Page 43 of In the Nick of Time
Surprisingly, when Doug inquired about the back-back room, both he and Nick were invited. The two of them followed Ginny to the inset door.
“Do not do anything stupid,” Doug said quietly. “Do not allow yourself to get separated from me.”
Doug was horrified to realize he liked Agent Nick Sedgewick even more than he thought he had. What was wrong with him? If something happened to Nick on Doug’s watch, he’d have a hard time forgiving himself.
“But what if you get separated from me?” Nick asked. “I mean, we’ve had a long day and I’m sure people your age get easily confused when they are tired.”
Doug managed to tamp down his chuckle. Two could play this game, and Doug thought he just might be better at it now that he was more aware of the rules or lack thereof.
But first he had a murderer to catch.
ELEVEN
NICK
Did he get what he wished for? News at eleven.
There wasa gleam in Doug’s eyes that Nick was quickly learning meant there would be trouble, and it was probably trouble for Nick.
“Shall we?” Doug said, his tone innocent. “You go ahead of me. That way, if I fall, I’ll be able to grab onto you.”
“This way, Mr. Swanson, Mr. Sedgewick.”
Filled with trepidation, Nick followed Ginny toward the portal.
“Wouldn’t it be weird if it really did lead to a different dimension?” Nick said over his shoulder. “And handy, much easier than driving or flying.”
Nick didn’t hear Doug’s response clearly, but it was something about picking the wrong door and Outer Mongolia.
“Is there an Inner Mongolia?” Nick asked. He’d wondered before and meant to look it up but always forgot. He was probably going to die never knowing if there was an Inner Mongolia. Or if space aliens thought humans were the aliens. The chicken or the egg? Who was the real alien?
Doug poked him between the shoulder blades. “Keep moving, Sedgewick.”
Soundlessly, the door opened and a smiling Ginny motioned them to pass through. Nick peered around, trying to memorize everything he was seeing. Doug hadn’t said as much, but he figured observing was his job while Doug played with the sharks.
The VIP room proved to be smaller than the previous two gaming areas. There were just six large felt-covered tables, spread far enough apart to give plenty of room for the servers, other staff, and visitors to walk between them. As Nick had suspected, the only game was poker.
After the last few days, what Nick knew about poker had expanded to fit on top of a plastic chip.
“You’re at table three, gentlemen,” Ginny said, leading them to one of the tables closest to the tiny stage.
Great, they were going to get a full blast of Velvet Elvis. Tonight, he was dressed a bit more vintage, fifties and early sixties. His hair was a little more carefree, the signature lock flopping across his forehead. More Rat Pack, less Liberace.
“Can I put in a drink order for you?” she asked.
After ordering a vodka soda, Nick looked around at the rest of the table and the people sitting at it. There were four players plus Doug, with room for two more. The dealer, whose name tag announced him as Mr. Theodore, stood in the pilot’s seat in the center. The position probably had a real name but Nick had no idea what it was. He wasn’t playing, after all, just taking up space. Observing.
“Player in,” Mr. Theodore said.
Was Theodore the dealer’s first or last name? A question Nick might never learn the answer to. Without speaking again, Mr. Theodore dealt Doug and the other four players seven cards each. Nick watched but also listened to Velvet Elvis perform.
His first song wasNothing But a Hound Dog. The song—Nick knew because he stored random facts in his head—had not, in fact, been stolen from Big Mama Thornton, no matter how Velvet Elvis had introduced it, but instead from Freddie Bell and the Bell Boys, who’d opened for Elvis in Vegas early in 1956. Nick wished he stored more useful information in his memory bank, but odd facts it was. The stage lights brightened and focused on the performer while the lighting in the rest of the room dimmed slightly.
“Let me know if you need anything else.” A nameless waitperson set their drinks down on the felt-topped table and moved to the next group.
Nick took in the rest of the room and players. He’d watched high stakes poker on TV and this was supposed to be high stakes poker, but was there something off about it? After a few minutes, he realized that there was no tension in the room. When he’d watched on TV, all the players were intent and focused. These players seemed relaxed, almost sleepy.
He glanced over at Doug. Doug’s eyes were not shut, but they were definitely lowered.
