More Bitter Than Death: An Emma Fielding Mystery - By Dana Cameron Page 0,13
my eyes. “Pay up and find out.”
He saw me and raised again. “Take that.” By the way he was wagging his heel under his chair, he had a whopper of a hand. Moby Dick, Jaws, Behemoth.
“Okay, then you take that.” I saw him. The pot was very plump now, thanks to our table rules on betting.
“You can’t scare me, Fielding.”
“Then let’s see ’em, Whitaker.”
“I’m sorry, Em,” he said, grinning hugely as he put his cards down. “Flush.”
“Wow,” I responded. “Oh, man, Jay, you kill me! How often do you see a hand like that? Just look at that, a flush. Damn.”
“Yankees just can’t play cards,” he said smugly. He reached over to high-five Lissa, who ignored his hand and gave him a stony look.
“Who are you calling a Yankee?” she said caustically. Lissa’s family had got to North Carolina just after Virginia Dare. “Like Maryland is the South, anyway.”
Jay took the rebuff in good stride. “It’s all relative, babe; maybe it’s just chicks who can’t play cards, then. You guys are fun, but I usually hang out with serious players.” He stuck out his tongue at Lissa, who seemed to study it for possibilities, and then he rubbed his hands together and reached over to scoop the kitty toward his pile.
“Hang on there a second, friend.” I put down a queen-high straight flush. “Sorry Jay. Just call me the queen of spades.”
A phone rang, and while everyone else checked their cell phones, I took the opportunity to scoop all the cash over to my side of the table. It was my phone that kept ringing. Even after a couple of years, I’m still surprised when it happens. I left the table, where Jay was still staring at the cards dumbly, jaw dropped to his chest. Carla reached over to feel his pulse and got her hand slapped away for her trouble.
I cleared my throat. “Hey, Brian!”
Everyone around the table dutifully called out “Hello, Brian.” I stuck my finger in my free ear.
“How’d the presentation go?” he said.
“Good. I’m glad it’s done.”
“I just wanted to make sure that you got in from the site before the storm caught you.”
“It’s not here yet, and yes, we’re all fine.”
“I’m about to head to Kam’s. Marty’s off to her parents’ with the baby and I told him I’d keep him company.” Kamil Shah was Brian’s friend and his boss at United Pharmaceuticals, and Marty—Mariam—had been my undergraduate roommate, and a spectacularly perceptive bit of matchmaking on my part had got them married. Their daughter Sophia is my goddaughter, and I feel particularly responsible for her, as she is perfect.
“You be careful out there. And don’t forget to check the furnace, okay?”
“I will. And already done.”
“And did you put down the cat feeder and extra water?”
“Just did that.”
“And did you get a chance to—?”
“Come on, Emma. In the first place, I’m a reasonably intelligent guy and I don’t want to come home to a couple of frozen and starved cats or a burned-out shell of a house any more than you would.”
I looked out the window at the flying snow and wished I was home. “Aren’t you the one who was following me around, asking me if I packed clean socks and my toothbrush and my paper and slides? I know, I know you’ve got a handle on the small things.”
“Exactly. I was just being helpful. And speaking of which, I also had to deal with that sink full of ladylike unmentionables you left for me.”
“What ladylike unmentionables?” I could practically feel heads swiveling behind me. “What are you talking about?”
“You know. Your moon pies, your jockstrap.”
“It’s not a jockstrap,” I said. “It’s a female groin protector. There’s a big difference. And you should just call them breast shields. Sorry about that—and thanks. I meant to get to it, but I just didn’t get a chance.” By the curious glances of my colleagues, it was more than time to change subjects. “What are you two up to while Marty’s in New York?”
“Movies. Lots of explosions, gunplay, and semi-naked women. Meat, cheese, beer. We’ve been planning for two weeks now. Kam’s desperate for male company, someone over the age of two. He’s had enough of play dates for Sophia, this one’s for him.”
“Well, you can help there. Okay, have fun. Careful out driving.”
“Yep, you too. Good luck with your paper. And did you have a chance to take care of you-know-who yet?”