Bay St. Louis
Wednesday
Good morning. You’re up awfully early.”
Isabelle’s cheery greeting, along with a peck on his cheek, jarred Nate awake. “Good grief, wife. Don’t sneak up on a man like that.” He grinned sheepishly at the sight of her fresh, well-rested face.
“Good grief is right. How late did you stay up? You’ve got bags under your eyes that could hold a king’s ransom.”
“I’m hoping today’s plans include time in a chaise catching a tan or a cool breeze in the shade.”
Isabelle spun his chair around and looked at him squarely. “Nate, are you saying you didn’t sleep at all?”
“Relax. After a quick shower I’ll be good as new.” He turned back to his computer and tapped the screen.
“What has so captured your attention that you stayed up all night?” Isabelle leaned over his shoulder.
“Researching a complex topic from a position of total ignorance isn’t for those who need beauty rest.” Nate pinched the bridge of his nose.
Isabelle read aloud from the web page: “Any guy who thinks a pair of eights is a great hand and then folds after running up the pot is a total jerk.” She stopped abruptly and stared, unable to repeat the next expression if her life depended on it. “Where can I find this Joey K person? I plan to wash his mouth out with soap.”
“You’ll have to bring several bars and buckets of water.” Nate scrolled down the message board to reveal a plethora of bad grammar and an appalling selection of descriptive phrases.
“Goodness, Nathaniel Price. Turn this computer off this instant and go to bed.” She crossed her arms and glared at him.
Nate focused a bleary eye on her. “With no breakfast and no TV for a week, Ma?”
Isabelle chuckled and perched on the edge of the settee. “Seriously, what are you researching that involves people who talk like that?”
Nate pushed away from the desk, stretching out the kinks in his spine. “The time has come for full disclosure, for better or for worse. I’m researching the game of poker, specifically high-stake poker tournaments at casinos.”
“Have you lost your mind? Gambling ruined my first marriage and is about to ruin Craig’s second. Do you think this is a healthy pastime for our honeymoon?” Isabelle lowered her voice to a harsh whisper.
“Simmer down, woman. I didn’t even buy raffle tickets to help the SPCA’s spay-and-neuter program. When I couldn’t sleep last night, I decided to investigate the world of poker. I’m curious as to what a well-educated man like Craig finds so irresistible, and frankly, I’m a little ashamed I showed little compassion toward a man I should pity. If you two hadn’t divorced, I could have never married the woman of my dreams.”
Isabelle covered her face in her hands. For one horrible moment, Nate thought she was crying before he realized she was laughing hysterically. “Care to let me in on the joke?”
“If ever two people were at cross-purposes during the most romantic three weeks of their life, it’s us.” She wiped her eyes with the hem of her T-shirt. “Night before last, I reached the conclusion that I’ve been selfish this entire trip. Instead of making my current husband my top priority, I was focused on fixing Craig’s life. I’d decided that if Cassie called again, I was going to tell her to contact the local police or hire a private detective. Craig deserves nothing more than a mention in my prayers.”
“You haven’t neglected me.” Nate pulled her onto his lap. “And there’s no reason we can’t help the Mitchells and still enjoy some fun in the sun.”
“Cassie is here in Bay St. Louis now. If anyone can bring Craig back to the straight and narrow, it’s her.”
Nate tapped the computer screen. “Ignore the vulgar language and read a few of these poker room chats. I’ve trolled message boards, Facebook groups, and blogs dedicated to serious poker players. Craig might have fallen into something he can’t climb out of.”
Isabelle scrolled down, skimming the contents with a grimace. “Ugh, can’t you give me a summary? I’d rather not read their nasty rants this early.”
Nate shifted his wife’s one hundred twenty pounds to the other chair. “Part of the reason for the foul language is that these gamblers are furious. Most serious players are at least casually acquainted with each other. Poker players in Shreveport and Tunica are complaining they were cheated. Nobody knows how it happened, but in both cities high-stakes games were won by card sharks no one recognized.”
“Could just be sour grapes from losers. I thought you said casinos have high-tech security systems, making it impossible to cheat at cards.”
“Difficult, yes, but not impossible. After my crash course on how to play poker at three o’clock this morning, I learned that rules are different in high-stakes games than on the casino floor. Gamblers play against each other, not against the house, and you must be invited to those games by one of the hosts. No casino wants to harbor cheaters, so security keeps a watchful eye, but a player’s privacy must also be taken into consideration.”
“Remember when we saw a clip from the World Series of Poker? That one young man in dark glasses and a hoodie looked like a bank robber. But I fail to see what the rants from sore losers have to do with Craig.”
“To help Craig we need to understand the fundamentals of the game. A few whales that got burned in April in Shreveport were later burned in Tunica in May.”
“I take it whales are the big-money gamblers. We lost ten bucks at the slot machine. What species of fish does that make us—pickerel?” Her grin lit up her whole face.
“More like guppies. Problem is, not one of the players remembers the same winner at both places.”
Isabelle shook her silky mane of hair. “There’s your answer—sour grapes. You go to bed while I head to the porch to see what specialty Mrs. Russo cooked up today. You can eat your share of breakfast for lunch.”
“Maybe it’s not sour grapes. I think it’s some kind of an organized poker ring, but I don’t understand the game well enough to see how Craig ties in.”
“Craig is an addicted, compulsive gambler with only himself to blame. He would probably waste his last dollar on a long shot.”
“Nevertheless, I have an appointment at the Golden Magnolia Casino in a few hours. I want to know if Craig is winning or losing fairly. I’m buying the head of security lunch in exchange for information as a professional courtesy.”
“What professional courtesy? Your agency’s ongoing case involves the murder of a Baptist preacher.”
Nate rubbed his tired eyes. “I said I’d been hired by an ex-wife to investigate a compulsive gambler and possible card cheat. I’m doing this for you, Izzy. You’re just not paying me. Care to come with me? Lunch will be fabulous.”
“You can stretch the truth thinner than cellophane.” Isabelle placed both hands on her hips. “I’ll pass on lunch and go shopping instead. I need to pick up something for the other agents, my broker, and your assistant. Plus, I still haven’t found a gift for your cousin yet. Nicki and Hunter’s baby shower is in a few weeks. Set your alarm for noon and get some sleep. I’ll see you this afternoon.” Isabelle waved and closed the door behind her.
Nate was left alone with a dull headache. If ever he needed her to come with him, it was today. Whether whale, pickerel, or guppy, he was a fish out of water. Having a beautiful woman along when he talked to casino security might have been an ace up his sleeve.