Spark Read online

  Had I told him?

  I could have. “Yes, the Palmer House.”

  “My driver will be there in twenty minutes. I’ll tell him to break every law, but of course, not to be caught.”

  “I really shouldn’t,” I said. “I’m sure Mitchell is simply caught in traffic.”

  “If he arrives before Justin, call me and all is well. I have waited for years to challenge you in the final round of a tournament. Your name on the roster was what lured me to this tournament. I will not allow a late driver to interfere with my plans.”

  He’d entered because of me?

  That was something that required more thought. Now wasn’t the time. I was desperate, more desperate than I wanted to sound. “Marion, really, I will have the doorman call for a taxi cab.”

  “Nonsense. Justin is already on his way,” Marion answered. “A woman as beautiful as you shouldn’t arrive in a dirty cab but in style. Watch for the black Mercedes limousine. I apologize that it’s rather small. The one I keep at home doesn’t fit in my plane. You know how it is?”

  My head shook. I didn’t know how it was. Andros had money and liked his expensive toys, yet recently, I’d rarely been along for the ride. In most cases that suited me fine. “Thank you, Marion. I am very grateful.”

  “You will share dinner with me then, between the rounds.”

  “I don’t—”

  “It will be your way of saying thank you,” he said.

  The hairs on the back of my neck bristled. I already felt that I’d led him on too much. “I suppose that will depend if we both advance.”

  “I have no doubt. Watch for Justin. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Marion?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “How did you get my number?”

  “I can’t tell you all my secrets,” he said with a smirk in his tone.

  “Thank you again,” I said as I disconnected the call.

  Donning my winter coat, I swooped my long hair outside the collar and reached for my handbag. One last look in the mirror. “Whatever you did, Mr. Kelly, didn’t work. I will arrive in time.”

  By the time I rode down in the elevator and walked through the lobby to the front door, my wait time was only a few minutes. One more time, I tried Mitchell’s number. Three rings.

  “Ms. Miller,” the doorman said, bringing my attention to him.

  “Yes.”

  “Ma’am, your ride is waiting.”

  Waiting? It hadn’t been twenty minutes.

  “Thank you,” I sighed, grateful I would soon be in transit.

  The car the doorman led me to had dark windows. It was also much larger than I expected, making me wonder how it fit into Marion’s plane.

  What kind of plane did he have?

  “Ms. Miller?” a man in a chauffeur’s uniform asked.

  “Yes, and you’re Justin?”

  He smiled sweetly. “I am, ma’am.” He reached for the door handle and opened the back door. “Mr. Elliott wanted me to assure him that you’ll arrive on time. I think we should be fine.”

  “Yes,” I said. “You arrived sooner than I expected.”

  “He told me to hurry.”

  I smiled as I took his hand. “Thank you.” I stooped, stepping into the limousine. My shoes were both inside and the door closed. As I turned to sit, the man in the far seat with the dark hair and eyes came into view. My quick inhale stifled my gasp.

  “My dear, we need to talk,” his timbre was silky, but I knew it was just smooth enough to cover the thorns.

  “Andros,” I replied.

  Patrick

  The tournament was set to begin in less than an hour and even with everything happening, I’d been watching for Madeline’s arrival. Last time I was out in the club, she wasn’t there. I didn’t know why we hadn’t exchanged phone numbers, but now I wish we had. Besides myself, the other sixteen players were present and accounted for. On the surface of Club Regal, all appeared normal.

  Under the surface and behind the scenes, Ethan Beckman was ready to fall apart. He’d managed to pull himself together enough to make it out of his office and touch base with his employees, telling them that he hadn’t been able to contact Veronica and he needed them all to fill in where needed.

  Now he was with me, back in his office. “Our team,” I told him, “agreed with what you said. There was a lot of blood. The splatter and pooling indicate that she was killed with one shot to the back of her head at close range. Due to the coagulation of the blood, body temperature, and stage of rigor mortis, they’re estimating that she was killed six to ten hours earlier. I realize that’s a wide range. Without tampering with the body more than they already did, it isn’t an exact science. The coroner will be able to do more.

