by Mary Ellis
“I can’t even imagine what the first would be.” Michael tapped the papers into a pile and slipped them into an envelope. “Even after we turn over the new evidence to the police, you and I aren’t done with Miss Stewart.”
Beth lifted an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate?”
“Rachel was on the payroll at D.K. Financials and also getting separate kickbacks from George Roush. How far would she go to protect the biggest fish on her hook?”
“You think Rachel murdered Paul?”
“She could have incapacitated him with drugs. According to the toxicology report, ketamine was found in his bloodstream. That’s a strong tranquilizer.”
Beth shook her head. “Then she lifted him onto a stool, twice, because it didn’t work the first time? You never mentioned that Rachel was an Olympic bodybuilder.”
“There might be holes in my theory, but Reverend Dean was demanding the church’s half-million dollars back. He was about to bring down their house of cards. Maybe someone helped Rachel, or she could have hired a hit man.”
“How would a sweet girl from Brookhaven know where to hire a hit man?”
“Everything and everyone is available on the Internet. That’s why I plan to get my hands on Rachel’s DNA. If the Mississippi Crime Lab runs it against evidence from the rope and stool, who knows what we’ll find?”
Beth stifled a laugh behind a coughing jag.
“Speak your mind, Kirby. What’s so funny?”
“That’s a great idea. But if you’re right, how will you explain to your mother you were engaged to a murderer?”
“Could have been worse. Who knows what plans Rachel had for me down the line? Anderson Accountants carried a two-million-dollar life insurance policy on each employee, payable to the spouse.”
Shrugging into her sweater, Beth picked up the envelope. “Okay, I’m on my way to the station.”
Michael blocked her path at the door. “It’s late now and we’re both tired. Lejeune and Chief McNeil have probably left for the day. Why don’t you take tomorrow off while I deliver the file alone?” He plucked the envelope from her hand. “Use the time to bring Nate up to date on the case, or go out to your uncle’s and kill some Coke cans, or maybe have your hair cut.”
“What’s wrong with my hair?” Beth tugged on one curly lock.
“Nothing, but I can talk to Lejeune first thing in the morning and then head straight to Jackson. Let me take the lead on this.” Michael opened the door for her. “Go home, partner, and get some sleep. I’ll call Rachel to see if she’s available for a late lunch or early dinner tomorrow. The next time you see me, I’ll have several samples of her DNA.”
FORTY-SEVEN
Bay St. Louis
Isabelle took at least a dozen deep breaths on her way from the employee restroom into the lounge area in an attempt to calm her nerves. Per Mr. Lewis’s suggestion, she put on twice her usual amount of makeup and had practiced balancing a tray in one hand for an hour. Per Mrs. Doucet’s insistence, she wore the highest heels she’d brought on vacation.
Mrs. Doucet delivered instructions to the next shift with a take-no-prisoners attitude: “Remember, no gum chewing, no counting tips in front of customers, no eating, and no drinking anything other than bottled water. Never argue with players or intervene during their disagreements. Pay absolutely zero attention to a player’s hand while serving drinks. If a player requests a special food not on the buffet, call down to the kitchen. It will be sent up immediately. Security will always be close by, but basically you are to remain as invisible as possible. Any questions?” Mrs. Doucet glanced around from one woman to the next.
Isabelle had so many she didn’t know where to start, so she simply shook her head. “No, ma’am.”
“Good, Isabelle and Mindy, you’re needed on the second floor. Hostesses in the main poker room have been working for four hours without a break.” She scurried off to give instructions to a group of buffet servers about to go on duty.
“We’re on,” said her new partner, Mindy. The young, fresh-faced woman led Isabelle toward the main playing floor. “Let’s hope tips will be better today than yesterday. I didn’t even clear two bills.”
Isabelle pushed the button for the elevator as she mulled over the amount “two bills.”
“I’m confused as to how we can serve drinks if we’re not allowed to set them on the table and we can’t look at a player’s hand. Won’t there be a lot of spillage?”
