Page 79 of A Scandal in Homeroom
Friday Night
Locke
Contrary to Ed believing four days was not enough time to learn the game, I felt I had a firm grasp on it in three. I’d read several books, disseminated what I believed to be the best information from each of them, then applied what I knew about male and female psychology to each hand.
It quickly became apparent when I sat down at the table, I was being assessed. I’d purposely chosen the table where Beth’s father was playing, as he was involved somehow in whatever bigger thing was happening at this game.
Having done my research, I’d learned he’d dissolved his hedge fund, legally it seemed, before he left in June. To me, that suggested his leaving was intended to be permanent and he had no plans to return.
Then why did he?
It could be as simple as he missed his family. But according to the timeline Irene had spelled out and Beth confirmed, Roger Bennet was playing poker here first, before returning to the bosom of his family.
His priorities were somewhat skewed if his reason for returning was familial love.
“Are you going to make a decision sometime this year?” Roger Bennet pressed me. “You know there is a reason why we split these games up between the teenagers and the adults.”
“I thought it was because the adults play a more serious game. You’ll find as we continue to play, I’m very serious.”
“Who takes forever to call or fold.”
It was because I was doing significantly more than making a decision about my hand.
“Call,” I said, and met the number of chips he’d already bet in the center of the table.
He was irritated with the call. Probably because he’d raised a significant amount on a hand that had very limited potential. We were already at the Turn. Four cards on the table face up. There was no potential for a straight or flush currently. No pairs on the board, so a full house or quads was out. It was going to come down to a pocket pair he was already holding, or trips.
According to the books, I should have folded. Except, I was playing a different kind of game. How was this man connected to Moriarty? Because I was certain he had to be.
I’d reached a conclusion these past few days. There were only two ways to pull Irene out of the lion’s head. Find leverage on Moriarty, and force him to let her go. Or shut down the game altogether.
Since learning about Irene’s secret poker game, I’d done some intern work at town hall. If the police were aware of the game, or had suspicions about activities around Thornfield Home, it was not evident.
There was no open case on file.
Which could be a result of the mayor being part of this endeavor.
Irene had told me who she suspected of losing money to Bennet, and I’d done some research on the two men as well. The mayor of Haddonfield and a man named Sheffield, an orthopedic specialist who had a practice in town.
On one of my runs through town, I passed Dr. Sheffield’s home to check out the apparent success of his practice. I’d nearly been mauled by two brown Rhodesian Ridgeback dogs who’d fortunately been contained by an electric fence.
I wasn’t the biggest fan of vicious barking dogs.
The home was typical of Haddonfield. It smelled like money, and the black and white Teslas parked in the long driveway implied Sheffield’s practice was thriving.
The mayor, who’s full time job was that of vice president of a local insurance company, was similarly outfitted, minus the two Ridgebacks.
Two men of means, dumping money to another man of means at an illegal poker game.
Why? Why not meet privately to hand over the money?
“Raise,” Bennet said. “Two hundred.”
I hadn’t been paying attention. The river, the fifth and final card, had been dealt. Another diamond, so the potential of a flush existed, but wasn’t likely.
Bennet had a great deal of chips in front of him. However, if he was here for other reasons, not necessarily to accumulate more money by winning hands, but to collect people’s pay offs, then the two-hundred-dollar raise was foolish.
It wasn’t quite large enough to showcase the strength of his hand and push me out. Unless, of course, he thought I was someone easily intimidated. If I wasn’t bluffing and I hadthe nuts,he risked putting a dent in his pot because my only course of action would be to re-raise.
