The Babbling Brook Naked Poker Club - Book One

by Ann Warner

  “Yes. I didn’t want her out of my sight until I knew Eddie was no danger to her. I’m planning to stay with her tonight.”

  “She agreed to that?”

  “Yes. Oddly enough. Most of the staff think she’s a bit difficult. For sure, she’s no sweet little old lady, at least on the outside, but inside, well, I like her. A lot.”

  “Yeah. I know someone like that. Tough as cement on the outside, gooey in the middle.” My grandmother. She died a couple of years ago, but I still miss her. “Mrs. Bartlett seemed upset over that story you told about Colter accosting you.”

  “Which is strange,” Devi said. “Because I had to threat— Ah, that is, it took some convincing for her to accept my help.”

  “That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me all your secrets right away.”

  She glanced at me, blinking. Then she looked away. “Well, that’s a relief.” She hugged her arms around herself. It’s the kind of peculiar reaction that makes my cop instincts perk up. Then she caught my eye and smiled.

  She has a great smile, pretty lips, and white, straight teeth. I’m a sucker for straight teeth. My sister once told me I should have been an orthodontist. But what I think I’m more of a sucker for in this case is Devi’s eyes. You know how you can know someone a long time and if you’re asked what color their eyes are, sometimes you have to think about it? Well, that wouldn’t be true if the person were Devi. Her eyes are a light gray encircled by a halo of darker gray, a combination that is both devastating and unforgettable. And then there’s her hair. My hands itch to slide over it, to see if it’s as silky as it looks.

  “Did you talk to Eddie?” Devi said, jerking my attention back to the matter at hand.

  “I did.” I gave her the highlights of that meeting, after which she thanked me and said she needed to get back to her group.

  “Before you go, could you give me numbers where I can reach you and Mrs. Bartlett without talking to the Brookside receptionist?”

  “I don’t know Josephine’s number, but I can call you with it later.” She dictated her own number, and I wrote it down. Then she gave me back my jacket and went inside. I waited another minute before walking back to my table.

  I ordered a salad and a plate of grilled shrimp, and while I ate, I watched Devi interacting with the residents. I doubted she would ever refer to them as either biddies or bats.

  Throughout the meal, I exchanged brief glances with Devi, something that made it a much more pleasant experience than eating solo in a restaurant usually was. Since Lisa and I split, I mostly do takeout.

  Mrs. Bartlett also spotted me, and she gave me a quick nod. I finished before they did and, on a whim, drove out to Mason to check on Colter. After locating his building, I walked around back where a large lawn surrounded a pool that was closed for the season.

  It didn’t take much effort to work out which apartment was Colter’s. The lights were on, and as I stood there, a man moved in front of the light, his shadow appearing on the curtains. A woman joined the man, and he pulled her roughly into his arms.

  I watched long enough to be certain the woman welcomed the attention, then I went back to my car and called the number Devi had given me. She answered on the third ring. I identified myself and asked if she was back from the restaurant.

  “Yes. We just got here.”

  “And you’re with Mrs. Bartlett?”

  “Yes. I’d like to go home to pick up some things, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

  “Tell you what. I’m only a short distance away. I can come and stay with her until you get back.” I really should have told Devi that Colter was home and busy entertaining, but that would negate the need for me to stop by, and I was feeling more at loose ends than usual.

  “Thanks. I would like to pick up a change of clothes and a toothbrush.” She offered to meet me at the back door, which I considered preferable to signing in at the front desk.

  When I arrived, she opened the door and pointed out Mrs. Bartlett’s apartment. “She’s expecting you. I’ll be back in a half hour.”

  She slipped past me and walked quickly over to a tired-looking Toyota. After she was safely in the car, I knocked on Mrs. Bartlett’s door.

