Nate had a bad feeling the moment Isabelle returned from the restroom. If eating in restaurants was upsetting her stomach, they needed to stock up on fresh fruit and vegetables and maybe cold cuts from a local deli. They both hailed from middle-class families and were unaccustomed to heavy sauces and exotic spices.
“Are you all right, Isabelle?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” She offered a weak smile and picked up her fork. But from that point on, she consumed less than a sparrow on a diet.
Nate finished his meal, declined dessert, and asked for the check. During the drive back to the B and B, he asked again, “Are you feeling okay? Should I pull to the side of the road?”
“Don’t be silly. I’m fine.” Isabelle patted his knee and then fixed her focus on the road until they reached Bay St. Louis. Once inside their suite, she locked herself in the bathroom for at least twenty minutes.
Nate couldn’t sit on the porch watching boats forever if his bride was queasy. He knocked timidly on the door. “Can I bring you some peppermint tea or a can of ginger ale? There are Pepto Bismol tablets in the glove box.”
“No, thanks. I think I’ll just hit the sack.” The door opened, and she emerged wearing a long nightgown. She headed straight to bed and crawled under the covers.
Nate returned to his rocking chair on the porch until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, and then he, too, headed to bed. When he awoke at midnight alone, he started to panic. He found Isabelle in the third place he looked. Wrapped in a terrycloth robe, she sat on a bench close to the water. “Was I snoring, dear wife?” he asked. “Is that why you abandoned me?”
She turned her tear-streaked face in his direction. “No. You were as quiet as a mouse for a change.”
Nate plopped down next to her. “Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you. And if you say ‘nothing,’ I’m going to pull your hair.”
“Oh, it’s something, all right. I just don’t know how to tell you.”
“Why not start with the honest-to-goodness truth?”
Isabelle released an exhausted sigh. “My stomach is fine, but that was Cassie Mitchell calling at the restaurant.”
“What did she want?”
“She’d been asking questions at the last place Craig worked. One of the interns said he was away on a medical leave of absence, but he hadn’t taken up with another woman. Cassie knows Craig fell off the wagon and that he’s here in Bay St. Louis.” Isabelle met his gaze for a moment. “She called me, Nate. Not the other way around. I respected your wishes about butting out.”
“I believe you.” He took hold of her hand. “You have no control over her.”
A tear ran down Isabelle’s cheek. “Tomorrow she’s requesting time off from work. She plans to confront Craig and encourage him into rehab. She considers this her wifely duty and feels sorry for him because addiction is a disease.”
Nate tipped back his head and considered the stars. Amazing that the bright lights of Biloxi fifteen miles away didn’t interfere with the billion-piece light show overhead. Nate sensed they stood at an important crossroad in their marriage, so he chose his words carefully. “And you feel sorry for Cassie.”
Isabelle nodded. “I can’t turn my back on either of them. Craig seemed miserable the other day, as though he’d lost control of his life.”
“And you want us to somehow intervene before Cassie gets to town? Or at least find out if Craig has fallen in with loan sharks again?” asked Nate, without letting himself think about the questions.
“Could we?” Isabelle jumped up, revitalized. “Maybe Craig doesn’t owe too much money yet. Maybe we could get him into treatment before he leverages their entire future.”
Nate stifled a wry laugh. “How do you suggest we manage this? Go undercover at the Golden Magnolia Casino?”
“Well, yes. You’re a PI. You’ve had training in these things.”
“Neither of us knows anything about gambling. We’d stick out like vegans at a barbecue rib cook-off.”
“We’ll pretend we’re bumpkin tourists trying to learn the games.” Isabelle pulled him to his feet.
“No pretending necessary. Where are you going in such a hurry?”
“To bed. If we’re going undercover, we both need a good night’s sleep.”
And that was the sanest idea they would have for quite some time.
Nate waited until breakfast to point out that mornings—or even afternoons—weren’t the best time for casino surveillance. Because Craig preferred all-night marathons, Isabelle agreed to spend the day at the beach followed by a long afternoon nap. That evening Nate and Isabelle showed up at the Golden Magnolia with a camera slung around his neck and Isabelle in a huge straw hat. Looking like quintessential tourists, they strolled through the elegant lobby as though they had all the time in the world. Nate stopped at the first row of slot machines they came to.
“Should I get a roll of quarters from the cashier window?” Isabelle asked, hooking her arm through his elbow.
“Machines no longer take coins. This one doesn’t even have a handle. You insert paper money here…like a fifty or a hundred-dollar bill.” Nate pointed at a slot on the Triple Wild Cherry machine.
Isabelle squeezed his arm. “Don’t you dare! We’ll wager a ten-spot. That should be enough to get the idea.”
Nate inserted a crisp Hamilton, pushed the button, and watched the electronic wheels spin. Taking turns at the button, Nate and Isabelle watched their forty quarters dip precariously low, soar to a high-water mark of sixty-two, and then steadily diminish to zero. But plenty of flashing lights and sound effects livened up the ten-minute session.
“Well, that was fun. Now let’s go find the poker tables.” Isabelle dragged him down the center aisle. “Craig’s favorite game was Texas Hold’em.”
“Those look like poker tables in the middle of the casino.” Nate read the brass placards as they passed each table. “Caribbean Stud, Pai Gow Poker, Let It Ride, and Texas Hold’em on the end.”
“We can watch from here,” whispered Isabelle, pulling him behind a marble pillar.
They moved from one clandestine vantage point to the next, studying the faces of the gamblers, but Craig was nowhere to be found.
