A Sleuth Is Born Page 6

  “Oh no,” he said, fear washing over his face. “I need… the shot. I’ll be OK, I’m sure I’ll be OK.”

  A hush fell over the room as people began to notice Eddie’s distress. The tournament dealer looked at Perry, who signaled to pause the game. Eddie reached into the inside pocket of his tuxedo and pulled out a pen-like injector. With shaky hands, he removed the cap.

  Still watching him intently, Angela cried, “Eddie no! Not that…”

  But it was too late. With a wail, Eddie Kawai dropped the device. He’d been holding it upside down, pressing the wrong end into his thigh. He’d only managed a partial injection into his thumb.

  “Eddie, do you have a backup injector?”

  Eddie barely nodded no. He’d started wheezing and was wild-eyed with fear.

  “Someone call 911 right now!” screamed Angela as she kicked off her high heels and dashed out of the ballroom. Foxy jumped out of his seat and was pulling out his phone. But Aseem was already tapping on his and shouted, “I’m on it!”

  Seconds later, Angela ran back into the room, another epinephrine injector in hand. She took off the protective cap and firmly pressed the needle end of the device into Eddie’s thigh, releasing adrenaline that could save his life.

  “Ambulance on the way,” Aseem said.

  Eddie was now lying on the floor, with his tie undone and Angela kneeling beside him. Foxy and the twins were hovering near them, looking scared and wondering if there was anything they should do. Perry had his arm around the shoulders of the tournament dealer, who looked white as a sheet. Lee stood expressionless in the corner, away from the fray.

  “Please stand back everyone, OK? Need to give him plenty of air. You’re looking better now, Eddie,” Angela said. “Are you feeling better?” Eddie nodded. “We’ll get you to the hospital in no time.”

  The EMTs arrived and wheeled Eddie out, Angela following alongside the gurney.

  “Should we call your wife, Eddie?” yelled Foxy as the gurney rolled away.

  “Heck no,” joked Eddie gamely, his voice soft and ragged. “I’ll be fine. And she doesn’t need to know I’m gambling.”

  As EMTs shut the rear doors of the ambulance, Angela promised Eddie she’d check in with him in the morning. The air was crisp and chilly, and the night was so quiet, the ambulance’s siren seemed to pierce her eardrums.

  “I’d better go check on Bijou,” she told the others as Eddie’s ambulance faded into the distance. “All this noise must have woken her.”

  “Wow, she’s something,” Foxy said to Aseem as Angela walked away. “So beautiful and smart. Hard to believe she’s single. Not for long if I have anything to say about it.” Aseem’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t respond.

  As she walked across the grounds to her suite, Angela felt a sudden exhaustion. The emergency handled, her own adrenaline was crashing. I wonder how much longer this tournament will last, she thought, yawning. Bea had told her it still could be a long night, despite the chip lead James now had over Frank.

  Behind the door of her suite, Bijou was wide awake and delighted to see her new human friend. She jumped up on Angela’s shin, sniffing and barking softly.

  “Looks like you could use a quick walk. And some water, too? We’ll stop at the kitchen and get a bowl.”

  Angela clipped Bijou’s leash on and the little dog trotted ahead into the dark, starlit grounds of the Inn. The pooch sniffed around, exploring her territory and looking for just the right spot.

  “All right, puppy, let’s get on with it so you can get some rest,” Angela laughed.

  Once Bijou found her perfect patch, Angela led her back towards Inn entrance. As they approached the door, the little dog cocked her head and let out a low woof of curiosity and suspicion. She tugged at the leash, sensing something stirring out in the night.

  “What is it, girl?” Angela laughed. “There’s nothing out there.”

  The dog barked again, louder this time, and grew determined to pull Angela towards the phantom distraction. Angela scooped her up and carried her towards the doors—but then Angela heard a small engine turn over.

  “Was that what you heard, girl? Just a scooter, I think,” she said, scratching the dog’s tiny head. “Nothing to be afraid of. Some poor person has to go to work before sunrise.”

  Angela saw a small headlight, then a taillight, disappear into the distance, along with the sound of the motor.