  The apartment was a surprise. I was expecting overstuffed furniture, lots of family photos, and maybe a framed needlepoint or two, like my grandmother’s house. Instead, Mrs. Bartlett’s furnishings had the clean lines I’d pick if I were to bother with decorating, and in place of family photos and needlepoint, she had an interesting painting of a man and a woman sitting next to each other on a bench outside a beach house. The man looked remote, the woman sad. Although seated together, they were clearly separated from each other. In a modern painting, the two would be staring at their phones rather than the ocean.

  Mrs. Bartlett took my coat. I knew she noticed my gun, but all she did was raise one eyebrow.

  “Would you like a cup of tea, Detective?”

  “You can call me Mac.”

  “And you may call me Josephine. Tea, Mac?”

  “Tea would be great.” Usually I stick to coffee, but never this late in the day, unless I was working a night shift.

  She walked past me into the tiny kitchen, put a kettle on to heat, took four cups out of the cupboard, and measured two scoops of tea into a teapot. Not Lipton’s then. And four cups?

  In response to a knock on the door, Josephine opened it and ushered in a very tall, very thin black woman.

  “This is Lillian Fitzel,” she said. “And this is Detective McElroy, Lill.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Detective.”

  “Please, call me Mac.”

  After greeting me, Lillian looked around as if she were seeing Josephine’s apartment for the first time.

  “I invited Lill to join us to confirm what happened when we confronted Eddie.”

  “I can certainly verify any less-than-complimentary remarks Josephine has made about that young man. Indeed, I can.”

  “You heard him admit he was stealing?”

  “Yes, I did. Claimed he has a sick daughter. Um-hmm.” Her tone was dismissive.

  “You don’t believe that?”

  “It’s possible, of course. But I truly doubt it.”

  While Lillian spoke, Josephine busied herself with the teapot, pouring out cups of tea for the three of us.

  “Detective . . . Mac, I do find this a rather curious situation,” Josephine said.

  “In what way?”

  “You’re off duty, am I right?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, I don’t understand why an off-duty officer would be taking so much interest in a case where the crime was so minor, he wouldn’t even consider making an arrest?” Josephine finished speaking, and both she and Lillian stared at me over their teacups.

  “Ladies, you forget, I’ve now met Eddie Colter. And although the crime you’re accusing him of is a minor one, Ms. Subramanian’s report has elevated my level of concern.”

  “What report is that?” Lillian said.

  “Eddie forced himself on her,” Josephine said.

  Lillian’s eyes went wide. “He raped her?”

  “No, no. But he did try to kiss her against her will.”

  “Oh dear. And you still can’t arrest him?” she said, turning to me.

  “Believe me, if I could, I would.”

  “And you’re here to make sure we’re all right? That’s real nice of you.”

  “My pleasure, ma’am.”

  “Do you play poker, Mac?” Josephine said.

  “Haven’t for a while. Why do you ask?”

  “Lill and I enjoy a little five-card draw and Texas Hold’em. We could play a couple of hands. Just until Devi gets back?”

  “Okay. Sure.”

  She reached into a tote that hung on the back of the chair and pulled out a pack of cards and a box of paper clips that she handed to Lillian. “Be sure to save some for Devi. Maybe she’ll join us when she gets here.”

  Grinning,
Lillian doled out clips while Josephine shuffled the cards with quick, smooth movements.

  We cut to see who would deal. Josephine won the cut along with the first two hands of five-card draw, after which she offered me a shot of Scotch in place of the tea. We were on the fifth hand, and I was on my second shot of Scotch, before Devi returned.

  “Get yourself a cup of tea, dear,” Josephine said, barely glancing up from her cards when Devi walked in.

  I found it difficult to keep my mind on my cards with Devi there. Like a ripple on a pond, her presence had a subtle effect on the atmosphere.

  She poured herself a cup of tea and sat down across from me. Seeing the unassigned pile of paper clips and the whiskey bottle, she looked at Josephine and raised her eyebrows.

  “Join us for a hand or two?” Josephine pushed a handful of clips into the center. “Call.”

  I was certain I had the cards this time, but after I laid out my three tens, Josephine laid out an inside straight. Lillian had already folded. With a satisfied look, Josephine pulled the pot that included most of my remaining paper clips to her side of the table.