Mindy gaped at her, bewildered. “You’re joking, right? A player’s hand refers to his or her cards. Some poker players worry that you’ll signal what cards they’re holding. That’s why you shouldn’t look too curious.”
Isabelle silently scolded herself. “I knew that. I was just teasing.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Mindy rolled her eyes. “Just don’t spill a drink on the felt or on a customer. I’ve seen newbies fired for less. This could be the best-paying job you’ll ever get.”
And the shortest in duration, Isabelle thought as the door opened.
Inside the poker room, the noise from the blackjack and roulette tables faded. The seven or eight players concentrating on the game barely glanced up as the new hostesses passed through the door.
“Gentlemen and lady,” the dealer nodded to the sole female. “There will be a shift change among hostesses if any of you wish to reward superb service.”
The two ladies Isabelle and Mindy were replacing glided around the table accepting gratuities. From their expressions, Isabelle assumed the split would surpass that of Mindy’s mediocre previous day.
“Have a good one,” said the taller of the two.
“Break a leg.” The smaller girl stuffed bills into her clear plastic tote and headed for the door.
As the senior employee on duty, Mindy took charge at the buffet table. In a quiet voice she said to Isabelle, “We have ham, turkey, pastrami, and corned beef. Swiss, Monterey Jack, Colby, and smoked cheddar. Italian, whole-wheat, and Jewish rye. We’ll call down if someone wants gluten-free. For salads, we have potato, pasta, coleslaw, and Waldorf.” She pointed a red-nailed finger at a pair of rolling tables on wheels. “Players who want a snack can have one without leaving the game.” Mindy walked to the beverage cart to continue her tutelage. “We serve coffee, tea, and soft drinks, plus beer, wine, and top-shelf liquors. Again, if someone wants a fancy cordial, it’s a phone call away. You do know how to make standard cocktails, don’t you?”
“Of course, I reviewed Mrs. Doucet’s bar guide all last night.” Isabelle tapped the napkins into a neat pile. While Nate insisted this was the worst idea I ever had.
“Any chips we’re given during the game go in here.” Mindy pointed to a basket tucked between the sweetened lime juice and lemon wedges. “At the end of our shift, we divvy up. Okay?” The girl’s dark eyes sparkled.
“Sounds good.” Isabelle placed a tablet and pen on her tray.
“I’ll take the first spin around so you can watch me.” Mindy flew into action, starting at the end where apparently the bid was not. She patiently waited behind the chairs of players as they considered their options. She didn’t write down anything and yet seemed to have no trouble remembering every request.
Isabelle’s stomach churned with apprehension. She had trouble remembering a grocery list of four items.
While Mindy mixed and delivered the drinks, Isabelle studied the seven players: a thirtyish, well-dressed lady and six men, including Johnny Herman, who winked at her when no one was looking. One man looked barely old enough to gamble, two appeared to be in their seventies, and one gentleman had to weigh four hundred pounds if he weighed an ounce.
“Don’t stare at Mr. Malloy,” warned Mindy. “It annoys him. If Big Sam likes you, his tip will match your salary for a week.”
“Good to know,” whispered Isabelle. But it wasn’t Big Sam who had captured her interest. The sixth man, totally focused on the game, looked very familiar. Even with long hair, a thick mustache, and dark glasses, Isabelle would rec
ognize her ex-husband anywhere. Amazingly, huge piles of chips sat in front of him.
With no one wanting a snack, Isabelle tried to follow the action but soon gave up. Texas Hold’em wasn’t a game she could learn in one shift.
“That’s too rich for my blood.”
“I bet you’re holding threes.”
“I’ll call and raise you five.”
“Okay, you’re up,” said Mindy, breaking her concentration. “Make your round, but remember not to interrupt the play.” Her warning struck more fear than a teacher’s command, Time’s up. Turn in your exam.
With pen and tablet in hand, Isabelle worked her way to Craig’s chair. “Would you like something to drink, sir?”
“Sweet tea with—” Craig sputtered to an abrupt stop. “What in blazes are you doing here?”
“I work here, sir. This is my first day on the job.” Isabelle held her pen poised over her tablet. “Was that sweet tea with lemon?”