  “Let’s get you some water.” Angela put the dog down and led her into the kitchen to find a bowl. She was surprised to find Lee Glastonbury already there, holding the handle of a wok with an air of suspicion. In her other hand was a large, half-empty bottle of a golden oil.

  “Mrs. Glastonbury—what are you doing back here?”

  “Angela, I think you’re the one who should be answering questions. For starters, I thought you told me the chef would use only the ingredients we provided.”

  “Yes that’s true. Why do you ask?”

  “This wok appears to have a residue of peanut oil,” Mrs. Glastonbury said, bending down to sniff the pan. “This must be the oil he used for the doughnuts—that’s what poisoned Eddie. Here, you smell it. Be careful—it’s still warm.”

  Angela took a whiff from the pan and recoiled. It smelled like peanuts.

  “The chef used this oil for the doughnuts, and he should have recognized it would poison Eddie.”

  Mrs. Glastonbury held the bottle up to show Angela the label: Grade A Refined Peanut Oil.

  “I’ll speak to the chef in the morning,” Angela stammered. “I’m sure there’s an explanation. Even if it was the peanut oil, it was an accident.”

  “A perfectly avoidable, potentially deadly accident. We provided all the ingredients specifically to prevent this,” Mrs. Glastonbury said curtly. “Let’s just hope Eddie’s all right—for all of our sakes.”

  Angela nodded soberly.

  “I’m heading back to the ballroom,” the client said. “Can I assume you’ll join me?”

  “Yes. I’ll be there shortly.” Water bowl in hand, Angela hurried out to put Bijou in her suite for the night.

  §

  “What happened?” Angela said quietly to Bea.

  Bea and Angela were standing in the corner of the ballroom. Perry, Aseem, and the dealers were closing up the tables. They’d exchanged the cash-game players’ chips for currency and were securing the chips for storage in the safe. The tournament had wrapped a while ago—just minutes after Eddie’s ambulance left for the hospital.

  “Something I never thought I’d see in my lifetime,” Bea said. “Frank forfeited.”

  “I guess a lot can happen in the time it takes to walk a dog. Do you mean he let James win? What’s the big deal?”

  “$100,000—he just walked away from $100,000—that’s the big deal.”

  “Oh right, I get it—winner takes all. Did he say why? Could he have felt sure he would lose, anyway?”

  “He said that they were both tired, and he was so short on chips he probably wouldn’t win—which is true. But everyone who plays poker tournaments knows you always have a chance to come back and win, even when the odds are long. Every poker player knows that all you need to win is a chip and a chair.”

  “Guess these rich guys truly don’t care about the money,” Angela said.

  “I’ve never met anyone rich enough not to care about $100,000.”

  “I haven’t, either,” Angela said. “Plus, Mrs. Glastonbury said they were all about the competitive fire.”

  “Exactly. Forfeiting is hardly the mark of a true competitor,” agreed Bea. “Some players at the cash table looked downright shocked—like your new admirer Foxypants. The twins looked pretty confused, too.”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” said Aseem, “but Perry and I are done here. I just wanted to say I still haven’t got your fingerprint loaded into the locks on the control room and safe, Angela. Can we take care of it now?”

  “Sure—if it won’t take long. I’m wiped out. Are you, Perr
y, and Bea already set up to access it?”

  “Yes—you’ll be the fourth and last person. I promise it won’t take long.” He was looking at Angela as if he hoped it might take a while, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  “Well let’s do it, then. Best be sure we’re all able to get in… just in case.” She paused, wondering if she should tell Bea about the confrontation she’d had with their client in the kitchen. Better to deal with it after a night’s sleep, she decided. They’d both be thinking more clearly after a rest. Besides, what could be done about it at this hour? “So Bea, I guess I’ll see you in the morning? I’ve got news, too, but it can wait until then.”

  “OK, you crazy kids stay out of trouble,” Bea said, winking in her usual hammy way. Angela responded with her usual eye-roll. “Perry? Ready to go?”

  “Hey, you crazy kids stay out of trouble, too!” Angela said brightly. But Bea and Perry had already left the room.

  Chapter 9

  “Wow, hoodie and gloves? Must be cold out there,” Eddie said in a low voice to his visitor.