  I shook my head and relaxed into a fake drawl. “Miz Bartlett, I do believe you are way out of my league. I better quit now less’n I risk losing the ranch.”

  With a grin, Devi pushed half her clips in my direction. “Be my guest.”

  “Why that’s mighty nice of you, ma’am. Mighty nice.”

  “Just a minute. We have a procedure for a situation like this,” Josephine said. “You may have more clips, but first you have to tell us a story.”

  “We call it naked poker,” Lillian said with a chuckle of her own. She’d also had a shot of Scotch, and it was clear she was feeling its effects.

  “Excuse me?” Devi said.

  “We play for paper clips and stories,” Josephine clarified. “We didn’t think the staff would stand by if we started stripping. But Lill and I are getting mighty tired of Edna and Myrtle’s stories.”

  Devi smiled that great smile. “So that’s what it’s about.” Then she turned to me. “How about it, Detective? You cashing out, or going for a new stake?”

  “Since you offered me a stake, you can call me Mac.”

  “And we don’t do none of that sweetness-and-light stuff, Mac,” Lillian said with a hiccup. “Got to be down and dirty. Otherwise, we can’t remember it.”

  I shook my head and exchanged a look with Devi, who laughed in response, and it occurred to me this was turning out to be the best evening I’d had in a while. Not only was the company pleasant, the Scotch was excellent.

  “A story. Hmm.” I cast about for an idea as the three women got their laughter under control. Then I took another sip of Scotch and began.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Devi

  When I returned to Josephine’s with my toothbrush and a change of clothes, I was initially discomfited by the presence of the detective—his friends do call him Mac. Remembering how it had felt like a warm hug when he’d draped his coat on my shoulders at the restaurant, I struggled to act as if we were back on the more restrained footing of our first meeting. But any discomfort was quickly dispelled by Mac’s lighthearted interactions with Josephine and Lillian.

  “A story, hmm?” He sat back. “For sure you ladies have one to tell about me now that you’ve wiped me out. And I am hoping I can convince you to keep the specifics of our . . . association this evening to yourselves. Otherwise, how’s it going to look? A macho guy like me losing my grubstake playing five-card draw with senior citizens.”

  “Nice try, Mac,” Josephine said, putting out a hand to intercept the clips I’d pushed in his direction. “But no cigar. You want to play, you pay.”

  I watched the interaction carefully, seeking any sign Mac was the slightest bit embarrassed or annoyed about losing. But all I saw were lips trying to look firm, but failing, and eyes filled with a humorous glint.

  “Okay, let’s see. How about this? I microwaved my sister’s doll.”

  Josephine shrugged. “Depends on how old you were and what happened next.”

  “I was twelve. The doll’s head exploded, and the body melted.”

  “What did she do?” Lillian asked.

  “Before or after?”

  “Both,” Josephine said, clearly withholding full approval.

  “She was ten. A real brat. Still is, as a matter of fact. What she did was make a commotion while I was sneaking out to be with my friends. One of the guys had liberated a bottle of vodka and a pack of cigarettes from his folks, and we were intent on seeing what drinking and smoking were all about. Not only did she stop me from going, my friends were busted as well. We were all mad as wet cats. Except, well, I didn’t admit it, of course, but I was secretly relieved. I expect I cooked the doll so nobody would suspect. As for what she did after that, well, suffice it to say she’s never forgiven me. But then, it was her favorite doll.”

  That was all said with a humorous deprecation, and I couldn’t help it, I liked this man. And obviously so did Josephine and Lillian.

  Josephine cut her pile of clips in half and passed it to Mac. “I liked the exploding-head part,” she said, clearly trying not to smile. “You need another round?” She pointed at Mac’s glass.

  “Don’t tempt me. It’s exceptional. Although I’ve never heard of Erdradour before.”

  “Not surprising. Compared to Dewar’s, it’s microscopic. It’s the only distillery in Scotland that still does everything by hand. My husband brought back several bottles when he went to Saint Andrews to golf.”

