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Poker Cop: A Poker Player Murder Mystery

I scream hysterically, “Don’t shoot! . . . Don’t! . . .”

“Don’t shoot,” says Don Paulo quietly. No one shoots.

“I believe you, Mr. Thayer. Keep searchingfor this ‘Small Man.’”

“I will, but I want something in return.”

“What?”

“The girl, Jenny. Give her back.”

The Don says, “My father once told me never mix women and poker.”

When I don’t reply he says, “Your funeral.” And walks away.

My funeral will have to wait. I take Don Giuseppe’s $25 poker chip out of the cast on my left arm and tell Jake, “We’re going to The Limp Inn.”

The Limp Inn, I’m told by the Brush, is run by “Wheels,” a paraplegic whose nickname comes from the chair he’s strapped into. I grease the Brush and when the Dealer at “Wheels’s Table” calls “Open seat!” I get to sit down directly opposite Wheels. The game is $20/$40 no-limit hold’em. I try to buy a $25 chip rack. “Sorry,” I’m told, “Limp only uses $10 checks.” (That nagging Something’s wrong voice says, “That’s not true. I have a $25 ‘Limp Inn’ chip in my palm.”) I watch the action while I wait for the blind. In four hands I know everything about everyone. There are two fish, one a loose producer, the other a tight feather merchant - they take turns being gutted by a bleeder, a grinder, and a locksmith, who, egged on by two shills, are setting up the action for Wheels and his Silent Partner who, along with the aid and assistance of a bottom Dealer, are stealing this game blind. The cards are marked, the drop is huge, four players work for the House. This is my favorite game - cheating the cheaters. I advertise myself as a wild fist-full-of-chips hold’em player with more money than skill. I play, and lose, six hands in a row.

On hand seven I’m in the Big Blind. I’m bottom dealt a 7s2d. I check my option, making it a ten player family pot. The flop comes 2c 8c Ah. The small blind checks. I check, the fish bet and call, the bleeder raises, the grinder and locksmith call, Wheels re-raises and his Silent Partner calls, as do the shills in Last and the Small Blind. I play “fret and sweat” while, out of the “cheaters sleeve” sown into my shirt cuff, I exchange the Room Temperature hand for the As and Ad I’ve pocketed in previous games. “I call” and continue to call all bets and raises until on Fifth Street I lay The Triple- A Farm Club on the felt. “Good hand!” says Wheels.

Three “Good hands!” later, the Home Team is down to table scraps. Wheels and I get to the River. He sits thinking. I sit waiting, waiting. . . .

Wheels nods to a passing waiter. Crash! A tray of drinks is dropped. While everyone (except me) looks away Wheels trades cards with The Dealer.

“All-in,” says Wheels. I move to go all-in, pushing my blue stacks forward before saying, “Wait, I’ve got one more chip!” I lift up my plaster cast, revealing the $25 ‘Limp Inn’ chip and splash it into the pot.

Wheels does not turn up his cards. Instead he nods to a passing waitress who screams, Ow! Who grabbed my ass!

While everyone (including me) looks away a trapdoor opens under my chair. The Dealer calls to the Brush, “Open seat!”

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