Riverboat Roulette

by Carolyn Keene

  “I am so in love with it. I wish we could really see all of it, not just the room where the tournament is being held.” Joanne looked at me and nodded vaguely, but didn’t reveal anything else. I leaned forward conspiratorally. “Did I see you go through the restricted door earlier?” I whispered.

  Joanne looked at me with a perfectly neutral expression on her face. “Nope,” she said. Then she twirled her hair. “Not me.”

  I had her tell! And it wasn’t only a tell when she bluffed in poker. She also twirled her hair when she was lying in real life. Finally, some information I could use.

  “Oh, sorry,” I said, leaning back. “I must have seen someone who looked like you.”

  Robert dealt the next hand, and we were onto another round of betting, calling, raising, and folding.

  The game continued this way. I was dealt a lot of bad hands that I folded right away, but every once in a while I got a good enough hand to win some chips back. It reminded me that poker had a lot of boring moments for all its exciting ones. There was an easy chatter around the game. When we’d played with George and her family, of course, we’d all talked, but I’d been surprised when I had watched a professional tournament with Ned how much the players talked to one another. Brett, however, didn’t say a word. He just quietly dominated the game. His stack of chips was far and away the largest on the table. Even through his sunglasses, however, I could feel that his attention was focused on me. It was unnerving. Joanne never betrayed emotion one way or the other. She could win a huge hand or lose one and her expression didn’t change. Hers was a professional-level poker face.

  Before I realized it, another half hour had gone by. While I was doing okay in the game, I wasn’t getting anywhere with the case.

  Robert dealt another hand. I folded. Brett stayed in. When no one was looking, I moved my hand, knocking a pile of chips onto the floor.

  “Oh my gosh!” I said. “I am such a klutz!”

  I slid out of my chair and under the table, ostensibly picking up my chips. Brett’s backpack was just two feet away from me. I crawled forward and put my hand out to open the bag’s clasp, but something stopped me. I looked up to see Brett peering under the table.

  I jolted up, hitting my head on the table.

  “Ow! You scared me,” I said.

  “Find all your chips?” Brett asked.

  “Just one more,” I answered. I reached behind the backpack and, using a sleight of hand trick, pulled out a chip and showed it to Brett.

  I returned to my seat, rubbing the back of my head. George and Bess looked at me, their eyes wide.

  The game continued. I wasn’t getting any good cards, and my stack of chips was decreasing with each ante. If I didn’t win soon, I would be out of this game. I felt like I was letting George down by not making more progress.

  “After this hand, we’ll take a stretch break,” Robert announced.

  Suddenly it hit me. I wasn’t just playing the game safe; I was playing the case safe. The time constraint had made me so rattled that I had lost my confidence. I needed to push Joanne and Brett a lot harder. If I wanted to catch Joanne in a lie, I was going to need to be direct with her, to force her hand.

  I turned to Joanne. “You were behind me on the gangplank! Did I see you get into a bit of a squabble with Margot when you got on the boat?”

  Joanne looked at me sharply. “It was just a professional disagreement,” she said calmly.

  “Oh,” I replied.

  I looked at the cards Robert had dealt me: a ten and a queen, both spades.

  Mr. Rainey started the bidding at two hundred dollars. I called. It wasn’t a great hand, but I needed to be aggressive. Across from me Joanne raised the bet to three hundred. I looked at my stack of chips. Three hundred dollars was a good chunk of what I had left, but it was time to take a risk. I added a hundred dollars and matched her bet; so did Mr. Rainey. Brett and Carla folded.

  “I mean,” I said to Joanne, “I understand why Margot was suspicious. If you run your own pet-rescue organization, why are you here?”

  Joanne paused and twirled her hair. “I just want to support a fellow animal rescuer.”

  I knew she was lying, but I didn’t know about what, exactly.

  Robert turned over the flop. There was jack of spades and a king of spades, as well as a seven of clubs. I looked from the flop to my hand and back. I was very, very close to having a royal flush: the best hand in all of poker. I just needed an ace of spades.

