02 - Double Shot Page 5

  “Get out of the way, Bobby,” the woman standing with Karen scolded. “Some of us want to see this game.”

  I glanced at Karen, and she introduced me to her new friend, Melissa Purcell. Like Karen, Melissa was about forty, but she was taller and darker, and lacked Karen’s flawless complexion.

  “Your friend’s been bragging about you,” Melissa said. “You really that good?”

  “Fair,” I said humbly. “How about you?”

  “I still have a lot to learn.”

  Bobby grunted. “I reckon that’s the truth.”

  Melissa ignored Bobby. “Maybe you can teach me some tricks, Tessie?”

  I suggested she might want to watch me play first and turned back to Avis Sage, who had two balls set up for the lag.

  I noticed the puzzled look on Karen’s face, and realized I should have explained this ritual beforehand.

  In a serious game, players often lag for the break. The opponents stand side by side at one rail, and each shoots a ball at the opposite rail. The player whose ball lands back closest to where they are standing wins the break.

  And the break is crucial in nine ball. A good player might sink the one ball and run the whole table before their opponent even gets a chance to play.

  Karen handed me my cue and wished me luck.

  “Yeah, Tessie.” Melissa winked. “Good luck.”

  ***

  Lucky me, I won the lag. And then I had the pleasure of watching someone named Spencer rack for me. Like the old ladies, Spencer was not the kind of person I had expected to see at the Wade On Inn. He was a clean-cut, classically handsome, yuppie-type, replete with a cleft in his chin and a dimple in his smile.

  Spencer was by far the best-looking man in the place. Indeed, when he glanced up and flashed me a dimple, I decided he might be the best looking man I had ever seen.

  “He’s too young for you,” Melissa told me.

  “Well, darn.”

  “And he’s too old for your friend.” She jerked her head toward Candy, to whose side Spencer had gravitated.

  I told her she might have a point and bent over to take my shot. Nothing much happened, but I did make sure to hide the one ball from the cue ball.

  I stepped back for Avis Sage, and under his guidance, the cue ball found the one anyway. He also sunk the two ball. And the three. And the four. You get the picture. He ran the table and won the game.

  “Did you see that?” Doreen banged her cane on the floor. “I just lost over a hundred bucks! In the blink of an eye!”

  “But I just won a hundred!” her friend Ethel exclaimed as she admired the bills being dropped into her lap. “No one will ever convince me playing bridge is more fun than this.”

  “Are you good bridge players?” I asked.

  “Better than you are at pool,” Doreen said.

  Ethel told me to ignore her senile old friend and rack them up. “I’ll bet on you this time, Tessie. Two hundred!”

  “And you call me senile?” Doreen said, and they laughed heartily.

  Avis Sage was also raring to go. “The first to three for fifty, Miss Tessie? What do you say?”

  I agreed to the match and racked the balls while the onlookers negotiated their bets. Poor Candy and Karen were again confused, but they would catch on. The first to three simply meant Avis and I would continue to play until one of us had taken three games. The first to three would win the match and the money.

  “Don’t be disappointing me, buddy,” Spencer the Handsome tore his eyes from Candy to speak to Avis. “I don’t like losing to Melissa.”

  “Jeepers, me neither,” Bobby said from Candy’s opposite side.

  Candy squirmed away from her fan club and reminded everyone what a good player I am. “You’re smart to keep betting on her,” she told Melissa.

  Melissa frowned. “I am smart,” she said.

  The music switched to another talent-challenged country and western band, and Avis bent over to take aim.

  He got off to a good start, but he missed the six ball and left the table wide open. Melissa patted me on the back and told me to show the crowd what I was made of.

  I stepped up to the table and did so.

  ***

  In fact, I won that game and the next. News of my skill at tricky bank shots spread quickly, and more spectators wandered over to wager on game three.

  I was in the middle of a good run when the bouncer stepped up to the table and shook his Bible at me. Then he placed it on the rail and thumped it. Literally.

  “Woe to you, scribes and parasites and hypocrites!” he announced.

  Scribes? But even if this guy had somehow guessed I’m a writer, that quote still didn’t sound quite right. I squinted at Candy, but she also seemed confused.

