Extreme Justice (17 page)

“Yes. But Earl and all the other guys in the band are playing poker tonight.”

“So?”

“Mike has the idea that the most likely suspects in the Campbell murder are the people who had access to the stage.”

“I see. This is part of your investigation.”

Ben nodded. “I remember something Harry Truman said once. If you really want to get to know a man, you should play poker with him. And I really need to know these people. I want to see how they react when I bring up the murder. When the cops drag them in, they’re guarded, prepared. I want to see what I can find out when their guard is down.”

“You’re going to need help.” Loving wrapped his muscled arm around Ben’s shoulder. “Lemme give you some tips. Three rules to live by.”

“That would be appreciated.”

“If your hand sucks right off the bat, fold.”

Ben grimaced. “Why do I not think this is the secret of champions?”

“Look, maybe you can bluff, maybe you can’t. But no one can do it every time, and no one is going to succeed every time. It’s just like cross-ex—you gotta pick your battles. And there’s no point riskin’ a tub of money on somethin’ that’s prob’ly hopeless from the get-go.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll fold. What else can you recommend?”

“Watch the other players’ faces. Most everyone in the world has some facial tic, gesture, or automatic response to a certain kind of hand. If it’s good, they lean back in their chair. If it stinks, they draw themselves up and pretend it’s a royal flush. Whatever. Almost everyone does somethin’ without thinkin’ about it—and most important, without knowin’ it. If you watch ’em, you can learn the signals.”

“That sounds like good advice. What’s the third rule?”

Loving grinned. “Set aside your cab fare home.”

“Well, well, well. Our esteemed piano player. Now this is a special occasion. Come in.”

Gordo escorted Ben inside his spacious South Tulsa apartment. The poker game floated; tonight it was at Gordo’s. His apartment was much nicer than Ben would have expected for a marginally employed guitar player. Fancy furniture, plus an ample outside porch with an impressive view of the city.

Gordo escorted Ben to the living room, where the other players were huddled around a green table. Cash was flying; chips were being distributed. In addition to Earl and the three musicians, Diane was present; she was wearing a black cap that read
TOP GUN
and smoking a long skinny cigar. Earl was shuffling, looking none the worse for wear despite all the stress of the past few days. Scat was wearing his trademark dark shades despite the fact that, if anything, it seemed a bit dark in the room. Denny was wearing a blue floral fishing cap, something like a tourist might wear in Hawaii.

“Have a seat, Benji,” Gordo said, pulling out a chair.

Ben slid into position and pulled out his wallet.

“So, Ben, this is a surprise.” Diane spoke through the teeth clenching her cigar. “I didn’t think you played.”

“Normally I don’t,” Ben said. “But since this is a memorial game …”

She nodded toward the spinner rack holding the chips. Apparently she served as banker, which didn’t particularly surprise him. “So, did you bring any money?”

“Oh, right. What’s traditional?”

“Each of us puts in fifty bucks,” Diane explains. “And that’s all you get. You can’t bring in new money. Once you’re out, you’re out. We play until someone has all the chips.”

Ben gulped. “How long does that take?”

“Sometimes all night.”

Scat laughed. “Ten bucks says Kincaid doesn’t last till sandwiches.”

Gordo laughed. “I’ll go fifteen.”

Ben tried to smile jovially. “Hey, I might surprise you.”

Scat and Gordo did not respond, but Ben had the distinct impression they thought this an unlikely possibility.

Gordo sniffed the air. “I think I smell a fish.”

Denny did the same. “Yeah. Tuna. Major quantities.”

They both laughed. Ben knew he was missing something.

“A fish is a sure loser, in poker parlance,” Diane explained. “A tuna is a big fish.”

“Watch out for Diane,” Gordo advised. “She used to be a professional.”

“A—wha—you mean—”

“Not that kind of professional.” Gordo laughed. “Well, only in my dreams.”

Diane blew smoke in his face. “Grow up, Gordo.”

Scat explained. “She used to play poker professionally.”

Diane nodded. “Back when I lived in Vegas. Came in second at the World Series of Poker freeze-out at Binion’s in 1992. ’Course, I had a little more money to work with back then.”

“I had no idea you guys were so … serious about this.” Swallowing hard, Ben pulled fifty dollars out of his wallet and plopped it down on the table.

“Easy come, easy go, right, Ben?” Diane said, snatching the money up.