  I looked down at my stack and pushed half the chips forward, my heart racing. “I’ll bet five hundred dollars,” I said.

  “Woo-ee,” Mr. Rainey said. “I’m out.” He slapped down his cards.

  Joanne stared at me as she pushed in five hundred dollars’ worth of chips. It was a much smaller percentage of her stack than mine.

  Robert flipped over the next card—the turn. It was a three of clubs. Not helpful to me at all.

  “I check,” I said. I turned to Joanne and decided to see how she’d respond to a more direct approach. “It’s just that I thought I heard Critter Kings was in financial trouble.” Of course I didn’t know whether this was true, but if it was, it would be a motive for the theft. I’d watch her reaction carefully. “I know what you’re trying to do,” Joanne said. “You’re trying to get inside my head in order to win this game. It’s not going to work. I bet another five hundred dollars.”

  I looked from my stack of chips to Joanne’s. Calling her bet would put me all in. If I lost the bet, my access to Brett and Joanne would be much more difficult. Both of them were doing well, so they would be involved in this game for a while longer. And Robert was keeping a way closer watch on outsiders talking to players than George’s dealer had, so there was no chance of talking to them if I was out of the game. But I was down enough chips that if I didn’t go all in now, I’d be forced to next time . . . and who knew what cards I’d have then? If I won, then at least I’d have another opportunity to question Joanne and to try to get into Brett’s bag.

  Slowly, I pushed my entire stack of chips into the center of the table. “I’m all in.”

  Behind me, I heard the crowd gasp. I looked back at George and Bess. George nodded at me. Robert looked between me and Joanne, his hand ready to flip the last card.

  I held my breath as he turned it over. I just hoped I could stay in the game.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The River Card

  IT WAS AN ACE OF spades! I couldn’t believe it. I had my royal flush!

  I looked across the table. Joanne’s face was calm and collected. I had no idea how good her hand was, but I knew it couldn’t be better than mine. I could feel the corners of my mouth twitching as I tried to fight off a smile and maintain my poker face. Winning this hand was fun, but it wasn’t the point.

  Joanne waited for me to reveal my cards.

  “I don’t think I heard your answer before,” I said, as I put down my ten of spades. “Is Kitty Kings in financial trouble?”

  Joanne didn’t say anything. She just stared as I pushed the jack of spades from the communal cards into a row with my ten.

  “No way,” I heard George say behind me. A gasp worked its way through the crowd as they realized my hand.

  Joanne remained quiet, though. I left a spot for the queen I was holding and slid the king into position. I kept the queen in my hand, refusing to put it down, as I slid the ace next to the king.

  Joanne stared at me. I stared back. Behind me, I could hear the crowd growing restless.

  Finally, Joanne said, “No, the organization is not in any financial trouble.” She said it clearly and firmly. Most importantly, she didn’t twirl her hair.

  I felt my whole body slump. I thought that I would at least be able to confirm a motive for Joanne. I put the queen down on the table.

  Behind me the crowd cheered.

  “A royal flush!” George squealed.

  I looked across at Joanne. She didn’t even bother to show me her hand, instead tossing
the cards on the table with a scowl, conceding that I had won.

  “Nice playing,” Mr. Rainey said to me as I gathered my chips.

  “That was really incredible, Nancy,” Carla said. “I’ve been watching poker since I was five years old and I can count on one hand how many royal flushes I’ve seen.”

  Brett mumbled something under his breath, but I couldn’t understand what he said. Even though I’d spent only a couple of hours with him, I knew that was the closest to any kind of congratulations he would give me.

  “All right,” Robert said. “We’ll take a twenty-minute break before we head into the final stretch to see who will win the coveted trophy.”

  Bess and George ran over to me. Bess threw her arms around me.

  “That was awesome!” George said. “Although I do have to admit that I’m a little jealous. I’ve never gotten a royal flush ever, and you play poker a handful of times and you get one.”