  “Roughly with the estimate they provided, we can assume the time of death to be between ten o’clock last night and two o’clock this morning. What time did she leave here last night?”

  I couldn’t believe I hadn’t tracked her down as I’d planned. If I had, I’d know the answer to this question.

  Beckman’s head shook. “I’m not sure. The tournament didn’t end until eleven. She was here then.”

  “After that?” I asked.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, exasperated. “I should know, but this tournament has racked my nerves. I left as soon as I could.” He looked up. “It was after the players who were eliminated were given the payout for their remaining chips. Do your people know anything else?”

  “They found a 9mm cartridge,” I said, “which means shit. It’s one of the most popular handgun cartridges in the world. The team left it for the police. They might be able to get more information from it.”

  Beckman placed his elbows on his desk and laid his head in his hands. “Veronica has worked for me and for Club Regal for nearly twenty years.” His chin rose until his bloodshot eyes met mine. “We’ve had our disagreements over that time, but dead? Who would do this?”

  My head shook. “Do you know who carries in the club?”

  “No. We have a don’t ask, don’t tell policy. It’s unwritten. Illinois law requires a concealed carry license. It’s been our policy that if the state allows it, who are we to stop it?”

  “And you believe that everyone who carries has the license?”

  He stood. “I’m not stupid, Mr. Kelly. I know that isn’t true; however, it’s the club policy.” His eyes opened wide. “Do you think whoever did this to Veronica could be here now? Are we in danger?”

  “We have Sparrows protecting the club and especially the tournament. The amount of money in that tournament is excessive.”

  “It’s not in there.” He tilted his head toward a safe on the floor behind his desk. “It’s in here. All that’s in the tournament hall are chips in place of money. They’re worthless outside of this club.”

  “I want one of my men to stay in your office until the tournament is done and the money is distributed.”

  “That’s highly unusual,” he said.

  “These are unusual circumstances. After all, it’s not every day that one of your respected employees is murdered.” I sat down on a chair opposite his desk. Leaning back, I crossed one ankle over a knee. “You said you argued recently. Tell me what you argued about.”

  “It’s not important now.”

  “At this point, everything is important. Let me decide.”

  Beckman took a deep breath. “Veronica wasn’t happy about the late buy-ins in this tournament.”

  I remembered our last conversation wherein Ms. Standish had expressed her disapproval of the buy-ins. I’d swiftly put an end to her complaints, saying I’d be happy to tell Sparrow she was questioning his decisions. Her face had turned ashen and she’d answered quickly...“I respect Mr. Sparrow’s decisions as does Mr. Beckman. Your entry isn’t the one I’m concerned about.”

  “What was her concern?” I asked.

  “She was afraid that allowing Mr. Hillman to buy in would create a precedent.”

  “
Leading to more, like me?” I added.

  “Yes, but Mr. Kelly, I’m not saying that she didn’t want you in the tournament. That isn’t...Mr. Sparrow...of course we were both willing to accommodate.”

  “Tell me why you were willing to accommodate Antonio Hillman.”

  Beckman sat taller. “He had been a member of this club in good standing for many years, as had his father...”

  “Isn’t the operative word had?”

  “He asked,” Beckman finally said.

  The truth was that I hadn’t asked. I’d simply informed him that since he’d allowed one buy-in, Mr. Sparrow had an offer. I supposed he could have refused, but very few refused a Sparrow offer. “I believe you’re not telling me the entire story.”

  “Mr. Kelly, I don’t want any trouble.”

  “Did Ms. Standish relay her displeasure to anyone else?” I asked.

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  Could Hillman have discovered she wasn’t supportive of his buy-in and taken it personally?

  “Mr. Kelly, I just want this tournament to end and Veronica to walk through the door like she does almost every day.”

  “Tell me about Mr. Hillman’s request.”

  “It was nothing.” Beckman stood and paced a small trek behind his desk. “I-I...” He turned to me. “It was a long time ago.”

