Raising the Stakes

“It’s nothing but the truth.”

They looked at each other and smiled. “So,” he said, “you were telling me how you came to own the Song…”

“Oh. Yes, yes, I was.” She lifted her glass, took a long drink. “Well, we had a difficult few years. The children came along quickly. Ruarch worked at whatever jobs he could while I did all those things women do. Washed, cleaned, cooked, changed diapers…” She sighed. “They were hard years but good ones. Do you know what I mean?”

“I do, yes, though we never had as rough a time,” he said, a touch of surprise in his voice. “A man doesn’t earn a fortune when he’s on the job—”

“On the job?”

“Cop talk for being a policeman. It didn’t pay a lot but it was enough to support Flo, my girls and me.”

Mary nodded.

“We talked about Ruarch getting a real job. He tried it, but he had an itchy foot so we drifted from place to place, always heading west. He gambled, too. I used to tell him he’d lose everything someday but the truth is, he never did. He won at cards, at the track, at odd bets with strangers and with some people whose famous names would surprise you.” She took the last bite of her cake, placed the fork across the plate and put it on the tray. “And then we came to Vegas and, one night, he came home and told me he’d won us a hotel.”

Dan blinked. “He won the Desert Song?”

“No. Oh, no.” Mary laughed softly. “He won a little place. A motel, I suppose you’d call it today. But he saw the possibilities in this town, and he had friends who agreed with his vision. He worked hard—with me alongside him, I might add—and we woke up one morning and found ourselves the proud owners of a classy hotel and casino.” She winked. “That’s the story our publicity people gave out, anyway. They thought it wouldn’t do if we talked about the years we sweated.”

Dan nodded. “Well, I’m impressed.”

“So was my father. He sent me a note—the first I’d had from him in twenty years—and told me he’d known, all along, that Ruarch was a man who’d make something of himself.”

“And did that heal the rift between you?” He saw her face change and cursed himself for a fool. “Duchess. Mrs. O’Connell. I’m sorry for asking such a personal question.”

“Don’t be silly. And don’t call me that, either.”

“Duchess? I apologize. I think it, and it just tumbles out of my mouth.”

“No, not that.” Mary smiled. “Perhaps I’m still Brahmin enough to like the sound of the word. Just, please, don’t address me as Mrs. O’Connell. I think we know each other well enough to dispense with such formalities, don’t you?”

What he knew was that the day was opening up like a doorway leading into heaven. Dan smiled back at this lovely woman he’d admired for so long. “Yes, I believe we do…Mary.”

They smiled at each other and then she cleared her throat. “Well,” she said briskly, “it’s a pleasure seeing you, but I have the feeling you came here for more than iced coffee and the story of my life.”

Iced coffee and more of listening to her soft voice would have kept him happy forever, Dan thought, so unexpectedly that he felt the breath catch in his lungs, but a man didn’t survive almost thirty years as a cop working the mean streets of New York City by doing or saying things precipitously. He patted his mouth with the napkin, placed the plate, fork and napkin on the coffee table and leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs.

“I’ve done the background check Keir requested on Graham Baron.”

“Ah. I thought that might be it.” Mary leaned forward, too. “Is Keir joining us?”

“No. I’ve already spoken with him. I hope you don’t mind. I intended to report to you both at the same time but Keir called my office a while ago on a different matter and—”

“No, no, I don’t mind. Well? What did you find out?”

Dan rose to his feet. He undid the button on his suit jacket, tucked his hands into the pockets of his trousers, walked to the sliding doors that led to the terrace. She recognized the signs. He was a man delaying his response, and knowing it sent a chill along her spine.

“Dan? Is it bad?”

“Is it…? No. No, it isn’t bad.” He shook his head as he turned around. “I’m sorry, Mary. I didn’t mean to imply that it was. It’s just that, well, knowing more about the man only makes the matter more complicated.”

“I don’t understand. What did you find out?”

“Nothing. Nothing that would explain things, anyway.” Dan sat beside her on the little sofa and stretched out his long legs. “Baron’s an attorney. He has an impressive r;aaesum;aae—Yale Law Review, clerked for a Federal judge—and now he’s a partner in a high-powered New York law firm that specializes in criminal law.”

Mary’s mouth twisted. “You mean he represents criminals?”

The way she said it made Dan grin. “A woman after my own heart,” he said. “You say those words as if they burned your tongue but, in truth, I can’t fault the man for what he does. It’s part of the system, and I faced enough hotshot lawyers in my time to hold a grudging respect for some.”