  “It was really impressive,” Bess agreed.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “What’s wrong?” George asked.

  “Did something happen with the case?” Bess whispered.

  I looked around. Joanne and Brett were still hovering by the table.

  “I could really use some fresh air,” I said, nodding toward the empty outer deck. Bess and George understood immediately.

  We stepped outside. The air was cold, but it felt good.

  “Poker is exhausting,” I said, appreciating how the bracing air was waking me up.

  “It really is,” George said. “It takes a lot of concentration.”

  “Any new thoughts on the case?” Bess asked.

  “Not really,” I said. “I know there’s something going on with both of them, but I can’t prove that it has anything to do with the money. I’m starting to wonder if either of them is involved at all.”

  “Really?” George asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Well, at least not Joanne.” I explained how I had worked out her tell and how she used it not just when she lied playing poker, but also when she lied in real life. “So I don’t think she was lying when she said Kitty Kings wasn’t in financial trouble,” I said.

  “As suspects they were good bets,” Bess said. “They both had a motive and they both acted weird around the crash.”

  “I know, but if I’ve learned anything in the past hour, it’s that you can’t only take the safe bet. Sometimes you have to take a risk.”

  “It’s true,” George agreed. “You gather information about your fellow players and then you make your move.”

  Out of the corner of my eye something caught my attention. I looked closer. “Catherine?” I said. “Is that you?”

  Catherine stood up and came over to us. “Oh, hi,” she said. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice me.”

  “Sorry,” I replied.

  “Are you okay?” Bess asked.

  “Yeah. I was just missing my mom. She loves this river. She actually met my dad on a riverboat, so it’s really tough that she’s not here. I don’t know if she’ll ever get to see the river again.” She was clearly fighting tears.

  “That’s really rough,” I said. “Is there nothing they can do?”

  “There’s an experimental treatment for her cancer that’s giving us some hope, but the insurance won’t pay for it. I don’t know what we’re going to do. I just wish I could be with her tonight.”

  None of us knew what to say. After a moment, Catherine straightened up. “I see Margot pacing frantically inside.” We turned and looked through the window. She was right; Margot did seem very agitated. “She’s probably wondering where I am,” Catherine continued. “I should go back in. Thanks for listening.”

  “Anytime,” Bess said.

  Catherine left us and we were quiet for a moment.

  All of a sudden, a groaning noise emitted from the boat. It felt like we came to a grinding halt. We all took a step forward, temporarily thrown off balance by the change in speed.

  “What’s going on?” Bess asked.

  I wasn’t sure, until slowly the boat started turning around.

  “We’re headed back,” I said. “I’m running out of time.” It was hard to keep the dismay out of my voice.

  “You can do this,” Bess tried to reassure me.

  “What if I can’t solve it?” I said. “What if all those cats and dogs suffer because of me? And what if Catherine missed out on spending time with her mom for no reason?”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Bess said firmly. “You are Nancy Drew!”

  “She’s right,” George said. “You can solve anything you put your mind to.”

  I looked around, trying to come up with a new angle on the case. It really felt magical as we floated through the darkness, the lights from the banks twinkling. Watching all the people inside the brightly lit main room made it feel like we were in our own little floating world.

  Through the window, I spotted Andy and Patrick together. They were both gesturing rapidly.

  “Look,” I said, pointing toward them.

  “Are they fighting?” George asked.

  “It certainly looks like it,” Bess said.

  Suddenly it hit me.

  “Joanne said that Kitty Kings is doing fine financially,” I said.

  George and Bess looked back at me blankly.

  “We assumed that they would steal the money in order to support their own organization,” I said.

  “Right,” Bess said. “We thought they would try to hurt Margot’s charity and help their own.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “but what if it has nothing to do with their charity? What if they personally need the money?”

  “Do you want to take another run at Joanne?” George asked.

  “I think it’s time to play a different card,” I answered as I headed toward the door.

