Donna Andrews: Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 130, No. 3 & 4. Whole No. 793 & 794, September/October 2007

“Maybe it’s time to call it a night.”

“Maybe,” Krale said, and found that he could read Taggert now as if the man had subtitles etched on his forehead. Because Taggert didn’t want to quit. He’d wanted to earlier, but not now.

Nice.

“All I want,” Krale said, “is a chance to get even.”

“Seems reasonable.”

“But I’m running out of money to play with. If I had to write you a check for what I owe you right this minute, I’d have to do some fancy footwork to keep it from bouncing.”

“I hate to take a marker,” Taggert said, “but in this case—”

“I hate to give one. Here’s my thought. I’m going to stake myself to a thousand dollars’ worth of chips. If I win, I win. And if I lose the lot...”

He had their attention.

“...then you can take Tina in the bedroom,” he said, “and play dealer’s choice for as long as you want.”

“You know, if I thought you were serious—”

“Oh, he’s serious,” Tina said.

“Really? Dick, don’t you figure Tina has some say in the matter?”

“Tina wouldn’t mind.”

“Is that true, Teen?”

Teen.

“You sonofabitch,” she said to Krale. “No,” she said to Taggert. “No, Mark, I wouldn’t mind.”

At first they took turns picking up small pots. The cards were uninteresting, and the hands generally ended with the second up card, but Krale could feel the game’s level of intensity rise in spite of the cards.

Fifteen or twenty minutes in, Tina dealt Krale a pair of tens in the hole and a seven on board. Taggert’s face card was a queen; he bet and Krale called.

On the next round, Krale paired his seven while Taggert picked up a king. Krale bet, Taggert called.

Krale caught a ten on fifth street, filling his hand, while Taggert paired his king and made a medium-size bet. He had kings and queens, Krale decided, and didn’t want to chase Krale out of the pot. Krale thought it over and called.

Taggert’s next card was a queen. Two pair on board, and Krale read him for a boat.

His own card was a ten, giving him two pair showing.

“Maybe you’re not full yet,” Taggert said, and bet into him.

Maybe you’re not full yet. Like it mattered to Taggert, who clearly was full himself, with a boat that would swamp tens full or sevens full or anything Krale might have.

Krale just called.

And Tina dealt the river cards. Krale looked at his, for form’s sake, and it was a queen, which meant that Taggert couldn’t have four of them. He could still have four kings, though.

Taggert made a show of looking at his river card, squeezing it out between his other two down cards. Nothing showed on his face. He sat there considering, and pushed chips into the pot.

“Here’s your chance to double up,” he said. “My bet’s whatever you’ve got in front of you.”

“Oh, what the hell,” Krale said. “Let’s get this over with.” And he shoved his chips to the middle of the table. “I call, Mark. What have you got?”

Big surprise — Taggert showed a king and a queen, giving him the full house Krale had read him for all along.

“Kings full,” Krale said. He felt the blood in his veins, felt energy pulsing through his body. He noted the way Taggert was trying not to look at Tina, and the way Tina was allowing herself to look at Taggert. And then he turned over one of the two tens he had in the hole.

“Tens full,” he announced. “I just didn’t believe you had it, Mark.” He dropped his other two hole cards facedown on the table, mixed them in with the pack Tina had been dealing from.

He stood up. “That’s it,” he said. “Enjoy yourselves, kids. You deserve it.”

He poured himself a brandy and held the glass to the light while he listened to their footsteps on the staircase.

Now they’re at the top of the stairs, he thought. Now they’re in the bedroom, our bedroom. Now he’s kissing her, now he’s got his hand on her ass, now she’s pressing herself into him the way she does.

He sipped the brandy.

Suppose Taggert had caught a fourth king. Then he could have shown the fourth ten, and he’d still be sipping brandy and they’d still be up in the bedroom.

He thought about them up there, and he took another small sip of brandy.

Better this way, he decided. Better that he’d had the winning hand and refrained from showing it. This way he had a secret, and he liked that.

Noble of him. Self-sacrificing.

He finished the brandy, went to his desk, opened the upper left-hand drawer, took out the gun. Assured himself once again that all the chambers were loaded.

Another brandy?

No, he didn’t need it.

He was quiet on the stairs, avoiding the one that creaked. Not that they’d be likely to hear him, not that they’d be paying attention to anything but each other.

He walked the length of the hall. They hadn’t bothered to close the door. He saw their clothes, scattered here and there, and then he saw them, looking for all the world like Internet porn.

He approached to within ten feet of the bed. He was within Tina’s peripheral vision, and he could tell when she registered his presence. She froze, and then so did Taggert.

“Nice,” Krale said.

They looked at him, and saw his face, his poker face, and then they saw the gun.

God, the look on their faces!

“I had four tens,” Krale said. “So you both lose.”

Translated from the Spanish by Steven Porter