  Not Avis Sage. He picked up the Bible and handed it back to the bouncer. “The Gospel of Saint Matthew was one of my dear mother’s favorites,” he said. “I believe the word is Pharisees, Henry. Jesus didn’t much like those Pharisees.”

  “What’s the difference?” Henry the bouncer said and pointed a finger in my direction. “Now is the judgment of this world!” he informed me.

  I blinked twice. “Oh?”

  “Would you give it up, Henry?” Melissa said testily. She turned to me and rolled her eyes. “Henry’s been a Christian for a whole month. So he thinks it makes him some sort of expert.”

  “Pastor Muckenfuss says it’s up to every Christian to wrestle sin from the world,” Henry defended himself. “Pastor Muckenfuss says the good Lord needs my help.”

  “Then the good Lord must pretty be hard up.” Melissa shooed him away and waved me back to the table. “Go ahead,” she told me, but somehow I had lost my momentum. The game ended up going to Avis, putting the match at two to one.

  I racked for the next game while the railbirds searched their wallets for more cash. Everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves, and Ethel the skinny old lady commented that the Wade On Inn might have found itself a replacement for Fritz Lupo.

  “A girl can hope,” Doreen agreed.

  “Who’s Fritz?” I jumped on that perfect opportunity. “Does he play here?”

  “He’s the guy who just got killed,” Melissa said. “Don’t you watch the news, Tessie?”

  “Tessie’s from out of town,” Karen reminded everyone.

  Bless his heart, Avis Sage broke and ran several balls, allowing me the chance to stand back and soak in the conversation.

  “Angela Hernandez was shot, too,” Doreen said helpfully, and the guy sitting next to her shuffled uneasily in his seat.

  I glanced down and finally took notice of the quiet young man sitting beside the old ladies. He must have been right there the whole evening, but what with the flamboyance and energy of Doreen and Ethel, I hadn’t even seen him.

  He looked up and offered a benevolent smile. In his wire rim glasses, goatee, and sandals this guy looked more suited to a library reference desk than the Wade On Inn pool table.

  “I hope you aren’t losing your life savings on me?” I asked him.

  “Jeepers. That ain’t likely.” Bobby Decker once again startled me from behind. “Kevin never bets more than five bucks a game.”

  Kevin took off his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief he pulled from the pocket of his trousers. “I’m cautious,” he said, still studying his glasses.

  Cautious and extremely shy apparently. “Play me a game?” I asked and waved to where Avis was working on the five ball.

  Kevin shook his head. “I’m just a spectator. I have no talent at the pool table.”

  “That’s never stopped Melissa,” Spencer the Handsome mumbled just as Avis missed his shot at the seven ball.

  I stepped up, cleared the table, and won the match.

  Ethel squealed in unadulterated glee, and the other winners hooted and hollered. The losers grumbled almost as loudly as they forked over their cash.

  “There was a double murder in here?” I asked Avis as he shook my hand. “What kind
of place is this?”

  “Oh, Miss Tessie.” He held onto me and ignored the ruckus around us. “Losing those two just about broke the old man’s heart. The Fox is gone.”

  “The Fox?” I asked, still feigning ignorance.

  “Fritz Lupo’s nickname,” Bobby Decker answered. “And Avis here?” He tipped his cowboy hat to Mr. Sage. “I reckon we call him the Wiseman.”

  Oh, my Lord—I reckoned they did. I had completely forgotten Avis Sage’s moniker from the days of yore.

  Avis waved a dismissive hand. “The Wiseman’s just the old man nowadays. Pay no attention to Bobby.”

  Sorry, sir, but paying attention was exactly what I intended to do. I turned to Bobby and asked him to tell me about the murders.

  With a shucks here and a jeepers there, he did so. None of the story was news to me, but I pretended otherwise, until he gasped and stopped his narrative mid-sentence.

  “It’s Isabelle Eakes!” he exclaimed and pointed upward.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Isabelle Eakes and the Cornhuskers,” Karen clarified. “I love their stuff.”

  “Me too!” Bobby shouted out. And as the Cornhuskers chimed in with Isabelle in a rousing chorus about the joys of being a farm girl, he whisked Karen off to the dance floor.

