Alan Cook - Aces and Knaves

This was borne out when I saw one couple take a pile of serious chips to the cashier and get a receipt for them. I was sure they would be back tomorrow. I glanced at my watch; it was close to eleven.

"I'm starting to drag," Arrow said. "When you get up at five, 11 p.m. isn't on your clock."

I was tired too. "There's one small problem," I said. "We don't have a place to stay." We hadn't done anything about it before, thinking we would take a night flight back to LA. Now it was too late.

We approached Art, hoping he could help us find a hotel.

"We have a spare bedroom here that isn't being used tonight," Art said. "We could let you sleep there."

"One?" I asked.

"One," he said, looking from one of us to the other, with just a hint of a leer.

"How many beds?" I asked.

"Two double beds."

"Can you trust me to stay in my own bed?" I asked Arrow.

She nodded, sleepily.

I awoke to see daylight trickling into the room through the slats in the blinds. I glanced at my watch, still on my wrist; it was approaching 6 a.m. I was still tired and considered going back to sleep, but then my brain kicked into gear.

I twisted my head around and saw Arrow's short curls in the other bed and nothing else but blanket and pillow. She didn't move. I quietly got out of bed and pulled on my pants. I had slept in my underwear. I didn't know what Arrow had worn to bed. When she had come out of the bathroom last night I had been deliberately facing the window. Her red dress was draped over the back of a chair.

The bedroom was large enough to be a master bedroom, several times over, with appropriate fancy furnishings. I tiptoed past Arrow's bed to the monster bathroom that went with it, complete with dual sinks, dual showers and gold-colored faucets. After washing my face and running a comb through my hair I exited the bathroom and the bedroom, barefoot.

I entered a hallway that led to the top of the stairs. The bedrooms were two stories above the casino. One of the assistants had showed us to the room last night and pointed out the kitchen on the main floor. I walked down one flight of carpeted stairs and made my way toward the kitchen.

It occurred to me that I didn't know whether there was anybody else in the house, except Arrow and me. James was on a business trip. Stan had been out last night. Perhaps he had an assignation. Who knew what his understanding with James was on that score. I had heard muffled noises after we had gone to bed, but they could have been connected with closing the casino for the night.

My answer came swiftly. The sounds coming from the kitchen were not muffled. I didn't want to scare whoever it was so I said, "Hello," at the kitchen door. As I walked in I saw the startled face of Stan.

"What the hell are you doing here?" was his greeting.

And I thought James trained his staff to put customer service first. "I was in town so I dropped in here last night," I said, blandly.

"Did James say you could stay here?"

"I was told that James is out of town. Art said I could stay here."

"Nobody stays there without James' permission." Stan glowered at me and then turned his attention to fixing himself a cup of coffee. He was already dressed for work, in a white shirt and tie.

"Do you have any oatmeal?" I asked.

He pointed at a large cupboard. I opened the door and came face-to-face with lots of sugar-saturated cereals I hadn't been able to tolerate since I was a teenager. Finally, in the back I spotted the familiar round box and pulled it out. Long arms can come in handy. As I found a pot and measuring cup with Stan's grudging help, it occurred to me that this meeting might be an opportunity for me.

"May I ask you a question about Ned?" I asked, trying to formulate a plan.

Stan's Neanderthal grunt didn't immediately convey any meaning so I interpreted it as a yes. I said, "James is trying to gain control of Dionysus. To do that he needs the proxy of Elma, Ned's widow. It follows that when Ned was alive he needed Ned's proxy. Did Ned promise James his proxy in return for, say, becoming CEO of Dionysus?"

Stan, who was now sitting at a breakfast table, sipping his coffee and eating a sweet roll, contemplated me for a moment and then said, "Ned made a pest of himself. Not only did he want to be CEO of Dionysus, he wanted a piece of Tartan, too. But James put up with him. Even let him stay in the guest room sometimes. I know James and Ned had worked together before. I know they grew up together. Ned felt he had always gotten the short end of the stick and was trying to make up for it. But the truth is, he was a goddam pest and yet James put up with him."

I was surprised at Stan's vehemence, but now that he had started talking I wanted to take advantage of it. I sat down opposite him with my cereal and said, "So what happened? Did Ned agree to gamble for a piece of Tartan and lose?"

Stan shook his head. "Ned wouldn't gamble with James. He told me once he knew James too well to do that."

Smart fellow. I remembered something. "James wanted Ned to exercise his stock options and keep the stock, didn't he? That way, Ned's proxy is worth more and James doesn't have to buy as many shares in the open market."

"If you know so much, why are you asking me?"

Oops, I didn't want to aggravate him. In reality, Ned had exercised his options and immediately sold the stock, so something must have come between him and James.

"I heard a wild story," I said, "that James and Ned were in a casino in the desert east of LA and Ned lost a ton of money playing blackjack."

"It's true," Stan said. "James and Ned went to Palm Springs to look at a company there, a possible acquisition for Tartan. I don't know why he took Ned along; I did the analysis on the company and I knew a hell of a lot more about it than Ned did."

Stan poured himself a fresh cup of coffee and stirred milk into it with such vigor that it sloshed over the side of the cup and onto the saucer.

"So they stopped at the casino," I prompted.

"They stopped at the casino and Ned completely lost it-his head and his money. James was so amazed that when he returned here that he couldn't stop talking about it."

"And so that was the end of their deal?"

"Which deal?"

"The deal for Tartan to acquire Dionysus."

"It should have been. Especially if the deal meant Ned being CEO of Dionysus. I mean the guy was two quarts low. But, incredibly, James stuck with him. He still wanted to do the deal, make Ned CEO and all. I can tell you, he wouldn't have done that with anybody else."

"Then why did he have Ned killed?"

Stan looked at me as though he hadn't heard me. I knew he had so I stared back at him, trying to remain calm. He deliberately got up from the table and walked toward the door to the kitchen. When he got there he turned around and said, "You'd better be careful what you say. You don't want to end up like Ned."

This was the second time he had voiced that threat.

When I opened the door to the bedroom I heard the click of computer keys. Arrow was sitting cross-legged on her bed, wearing a T-shirt, with her laptop, appropriately, in her lap. The computer was connected to a phone jack in the wall. She looked good in the white shirt against her tan-colored arms and bare legs, but then she looked good wearing anything-or nothing.

"Is this the newest in leisure wear for the up-and-coming female executive?" I asked.

"I found it in your overnight bag," she said, tossing a mock-coy look at me over her shoulder and then turning back to the keyboard. "I hope you don't mind. I figured I should be wearing something when you returned. You don't seem to like me when I'm wearing nothing."

Apparently, I hadn't communicated my likes and dislikes successfully to Arrow. "So you're being diligent, checking email and executing all the other important duties of your position."