Cashed In Part 16

"You're kidding?" I murmured, flushing with embarra.s.sment at the thought.

"Oh don't be such a prude, Belinda," Elva admonished, snagging a spoonful of soup. "We just stripped to our swimsuits anyway, and then played a game of Marco Polo in the pool and finished up with some bingo. Dad nailed a b-i-n-g-o and pocketed a hundred twelve dollars!"

Howard had been nodding proudly since the mention of the pool game, looking quite pleased with himself. I wondered who in a bikini he got to tag in Marco Polo and where he tagged them with his eyes closed. I let it go. "You're rich, Dad."

Stella asked where Ingrid was. "She was with me until a few minutes ago," I answered. "I guess she ducked out to the restroom."

A man with security written all over him ducked his head in the dining room door. I watched as he surveyed a couple of tables with empty seats. Then he shook his head and let the door close again. Jack caught my eye and nodded toward Ingrid's chair. I shrugged. Ian's chair across the room was still empty too. Maybe they'd all decided to go for the free pizza but I doubted it. I watched the group at the table, laughing and carefree, and envied them. I knew just enough of the trouble on the ship to make me crazy and not enough to do anything to stop it.

When my mother paused to take a breath with her story about the ice carving cla.s.s she'd taken, I finally found the opportunity to excuse myself. "Going to rendezvous with that slimy shrink from alien country?" Mom asked.

I sighed, kept my mouth shut and smiled as I pushed my chair in. There was no winning with Elva. I hurried out. Jack was a step ahead of me, grateful to get out of chatting with strangers, no doubt. He'd beat me out the dining room door, and I saw him waiting at the staircase. "N-now what?" he asked, mopping his forehead with a handkerchief.

Good question.

"I'd like to go see what they found at Mahdu's room, but of course the cruise staff won't give us his cabin number," I mused.

"Let's go deck to deck, then," Jack suggested.

"We can, but I'm sure we'll have to listen closely. They won't be keeping the door open for all the pa.s.sengers to see. Besides, whoever is watching the video cameras will see us trolling the halls."

"They might not realize it's the same t-two people on each floor if we do things like let your hair down, then put it back up on the top of your head. I'll take off my jacket. You wear my jacket."

I c.o.c.ked my head at him. "You're sneaky-destined to be a top network news star."

Jack grinned and started up the stairs. We were on the second deck, which along with the third deck was activity and community s.p.a.ce. Decks nine through twelve were pool, bar, restaurant and sports decks. So that left decks four through eight to search. I could barely keep up with Jack, even taking stairs two at a time. d.a.m.n Manolos. I paused to shed my precious sandals, laced them through my fingers and ran up the stairs to catch up.

At deck four-the Turn Deck-we paused for a second to catch our breath. We were in the dead center of the ship, with the balcony entrance to the theater and the game arcade to the right and cabins to our left. I tilted my head right and we started off. We heard and saw nothing suspicious, so doubled back in the other direction. A door opening to our right startled us into each other, but it was only an older woman with a walker who apologized as her door slid shut.

I suggested we take the elevator to deck eight just to keep anyone monitoring our activities guessing as to our preferred mode of transport and our destination. I wound my hair at the top of my head and donned his suit jacket. Jack rolled up his sleeves and stuck his tie in his pocket. We repeated our search method with no luck then headed down to the seventh deck and then the sixth. On the River Deck, where my cabin was, we pa.s.sed by a cabin at the other end of the hallway where I could hear several voices-two low and one high-in a quiet conversation. We kept walking but suddenly something clicked and I backtracked. I knew at least one of the voices sounded familiar. Jack raised his eyebrows. I knocked.

The door opened a crack. "Bee!" Ingrid exclaimed.

"Ingrid," I answered, standing on tiptoe to see around her, suddenly wishing I were six three instead of five foot nine. "What are you doing in there?"

"What? I work for you now, and I get no privacy?"

"That's not it," I said, thrown off balance. "It's just, you missed dinner."

"So, maybe I have something better to do."

I was terribly confused. "Is this Mahdu's room?"

She looked genuinely surprised. "No!"

"Can we come in for a minute?"

Ingrid hadn't noticed Jack standing against the wall but the "we" made her look. She blushed and stammered. "I . . . I don't think you're invited, are they gorgeous?" She pulled a tanned, sinewy male arm across her midriff. It could have belonged to any man but I suspected I'd seen it before.

"I thought I heard three voices, are you having a menage a trois?

"Maybe." She arched her left eyebrow, likely unaware of a guilty look she slid at Jack. "And that means three not five."

As she clicked the door shut I swear I saw the pointy toe of a black cowboy boot. Was that lizard or snakeskin?

Jack's face was scrunched up so tight I was afraid he was going to cry. Suddenly he blew out a couple of breaths and said: "Let's k-k-keep l-l-looking."

Poor Jack. My instincts had told me he and Ingrid had chemistry. I didn't know what she was doing now. But since I couldn't solve the mystery of my own love life, I decided to leave theirs alone too and focus on the easier mystery-who was after the Texas Hold 'Em players on board.

