The Big Deal by Jackson Lowry & Ralph Compton

Author:Jackson Lowry & Ralph Compton [Lowry, Jackson & Compton, Ralph]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2020-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

The elaborate initials confirmed the note had been left by Molly Francis. MF. He took a deep breath, nostrils flaring at the delicate scent.

Then he went to find the King’s Palace and the awaiting chanteuse.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Asa made a quick search of the area behind the curtains. The stage was deserted. He looked again at the note, inhaled it, then tucked it into his pocket. Wandering about, he sniffed like a bloodhound to follow the delicate scent down a ramp into a storeroom. A door at the far end stood ajar, letting in a sliver of wan yellow light. He cautiously opened the door to carpeted stairs leading to the second story. At the top of the flight of steps, he saw another door, this one ornately carved and decorated with an Oriental pattern of writhing dragons and other strange creatures he didn’t recognize.

Curiosity devoured him now. He went up the steps, every footfall cushioned by the thick red carpet. At the top he studied the door. Not Oriental as much as it was Egyptian, he decided. Or a crazy artist’s mixture. He pushed it open. An antechamber filled with Egyptian artifacts extended to either side. An arched, carved doorway ahead was flanked by statues of animal heads that appeared to stand guard. In the room beyond were more familiar furnishings.

A green-baize-covered poker table dominated the room. Only two chairs were pushed in. As he wondered what was going on, a vision of beauty languidly stepped from behind an ornately painted screen. Molly Francis held two glasses in her hands. She raised one in silent salute to him, then daintily sipped.

“Come in, Mr. Newcombe,” she said. “Share a drink to celebrate my good fortune.”

The blond vision set both drinks on the table, bent and lifted his Stetson. She dumped the contents on the table. Chips rolled everywhere. Without seeming to hurry but moving with expert ease, she trapped the errant chips and scooped them up. Using a few quick motions usually reserved for professional gamblers, she built six equal stacks of chips in front of one chair.

“A game, Mr. Newcombe?” She gestured to an empty chair. “You will find it quite exciting, I assure you.”

He walked slowly, trying not to show his true eagerness. Although her beauty was hypnotic, he took in as much of the surroundings as possible. The room had been outfitted for gambling. No windows, impeccable furnishings, a bar stocked with several bottles of whiskey. He didn’t have to see the labels to know this wasn’t the tarantula juice served downstairs. This was top-drawer liquor reserved for the elite who managed to find their way between the two statues outside the door.

“Anubis,” she said, as if reading his mind. “The Egyptian god with the head of a jackal.” She moved to her chair and waited. He took the cue and held it for her. She gracefully sank into it. As he walked to the chair across from her, she explained, “Anubis was the god of the tombs—and the weigher of hearts.

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