Murder or Bust (We're Not Dead Yet Club Book 3) by Barker Constance

Author:Barker, Constance [Barker, Constance]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2017-03-28T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten – The Small Man at the Big Table

You might be wondering what had become of Percy during all of this. While the girls were dodging warning after threat and threat after warning, Percy had been doing what Percy has always done - and always will do – best.

Absolutely nothing.

Well, I say absolutely nothing. In actual fact Percy had been doing a great deal, just not anything that had any particular bearing on the case at hand. Had the girls decided to take note of the slight spring in his step when he greeted them on the second day, they might have realized that Percy’s foray into the world of poker was far more successful than any of them could’ve realized. And when I say successful, I mean he’d been cheating.

As tends to happen when an otherwise odd, out-of-place and occasionally oblivious man wins big on the poker tables, Percy found himself elevated from the lowly tables of the main casino floor, to a private game hosted by none other than the famous British businessman, Ely Jacobson. Who Ely Jacobson was exactly, Percy couldn’t rightly say. He was certainly never anyone that Percy had heard of, but he seemed to be pretty thrifty with his money and held himself with an air of authority that suggested to Percy that he wasn’t used to losing. Had Percy not been so focused on trying to score one on him for the little man, he might have noticed that the famous British businessman’s accent had a definite southern-state twang to it, and that every hand he played was only done so after careful approval from a suited man who sat in the far corner of the room.

Such details – when in the courtroom – were Percy’s bread and butter. But out here in Vegas, they were nothing more than trifles.

Percy stared down at his hand. The jack of hearts and queen of diamonds seemed to wink at him from the cards. With a dribble of sweat forming on his brow, Percy glanced down at the four cards on the deck. This hand hadn’t been particularly kind to him – nor had it been to the other two players who had folded out shortly after the fourth card had been laid. Percy would’ve done the same thing himself had it not been for the overconfident smirking from the man in the corner and the irritating way that Ely Jacobson held himself.

A ten and nine of hearts, a four of diamonds and a three of clubs.

Percy had nothing and he knew it.

He glanced up at Ely, who smiled coyly across the table at him.

“Well?” he said, flashing a grin, which – for a successful businessman – was suspiciously lacking in teeth. “What’s your bet, Cecil?”

For a moment Percy forgot who he was. Well, no – he didn’t forget who he was. Rather he forgot who he was meant to be. Percy wasn’t that old to forget his own identity. Not yet at any rate.

It

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