I put my hand on his shoulder and we finished our rounds of the deck. Nothing outside of Ingrid's rendezvous, which I didn't trust was really s.e.xual, was out of the ordinary. It had the air of put-on about it, but, if so, what was she hiding? Was she conspiring against me and the other poker stars? Was she conspiring with the security chief in a cover-up? Was she meeting with a master web designer to spiff up my website? Or was she really making whoopee with the Marlboro Man, whose arm and toe I thought I'd recognized, and if so, why hide it from me?

Maybe she was just hiding it from Jack, but there again, why? She could have shut the door without hurting him with the s.e.xual innuendo. And, there was my answer. Unless she was doing our trick of hiding things in plain sight, then she was covering something up.

"Who'd you find m-missing at dinner?" Jack asked, breaking into my thoughts.

"I didn't see Rhonda, Sam or Paul," I answered distractedly. I hadn't expected Kinkaid to be there, since she was staff and finalizing details of tonight's tournament. "I haven't told you about Paul, but he's a college kid who's way deep in debt, according to Ian and one of his college friends, desperate enough to do something drastic to get out of it."

Jack nodded. "Motive enough. I also noticed that s-silly little college girl, Amber, missing. But, of course, we have to accept the possibility that any one of the suspects present could be c-conspiring with others."

"Like Ingrid" went unsaid in the air between us. I sighed. I still trusted Ingrid, Lord knows why.

"I want to try one more thing," I told Jack as I reached for the house phone on the table next to the staircase. "Mahdu Singh's cabin."

"One moment please."

Jack glanced at his watch. "You'd b-better hustle if you want to make the tournament."

I nodded and waited. It seemed to take an interminable time to connect. Jack tapped his watch face. I nodded. Finally, I heard a ring and a small young voice answered. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Eria, I'm Bee Cooley. My friends and I were there when you came out of the dining room tonight before security took you away."

"Yes."

"Is there anyone there with you now?"

"Yes."

"First, you can call my cabin 5456 when you need to talk or need help, okay?"

"Okay."

"Now I just want to ask you a couple of questions-"

A finger reached around me and broke the connection, and grabbed my arm in a light but firm hold. "Miss Cooley," nameless security guard number two announced. "You are late to the tournament. They are waiting on you to deal. We will be happy to escort you."

Suppressing the shiver that threatened under the gestapo tactic, I shook my arm loose decisively. "I don't need an escort, but thank you."

"We insist on showing you proper hospitality." He grabbed hold again.

I shook loose again. "And I insist on politely refusing it. Come on, Jack."

The two remained three feet behind us all the way down to the second deck where the ballroom was located. Kinkaid was pacing in a strapless pink flouncy organdy dress that made her look like a cupie doll. "There you are! Don't you know how to tell time, Bee Cooley? We have to go hunting you down so you don't miss your chance to make history and not to mention a little money."

Sure. That's exactly why you interrupted my conversation with Mahdu's girlfriend. "You could've tried to give me a call," I put in slyly. I made a show of looking at her waist. "Oops, where is your phone? I don't think I've ever seen you without a phone."

"This outfit really isn't phone friendly, now is it?" she answered testily.

Kinkaid was near impossible to read so I couldn't tell whether I'd made an impression or not. She could have her phone case back by now or not know it was missing. Or maybe it wasn't her jeweled case after all.

Argh.

"Have you had a ma.s.sage or facial lately?" I blurted out. What? Did I have a death wish?

"I did, in fact, this morning. One of the perks of working on a cruise ship. Could you tell I was glowing?" Kinkaid asked, primping-touching her fuzzy hair, tracing her jaw and striking an alluring pose with her lumpy body.

"Of course." I smiled. I was absolutely no good at this Sherlock Holmes business.

"Who's this?" Kinkaid asked finally noticing Jack. "Your new amour I've been hearing about?"

"Of course," I answered to Jack's surprised face. He'd obviously had Ingrid on his mind but took my lie in stride, smiling and wrapping his arm around my waist. "Meet Jack Smack. Jack is a reporter for Cadillac of Poker magazine." I didn't tell her he was a freelancer working for them. That would have given him much less mojo.

"Really? Well, I have to treat you special then, don't I? For two reasons," she said, throwing me a bone, because I knew she was entertaining Jack for the publicity for the boat not for my sake.

Jack looked back at me, wide-eyed, as Kinkaid led him away. I threw him a thumbs-up for strength. I knew I was temporarily losing my Watson but it would be worth it if he could keep it together and we got an "in" with the cruise officials. There was a cover-up and I wanted to know if it was purely image oriented-which I could understand if not condone-or whether there was something more nefarious at work.

Nineteen.

Upon registering with the tournament for the second day, I was told positions were a.s.signed by a computer. The girls consulted a laptop, and pointed at table four, seat nine. I saw a handful of empty seats besides mine. "Are we still waiting on others?"

"No, there are some no-shows from last night," one of the tournament hostesses, Claudia, informed me. "But we were given a heads-up so we know to start without them."