“This might be his night off,” Nate observed. “What do you say we hit the buffet? I could use a bite to eat.”
Isabelle wasn’t easily deterred. As a well-dressed casino employee walked by, she stepped into his path. “Excuse me, sir. We’re Isabelle and Nate Price from Natchez. Are these your most expensive poker tables?” She produced a megawatt smile. “I see the minimum bet is only ten dollars. Where can we win bigger jackpots?”
Elliott Lacey, casino host, according to his name tag, was momentarily speechless. “How do you do, Mr. and Mrs. Price. Welcome to the Golden Magnolia.” He shook hands with Nate. “We have a poker room if you wish to play against other players. Opening bids vary, as well as the size of the pots.”
“Would you mind terribly escorting us there?” asked Isabelle, her drawl thickening. “I would like to observe so that I might properly advise my daddy back home. I promise not to stay long or disrupt anyone’s concentration.” She made an X motion across her heart.
Daddy? Nate had never met his father-in-law because he had passed on years ago.
Mr. Lacey smiled and extended his elbow to Isabelle. “I’m on my break, ma’am, so it would be my pleasure.”
Nate wouldn’t have believed her flirtatious behavior if he hadn’t witnessed it himself. He fell in behind them, eager to see what she would do next.
Inside the high-stakes room, the lighting and furnishings were expensive, the waitresses better attired, and the mood subdued. Two tables were active with eight players at each. No bells and whistles, no rock music in the background, and nobody jumping up shouting, “Jackpot!” It didn’t take them long to realize Craig wasn’t one of these players either.
“Thank you, Mr. Lacey. I’ve seen enough.”
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Price.” He bobbed his head politely and wandered into the crowd.
Isabelle sagged into Nate’s side. “What are we going to do?” she wailed.
“Wait here a moment.” Nate hurried after the helpful casino host. “Excuse me, sir. We’re trying to track down an ex-husband who plays poker here. Are these the only poker games taking place inside this casino?”
Mr. Lacey studied him and then glanced back at Isabelle. “There are private games in the high-stakes rooms any given night of the week, but those are by invitation only. A player doesn’t just walk in, and no one observes the games. If your wife knew her ex-husband’s casino host, he or she might be of more assistance.”
“Thanks. We appreciate your help.” Nate shook the man’s hand, but he refused to share that with his wife until they were seated inside the buffet restaurant.
Isabelle mulled over the new information as she ate a modest portion of baked chicken, potato salad, and peach cobbler. “That has to be where he is—in one of those all-night games in a hotel room. Oh, my. Craig could get into plenty of trouble if he doesn’t know when to hold ’em, when to fold ’em, and when to walk away.”
“Are you going to break into a Kenny Rogers song?” Nate dug into his self-made ice-cream sundae.
“Would you please take this seriously?” Isabelle sounded like a feral cat.
“I am taking this seriously, but we’ve hit a brick wall. We’re not rated players, and we don’t have a fat wad of cash. So we’re not getting inside those games, no matter how much you bat your eyelashes. Let’s go back to our room.”
She blushed with embarrassment. “I don’t want to play poker. I only want to find out what Craig’s up to. Let’s buy a foo-foo cocktail and stake out the elevators. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“Fine, but only for the duration of one drink.” Nate pushed away his remaining dessert, his stomach at maximum capacity.
After purchasing virgin mai tais, they settled onto a banquette in the lobby. Amazingly, Craig strolled into the Golden Magnolia Casino a few minutes later wearing dark glasses and a baseball cap. Nate hid behind a copy of USA Today, while Isabelle peeked from behind a brochure for parasailing. Craig walked to the elevator and pressed the button.
The moment the elevator door closed, Isabelle jumped up to follow him. Nate watched the numbers light up on the overhead display. Craig’s elevator stopped at the seventeenth floor. When the adjacent door opened, Isabelle practically bowled over the people exiting. “Excuse us,” Nate mumbled as he squeezed past. “Bit of a family emergency.”
“We need to hurry to see which suite he enters,” she said, pressing the numeral seventeen. Yet no matter how many times she punched the button, Isabelle couldn’t select the seventeenth floor.
“Izzy, stop. You need a key card to access floors fifteen and above.” Nate pointed to a small sign.
“Oh, dear, what are we going to do?” His wife sounded close to tears.
Another passenger, a young cocktail waitress, took pity on them. “You don’t want to play up there, honey. The minimum buy-in is thirty K for tonight’s game.”
“Buy-in?” Isabelle asked, wide-eyed.
“The amount needed to get in the game. Thirty thousand, minimum,” the waitress repeated.
“Ohhh.” Isabelle dragged out the single syllable. “We were playing Triple Wild Cherry slots, and I thought it might be fun to play Texas Hold’em like on TV. We’re on our honeymoon.”
“Save your money. Only one person walks away from the table a winner. Everybody else had better be rich so they don’t need the cash. I have something you’ll enjoy more.” The girl dug two coupons from her pocket. “Free buffets on the house. Good anytime.”
“Thank you,” they said simultaneously.
On the way back down, the cocktail waitress stepped out on the ninth floor. “Enjoy your honeymoon, folks. Thanks for coming to the Golden Magnolia.”
Nate and Isabelle rode the elevator to the basement and then up again.
“Thirty thousand dollars,” Isabelle muttered as they reached the lobby. “Where on earth would Craig get a buy-in like that?”
Where indeed?
Before leaving the casino, Nate bought two more fake mai tais to take back to their B and B. Sitting by the water, sipping something coconuty, he felt content. But something told him the new sleuth of Bay St. Louis was just getting started.