Judge & Jury - James Patterson [100]
A year later, he decided it was safe to put his toe back in. He’d taken another job in America. It involved some desperate men from Iran, but the pay was excellent and had been delivered up front.
This time around he was Alex Kristancic, a businessman from Slovenia. His visa said he was here to sell wine at a trade show in the Javits Center.
All night long, luck had gone his way. His stack of chips had steadily grown. He’d allowed himself two vodkas. He wasn’t even counting the money he had made.
Once or twice, he caught the eye of a woman sitting at a table across from him. She was in a low-cut black dress, with thick curly hair pulled elegantly up on her head. She didn’t seem to be with anyone, and she was playing at the small-stakes table.
The flop cards showed another king and a ten—matching his hole cards. The luck continued. Another player hung around until the end, which was excellent news. Nordeshenko flipped over his cards. The player groaned, beaten with two low pairs. The gods were still with him.
“That’s it for me,” he announced, stacking his chips into neat, tall towers. He went to the bar and ordered another vodka, feeling very good indeed. His mood lifted even more when the woman he’d noticed slipped into an empty seat beside him.
“Quite a night for you,” she said. “I couldn’t help noticing. Like everybody else in the room.” Her backless dress was sexy, and she was wearing an exquisite perfume. She had a long, very beautiful neck.
“Yes. The poker gods were watching out for me tonight. And you? I hope you did well.”
“Just enough to buy a gimlet and a taxi home. I guess I don’t trust the gods as much as you.”
“Then let me buy the drink.” Nordeshenko smiled, signaling the bartender. “You’ll have doubled your winnings.”
He introduced himself as Alex. She told him her name was Claire. They talked about the popularity of poker, some about wine, and New York City, where she was in real estate. They ordered another drink. A few times, Claire touched his arm as they spoke. After a while, he found himself doing the same thing. Her skin was soft and smooth. Her eyes absolutely dazzling.
Finally it was past midnight. The card tables had started to thin. He was going to suggest to Claire that they continue their drinks elsewhere, when she put her hand on his arm again. She leaned in close. Her breath was clean and sweet.
“You’ve already had a good night, Alex. Would you like to make it even better?”
Nordeshenko felt a satisfied glow travel through him. It had already occurred to him this woman might be a prostitute, but what did it matter? She was highly attractive, and she seemed to be available. And he had won enough tonight to pay for several women.
“That would be my pleasure,” Nordeshenko said, looking into her exquisite brown eyes. He tossed a few bills on the counter. She put her bag over her shoulder, and he took her elbow as she slid off the stool. “Let’s rock and roll.”
Claire grinned in surprise.
“My son’s expression. He watches American TV,” Nordeshenko explained.
“You have a son?” She didn’t seem to mind it. In fact—if he read her right—it made her warm to him more.
“Yes,” Nordeshenko said. “He’s thirteen.”
“Is that so?” the woman said. Her eyes seemed to linger on him, perhaps losing a little of their dazzle. “I once had a son, too.”
Chapter 127
I KEPT THE NEWSPAPER on the kitchen table and read the article again—a short two-column report on the Metro page of the New York Post.
I stared at the black-and-white photo of the murdered man. No matter how many times I looked at it, it was the same.
BUSINESSMAN MURDERED IN POSH HOTEL
The body of a visiting businessman, identified as Alex Kristancic from Slovenia, was found in the victim’s Times Square hotel room this morning, fatally stabbed in the neck.
Police investigators placed the time of death at sometime after midnight