Dead Man's Hand
Authors: Steven Meehan
Dead Man’s Hand
Steven Meehan
Copyright © 2015 by Steven Meehan
www.stevenmeehan.com
All Rights Reserved
Edited by Erica Ford
Cover Art by Leah Kaye Suttle
This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are
strictly the product of my imagination or are used fictitiously. And any
resemblance to anyone, living or dead is purely coincidental.
To my daughter, Fiona Lily, for whom I would sacrifice
anything.
Acknowledgments
I
cannot thank everyone enough who has been involved with making this book become
a reality. But I will try. I want to thank my father who read the
completed first draft and told me that I still had a long way to go to have a
completed novel. To my sister Jeanne and her husband Joe, who took the
time to read early drafts and gave me their honest opinions and
encouragement. To my brother Chris and my sister Katie who never stopped
telling me to chase this dream until it became a reality. To my friends
Andrew, Tim and Beth who read early drafts and gave me their candid
opinions. And I want to give a special thanks to Erica, who worked
wonders transforming my manuscript into the finished novel I have now.
And to everyone else who gave me advice or kept me focused, I thank you all for
all the help you gave me.
Dead Man’s Hand
Contents
Acknowledgments
I have had my fair share
of bad days, but the last twenty-four hours ranked as the worst of my life.
I mean it wasn’t every day that you ended up standing over your own
bullet-ridden corpse. There’s something about getting shot in the chest
that really puts a damper on your day. But, surprising as is might sound,
getting shot wasn’t the worst part. Alexis and I had worked very, very hard to
come up with this plan. Granted, we didn’t have a lot of time to make it
but we had been very thorough, at least, we thought we had been.
Apparently we were wrong.
I stood staring down at
my wounds when I heard something that pulled my attention up to Bertrand
Dempsey’s wild eyes. Why were those normally steadfast eyes so
wild? This man’s patience and determination were legendary; they were
central to every story, rumor, or tale that I had ever heard about him.
But for some reason, in this moment, that legendary resolve was broken. I
stared into those eyes as I struggled to find the right word to describe what I
found. But in the end, the only word that I could make fit was,
excitement.
There he was, standing
over my corpse, with the literal smoking gun in his hand, and he was excited
about it. What was wrong with the man? As he stood there, basking
in what he had done, his eyes shifted from my corpse to his next victim,
Alexis. The excited look in his eyes grew ever so slightly as he studied
the man standing next to my corpse. Was Dempsey truly demented?
Scratch that, of course he was demented, and if something didn’t change soon,
then I was just as demented for coming up with this plan. It had sounded
like a good idea at the time. But now, with Dempsey standing with a
loaded gun and turning his sights upon Alexis, I was beginning to have second
thoughts.
The next moment another
explosion erupted and before I knew it, Alexis was lying on the floor, gripping
his arm. Dempsey must really be enjoying himself to have simply shot
Alexis in the arm. If I had been able, I would have screamed. Why had I
let Alexis alter my plan at all? Then again, what did it matter
now? Alexis had assured me that with the noise Dempsey would cause when
he arrived, one of his neighbors was bound to call the police. Well
Dempsey had certainly made enough noise when he entered the house, but so far,
there were no police. You would think that someone driving right through
the front door would have gotten someone’s attention.
Dempsey didn’t own any
lightweight cars and this vehicle was no exception. So why was the night still
void of sirens? After all, I had only agreed to this alteration to my
plan because Alexis guaranteed that the police would arrive here in plenty of
time. And yet, they were still annoyingly absent.
When I had suggested that
the police might not arrive until it was too late, Alexis had also assured me
that he would be able to stretch out Dempsey’s actions until the police could
arrive. But I guess the wall slowing Dempsey down was just too much to
ask for since it had given way all too easily. And once he was through
the wall, he had lost no time finding the pair of us. Before either of us
could do anything, Dempsey shot me. Now he stood over Alexis, seemingly
taking his time and enjoying himself.
1
I listened to my
phone ring, wishing Matt had waited until after the tournament to call
me. But I should have known better. Especially since I had been
ducking his calls for the last few days. Taking a deep breath I tried to
rationalize ignoring this latest call as well; perhaps he would finally take a
hint and stop trying to get hold of me. Unfortunately, I knew better than
to really expect that to happen. It’s more likely that the sun will rise
blue tomorrow than that Matt would ever stop calling.
Keeping my eyes fixed on
the camcorder’s side display, I pulled the phone out of my pocket and greeted
my oldest friend. “Hey Matt, how’s it going?”
Fortunately, Matt wasn’t
normally one to hold a grudge, he would argue and fight about something for a
while but, eventually, he would cool down. In fact, it was entirely
possible that he wouldn’t even mention the ignored calls. (Of course this
apparent indifference would last just long enough for him to find the most
advantageous way to bludgeon me with guilt.) Therefore, it didn’t come as
a surprise when I heard him greet me with his typically cheerful tone.
“So are you ready for your tournament tomorrow, Marcus?”