  “What was a long time ago?”

  “It was before Mr. Sparrow...you know, before Senator McFadden was arrested.”

  “Go on,” I prompted.

  “Antonio’s father helped me out of a tight spot. Hell, I’d almost forgotten about it.”

  “That doesn’t seem like something you’d forget.”

  “When Mr. Antonio Hillman called, he reminded me. Allowing him to enter this tournament was a favor repaying his father’s favor. You know, quid pro quo?”

  “Why this particular tournament? Club Regal hosts many poker tournaments.”

  Beckman shook his head as he once again fell into his chair. “Mr. Kelly, I don’t know. As I said, he asked for me to repay his father’s favor.”

  “This is what is going to happen,” I began. “First, you will allow the increased Sparrow security today and tonight.”

  He nodded.

  “Second, you will allow one man to stay in here near the safe.”

  The pallor of his complexion grew even paler. “It’s a safe. It can protect itself. Besides, only Veronica and I...only I know the combination.”

  Planting my feet firmly upon the floor, I leaned forward and asked, “Ms. Standish and you? No one else?”

  “No, one of us was always here.”

  I looked over toward the safe. “Have you opened it today?”

  “Well...no... I...with all that’s happened...”

  We both looked again toward the safe. Black and about four feet tall, it appeared heavy, and from a previous meeting, I knew it was bolted to the concrete floor. With the door closed, it appeared untouched.

  “Do it,” I said. “Open it. I hate to think that Ms. Standish lost her life over money, but if the murderer’s goal was accessing what’s in the safe, we need to verify that the money is present.”

  Visibly shaken, Beckman stood, turned, and crouched down beside the safe, blocking the keypad from my view.

  Five beeps preceded the sound of the door opening. I stood.

  “Oh my God...” he wailed. “It’s gone.”

  We now had motive.

  “How much was in there?”

  When he turned his eyes were glassy. “With buy-ins, entry fees, and the purchased chips...” Standing quickly, he pushed past me. “I’m going to be sick.”

  The retching from the attached bathroom confirmed his prediction.

  I began my text to Sparrow, Reid, and Mason. While Mason was out in the club, he wouldn’t know what I’d just learned.

  * * *

  “MS. STANDISH KNEW THE COMBINATION OF THE CLUB’S SAFE. BECKMAN JUST CONFIRMED THE CASH FROM THE TOURNAMENT IS GONE.”

  * * *

  I hit send as Beckman returned with a bit more color in his cheeks than he’d had before. “How much?” I asked again.

  “Veronica had the paperwork. The players who were eliminated have been reimbursed for their chips. What was here was from the remaining players.”

  My volume rose. “How much?”

  “I don’t know for sure. I would guess upward of fifteen million.”

  “Who knew that she knew the combination?”

  “Probably most of the employees,” he said.

  My phone buzzed. The text was from Sparrow.

  * * *

  “HOW MUCH?”

  * * *

  I replied with the amount I’d been told. And then I looked up. “Mr. Beckman, you can’t tell anyone that it’s missing. No one.”

  “But...but how? Club Regal will be ruined.” He resumed his pacing. “This will get out that we weren’t able to repay...worldwide, we’ll be ostracized. No one will come here after this. Our reputation will be destroyed.”

  I was hearing what Beckman was saying, but my impression was different. This wouldn’t only reflect negatively on Club Regal. It would reflect poorly on the Sparrow outfit. We were here to maintain the safety. This money was stolen right from under our noses. That information would be another dagger for McFadden’s men or any other outfit to use against us. If we couldn’t protect this tournament, it will be assumed that we also can’t protect our city.

  “Mr. Beckman, look at me,” I demanded.

  Slowly he did.

  “Does the safe maintain a record of when it is opened and who opened it?”

  “No...it...was just the two of us...We only had one combination.” His head shook. “Oh my God.” His eyes met mine. “Why her and not me?”