  Melissa Purcell shook her head in disgust. “Leave it to Bobby to avoid the rest of the story.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  “Because he was sleeping with Angela, that’s why.” Spencer the Handsome spoke loudly and Kevin the Quiet groaned quietly.

  Candy and I blinked at each other as Melissa spilled some more startling news. Evidently Bobby Decker the wannabe cowboy was also the person who had found both the bodies. “Right on his own property,” she added.

  “Bobby lives around here?” Candy asked.

  “Downstream. In a trailer.” Spencer snickered at that last word.

  “Oh, for goodness sake!” Doreen poked poor Mr. Sage in the butt with her cane and ordered him rack them up. “Get this show on the road, old man. Let’s see what else Tessie has up her sleeve.”

  “Play me a game?” Melissa jumped in front of me.

  When I agreed, Avis stopped collecting the balls and took me aside. He told me to give her the six. “And the break,” he added.

  “Are you serious?” I asked. By spotting Melissa the six, I would be offering her a much easier game. She would only need to pocket up to the six ball to win, while I would still need to pocket through the nine.

  Avis nodded firmly, and only when I had offered Melissa the six and the break, did the crowd start placing their wagers.

  She looked around at all the people clamoring to bet against her. “I’m not that bad,” she mumbled.

  “The only thing she’s good at is forcing the rest of us to watch her play,” Spencer told Candy.

  Melissa stamped her foot. But when Spencer looked up and offered her one of his dimple-laden smiles, the woman practically melted before my eyes. I, however, was growing a bit tired of Spencer and his dimples.

  ***

  “Let’s try again?” Melissa begged me the moment she had lost. “Maybe I can pick up a few pointers this time?”

  But the crowd would not tolerate watching Melissa any longer. Doreen poked Spencer’s bottom with her cane and ordered him to play.

  “Spencer bending over the table is a sight to behold,” Ethel told me. “Don’t let him distract you, Tessie.”

  I mumbled that I would try to control myself, and Kevin the Quiet held up a five dollar bill. “I have faith,” he said.

  While Spencer was preoccupied shooting a game with me, Candy slipped away. She ended up back at the bar sitting with Mackenzie Quinn. The two of them seemed to hit it off and were deep in conversation every time I looked up.

  “What’s she doing with Elsa’s kid?” Spencer asked me.

  I had no idea. I also had no idea what Karen was up to, although it appeared that she and Bobby Decker were leading a line dance. The entire floor had filled up, and even the lone Drunken Dancer was making an attempt to jive with the others.

  The next time I checked, Karen was with Henry the bouncer. I do believe they were doing the Texas Two-Step.

  I had planned to lose to Spencer, but that proved impossible. Bobby Decker tore himself away from the dance floor just as the nine ball fell. He handed his cowboy hat to Ethel and challenged me to a game.

  After dealing with Spencer and Melissa, I wasn’t expecting much. But Bobby was actually a good player, and we ended up shooting two matches.

  “Ooo-eee,” Avis exclaimed anytime Bobby or I made a particularly impressive shot. “Looks like the old man needs to practice.”

  “You need to practice and I need lessons.” Melissa said after one such shot. “Who taught you to play?” she asked me. “Where are you from?”

  Much to my chagrin, that question got everyone’s attention.

  “Umm,” I said and desperately tried to think of a place these people had likely never been. “I learned in Hawaii.”

  “Jeepers,” Bobby mumbled.

  “Hawaii!” Melissa said. “That sounds so exotic!”

  It did indeed. But of course I had no idea, since I had never actually been to Hawaii.

  “I live there.” I dug my grave even deeper. “In Honolulu. I’m a waitress,” I continued on for who knows what reason. “At, umm—at a resort.”

  “Me, too!” Melissa exclaimed.

  Doreen guffawed. “If Hastie’s Diner is a resort, then the Wade On Inn is a five-star hotel.”

  “Harmon used to take me to Hawaii,” Ethel mused. “He took me to all kinds of nice places to keep me in the dark.”

  “Who’s Harmon?” I asked, endeavoring to change the subject.

  “Ethel’s gorgeous-to-a-fault dead husband,” Doreen answered. “And she certainly was in the dark.”