That was the question I
had been expecting him to ask, but I hadn’t expected it to be his first
question. This was just a little too direct for him, which meant he was
trying to start out by setting me on edge. And while such direct
questions were normally the right way to do this, I had recently been steeling
myself against this particular tact. I bit my tongue and sighed just a
little, but quickly forced a smile as I answered the question as succinctly as
possible. “More or less.”
“More or less?”
Matt repeated immediately. What was that tone he used? Was that
aggravation or was it anger?
I shrugged my shoulders and offered a token explanation, hoping to deflect him
from his goal. “I have my entrance fee.”
Granted, I did feel bad
trying to keep him in the dark like this but that was only because I truly
treasured our friendship. Even if for no other reason than he had the
knack of being able to get me to smile. In fact, he was so skilled at
this that I was certain that were I in the middle of my own execution, somehow,
he would manage to coax me to smile or laugh. But then again, he also had
a tendency to overreact. Hence the need to keep some things, such as the
details of this tournament, secret. Before he could reply I tried to
lighten the mood just a little. “And that is all that matters.”
Normally this would have
drawn a laugh, but instead all that I received was a series of rather blunt
questions. All of which were fired off in such rapid succession that I
didn’t have a chance to answer even one as they flew from his lips. “You
just finished collecting your fee? The tournament is tomorrow,
right? Normally you’re quicker about that sort of thing, is something
wrong? Why have you been avoiding my calls? Have you been able to
study the location? Where is the tournament taking place?”
“Matt, stop asking me
questions.” I commanded in as firm a voice as I could manage without
being too insulting. “I can only answer one question at a time.”
“Go ahead and answer
then.” Matt replied with just a bit too much forced pleasantness in his
tone.
With the other end of the
phone now silent, I was able to begin processing his questions as I prepared to
answer them in a way that would appease my friend. Though, I really did
hope he was just kidding around with this whole interrogation. I answered
the first question, which was the only one that I was willing to answer, and
made sure to tinge my voice with an ever so slight amount of mock anger, as if
I had been offended by his barrage. “Matt give me a little bit more
credit than that. I’ve had my fee since before I pulled into the city.”
“And how long have you
been in the city?” I could easily imagine the frustration on his face.
I winced as I realized
that I had let slip the one thing that I hadn’t wanted to communicate. I
knew he was going to be less than thrilled with the answer, but I also knew
that I owed him for ignoring his calls. There was a small voice inside my
head that said I should just lie, but I quickly squashed it since I knew that
trying to lie to Matt would just be a gigantic waste of time. The only
real hope that I had of keeping him from digging all that hard into the details
was if I let him assume that I had just gotten wrapped up in my reconnaissance
and simply been unable to answer his calls.
Of course this was a
flimsy hope since it would suggest that I knew something about this tournament
was dangerous. But then, I doubted he would get on that particular train
of thought, so I just gritted my teeth as I settled my nerves and went for an
audacious plan. I told him the truth. Well, part of the truth at any
rate. “I’ve been in the city going on three days now.”
There are times when
everything goes your ways and you get the reaction you are hoping for; this
wasn’t one of those times. “So you’ve been in the city for three
days?” Matt asked, with plenty of restrained anger in his voice. This
wasn’t going to end well for me. Before I even had a chance to defend
myself, he answered his own question in a much calmer tone. “Wait, you’ve
been doing that glass circle thing haven’t you?”
The “glass circle,” thank
goodness he has always been fascinated by my glass circle trick. And why
not, it has always proved to be quite a handy trick. Okay, the first time
I showed it to Matt it proved not to be all that helpful, but over the years
that single trick paved the way for us to make lots of money, all the while
giving us some of our best memories. For Matt, the sweetest memory was
that first time, and of course, there have been moments when I regretted ever
showing it to him. I had tried to keep it from him, but he eventually
convinced me to show him, and then managed to get me to set it up just inside
of… I shook my head as I dislodged that train of thought. Even after all
these years I couldn’t help but get embarrassed over that particular use of my
trick. After that, he had started asking me to open the portholes
everywhere. He really just didn’t understand why I was so reluctant to
use it, no matter how I explained it to him.
And, as he would always
argue, we had some fun experimenting with my little creation. But no matter how
much fun we had, for me, nothing ever topped the very first time I managed to
craft it. In my mind, that initial success was made even more wonderful
by the fact that it had been the first transformation that I had ever
made. In a way, my success was incredible considering that, at the time,
I only had a vague idea of what I was hoping to accomplish. Somehow, without
the guiding knowledge I had since built up, I was able to produce a very rough
and rudimentary version of exactly what I had been looking for.