  In front of the sink in the tiny bathroom, Eddie was doing his best to freshen up with a prison-quality hospital toiletry kit. He’d changed out of his hospital gown into his tuxedo pants and t-shirt. The gown, his shirt, and the jacket were draped on the bed frame. He’d unplugged his monitors to prevent their annoying beeping—and to avoid alerting any medical staff that he’d disconnected himself.

  “Thank you so much for coming so quickly, at such an early hour. I’d imagine the game went quite late.”

  “No worries, as long as I get four or five hours sleep, I’m fine. I was only dozing when your text arrived,” replied the visitor, who’d taken a seat in the worn guest chair, making note of Eddie’s cell on the table next to it.

  “Do me a favor, keep your voice down,” said Eddie. “They wanted me here 24 hours for observation, but I feel fine. If one of the nurses hears us, they’ll put me back in that bed!”

  “I don’t think we’ll have any trouble sneaking out of here. There’s hardly anyone working in this dinky hospital. The one nurse at the desk looked half asleep. She didn’t even notice me.”

  “It’s a real country outfit,” Eddie chuckled quietly. “Closest to the Inn, I guess, but not what you call state-of-the-art. Had to press the call button five times just to get a pitcher of water.”

  “Oh yes, that reminds me, I brought what you asked for,” the visitor said, pulling two jumbo smoothies out of the paper bag he brought with him. The visitor placed them on the table by Eddie’s phone. “Got to the juice shop right as they opened. Sounded so tasty, I got myself one, too.”

  The smoothies looked pink and cold and delicious, with little beads of condensation clinging to the sides of the plastic cups. The visitor took two straws out of the bag and popped them into the cup lids.

  “Thanks. Can’t wait for a taste. I’m so thirsty and hungry, it will hit the spot,” Eddie said, still at the mirror, running a cheap gray comb through his hair. “So, did James win last night’s tournament?”

  “Yes,” said the visitor, omitting the unusual detail about the forfeit.

  “I thought I was finally going to win one,” said Eddie genially, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I haven’t forgotten I said there was something rigged about the game, but that was just a weak moment. I get a little emotional sometimes. Please don’t tell anyone. And don’t think I’m going to flip out like that nutjob Billy Ray or anything. I have no intention of spoiling our vibe like he does.

  “But I sure would like to win one,” Eddie paused and chuckled. “It’s not like I can’t afford to lose. We can all afford it, right? It would just be fun to win. That’s why I’ve been practicing so much. Even got a poker coach.”

  “I heard you’d done that—Bill Malmuth, right? The ten-time World Series bracelet winner?”

  “Yeah, well my big goal is the Main Event of the World Series. This tourney’s just for fun and good practice.”

  “We’ve all noticed how much your game’s improved. You’re kind of outclassing the field now,” the visitor said, with a knowing chuckle.

  “I don’t know about that,” laughed Eddie. “But I’ve been working on it. Anyway, you still need a little luck in tournament play, right? In the past few years, haven’t some of us have been getting all the bad luck and some all the good? Don’t think either of the twins have won, have they? Oh, there was that other guy who took one down a few years back—then had that massive heart attack. That was sad. Since he croaked at the hospital, he didn’t even get his winnings—what with the rules about being present at the award ceremony and all. I guess that’s what you’d call a cooler, huh?”

  “That’s running bad for sure.”

  “So I guess the extra money—it goes to the charity, right?”

  The visitor didn’t respond. Eddie emerged from the bathroom and put on his tuxedo shirt. “None of us players are too interested in the charity, if we’re honest,” Eddie said, laughing again. “Just a good excuse for a big-money game.”

  The visitor nodded and smiled.

  “Thanks again for coming. You were the third person I tried. No surprise that everyone else was asleep at this hour. I would have had to call a rideshare, but I don’t know if they would have picked up that smoothie for me,” Eddie laughed.

  The visitor grinned and picked up the two smoothies, passing one to Eddie. “Cheers,” Eddie said, smiling. He took a long draft of the thick, sweet concoction. The visitor took one, too.

  “Delicious, isn’t it?” said the visitor.