  Mac picked up the bottle and looked at the label. “Hope he didn’t have to take out a second mortgage.”

  “Why do you say that?” Josephine said.

  “This Scotch is thirty years old. It must have set him back a pretty penny. Guess I should have passed on that second shot. Don’t want you accused of bribing a police officer.”

  Josephine waved his words away. “Please, have some more.”

  He shook his head. “As it is, you’re stuck with me until I clear what I’ve already drunk.”

  We settled down to play. Mac won a hand and so did I, but then Josephine wiped us all out with a series of masterful bluffs. At least, that’s what I suspected when she refused to show her cards after forcing the rest of us to fold.

  “That does it for me,” Mac said, pushing back from the table.

  I glanced at my watch and was shocked to discover it was after midnight.

  ~ ~ ~

  After everyone left, Josephine and I spent a short, peaceful night, but I didn’t spend it on the couch.

  “That couch may be comfortable for sitting, but not for sleeping,” Josephine said, offering me the other side of the bed.

  We braced the front door with one of the dining room chairs, but I thought it unlikely we had anything to worry about. If there was any danger, I was sure Mac would have arranged for Lillian to be guarded, and he would have spent the night on Josephine’s couch himself. He seemed quite taken with both Josephine and Lillian. I doubted he’d chance anything happening to either of them.

  I lay awake for a time, thinking about what Josephine and Lillian had discovered. Not only about Eddie and the grocery thefts, but the larger thefts, if that’s what they were.

  What worried me the most was that if there was someone making off with residents’ valuables, then Josephine could become a target. Her painting was too large for someone to carry off surreptitiously, but I doubted that would stop a dedicated thief, not once they discovered the painting was worth millions.

  Eventually, my thoughts drifted back to the evening just past, and smiling at the memory of Mac’s exploding-doll story, I drifted off to sleep.

  In the morning, I awakened to the smell of coffee. When I walked into the kitchen, I found Josephine chopping onions and Lillian sitting at the table, watching.

  “My, you two are early birds.”

  “I hope we didn’t disturb you, dear,” Josephine said.

  I bl
inked. Had Josephine really just called me dear? A slip of the tongue, no doubt.

  “No. Not at all. I probably ought to go. I think you’ll be fine as long as you stick together.”

  “And we do have our pull cords,” Josephine said, referring to the emergency cords in each room that can be used to summon help. “But don’t leave yet, dear. I’m making omelets. I have onions, mushroom, zucchini, and cheese. Your choice.”

  There was that “dear” again. Well, we had slept together, after all.

  “All of the above would be delightful.” I was too hungry to turn down Josephine’s offer.

  “That’s what I thought,” Lillian said. “Would you like coffee or tea?”

  Lillian poured me a cup of coffee, which I needed to wake up properly. After a couple more minutes at the stove, Josephine set plates in front of us.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Josephine said, turning back to the stove for the third plate. “We have to do something about Eddie if we want to sleep at night. And you can’t watch over me more than a night or two, Devi.”

  “I don’t mind, but it might cause problems if it got out I was spending nights here. I’m sure Mr. Souter would think something nefarious was going on.”

  “Well, it is,” Lillian said. “I’m convinced someone is stealing from us. If we ask around, I expect we’ll find other things are missing.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said. “If he’s responsible, Eddie might hear about it.”

  “He may not be the thief, you know,” Lillian said. “It could be someone a lot smarter than Eddie. You see, I just heard a rumor about a missing stamp. Do either of you think Eddie would know anything about valuable stamps?”

  “You mean, like a postage stamp?” Josephine said.

  “Exactly.”

  “And who’s missing it?”

  “Dot Todhoffer.”

  “Really?” Josephine said. “Dot’s a stamp collector? I thought she was almost blind.”

  “She hasn’t always been almost blind. Besides, it was her husband who was the collector.”

  “How does she know a stamp is missing?” I said.