“This is so not possible,” he muttered.
“Say, friend, you here to play poker or catch up with old girlfriends?” Johnny Herman punctuated his question with a chuckle.
“I call.” Craig’s cheeks flamed bright red. “Sorry. For a moment I thought I was looking at my ex-wife.”
Everyone laughed as the bid passed to the next player.
“Your drink, sir?” Isabelle asked.
“Know what, sweetheart? Skip the tea. Fix me a sandwich—ham, cheese, and turkey, and stack it up tall. Gimmie some salad too. Just nothing with nuts. I’ll eat after this hand.”
“You get the sandwich started. I’ll take the drink order.” The ever-efficient Mindy appeared at her side.
On wobbly legs that had nothing to do with her high heels, Isabelle tottered toward the buffet table. One quick glance at the poker table confirmed her suspicion. Despite his dark glasses, her ex-husband was glaring daggers at her. Refusing to become intimidated, she made a sandwich Dagwood would have been proud of. On the plate she added mayo and scoops of coleslaw and Waldorf salad. Funny how you remember someone’s favorites even after several years.
By the time she placed the plate on one of the rolling tables, Craig had risen to his feet. “Gentlemen, ma’am, with your permission I’ll sit out a hand or two.” He pushed his chips into a pile.
“Hurry back, Craig from Tennessee. You have temporary custody of lots of my money.” Big Sam laughed, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I’ll be back before you know it, Mr. Malloy.” Craig nodded at the other players and approached Isabelle looking as if he might burst into flames. He whispered in a voice only she could hear. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but you need to get out of here.”
“Yes, of course,” she said. “I’d be happy to get you some sweet tea.” Isabelle marched off to the beverage cart and took her time filling the order. When she returned with the unrequested drink, Craig had already eaten half his sandwich.
“I can’t believe you have nothing better to do on your honeymoon,” he hissed between mouthfuls of salad.
“Nate and I are on a humanitarian mission.” She brushed crumbs into the palm of her hand. “I’m an actor on the stage of life.”
“No, you’re a crazy person who’s rapidly turning me into one.” Craig shoveled in another forkful of food.
“Are you in a big hurry, sir?” Isabelle modulated her tone because Mindy was eavesdropping.
“Yes. I’m eager to get back to the action and away from someone who resembles a former thorn in my foot.” Craig threw down his napkin and shoved away his plate.
Isabelle returned to the drink cart, where Mindy was ready with an admonishment. “Stay away from that player. He doesn’t like your looks, and Big Sam doesn’t like bad vibes at his game.”
“Why should I be worried about this Big Sam guy, other than the big-tip angle?” Isabelle wiped condensation from the cooler with a fresh cloth.
Mindy was ready to explode. “Because he’s the biggest whale in professional poker—no pun intended. Mr. Malloy brings tons of money into this casino whenever he’s in town, and the Golden Magnolia wants to keep him happy. Were you born yesterday, Isabelle?”
She rubbed her forehead. “I think so.”
“Big Sam organizes private games, and the house gets a cut. One of those pots could buy you a new house, silly girl.” Mindy produced a glorious smile as the security guard approached the cooler of Cokes. “Just handle the sandwich bar while I serve drinks,” she ordered.
Isabelle would have happily followed Mindy’s instructions if only the poker room hadn’t erupted into chaos.
Craig suddenly threw down his cards and grabbed his throat with both hands. “What have you done?” he gasped. “I told you nothing with nuts.” Craig’s eyes bugged from his head, while his cheeks turned pale. When he struggled to stand, he fell back into his chair.
What is he talking about? Craig used to eat Payday bars and Rocky Road ice cream like they were going out of style. While Isabelle watched helplessly from behind the cold cuts, other casino employees sprang into action.
Security guards rushed into the room as the dealer helped Craig to his feet. “Paramedics are on their way, sir. They’ll be here shortly.” The dealer supported one of his arms, while a guard took hold of the other.
“No paramedics,” Craig wheezed, his words labored and slurred. “Just get me to the restroom. I have an Epi pen.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, the staff half lifted, half dragged Craig into the private bathroom for the high-stakes area.
