A Series Of Crime Fiction Short Stories

Niki Dupre Short Stories by Jim Riley

Series Excerpt

“Do you have the footage from the security cameras? Niki asked.

The independent detective arrived back at her townhouse, which doubled as her office. Donna Cross, her business partner and friend finished a slice of pizza before answering. The hour-glass blonde looked nothing like the typical private eye. But that mattered little because she could hack into any database in the world without leaving a trace. Instead of asking the resort or the police to provide the video footage, Niki asked Donna.

“Do men think about sex all the time?” Donna laughed. “I had it before you got to the West Feliciana jailhouse. I’m just waiting on you to review it.”

“Roll ‵em, roll ‵me, roll ‘em, rawhide,” Niki chuckled, peering over her friend’s shoulder.

Three cameras caught most of the action at the bar. Two inside, one outside in the hallway. That is the one that showed Carol arriving with a gigantic smile.

“She doesn’t look like she’s looking for a fight,” Donna said while grabbing another slice of Italian pie. “I’d guess she was in a celebratory mood.”

“That’s what she told me,” Niki said. “But Ann accused her of sleeping with the dealer to get good cards and Carol’s mood went downhill in a hurry.”

“I don’t see how that would be possible. I watch poker on TV, and they change the dealers regularly. They also make the players change tables all the time. How could one dealer feed her cards all day long?”

“Exactly,” Niki said. “The accusations are baseless. There is no way the house was helping one player above all the others. They would be out of business in less than a week if that was true.”

Donna pointed at the screen.

“There she is. I switched to the camera facing the entrance. She looks happy as a lark.”

“No wonder,” Niki laughed. “She just made more than she could have in three years working as a schoolteacher in Zachary. I’m not sure how she got the entry fee.”

“That might be something to investigate,” Donna continued to manipulate the pointer while grabbing another slice of pizza.” Here is Carol where the confrontation started. The lady with the premature gray hair is Ann Clement.”

Niki watched closely. The footage had no audio component, but it was plain that Carol and Ann were arguing. The exact words mattered less than the fervor with which they were delivered.

“I didn’t know women talked like that,” Donna said.

“Most of us don’t,” Niki replied. “You’re not apt to hear it from the back pew at First Baptist.”

“I don’t know about that,” Donna grinned. “You should sit back there sometimes. Amazing all the secrets that come out between the ‘amens’ from the front pews.”