  “That’s a good question,” I said. “Close the safe and lock it. I will still put a man back here to keep guard. We will provide the illusion of normalcy to everyone behind the scenes. Do not repeat this information. Do not say a word about the money or the safe or that Ms. Standish knew the combination. Do not speak of this to anybody.” I emphasized the word. “Do you understand?”

  “No? I don’t understand. What will happen at the end of the tournament?”

  My phone vibrated. The text was from Sparrow.

  * * *

  “THIS CAN’T GET OUT. WE’LL COVER THE LOSS.”

  * * *

  I looked up. “Find out the exact amount that was taken. Give that information to Mr. Pierce. Mr. Sparrow will assure that this isn’t the disaster that it could be. Do not tell a soul, Mr. Beckman. If it is leaked, you will regret it.”

  I sent another text to the team.

  * * *

  “CHECK ALL COMINGS AND GOINGS FROM CLUB REGAL LAST NIGHT UNTIL THIS MORNING. WE NEED TO KNOW WHEN MS. STANDISH LEFT THE CLUB AND IF SHE RETURNED. ALSO, CAN YOU ACCESS VIEWS FROM HER BUILDING OR THE STREET? WHO CAME AND WENT FROM HER BUILDING OR HER APARTMENT? WE NEED ANSWERS.”

  * * *

  Before I could get a response, I sent one more.

  * * *

  “WE ALSO NEED TO KNOW WHERE BECKMAN WAS LAST NIGHT. HE SAID HE LEFT AFTER THE TOURNAMENT PAYOUTS. PHONE RECORDS. TRAFFIC CAMS. ANYTHING YOU CAN FIND.”

  * * *

  Beckman still hadn’t told me what favor Wendell Hillman did for him years ago. His question about why her and not him could have been meant to throw us off or he may have unwittingly sent me in the right direction. Regardless, I didn’t trust that he wasn’t more involved.

  Another text came through to me. This one was from Sparrow, but no longer part of the group text.

  * * *

  “GO ALL IN ON THE FINAL GAME. WIN IT ALL.”

  Madeline

  The smile was plastered upon my lips as Marion met his car near the curb, ready to escort me inside Club Regal. Andros said not to mention his presence to Marion. I couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

  Why had Andros Ivanov been in Marion’s limousine?

  “Y
ou made it,” he gushed as he helped me from the back seat. “Nice work, Justin,” he said with a tip of his head to the driver.

  “Thank you, Mr. Elliott.”

  I didn’t notice the cold air on the sidewalk or even the warmth as we entered the club’s entrance. There was too much to comprehend.

  “Madeline?”

  I looked up at Marion’s wrinkled face, the way small lines formed at the sides of his eyes as he smiled. My head tilted. His eyes were blue. I hadn’t noticed them before. They weren’t the same as Patrick’s blue. Marion’s were pale in comparison.

  “Little lady, are you all right?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry. I believe I’m flustered.”

  “Of course you are. Your driver should be fired. This treatment of a beautiful woman is unacceptable and especially before the tournament. Tell me the service you hired, and I will have the man fired myself.”

  My head shook. “Marion, I’d rather not think about it.” I’d rather not think that Andros ordered Mitchell to leave Chicago, unconcerned that in the process he’d left me stranded. When I asked him why he sent Mitchell away, Andros said it wasn’t my concern.

  Nothing is my concern except winning, winning it all.

  When I asked why I hadn’t been informed and had been left stranded, he dismissed me as if I were a bothersome child seeking his attention.

  The truth was that I didn’t want his attention. I wanted to go back to Detroit and fade into the woodwork where I’d been. Though Andros hadn’t used the exact words, I had come to the realization years ago that I was nothing more than a plaything to Andros, a doll to be removed from the shelf, dusted off, and given a new layer of paint before showing me off to his friends and enemies. “Look what my doll can do. Watch her win the hands of poker. Watch as she does as I command.”

  “Madeline, let me help you with your coat,” Marion said. “We have a little time before the tournament. Perhaps a glass of wine will help calm your nerves?”