a friendly wager on you winning the whole thing.’

  ‘Who did she make it with?’ Alice asked.

  ‘That new woman. What’s her name now? Nanci?’

  It was Alice’s turn to frown. ‘Who was Nanci betting on?’

  ‘Teresa. Betty felt bad taking the bet, but not that bad, it was only for a hundred dollars, and she told me afterwards that anyone who bet on Teresa over you deserved to learn the hard way what a bad idea that was.’

  Alice blew on her tea and took a sip, thinking. This woman’s name kept popping up. Alice was beginning to have an inkling of how Teresa might have won the poker tournament, but to confirm it she would need to talk to both Teresa and Nanci. Besides, that had nothing to do with Betty’s death.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked.

  ‘You already asked that,’ Owen replied.

  ‘I did? I mean physically. You weren’t feeling well yesterday.’

  He scratched his temple then shrugged. ‘I feel fine. It must have been a 24 hour thing.’

  ‘Good. At our age 24 hour things have a habit of developing into 24 day things, so I’m glad you’re feeling better. Do you mind me asking what you wanted to talk to me about yesterday?’

  Owen frowned and played with the knot of his tie. ‘It doesn’t really matter now.’

  ‘Was it about Betty?’ Alice guessed.

  ‘Yes it was, but probably not how you think.’

  Alice considered. If you dismissed matters of the heart then the next likely option was obvious. ‘Money?’

  ‘I did want your opinion on something, without going into the specifics, but now Betty has passed, circumstances have changed and I don’t want to break confidences.’

  Alice considered pressing the matter. If Betty had money problems it might point to a motive for her murder. She wasn’t quite sure how but anything out of the ordinary might be relevant. She looked at the conflict on Owen’s face and decided now wasn’t the time.

  ‘Of course. I completely understand.’

  Owen’s shoulders slumped a little and he let out a soft sigh. ‘Do you think they’ll tell us when they get hold of her children?’

  ‘I’m sure they will. I would imagine Silvermoon will want to do some sort of memorial service here. And if they don’t then we’ll organise it ourselves.’

  Owen was nodding. ‘Yes good idea. Perhaps I should...’

  ‘Why don’t you leave it for today, Owen. Perhaps tomorrow you could start organising things. I’m sure Tracey would be more than happy for you to take the lead on this.’

  He nodded again and Alice left him rummaging through a kitchen draw looking for a pad and pen.

  Alice was halfway back to her place when Vanessa appeared from around a corner.

  ‘Tracey gave me the rest of the day away from the front desk.’

  ‘How did you arrange that?’ Alice asked.

  ‘I’m not sure I want to tell you,’ Vanessa said, falling into step next to Alice.

  Alice glanced at her. ‘And yet I can tell you’re dying to.’

  ‘I may have told her I was worried about how you were taking Betty’s death,’ she grinned.

  ‘Nice,’ Alice replied.

  ‘You don’t sound surprised,’ Vanessa said, disappointment obvious in her voice.

  ‘It was the logical thing to say. Tracey would never have let you off work if you said you were upset by a resident’s death, so it had to be one of us, and since you’re helping me out it makes sense you used my name.’

  She looked at Vanessa and added, ‘but keep trying, one day you’ll surprise me.’

  ‘So where are we going, boss?’

  ‘Back to my place. It’s a bit early for pizza, but we can work on the list of who was in the room when Betty died. And for goodness sake can you slow down? These legs have seen a few more years than yours.’

  Vanessa slowed and muttered an apology. Alice linked her arm with Vanessa’s and they walked at a more leisurely pace back to her apartment.

  ‘Let’s see what our collective memories can recall,’ Alice said once they were sitting on her couch. ‘Here.’ She held out a small pad and pencil, but Vanessa pulled her phone out instead.

  ‘I can type faster than I can write,’ she explained. ‘Besides a tree died for that pad.’

  ‘Well, it’s already dead,’ Alice waved the pad but Vanessa shook her head.

  ‘What happens if I lose the paper?’

  ‘What happens if you lose your phone?’ Alice shot back.

  Vanessa’s face showed such genuine horror that Alice felt an urge to apologise and reassure her she was just joking.

  ‘Alright, let’s see. There was Gavin, Sofia, and Les at my table.’ She paused as Vanessa’s fingers sprinted across the screen of her phone. ‘Then there—’

  A knock at the door interrupted her.

  Alice automatically reached for her phone to check the camera, then stopped herself. She trusted Vanessa, but only so far. As far as she knew Silvermoon management weren’t aware of her extra security precautions and she preferred to keep it that way.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ Vanessa said, jumping off the couch with energy that Alice hadn’t felt in decades.

  Alice was putting her phone back on the side table when she heard something that made her jaw clench.

  ‘Hello, Mr Harrison. Come on in.’

  Crap, she thought.

  EIGHT

  GORDON HARRISON FANCIED himself the resident lothario. He had read somewhere that retirement villages were hotbeds for hook ups and that older people were experiencing a sexual revolution. Gordon wanted to be the poster boy for that r
evolution.

  Alice knew he used to work for a government department, but she’d never had a long enough conversation to find out any more than that.

  He wasn’t aggressively pushy. Handsy? Yes. Relentless? Sometimes. Ever hopeful? Definitely. But he took every rejection with good grace. Even if it only resulted in a temporary reprieve for the lady in question.

  When he stepped into her apartment, Gordon’s slim body was clad in a pale blue tracksuit, with bright orange running shoes. What remained of his hair was slicked down with too much gel or something equally slimy, and dyed brown, which might have worked if he’d done the same with his bushy eyebrows and ever-present stubble, which were a more believable grey.

  ‘Alice!’ he exclaimed, as if surprised to see her sitting on her couch in her living room. ‘I heard about Betty and I rushed right over to see how you were coping.’

  It happened hours ago, she thought irritably. That’s not rushing, even for this place.

  Outwardly she smiled. ‘Thank you, Gordon, I appreciate you stopping by.’

  Gordon walked briskly over and took Vanessa’s seat on the couch. He patted Alice’s knee and she stifled an urge to break his finger.

  ‘She was a lovely lady, Betty was. I didn’t know her as well as I would have liked—’

  I bet.

  ‘But I know she was well-liked, and she always stopped to chat whenever I saw her.’

  He left his hand on Alice’s knee and it took every ounce of her will power not to hurt him.

  ‘Mr Harrison, we didn’t see you at the poker tournament this morning,’ Vanessa said, as she drifted across the room and stood by the window.

  Gordon had to turn away from Alice to look at Vanessa and he thankfully removed his hand. Alice took the opportunity to edge further down the couch.

  ‘No, no, as I’m sure you know, I don’t gamble, and watching other people do it is not my idea of a spectator sport.’ He laughed loudly, his gaze flicking between the two ladies to see if they appreciated his humour.

  Alice smiled politely but Vanessa matched his laugh with her own.

  ‘When did you last speak with Betty?’ Alice asked.