  “Incorporating poker metaphors already,” George commented. “You learn fast, grasshopper.”

  We went back into the main room and headed toward Patrick and Andy. Before we could get there, though, they separated, Patrick heading in one direction and Andy the other.

  I hesitated for a moment, not sure who to follow.

  “Which way?” George asked.

  I stood paralyzed in the middle of the floor. It was like I could hear the clock ticking. I looked back and forth between Andy and Patrick. Patrick veered to the right and entered the men’s room.

  “Andy,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  We picked up the pace and headed toward Andy as he made his way into the kitchen. He went through the door. I looked around and grabbed a tray filled with glasses that was sitting on a stand just outside the door. I heaved it onto my shoulder. It was heavier than it looked. The empty glasses swayed on top, and for a second I was terrified that they would tumble to the ground and shatter, but I managed to get the tray stabilized. Bess and George pushed the door open for me, and I walked into the restricted area before heading left into the kitchen.

  The kitchen was a whirlwind of activity. Waiters were moving in and out, picking up full trays and returning empty ones. Cooks were working the line, prepping, cooking, and plating appetizer after appetizer. It was chaotic and orderly at the same time.

  I spotted Andy in the corner, loading a tray with plates of chicken skewers. I put my tray of glasses down, and we made our way to him.

  We’d gone only a few steps when all of a sudden a voice yelled out, “Hey! You can’t be back here.”

  I turned to see a red-faced man who looked to be in his forties and sported a chef’s hat pointing at me with a spatula.

  “I’m just—” I started, but the man didn’t let me finish.

  “I don’t care. No guests in the kitchen.” He crossed over to us, still brandishing his spatula. “No guests in the kitchen,” he repeated as he herded us to the door.

  He escorted us back into the restricted area and then returned to the kitchen.

  Bess, George, and I stood for a moment, processing what had
just happened.

  “Now what are we going to do?” Bess asked.

  “Do you want to try Patrick?”

  “I gue—” I started to say, but trailed off when I spotted a doorway across the hall marked BREAK ROOM. I had missed it earlier. There was a narrow window cut into the door, which revealed a row of lockers against the wall.

  “Lockers,” I said, indicating the door.

  “They’re probably for the crew,” Bess said. “A place for them to store their stuff while they work.”

  “And their money,” I added.

  We didn’t say a word, just walked through the door. The room was cluttered with an old, ratty couch, a few tables, and even a sad, dead plant that looked like it hadn’t been watered in several months. Coats and food wrappers were strewn about. Lockers lined the room’s perimeter, covering the portholes. With only a dim ceiling light, the room felt dark and claustrophobic.

  “Here’s Andy’s locker,” George said, pointing to one in the corner that was labeled with his name. “But it’s locked tightly.” She tugged on the combination lock hanging from the handle.

  “I know how to crack those,” I said.

  “You do?” George asked. “I thought I was the lock picker in this group.”

  “My dad bought a safe a long time ago in order to store his passport and some other important papers, but when he needed to get into it before a trip, he’d forgotten the combination. I spent the whole weekend learning how to crack it.”

  “Hey, I want to learn too!” Bess laughed.

  “It’s not that hard. You know when you spin a combination lock, you can kind of feel the lock click into place?” I asked.

  Bess nodded.

  “You can use that feeling to find the combination on any lock.”

  “Can you crack it in ten minutes?” George asked. “Because that’s how much time there is until you have to get back to the game.”

  “I can crack it in two,” I said, “but I need one of you to take notes.”

  “On it,” Bess said, extracting a tiny notebook and a pen from her purse.

  I leaned forward and tugged down gently on the lock, pulling on the shackle—the loop at the top that goes through the hole in the locker—so that the dial resisted as I tried to turn it. The lock made a grinding sound, so I slowly released the pressure on the shackle and kept spinning the dial clockwise. It still resisted, so I lightened the pressure a little more and spun the dial again. This time it resisted at only one spot.