After I found the glue and a pair of scissors in a kitchen drawer, and grabbed a handful of carrots, we hit the road.
I learned something new that day. Fashioning a mustache out of some spare hair from a horse’s mane was simple—as easy as pie, as my 1930s-era friends would say. But convincing Bess to put that same fake mustache on her face? Now that was a challenge.
“It’s disgusting,” she argued. “And itchy.”
We were still by the stables, and had snipped some hair from one of the mares a few minutes before. The horses were still chewing the carrots we’d fed them. The cows blinked at us curiously from behind the fence, their tails swishing back and forth.
George walked over from the top of the hill, where she’d been on lookout.
“Come on, Bess,” she said. “It’s for a good cause.”
“Think about those poor Smith children,” I said. “And who knows how many others?”
“Oh, fine,” Bess said. Wrinkling her nose, she delicately took the mustache out of the palm of my hand. She held it between her thumb and forefinger, then raised it to her face. “It smells horsey,” she said, once it was secured on her upper lip.
“Well, of course it does,” said George.
I elbowed George and said, “Bess, you look great. Very dapper. Women will be throwing themselves at your feet.”
“Let’s get this over with,” Bess grumbled, marching back to her car.
Before we left, we went over the rules of poker once more. We also reviewed our hand signals. We weren’t going to cheat—but we had to have a system to alert one another in case one of us noticed that Clay and his friends were cheating.
“Okay, let’s not forget. If Clay does something fishy, we raise our eyebrows. If we spot a marked card, we scratch our noses. And if we see someone pulling an ace out of his sleeve, we yawn, covering our mouths with our left hands,” I said.
“Got it,” said George. “This is going to be a snap. You okay, Bess?”
“Fine.” Bess sniffed. Her eyes were red and watery. “I must be coming down with a cold. Perfect timing. Not too bad yet, though.”
“Good,” I said.
Since Bess and George were stopping by the schoolhouse on Lenora Drive first, to make sure everything was going smoothly, they drove together.
I got into my own car and headed downtown solo. When I pulled up in front of the casino, I gulped. Hulking by the door were three large and intimidating men. Two were smoking cigars. The third had a pencil-thin mustache, long sideburns, and dark, greasy hair. I knew this man. He was Edward Parker. I could only hope he wouldn’t recognize me.
“What do you want?” Edward asked as I approached.
“I heard there was a poker game going on here tonight,” I said in the deepest voice I could muster.
“Oh, really.” Edward glared at me suspiciously. “And who told you that?”
I stood up straighter. “Clay Gaines, sir.”
“You know Clay?” asked one of the other men.
“Uh, a friend of mine does,” I replied. “He sent me here.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so? Go on in.” He slapped me on the back so hard I almost fell over.
But at least I was inside.
The room was dimly lit and smoky. Many of the tables were empty, but some were filled with men who were smoking and drinking. Other men leaned against the wall, talking or just surveying the scene. Trying to look like I belonged, I went to the bar and ordered a soda.
Just then I spotted Clay coming out of another room. Handsome and charming as ever, he made the rounds, shaking hands with a few men before retreating to a table at the back. There he opened up a book—something that looked like an old-fashioned accounting ledger—and began studying it. He pulled a pencil from behind his ear and started to write. From the way his hand was moving—up and down the page instead of across it—it seemed as if he was adding up numbers.
Before I could figure it out, though, George and Bess arrived.
“So this is what the inside of a casino looks like,” said George.
“Where does the gambling take place?” Bess wondered.
I shrugged. “Don’t know.”
“Is Clay here?” asked George.
“Yup, over there.” I pointed with my chin.
George and Bess looked at the same time, and Clay noticed. Frowning, he closed his book and walked over. “Can I help you boys?” he asked.
I coughed before answering. “We’re interested in playing cards.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” asked Clay.
“Uh, we just did,” George pointed out.
