The Gamble

And I was on an adventure, wasn’t I? I was living my life, clearing the cobwebs, experiencing new things. I could move to the hotel in town or drive to Denver after Max showed me his bluff.

“All right,” I said on another sip of my coffee and then I took another bite of the delicious buttery, jellied toast.

Okay, so I was being an idiot. I could be an idiot for a few hours to see a bluff. Then after allowing myself to be an idiot, I could go back to being a smart, sane, rational person again. But being smart, sane and rational was boring, I’d been doing that for awhile and I could use a break, so I was going to give myself one.

“That was easy,” Max commented and I took another bite of toast and looked at him.

I chewed, swallowed and asked, “What?”

He shook his head slowly and muttered, “Nothin’ darlin’.”

Then he took a sip from his coffee and his eyes went over my shoulder, his brows drew together and I watched his body get tight.

It was a fascinating, even thrilling, but somewhat scary sight to see. He had a powerful body and seeing it come alert like that in an instant was remarkable.

“What the f**k?” he murmured and I dragged my eyes away from his body, turned on my stool, toast in hand, and looked out the window.

Parking by the Cherokee was an army green SUV, police lights at the top, big star insignia on the door.

At the sight, I, too, felt my body get tight.

“Is that the police?” I asked, even though it obviously was.

“Yeah,” Max said softly but I could hear he was on the move.

A man got out of the SUV, jeans, heavy flannel shirt, padded vest, cowboy boots, badge and gun on his belt. He was average height, salt in his pepper hair, a bit of a beer belly growing over his mammoth belt buckle but he still looked fit. He gazed up at the A-Frame and then headed up the stairs.

Max had the door open before he got there. I stayed frozen on my stool watching this play out.

“Mick,” Max greeted the man.

“Max,” the man greeted back, walking in through the open door.

“What’s up?” Max asked.

Mick’s eyes came to me and it was then too slowly I realized I was in a little, pale pink nightgown.

He looked back to Max apparently unsurprised Max had a woman in a little, pale pink nightgown sitting at a stool by his kitchen and he announced, “Something’s happened.”

Max shut the door on the cold air, straightened, planted his feet and crossed his arms on his chest before he asked, “What?”

Mick cleared his throat and his eyes came to me.

“That’s Nina Sheridan,” Max told him.

“Hey there, Miss Sheridan,” Mick said to me.

I decided not to correct him about the “Miss” and instead invited, “Please call me Nina.”

“All right, Nina,” Mick returned with an uncomfortable smile which made me, already ill at ease because of a morning visit from a police officer, more so.

“What’s up?” Max asked again and I wondered if I should run upstairs, put on a cardigan, my robe, maybe some jeans, a snowsuit (though, I didn’t have one of those).

Mick walked further into the house in my direction but turned back to Max.

“Gotta ask you a few questions,” he said and I decided not to go get dressed. The way he said that, I decided to stay right where I was.

“What questions?” Max asked, also walking in but he came direct to me, positioning himself behind my stool so close I could feel his warmth at my back.

Mick took this as an invitation to come in further and he did, stopping about three feet away.

“Gotta know where you were last night around two, three in the mornin’,” Mick said.

I felt myself still and I stared at Mick noting he was uncomfortable and not hiding it.

“What’s this about?” Max asked and I could tell by his voice he was not happy and also not hiding it.

“Just answer, Max,” Mick said softly.

“In bed,” Max said, his gravelly voice curt and Mick’s eyes darted to me then back to Max.

“Asleep?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Max answered.

“Sorry, Nina,” Mick’s gaze came back to me, his eyes dropping to my nightgown for the barest of seconds before coming back to my face and he continued. “Could you corroborate that?”

“What’s this about?” Max repeated.

But at the same time I said quickly, “Yes, I can.”

“You sure?” Mick asked me.

“Of course I’m sure,” I said firmly.

“Were you asleep too?” Mick pressed and my back straightened.

“Mick,” Max was obviously losing patience, “what the f**k’s this about?”

But again I spoke quickly. “No, I wasn’t asleep.” Mick opened his mouth to speak but I kept talking. “I’m here from England, I’ve got jetlag. I woke up around two in the morning, nine o’clock my time, and stayed awake until dawn. Max was with me the whole time.”

Mick’s face and body visibly relaxed, relief washing through him and he nodded.

“Now you wanna tell me what this is about?” Max’s patience was gone, he sounded angry.

Mick’s eyes moved to him. “Curtis Dodd was killed early this mornin’.”

I heard Max pull in breath and even though I didn’t know who Curtis Dodd was, I felt my eyes get wide.

“You’re shittin’ me,” Max said quietly.

“Wish I was,” Mick replied.

Then Max asked, “Murdered?”

“Yep,” Mick answered.

“And you come to visit me?” Max didn’t sound angry anymore, he just was. I heard it and felt it.

“Now Max, just procedure. Everyone knows you don’t get along with Dodd.” Mick’s tone was placating.

“Yeah, neither does most of the town,” Max returned.

“Yeah, that’s why I got deputies visiting a lotta folk. You’re my third this mornin’,” Mick explained.

Well, at least that was something.

“What happened?” I asked in order to turn the conversation and hopefully diffuse the situation.

“Dodd was shot,” Mick answered.

“Where?” Max asked.

“His house, guy broke in,” Mick answered.

Max came closer, his body touching my back and I could feel something strange coming from him.

“Where was Bitsy?” Max went on, his voice cautious or maybe concerned.

“Visitin’ her sister, she don’t like the spring break tourist season. Too many kids, teenagers gettin’ sloshed.” I felt something coming from Max, I didn’t know what it was but it was also coming from Mick. He was uncomfortable again for some reason that was different than before and he hurried on. “You know she goes down to Arizona for a coupla months every March and April.”