Epi pen? Her ex-husband wasn’t allergic to anything. Craig had been known to eat week-old Moo Shoo Gai Pan with no adverse effects. Isabelle glanced around the room. The young gambler looked bored, the rest of the players concerned, and Big Sam looked furious—at her.
“Mindy, let’s have a round of drinks,” called Big Sam. “But I’d like you and you alone to make them.”
“Coming right up, sir,” Mindy said. Then to Isabelle she whispered, “What did you give that guy?”
“Yes, what did you give him, Miss Price?” This question came from Mr. Lewis. He’d slipped into the room during the melee.
Isabelle’s knees felt weak. “Turkey, ham, and Swiss cheese on Italian bread. Coleslaw and that apple salad on the side.”
“Waldorf salad contains raisins, celery, eggs, and walnuts in addition to apples,” said Mindy.
“I didn’t realize that. I’ve never made it at home.”
“It’s your professional responsibility to learn the ingredients of what you serve. Information is available at the start of each shift.” Mr. Lewis looked down his Roman nose at her as if he thought she had tried to murder the man.
Not that she didn’t have good reason to in the past. “I’m so sorry, sir.”
For the next minute—the longest in her life—everyone watched the door to the restroom until Craig emerged. Looking pale, he walked shakily back to the table.
“Sorry for the drama, folks,” he said when he reached his chair. “I’m fine, but I need to lay down a while. Mr. Malloy, can I take a rain check on the game?”
“Sure, no problem. I’m glad you’re all right. Come back when you’re feeling up to it.”
“Thank you, sir.” Craig hung on to the table while the dealer cashed out his impressive pile of chips. Then he slowly shuffled from the room as every pair of eyes followed his progress.
“If we’re all in agreement, why don’t we take a one-hour break?” Big Sam struggled to his feet and approached the bar. “Forget the drink, Mindy, but this is for you.” He laid down a chip.
From where she stood Isabelle could see a five followed by two zeros.
Mr. Lewis addressed the whale rather solicitously. “Why don’t we get some lunch, Sam?”
“Sure, but let’s clear something up before we go. I don’t want that woman anywhere near me.” Mr. Malloy pointed a stubby finger in Isabelle’s direction. “If she’s on the floor, I’ll play down the road.”
Although she hadn’t been planning on a long career in casino service, she’d never been fired in her life. “I’m so sorry. I hope that player will be okay.” Sobbing, she reached for her clear plastic tote containing her lipstick and tissues.
“Wait,” said Mindy. “I’ll go cash in the chips and give you your share.”
“No, they are all yours. I consider this a lesson learned.” Isabelle cast a teary smile at her short-lived partner and hurried toward the elevator.
Downstairs in the employee lounge, she pulled on her capris and T-shirt and threw the uniform into a hamper. Not bothering with her hourly wage, Isabelle sprinted through the casino to the parking lot. With any luck, she could catch up with Craig before he left. After scanning the parking lot for five minutes, she gave up and headed to her car.
Inside her vehicle sat both her current husband and ex-husband. Neither man looked happy as Isabelle climbed into the backseat.
“I can’t believe you let her walk into a dangerous situation,” said Craig. “Poker players take the game very seriously. We’re talking about a lot of money.”
“If by her you mean me, nobody let me do anything.” She poked her finger at Craig’s shoulder. “And since when did you develop a nut allergy?”
Craig swiveled around. “You are crazy, just as I suspected.”
“Everybody calm down,” Nate demanded. “You are not going back in there,” he said to Isabelle. “That room had security cameras and I had a plant in that game,” he said to Craig, sounding smug.
“A plant? Tell me what’s going on or I’m outta here.”
“Relax,” said Nate. “We know you’re up to something, and we want to help. I asked a retired poker player to join the game to keep an eye on Izzy. That Big Sam character is filthy rich and a little scary.”
“Keep away from Malloy and stay out of this casino. I mean it, Nate. Mind your own business or I’ll have security bar you from the premises.” Craig tried to exit, but Nate was too quick. He jerked him back inside like a rag doll.