“A wise guy, huh,” said Clay, smirking. “Follow me.” He led us down a narrow hallway. We passed by the door of the room he’d come out of, and then entered another small room.
This one was dark—there were no windows. In the center was a six-sided table. It had a green felt top and a chair at each side. Otherwise the room was empty.
“Take a seat, boys,” said Clay, gesturing toward the chairs. “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
Before I knew what was happening, he’d closed us in and then locked the door behind him.
We were trapped.
13
Gambling with Gangsters
Tell me he didn’t just lock the door on us,” said Bess. “Tell me we’re not trapped here.”
“We’re not trapped here,” said George. She shrugged. “I can say it, but that doesn’t mean it’s true.”
Bess got up and checked the door. Yup—it was locked. “Great,” she cried. “We’re never getting out of here.”
“I’m sure he’s just getting his cards.” I tried to act calm, even though I was plenty nervous myself. “Let’s talk about something else. Do either of you know how things are at the schoolhouse?”
“Great,” said George. “The kids are trickling back, and Miss O’Brian is so happy to be teaching again. It’s really wonderful.”
“I’m so glad,” I said.
“The bartering system is spreading fast. Even the mayor heard about it. And guess what? I heard he might schedule a town hall meeting to thank the River Heights business owners for joining the effort.” We both watched Bess, who was pacing back and forth across the small room—freaking out more and more with each passing second.
“Cool,” I said.
“I’m a bit warm, actually,” said George. “These suits are so heavy.”
I corrected myself. “Oh, I mean… jeepers, that’s swell.”
“Wait, I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet,” said George.
“What’s that?” I wondered.
“I also heard they’re going to want you to speak too. You and Neum.”
“Neum?” I asked.
“Sure,” said George. “Word’s been traveling about how Neum inspired you to come up with the bartering system to get the kids back in school. It’ll be great to meet him.”
Oh, boy. I smiled weakly. “Let’s just get through the next few hours, okay?”
“Do you think it’s the costumes?” asked Bess. She was so worried, she wasn’t even paying attention to me and George. “I should have worn a horsehair beard, too. Do you think Clay recognized us from the other day at the Smiths’? Maybe he’s calling the police. Or worse—our parents!”
“If only I could take a look at his ledger,” I said.
“What are you talking about?” asked George.
“I saw him writing in some sort of book. I’d love to take a look at it. If only there was a way to get it.”
Suddenly we heard voices in the hallway. Moments later the door flew open. In walked Clay and Edward. They were with another man who was tall and scary-looking.
“Ready, boys?” asked Clay. The book he’d been holding when he left the room was now gone.
I wondered where he stashed it.
The three men sat down at the table.
Clay introduced us to his two friends. “This is Edward, and
this is Frankie.”
As Edward nodded to us, Frankie leaned toward me and said hello. His voice was deep and scratchy, like someone with laryngitis.
In clockwise order from Clay, we were sitting as follows: Edward, George, me, Frankie, and Bess. That meant I was directly across from Clay. And that was good. It’d be easier to catch him cheating that way.
“Minimum bet is a nickel,” said Clay.
Once we all added a nickel to the pot, Clay dealt the cards. “You boys interested in playing five-card stud?” he asked.
I looked to George, panicked. That was something we hadn’t had time to practice.
“Let’s play draw poker to start,” she said. “Deuces wild?”
Clay nodded.
So far, so good.
I noticed that Bess was wrinkling her nose. That wasn’t a familiar signal. Was it one I forgot? I looked toward George again. She didn’t seem to know what Bess was trying to say either.
“Are you boys ready, or what?” asked Clay.
“Hello?” asked Frankie, when none of us answered.
Whoops! I wasn’t used to being called a boy. My friends weren’t either.
I picked up my five cards and fanned them out in my hand. It wasn’t bad. I had a king, a queen, and a jack, but they were all in different suits. I also had a five and a seven. I’d get rid of those cards when it was my turn.
