Gail Oust - 'Til Dice Do Us Part

She grinned ear to ear, clearly up for the task. “Always wanted to be Columbo. This’ll give me a chance to wear the trench coat I brought along from Chicago. Good thing it’s got a zip-out lining, or I’d roast down here.”

“That’s not fair,” Connie Sue said with a pout. “You get to have all the fun. I want to help y’all, too. What if I chat up Marietta Perkins at the rec center? She was workin’ that night. That witch doesn’t miss a trick.”

“Good idea,” I said. “Marietta probably even knows what color your toenails are painted.”

“I’m pretty good around computers. Why don’t I see what else I can turn up about Lance?” Diane offered. “Maybe it’ll give us a clue as to who might want him dead.”

I high-fived Diane. “The Babes rock!”

Tara plucked grapes from the tray I’d set out. “You might start with a background check,” she suggested. “It’s amazing how much information’s out there.”

“Ain’t that the truth?” I muttered under my breath. Thanks to Steven, I knew more than I needed to about background checks. Maybe Lance would turn out to be a terrorist. A pervert. Or a deadbeat. Maybe all three.

Deadbeat? As in Down with Deadbeats? I made a mental note. The first item on my agenda would be to find out precisely what kind of cases Tennessee’s Premier Detective Agency specialized in.

The doorbell pealed just then, bringing the meeting of Bunco Babe Crime Solvers to a close. I hurried to greet my neighbor-and designated “person of interest.”

“Nadine!” I exclaimed, adopting a tone worthy of Miss Congeniality. “So glad you could make it.”

Nadine took a last drag from her cigarette, then flicked the butt into a pot of pansies on the front step. “Saw all the cars. Thought I had the time wrong.”

“The girls and I had a little unfinished business to attend to. Didn’t want to bore you with it.” I held the door wide and stepped aside. “Come in.”

I led her through the foyer and into the kitchen where the Babes were gathered like turkey buzzards awaiting road-kill.

“Care for a glass of wine, Nadine?” I asked after introductions were completed. “I’ve got a nice pinot grigio, or if you prefer a red, I’ll open a merlot.”

“Got a beer?”

“Beer? Let me take a look.” My smile never faltered. I was beginning to worry my facial muscles might stay that way. Now, I’ve never been much of a beer drinker, but I like to keep some on hand just in case-just in case of what I’m not exactly sure. Maybe someday Bill will drop by, all hot and thirsty, after a hard day at the Rod and Gun Club. He’ll strip off his shirt, revealing a hard, toned bod, and…

Then, I usually wake up.

I hoped none of the Babes noticed I was flushed-a minor power surge, as I like to call them. I pulled a beer from behind the skim milk. “Um,” I said, clearing my throat, “let me get you a glass.”

“Don’t need one.” Taking it from me, Nadine twisted off the cap and chugged the brew straight from the bottle.

Krystal, her dark hair pulled back and fastened with a banana clip, breezed in. “Sorry I’m late, everyone,” she said, sounding out of breath. “As long as I had wheels, I stopped by the diner to see if May had finished next week’s schedule.”

“Now that everyone’s here, let’s get started.” Tara headed toward the card table I’d set up in the great room. “Some of you get to sleep late, but I have to get up early to stay ahead of a bunch of four-year-olds at the day care center.”

“Sugar lamb,” Connie Sue crooned, “some of us have earned the right to sleep ’til noon if that’s what our little hearts desire.”

“Chalk it up as another perk of retirement,” Gloria said agreeably, topping off her wine. “Right up there alongside of Medicare and Social Security.”

“Six Saturdays followed by a Sunday,” Janine quipped.

Rita patted Tara’s back. “Retirement is a reward, honey, not a punishment.”

Polly hooked her arm through Krystal’s. “Kate said you’ve never played bunco, dear. Let me show you the ropes.” I didn’t miss the wink she sent my way.

Smiling, I followed Polly’s shining example. “Come into my parlor,” said the spider to the fly. “C’mon, Nadine. You can be my partner at the head table.”

Connie Sue and Diane joined us. I could tell from the gleam in her eye that Connie Sue was committed to the Free Claudia Campaign. And I knew Diane would uphold her end as well. Nadine was toast.

I rang the bell. “Let the games begin.”

I didn’t have to wait long before Connie Sue made the first move.

“So, Nadine,” Connie Sue, former Miss Peach Princess, purred so sweetly that visions of magnolias danced in my head. “Tell us a little about yourself. I’m just dyin’ to know more about you.”

“Ain’t much to tell.”

Connie Sue wasn’t easily put off. “I don’t believe that for a minute, sugar. Why don’t you start by tellin’ us where you’re from?”

“Tennessee.” Nadine picked up the dice and promptly rolled a trio of sixes-a baby bunco. When she failed to score on her next toss, she slid the dice to Diane.

Tennessee? Um, that was odd. It occurred to me-belatedly-that for someone raised in the South, Nadine didn’t have much of an accent. If I had my little black book next to me, I’d make a note of this. But I suspect that would’ve been too obvious. Discretion was key. Maybe Nadine was the one in need of a background check. If I weren’t so miffed at Steven, I’d ask his advice on various Web sites.

Diane picked up the conversational ball and tried an end run. “You still have family there?”

“Yeah.” Nadine selected a chocolate from the dish-dark chocolate, of course, to forestall another of Monica’s lectures-and peeled the foil. “A daughter.”

“A daughter,” Connie Sue cooed. “How nice. Children are such a blessin’, aren’t they?”

Nadine shrugged. “I guess.”

Our skill at bunco matched our skill at drawing out useful information. Unfortunately, thumbscrews weren’t an option. Diane racked up an impressive two points before passing the dice to me. My luck was nonexistent, so I slid them to Connie Sue, who fared no better.

“You ladies are pathetic,” Nadine said in her raspy smoker’s voice. “Let me show you how it’s done.” Giving the dice a careless toss, she flicked her wrist, and let them tumble. Three ones appeared as if by magic.

“Bunco!” I yelled, banging the bell to signal the end of the round.

Nadine held up the empty beer bottle. “Don’t s’pose you have another?”

“Sure thing,” I said, scrambling to comply. Maybe alcohol would loosen the woman’s tongue since all else failed. I didn’t feel the teensiest twinge of guilt as I brought out another cold one. A quick survey of the fridge showed I had four more waiting in the wings. If need be, I’d duck out for a beer run.

“I need a potty break.” Krystal streaked for the nearest bathroom.

“Good time for a cigarette.” Nadine headed for the door, already digging through her pocket for a lighter and a pack of smokes.

Janine rolled her eyes. Tara groaned. At this rate, it was going to be a long night. “Everyone agree to one set tonight instead of the usual two?” I asked hopefully. I didn’t hear any complaints.

The women returned, Krystal looking less pained and Nadine reeking of cigarette smoke, and we shifted places. Since Nadine and I were winners at the head table, we stayed where we were and Polly and Krystal joined us.

“Ready?” Not waiting for an answer, I clanged the bell-probably more forcefully than necessary.

“Since you’re new at bunco, Krystal, I’ll keep score,” I offered. “The first team to reach twenty-one points rings the bell and calls bunco.”