I remember how my right
hand had been pressed against the wall when suddenly, the part of the wall that
I was touching changed. It was a subtle change, hard to notice unless you
were looking for it. That small section of wall had been slightly
discolored in an almost circular pattern. But that patch of wall, while
interesting, would never have been useful without the shiny circular piece of
glass that was in my other hand. Neither one was going to win an award
for their intrinsic beauty, but they didn’t need to, because these weren’t
designed for decoration. Neither could function without the other, but when
someone looked correctly through that small piece of glass, they were able to
see out of the discolored section of wall. The two pieces worked together
to create the most exquisite surveillance camera I had ever seen, especially
when one end was attached to a video camera like the one I was using.
Smiling at the flood of
memories, I answered my friend’s question with a warm voice. “Yes, I’m
using the glass circle thing.”
”
Of course not only pleasant memories came in that flood. And of
course
I
remembered that Matt had never really wanted to keep that particular creation,
well any of my creations, a secret. In fact, he had come very close to
ruining our friendship with that stupid desire. If it weren’t for the
fact that I always left him with access to a stunning array of tools I probably
would have kept my mouth shut, well I would have tried at any rate. “You
haven’t been talking to anyone about any of the tools, have you?”
I squinted my eyes as I
sensed Matt’s forthcoming prevarication in his answer, so I quickly added
another question. “Not even in an indirect kind of way?”
This time he let mock
pain and the barest hint of indignation fill his voice as he answered.
“Marcus, you wound me.”
“Don’t give me that!”
“You’ve got to be
joking. Don’t push it Marcus.”
I took great pains not to
allow too much sternness into my voice, and I think I managed to get just the
right blend of inflection. “Matt?” Sometimes I am impressed at what
I can do with a single word. Unfortunately it is not a skill I’m terribly
good at, but on the rare occasion when I can master it, I am rewarded.
Though, as the seconds
began to tick by I had a sinking feeling that my one word enquiry hadn’t been
as skilled as I thought. Part of the reason that I had so much trouble
with it, at least when dealing with Matt, was because he was older than me.
When we first met, our friendship definitely started with my leaning upon both
his knowledge and experience. But time went marching on and the nature of
our friendship and partnership changed. Using my gift, I started to take
on the leadership role, and somehow managed to do that while trying not to
wrest anything away from him. I would like to believe this had all been
for the best and that Matt would agree with me on this point, but sometimes I
had my doubts, like now.
I let out a sigh of
relief when he answered me, “No, Marcus I haven’t been talking.” Unlike
me, Matt has always been able to guard his secrets, not that I couldn’t but he
has never found it difficult to read me. That being said, there are times
when I’m certain he is being honest with me and this was one of those times.
Normally he probably
wouldn’t have minded my pressing him about his ability to keep a secret, but
the circumstance was anything but normal. I had ducked too many of his recent
calls. I should have kept that little fact in mind, but I didn’t.
Oh well, there really wasn’t much I could do about it now except listen and
wait for the other shoe to drop. But that was not what came my way,
instead I got a pleasantly offered statement of fact. “You’ve beaten that
little fear of yours into my head often enough through the years that it has
become one of my own. All your secrets will die with me. And before you have
the chance to ask, there is no one in the house, so there’s no chance that
anyone is listening in on our conversation.” With a sharp intake of
breath Matt paused a moment before adding, “Do you have any idea how hard it
was to get this place emptied this time when I haven’t had a successful
conversation with you all week long?”
Not all that hard
,
I thought instantly though, I was somehow able to keep myself from letting it
out. A feat made all the more impressive by the fact I was only giving
Matt a slice of my attention. After all, I was in the middle of surveying
the warehouse I was going to play at tomorrow and he knew that. Normally,
he would hang up and let me continue on with the surveillance. But then,
I had been ignoring him for more than a week, and I hadn’t been rectifying that
in this conversation.
What ever happened to his not carrying a grudge
?
It shouldn’t have
surprised me to hear him use my name the way I had tried to use his. He
definitely had that skill down pat. With a slight shudder I asked him to
repeat the question that I had missed, which he did, though a bit
begrudgingly. But before he said a word I knew what he was about to
ask.
Why did I pick up the phone this time
?
“Did you ever manage to
find out who was orchestrating this little tourney that you just
had to go
too
?” He placed a bit of scorn into those last few words solely to
remind me what he thought about my participation in this tournament.
And with that question, I
realized that I should have known better. I should have stuck to my guns
and ignored this call too. I would have owed Matt a pretty big favor,
well bigger than the one I apparently already owed him at any rate, but I
really should have just let him leave me another voicemail, if he even could
have left one. I never listen to my voicemail.
I would have answered
most any other question, but this was the exact question I had been trying to
avoid. Now despite the fact that Matt could, upon occasion, keep secrets
from me, this didn’t mean that I didn’t know him. You can’t know someone
for as long as we have and not know all the different tones of their voice,
their body language, mannerisms, and all the rest. No I knew him. But it
happened that he knew me just as well, if not better. Even over the phone
I had never been able to outright lie to him. I could stretch the truth
when necessary… if I was lucky, a feat that I had accomplished only a handful
of times. I had even been able to get away with a lie of omission face to face,
granted those had taken place fairly early on in our friendship. But I
have never been able to lie to him.