Since Clay dealt the cards, he’d go last. That meant Edward went first. He didn’t take any cards, and upped the ante to ten cents. I hoped it didn’t get much higher. We only had a dollar each.
George matched his bet and asked for one card. After Clay handed it to her, she smiled.
I bit my bottom lip. I was looking at my cards and sneaking peeks at Clay whenever I had the chance. If only I could figure out how he always won.
“You ready?” he asked. “What did you say your name was?”
“Na—,” I began. Uh-oh. Names were something we’d forgotten to cover. What’s a guy’s name starting with an N? All I could think of was Ned. But I already had my boyfriend’s wardrobe. No way was I dragging his name into this. I thought fast and replied, “Um, Neum.”
“Neum?” asked Frankie. “What kind of name is that? It sounds kinda foreign.”
“That’s because it is,” said George. “It’s Belgian.”
“Belgian?” asked Edward, looking back and forth between me and George.
“Yup.” I nodded. “Belgian.”
“So, Neum, you gonna play your hand or what?”
“Oh, sorry. I’ll take two cards, please.” I discarded my five and my seven. The cards I got to replace them were great: a two of clubs and a ten. Since the two was wild, I could turn it into a nine, which left me with a straight.
After Frankie upped the ante to twenty-five cents, Bess, who was calling herself Ben, folded. That was probably good. Now that she’d taken herself out of the game, she’d be able to watch more carefully. The thing was, she kept scrunching up her nose, and I didn’t know why.
We played through and the pot grew steadily. Soon it had a dollar and fifteen cents. Then we showed our cards—displaying them face up on the table. George won the game with a straight flush.
Clay and his friends were very good-natured about it.
“Let’s play another hand,” Clay said as he lit a cigar.
“Great,” said George.
He started dealing.
I coughed, since the smoke was getting to me. “Actually, I was hoping I could use the la—, uh, the restroom.”
“Not supposed to leave once the cards have been dealt,” said Edward with one of his signature scowls.
“Oh, let the boy go,” said Clay. “This is a friendly game, after all.”
“Thank you,” I said, standing up. “Where is it?”
“Turn left out the door and go straight. It’s the third door on the right.”
“Thanks,” I said.
Once in the hallway, when I was sure that no one was watching, I tried the door to Clay’s office. Of course it was locked. Making sure the coast was clear, I pulled a bobby pin from underneath my hat. I stuck it in the keyhole and fiddled with it until I managed to trick the lock. With a slight click, I heard it release. I turned the knob and opened the door. With a final glance over my shoulder to make sure the coast was clear, I slipped inside, closing the door behind me.
The room itself was nothing special. There was a large red leather chair at the desk, which was empty except for one of those old-fashioned phones, like the one at my house. I began checking the drawers. Most were empty, but I finally found Clay’s ledger in the bottom, right-hand one.
Opening it up, I couldn’t help but smile. This was exactly what I needed. Inside was a series of lists. The first was of the wealthiest people in River Heights. These were the investors he was planning on swindling. He’d checked off the Shannons, Chief McGinnis, and a few others. People he’d already spoken with, I assumed. Another page was titled, “Plans for the ‘Building Project.’”
Interesting use of quotation marks.
Flipping further, I found a map of downtown, and in the back of the ledger, a pile of deeds to homes. The Smiths’ was in the middle of it. I pulled it out and placed it in my pocket.
I glanced at the clock. Five minutes had passed. I really needed to get back to the game before anyone started missing me. Carefully I closed the desk drawers, and tucked the book into the waistband at the back of my pants. Luckily the suit jacket was baggy enough to cover it. I fastened my belt a little tighter, just to make sure it stayed in place.
Closing and locking the door carefully, I made my way back to the card game.
It looked like George had won the past couple of hands. She had a stack of coins in front of her.
Twenty minutes later she had almost all our money. I really hoped the men would start cheating soon.