  Spencer mentioned he would like to take his wife to Hawaii and began interrogating me about places to stay and things to do.

  “You might want to check out the beaches,” I suggested brilliantly.

  Chapter 7

  “What happened to your hair?” Gina Stone asked as she swept by me with her drink tray.

  Ahhh. It was good to be home. Or at least back at The Stone Fountain, where the Korbel was cold, the music was stellar, and Wilson was waiting. I breathed deep and soaked in the sweet sounds of The Rolling Stones, and by the time I thought to answer Gina, she was long gone.

  Her husband Matthew was another matter. He stood riveted at his station behind the bar. “Jessie?” he asked in a hoarse voice. “Is that really you?”

  I mumbled something about it being my publisher’s idea, and fielded the same question from a few others, as my friends and I maneuvered our way toward the far end of the bar.

  Candy was locating our usual barstools, and Karen and I were having a friendly dispute over the musical talents of Carl Wicket versus Mick Jagger, when I spotted Wilson. I stopped dead in my tracks.

  For there at my friendly neighborhood pool table was Wilson Rye, hovering ever so intimately over the voluptuous young body of Tiffany Sass. Their left hands were outstretched together, guiding the cue they shared, while their right hands gripped the lower end of the stick, down near Tiffany’s curvaceous right hip. Mick Jagger may not have been getting much satisfaction, but my beau certainly was.

  “Oh boy,” Karen whispered.

  “Gosh,” Candy contributed as I took off my pince-nez and dropped them into her outstretched hand.

  I glared full force at my soon-to-be ex-beau, but Wilson didn’t even flinch.

  At least my pool-playing buddies Kirby and Gus recognized me. But then again, they were not lucky enough to be groping Tiffany Sass, which must have been distracting indeed.

  Gus glanced at Wilson and Tiffany, and then at me. “Oh boy,” he agreed with Karen.

  Kirby saluted me. “Play a game?” he asked.

  “I would love to, Kirby,” I said. “That is, once Captain Rye wra
ps things up.”

  Ahhh. It seems Wilson did recognize my voice. The cad did a quick double take, and lickety-split, popped his happy torso into vertical position.

  He cleared his throat and spoke to Tiffany as she struggled to stand upright. “We’re about done here,” he told her.

  “Oh really, Wilson?” I said. “It looked to me like you were just getting started.”

  Everyone within earshot made a great big effort to direct their attention elsewhere, but Tiffany remained unfazed. She smoothed down her blouse and actually looked me in the eye.

  “Oh hi, Jessie,” she said, all perky-like. “I almost didn’t recognize you with your new hair.” I curled my lip as she continued, “The Captain was showing me a few tricks.”

  “Yes, Tiffany,” I said. “I noticed that.”

  I grabbed the cue stick from my dumbfounded beau and stepped up to the table as Ms. Sass settled her pert young derriere onto my damn barstool.

  Poor Kirby. Even in the best of circumstances his lack of pool-playing talent rivals Melissa Purcell. And that night he couldn’t help but be distracted by my new hairdo and foul mood.

  I wasn’t in my best form either. I mean, I had already shot pool for hours. And how was I supposed to concentrate with my soon-to-be ex-beau hovering over Tiffany Sass? First, at the pool table, then at the bar, and by the time I had finished my game against Kirby, they were cozying up together in one of the booths. Even with Karen and Candy chaperoning from the opposite side of the table, Wilson was barely managing to keep his middle-aged hormones in check.

  Testimony to my infinite maturity and self-control, I refrained from screaming and walked over.

  ***

  “That accounts for one of your hands,” I mumbled as Wilson glanced up and gave me the glass of champagne he had waiting for me.

  I was busy glaring, and he was busy pretending not to know why, when Lieutenant Densmore joined us. No doubt Tiffany would have offered to sit on the Captain’s lap to make room for us all, but Wilson stood up.

  “You two go on home,” he told Russell and Tiffany. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

  Tiffany scooted herself out of the booth, and I watched my beau watch his staff depart.

  Only when the Sass ass was out of sight did he turn to me. “All of us sitting together like that would have attracted attention.”