  “Nectar of the gods. So glad I’m not allergic to fruit,” Eddie laughed. “If only raspberries had caffeine, I’d be ready to jump back into the tournament. I know we won’t start again until tonight, but can you tell I’m dying to get back to playing poker?”

  But almost as soon as he said it, Eddie realized something was happening to him. Something bad. Something all-too-recently familiar. He sat down on the bed to steady himself, his face crumpling with fear and sadness.

  “That was perhaps not the luckiest choice of words,” said the visitor dispassionately. Eddie had started to sweat, his face flushed.

  “Could I have given you my smoothie by mistake? You reminded me you can’t have nuts, so absolutely no almond milk. The one with almond milk was supposed to be for me.”

  The visitor picked up both cups and looked at the paper labels clinging to their sides. “Oh dear. Mine says no almond milk. That means yours… oopsy.”

  Eddie’s face swelled even faster than it had the night before. His throat closing, he was straining to breathe.

  “Don’t you worry, Eddie,” the visitor said calmly, standing up and moving towards him. “I’ll get you some help. I’ll get that one, tired, warhorse of a nurse. But first, lie back on the bed. Let’s loosen your collar. There, now let me just adjust this pillow to help with your breathing.”

  The visitor pulled one of the pillows out from under Eddie’s neck. Eddie laboriously lifted his head so that the visitor could replace the pillow behind it. The corners of his mouth turned up a little, hope flickering in his panicked eyes.

  “There, there, just lean back,” the visitor said. “I’ll get the nurse soon. But first, let’s take care of that noisy wheezing. Remember, you said you didn’t want anyone to hear us.”

  Eddie’s breathing was tortured, his eyes once more shining with terror. He saw the pillow coming towards his face and tried to scream, but only managed to croak out “help” so faintly that the visitor almost couldn’t hear it.

  The visitor pressed on the pillow. It didn’t take long. It required almost no force at all. Just enough to muffle Eddie’s feeble cries and amplify the anaphylaxis. Within a moment, Eddie lay still.

  “There, that’s better,” whispered the visitor, placing the pillow back under Eddie’s lifeless head. “Bye, Eddie.”

  Hoodie zipped to the top, the visitor pulled the laces, drawing the cap in tight. With gloved hands, the visitor picked
up the two smoothies and the paper bag and grabbed Eddie’s cell phone off the table. Then the visitor slipped out of the room, walked unnoticed to the back stairwell, and trotted out of the hospital.

  Chapter 10

  Earlier than she might have liked, Angela awoke to the unfamiliar sensation of her cheek being caressed by wet sandpaper.

  “Well, that’s a new experience. Good morning to you, too, Bijou,” she laughed. “Are you trying to tell me something? Let me put on some clothes and we’ll have another walk.”

  After dressing herself presentably in record time (“I can’t just throw on sweats, puppy, we’ve got guests”), Angela clicked Bijou’s leash onto her collar and the two of them headed out the door.

  Out on the grounds, Bijou decided upon a spot near the one she and Angela had visited before. Afterwards, Angela tried to lead her back into the Inn—but the dog pulled on the leash, just as she had the night before.

  “You want to poke around a little?” Angela said. “I suppose we can take a few extra minutes.” Bijou pulled Angela along towards the big empty barn that stood in the fields behind the Inn.

  “Not much to see over here, girl.” The barn’s old-fashioned red paint was peeling in places, and some of its planks appeared to be breaking down. “Bea and I haven’t figured out what to do with this old thing.”

  The dog continued sniffing and pulling on her leash until they reached the overgrown grasses and gravel behind the big old structure. Bijou’s tail wagged when she found an unexpected treasure: a fast-food wrapper with a hamburger remnant inside. Someone had dropped it beside the barn.

  “That’s what you’re all excited about? Don’t eat it, girl,” Angela said, pulling the paper away from the pooch. “We’ll find Connie and get you a better breakfast.”

  Strange, thought Angela. The wrapper and the burger remains looked fresh. She also noticed an old wooden ladder that had been on the ground had been moved and turned upright. It now reached up toward the second-story doors of the hayloft at the back of the barn.