During the next round I got a really bad draw and decided to fold.
Just then I noticed Clay pull something out of his sleeve. Could it be an ace? It looked that way. But there was only one way to find out for sure.…
I was about to open up my mouth when I realized something. Yes, I could call Clay a cheater—but then what? The three men at the table were much bigger than any one of us. Plus, I knew there were at least two more guys outside, guarding the front door to the bar.
I already had all the evidence I needed in Clay’s book. Once I turned it over to the police, they’d handle things from there. All I had to do was manage a clean escape.
Of course, that was easier said than done.
I glanced around the table. George was totally wrapped up in the card game. She couldn’t lose. And Bess kept rubbing her eyes—another signal I couldn’t remember.
I tried the emergency signal—tugging on my left ear. No one noticed. No one but Clay, that is. “Hello, Neum. Whatcha doing?”
“Me?” I quickly sat on my hands. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“You wouldn’t be trying to send secret messages to your friends, now, would you?”
“Of course not,” I said. “That wouldn’t be fair. My ear was itching—that’s all.”
Frankie leaned over to me and said in his scratchy voice, “Next time your ear itches, leave it.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied.
“We don’t like cheaters around here,” Clay said.
You mean other than yourself, I thought.
“You know, it’s getting late,” said George. “We really should be leaving anyway.”
“Not so fast,” said Edward. “I believe we still need to play another round.”
“I don’t know,” said George, shooting a panicked glance my way.
“Oh, he wasn’t asking you,” said Frankie, cracking his knuckles one by one. “He was telling you.”
George gulped.
Clay dealt another round of cards. I knew what was happening. They were upset because George was doing so well. This was exactly how they’d managed to trick Bob into gambling
the deed to his house.
George’s hands were shaking as she held her cards. No surprise—I was a nervous wreck too. I felt beads of sweat form underneath the heavy wool suit. Even worse—the book was starting to slip.
“I fold,” said George, after a quick glance at her cards.
“Me too,” I said, when it came to my turn.
“I’m broke,” said Bess, placing her cards facedown on the table.
Clay may have won that round, but George was still ahead in a major way.
As Clay dealt the cards, I tried to tell George to throw her game. If only she’d give up her earnings. Sort of hard to part with the cash, I knew. But it was our only way out.
Or so I thought.
Suddenly Bess sneezed, and her mustache went flying across the table. It landed right in Frankie’s lap.
Clay stood up and ripped the hat from Bess’s head. “You’re a girl!” he said. “Well, I’ll be!”
“Hey, Boss,” said Frankie, who’d taken off my hat. “Looks like we’ve got two of ’em.”
“Wait a minute,” said Edward. He’d grabbed George’s hat from her head, and was looking at her short, but feminine, hair. “Make that three.”
“Yeah, I’m a girl,” said George. “A girl who just beat you at poker, ten hands in a row. And it was as easy as pie!”
14
Gotta Run
I’m not normally one for violence, but when Clay grabbed my arm, I was left with no choice. I mean, come on. I’m not just going to take that kind of thing. I stomped on his foot and elbowed him.
As he yelled and writhed in pain, Bess, George, and I made a run for it. We pushed past Frankie and Edward, who looked on—too frozen with shock to try and stop us. The guards out front were arguing between themselves, so they hardly blinked as we tore on out of the bar.
“I am so sorry,” said Bess as we ran to our cars.
“If only we’d had more time,” George cried.
“We had enough,” I said. “I found Clay’s ledger. It’s got all the proof we need.”
“Nancy, that’s great!” said Bess.
We reached their car first and Bess and George hopped in. “So what’s the plan?” asked Bess.
“I’ll distract them, while you two go to the police,” I said. “Once Clay figures out his ledger is gone, he’ll try and skip town. Sure, there’s already a roadblock, but I think the cops’ll need backup. It’s not going to be easy, stopping them all.”