“Nice of you to come out tonight, Ben,” Earl said quietly. Against all odds, it appeared he was taking this memorial game stuff seriously. “You honor Lily’s memory.”

Ben collected his chips. “Well, it was the least I could do.”

“Ever been to a memorial game like this?”

“Can’t say that I have. Have you?”

“We had one for George—Professor Hoodoo—after he was gone. Very next night, in fact. Good thing, too. After that, I woulda been … unavailable.”

As in
incarcerated
, Ben surmised.

“Now that was a night,” Earl continued. “You boys can’t imagine what it was like back then. George Armstrong was the best of us and we all knew it. He knew everythin’ there was to know about music. That’s why we called him the Professor. We loved that man. Most of the time, anyway. There must’ve been thirty, forty people showed up to play that night. Everyone wanted to pay their last respects to the Professor.”

“So they came to a poker game?”

“Why not? Beats gettin’ drunk and wailin’ at some wake, or standin’ like cake decorations around a new-dug grave.”

Ben nodded. He supposed it did at that.

“I’m glad to see you here tonight, too, Scat,” Earl continued. “I didn’t ’spect that. ’S good of ya.”

Scat nodded, but made no reply.

What did that mean? Ben wondered. “You knew Lily, didn’t you?” Ben asked Scat.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes still hidden behind the shades. “I knew Lily.”

Earl cut in. “Hell, son, Scat here knew Lily and Professor Hoodoo and everyone else on the circuit. He used to hang with Huey Smith. Played sax with Red Tyler. Traded licks in OKC with Bob Gilkenson. Went to Paris with Lightnin’ Hopkins and T-Bone Walker.”

Scat dipped his head slightly.

“Oh, old Scat’s known most everybody in the biz at one time or ’nother. He’s been around almost as long as I have!” Earl laughed, then slapped Scat heartily on the back.

“Did any of the rest of you know Lily?” Ben asked casually.

No one indicated that they did, although Ben knew that probably didn’t mean much.

“I think it’s really bizarre, this mysterious man with the rug showing up just before the corpse does. You guys were all around then, too. Did any of you see him?”

“What about you, Scat?” Gordo said. “I remember you said you had to run an errand before the show started. Did you bump into this creep?”

Scat turned his shaded eyes away. “I didn’t see a damn thing.”

“So, like, are we going to play cards here or what?” Diane interjected.

“Straighten up, boys,” Denny said. “Diane’s gettin’ serious.”

Gordo grinned. “Diane, honey, you can get serious with me anytime.”

Diane ignored him. “All right, you peckerwoods, listen up. The game is Texas Hold ’Em. Two cards down, five in the middle of the table we all share, the first three at the same time, then the fourth, then the fifth. Got it?”

Ben nodded, since he assumed the detailed game description was mostly for his benefit.

“All right. Here we go.” Diane dealt out two cards face down to each player.

Ben checked his draw. Two of clubs and six of hearts. Remembering Loving’s first rule, he folded.

After everyone else made their bets, Diane dealt three cards to the center of the table. An eight and two jacks. Obviously, if anyone held a jack as a hole card, they were in clover.

Another round of betting was followed by another card to the middle, this time a nine. By the time the betting was finished, only Diane and Gordo remained.

“So,” Diane said, chomping down on her cigar. “Now it’s just you and me.”

Gordo snickered. “I’ve dreamt of this moment.”

“I’ll try to make it something you’ll remember for a good long time.” She reached for her chips. “Five bucks says you don’t have a jack under there.”

Gordo matched the wager. “Five bucks says I do.” He reached back for another chip and raised her another five. “Or maybe even two.”

“I doubt it.” She called. “Let’s see what’s coming.” She flipped a fifth card onto the table. It was another jack.

Eyes widened around the table. Following Loving’s second rule to live by, Ben watched the faces. Diane didn’t appear too delighted with this development.

All eyes were glued to their hands, still face down on the table. Ben suddenly realized his heart was beating faster—and he wasn’t even playing. Maybe there was more to this game than he realized.

Gordo pushed at least ten dollars’ worth of chips into the center. “Lily must’ve been some lady,” he clucked. “Tonight is my night.”

A somber expression cloaked Diane’s face. She was obviously thinking, calculating. Ben didn’t see how she had any choice. Sure, she had a lot of chips on the table, but Gordo obviously had a jack. She couldn’t possibly beat him.

