Page 44 of Just Now

Connor barged his way into the underground room, one hand on the door, the other holding his flashlight. He was ready to grab his gun, but needed to see what was there before he could shoot.

Then he stopped in his tracks, gasping in a surprised breath. He felt astounded by what was pinned in its beam.

The thumping music was blaring from an old-fashioned radio set up on the wooden table in the center of this darkened room. And at the table, five men and two women sat, wearing formal jackets and evening gowns and fancy hats on their heads. The cards displayed on the table, and the piles of casino chips, told Connor that a game of poker was underway. The air smelled of beer and bourbon.

His arrival caused consternation.

The dark-haired man in the chair closest to him jumped up in a panic, knocking over his whiskey glass, his bowler hat falling off his head. The woman next to him, in a purple velvet jacket, grabbed the glass, shuffling the cards and chips out of the way of the spill. There were cries of surprise and alarm.

“FBI. What is going on here?” Connor demanded, his voice booming in the small space.

“I thought you said we were allowed to play poker for money! Why are we getting raided?” the blond woman at the far side of the table said in accusing tones, staring at the dark-haired man closest to Connor.

That man had gone very pale.

“Of course we’re allowed to play poker!” he said shakily. “I don’t know what this is about.”

“Are you Cody McGovern?” Connor questioned.

“Yes, I am. That’s me.”

“You called in off from work. Said your girlfriend was sick.”

“They send the FBI out to check on that these days?” another man, with a wry, humorous face, wisecracked from the opposite side of the darkened table. There was a snort of laughter from the man next to him, but everyone else looked highly stressed by Connor’s untimely arrival.

Cody shifted his feet.

“It’s—it’s actually my girlfriend’s birthday,” he admitted. “And we decided to have a small party, speakeasy theme, and play some poker. I know I should have been truthful with work, but they can get difficult about personal time off. So I’m afraid I did lie to them.”

Connor could see the guilt in Cody’s eyes, but he didn’t know if it was just from being caught out or for a bigger reason. He scanned the rest of the group, noticing that some were still nervously holding the cards and keeping their eyes down, while others were staring at him with a mix of fear and defiance.

Taking in the decor of the room, it did look like a speakeasy, with liquor bottles lining the shelves and dim lighting casting shadows across the faces of the players.

“I need to speak to you outside,” he told Cody. “The rest of you can carry on.”

He wasn’t going to shut their party down, even though he knew he’d dampened the vibe. All he needed was an alibi from this one man, who was now following him to the door, looking stricken, as if his evening had turned into a nightmare.

Connor led the way up the steep stairs and into the darkened living room, where he turned on a standard lamp. In its glow, he could take a better look at Cody.

He had a couple of scars on his face, Connor saw, but they didn’t look recent. Even so, it was worth asking about.

“Your face. What happened to it?”

Cody flinched at the question, before answering. “It was from gravel and broken glass. I was in a bicycle accident a few months back.”

Connor nodded, accepting that explanation.

“And your movements on Wednesday? You weren’t working at the Zesty Kitchen on that day. Tell me what you did.”

“Wednesday? I was here at home.”

“Alone?”

“My girlfriend, Tracy, was also here,” he said. “She was sitting next to me downstairs. She can confirm that.”

Connor scrutinized Cody’s face, waiting for any signs of deception or guilt. But Cody was looking back at him with honest confusion, as if he truly didn’t understand what was going on.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me about Wednesday, Cody?” he asked, his voice level and calm.

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