The gallery was packed. The boundary tape had been moved forward so more people could see more poker. I walked past to a couple of whoops and a "Bee Cool" called out here and there. Four women in "Poker Babes" T-shirts bounced up and down and waved. An arm stuck out and stopped me. I looked down at Ringo and smiled. "Hey, how's your cruise going?"

"Fun! Bee, where're your Gargoyles?"

My heart stopped a moment. My face flushed. "Oh no. I'm an idiot. But you knew that. Things have been so wild this afternoon, I forgot them in my cabin. Again."

He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and extracted a pair of Dolce & Gabbana women's sungla.s.ses, black oversize square lenses, a big silver D&G on a slant on the sides.

"Why would you have these just hanging around?"

"Because I knew you would forget the others," he admitted shyly.

As I took the gla.s.ses from him, inspiration gave me a way to thank my Canadian pal for his endless tournament-saving sungla.s.s supply. "Hey, Ringo, I have a website now."

He nodded. "It's totally cool. I just saw it this morning."

Apparently everyone on the boat but me had seen it. "I'd like to ask you a huge favor. Would you write a regular column for my site on how the sungla.s.ses make the Hold 'Em player?"

I thought he might pa.s.s out with excitement. He blew breaths in/out, in/out, bounced on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet and rubbed his hands together. "You're kidding, right?"

"I'm not kidding, Ringo."

"But I really don't have any authority, no real expertise."

"Who has poker-player sungla.s.s expertise, anyway? Knowledge of what's out there, what kinds players prefer and why. You can interview players if you want, or I can hook you up with a psychologist for what the type of sungla.s.ses you wear says about you and your game."

"Wow!"

"I can't pay much but- "P-pay? The honor of being asked is payment enough," Ringo stammered.

"Oh no, Ringo, I won't agree to that. What I was thinking was a small percentage of what I make playing Hold 'Em." I realized Bee Cool was becoming a sort of corporation, as I sold shares of myself in return for services. Weird, but it just might work.

"Oh, that's too generous."

"Of which of us? If I don't win, you are working for free, remember." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kinkaid bearing down on us. I patted Ringo's shoulder. "We'll work out the details later. Before you leave tonight, leave me your cabin number."

He nodded bigger than a bobble head doll, jiggling loose his eyegla.s.ses that he pushed back up his nose. "You got it."

I strode on quickly and made it to my seat before Kinkaid caught up with me. "I'm sorry to keep everyone waiting," I told the dealer as I extracted Frank's lucky marker from my purse. He waved off my apology and directed everyone to introduce themselves, skipping me. I broke in with, "Hi, I'm Belinda-"

"That won't be necessary," the dealer said, shuffling. "We all know you."

"But why?"

"Besides the fact that you started the tournament yesterday?"

Whoops. Forgot about that. Duh.

"Besides that, you're just the hottest woman pro playing right now, and you KO'd Steely Stan and we all loved to hate that guy." A couple of the men and one woman at the table murmured in agreement.

Okay then. I guess no one was mourning the loss of Stan at the felt tables.

"The only thing that would make you better would be a couple more big tournament wins and a movie star boyfriend," the dealer informed me. "Cuz today a lot of what's hot is image and you've got that in spades."

Having all that lavish praise only hexed me. I had to fold the first five hands with sorry pocket cards. A couple of the more aggressive players were eyeballing me like I was only image and no brain. It might have worked out for the best since I'd been afraid they'd be on their guard after what the dealer had said. I'd already decided to lose one early hand to further drop defenses around the table.

I got the chance in the next hand when I was dealt pocket jacks, both red. This hand seemed to be my nemesis. I could clean up with pocket nines and tank with pocket jacks. The table was loaded with five decent, thinking players, one jackal and two calling stations. Most of the table had something, if not much, all simply calling with one fold. I was to the right of the b.u.t.ton and so in the best position to play a little looser. I raised before The Flop which earned three more folds and four calls. The Flop went five of clubs, Ace of hearts, Queen of hearts. I was already potentially beat by a building royal flush, or two higher pair. I should have folded. Instead I rode out the rest of the hand, calling through a Fourth Street eight of hearts and a Fifth Street five of spades. Ironically, I was beat, but by a full house fives and eights by one of the calling stations. I wouldn't have guessed that. But beat was beat, and I achieved my goal. The table certainly respected me less, which meant I could win more because my bet wouldn't chase others out of hands, thus building the pots.

I watched Kinkaid filtering through the room, outwardly relaxed, except for the frequent checking of her house phone in her hand, jeweled case nowhere to be seen. She got a call and disappeared.

The next hour I wondered if I wouldn't disprove Richard's theory. I'd almost been killed today, and I couldn't catch two decent pocket deals to save my Hold 'Em life. I won a couple of hands and was up five thousand but it wouldn't be enough to hang with the big boys later. It was like chipping away at Mount Rushmore. Finally, one of the calling stations, who'd been drawn down, was eliminated in the jackal's all in bluff on a face card board. Fortunately I'd folded on Fourth Street with pocket Aces. Sometimes, painful as it was, that had to be done. Good thing too, because the jackal hit a royal flush on The River. Lucky.