Diane’s hands dipped back into her chips. “I’ll call,” she said.

Gordo’s eyes flew open. “Are you crazy, woman?”

“I called,” Diane said calmly. “Let’s see your cards.”

All the elation drained out of Gordo’s face. With lips tightly pursed, he reached down and flipped over his cards.

A four and a seven. Barely better than the hand Ben had folded. Gordo didn’t have the jack at all. He’d been bluffing!

Diane turned over her own cards: a pair of tens.

Gordo was flabbergasted. “How did you know I didn’t have the goods?”

“Call it a hunch.” Diane scraped the chips into her pile. “Was this special time we had together all you dreamed it would be, Gordo?”

Gordo grinned—awfully gracious, Ben thought, for someone who’d just had his clock cleaned. “It was. But now I have nothing to live for.”

“Well, don’t kill yourself. It’s only a game.”

“Life is a game,” Gordo replied. “And death is the sweet reward.”

That was the second time in as many days that Ben had heard Gordo make a weird remark about death. Note to self, he thought: pay Gordo a private visit to follow up on this.

Diane shuffled the cards a few times, then leaned across the table like a piranha closing in on its prey. “All right,” she said. “Who wants to be devoured next?

It was almost two A.M. when they played the final hand. The match was down to two players: Diane, as everyone expected, and Ben, as no one expected—including Ben. Ben had in fact lasted well past sandwiches, to the surprise of all, and the disgust of some, like Scat and Gordo, who had to make good on their side bets.

Basically, he had just followed Loving’s suggestions. He had folded more than anyone else in the game, but as a result, he had conserved his resources. He hadn’t dared a bluff, but by sitting out the bad hands and playing the sure winners, he had slowly put together some winnings. Plus, he’d had the good fortune to take out two players, inheriting all their remaining chips. He’d taken Gordo with a pair of queens, then managed to do the same to Earl only two hands later with two sevens and two fives.

And now it was just him and Diane. Diane, unfortunately, had just won several high-dollar hands in a row. Ben could see the handwriting on the wall. She’d keep whittling away at him until he was gone. If he was to have any hope of winning, he had to try a different approach. And fast.

“Would you guys hurry up already?” Denny said. “I’ve been wearing these clothes for days. They’re getting uncomfortable.”

Ben glanced up. “Why? Are they scratchy?”

Gordo laughed. “Denny thinks all clothes are uncomfortable.”

“He does?”

“All right, let’s do it,” Diane said. The antes were laid and she dealt out the cards.

Ben lifted up the corners and peered at his cards.

Two tens! Hardly invincible, but a start. His heartbeat accelerated. Maybe this was the time to go for broke. It made sense, but…

He couldn’t bring himself to take the risk. He made a modest bet: one dollar.

“I’ll call,” Diane replied.

After the bets were in, she flopped three cards into the center of the table: the ace of diamonds, the nine of clubs, and the seven of clubs. No help for Ben.

Diane, however, had a more positive reaction. “I’m betting it all,” she said.

“What?” Ben looked up at his companions. “Can she do that?”

“She certainly can. Are you in?”

Ben glanced at his cards. It was a good hand. But she must have a good hand, too. Probably a pair. If it was a pair of nines, fine, he could beat her. But if it was a pair of aces …

“All right,” he said, pushing out all his chips. “I’m in.”

“The betting is over,” Gordo announced. “Let’s play out the cards.”

Since it didn’t matter at this point who knew, Diane complied. She flipped over her hand. She had an ace and a nine in the hole. And now, with the cards in the center, she had both a pair of nines and a pair of aces. Two pair! More than enough to trounce Ben’s puny tens.

“And you?”

Ben exposed his hand to the world.

Diane smiled, pleased and, Ben thought, a bit relieved. Her go-for-broke paid off. Still, there were two more cards to be dealt.

“Play the table,” Gordo said, grinning. He seemed to be enjoying himself a good deal more now than he had when he was still in the game.

Diane turned the next card: a three. No help to anyone.

Everyone in the room huddled around the table—Gordo and Denny and Scat and Earl. They were like vultures, anxious to see what happened next.

Ben held his breath. What was it about this game anyway? It wasn’t as if his life depended on winning. So why were his hands shaking and beads of sweat dripping down his forehead? C’mon, he thought, I need a ten. Luck be a lady tonight …