Riverboat Roulette

  Contents

  PROLOGUE Dear Diary

  CHAPTER ONE Take Me to the River

  CHAPTER TWO Mark Twain

  CHAPTER THREE On the Clock

  CHAPTER FOUR Money Bags

  CHAPTER FIVE In the Belly of the Boat

  CHAPTER SIX A Gamble

  CHAPTER SEVEN All In

  CHAPTER EIGHT The River Card

  CHAPTER NINE Locked Out

  CHAPTER TEN A Daring Journey

  CHAPTER ELEVEN Confession

  CHAPTER TWELVE We’re Gonna Need a Smaller Boat

  EPILOGUE Dear Diary

  About Carolyn Keene

  Dear Diary,

  * * *

  * * *

  * * *

  EVERY YEAR GEORGE, BESS, AND I go to the Casino Night charity gala in support of Pet Crusaders, a dog and cat rescue organization that Bess’s mom is on the board for. It’s always one of my favorite events of the year, and this year is extra exciting for two reasons: George is playing in the poker tournament for the first time, and the gala is taking place on a restored riverboat. The night took an unexpected turn, however, when a case suddenly popped up and I had to race against the clock to solve it. I can’t decide if it was exciting or just stressful!

  * * *

  * * *

  CHAPTER ONE

  Take Me to the River

  “GEORGE, YOU’VE COUNTED THAT MONEY eight times,” my friend Bess Marvin said from the passenger seat of my car. “I promise, you have enough for the entry fee.”

  “I just want to make sure,” her cousin, George Fayne, said from the backseat, where she was rifling through a large stack of twenty-dollar bills. I slowly rolled up my car window as I inched forward in rush-hour traffic. The last thing we needed was for any of George’s hard-earned money to fly out the window.

  Bess gave me an exasperated look. I shrugged with a half smile. Bess knows that George gets fixated on things she’s passionate about, and there are few things George is more passionate about than poker. Her dad taught her when she was five, and now she plays every weekend with her family; she even watches the World Series of Poker on TV.

  Bess is very even-keeled and doesn’t tend to become obsessed with things like games or new gadgets the way George does. In a lot of ways George and Bess are polar opposites, even though they’re incredibly close. George would wear jeans and a T-shirt every day if she could, while Bess is a bit of a fashionista. (Take tonight, for example. Bess had spent weeks looking for the perfect dress for the charity event we were attending before picking a gorgeous asymmetrical ruby-red gown, while George wore the same black pantsuit she wears to any event that requires dressing up.) George loves technology, while Bess would rather send a paper letter than an e-mail. In general, I fall between them—for instance, I didn’t buy a new dress for tonight, but I did spend a good hour going through my closet choosing which dress to wear.

  When it comes to obsessive behavior, however, I’m probably closer to George. I’m an amateur detective; I solve mysteries around town, like if something goes missing or someone is being blackmailed. When I’m on a case, I can barely think about anything else.

  “Okay,” George announced. “It’s confirmed that I have the entry fee.” She carefully put the money back in her wallet.

  “I can’t believe how much money you were able to save,” I told George. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much cash in one place before.”

  “Well, if everything goes according to plan,” Bess said, “you should see a lot more tonight. My mom told me that this event is supposed to bring in over a hundred thousand dollars.”

  We were headed to the annual charity Casino Night hosted by River Heights Pet Crusaders, the animal-rescue organization for which Bess’s mom—and George’s aunt—sat on the board. We went every year and it was always fun—getting dressed up, eating fancy food, and watching the big poker tournament. However, this was the first year we were allowed to actually enter the tournament, rather than just watch it. Bess and I weren’t big poker players, but we were excited to support George.

  “That’s a lot of money for Pet Crusaders!” I said to Bess. “I hope your mom is happy.”

  “Yeah,” Bess replied with a smile, “it’s more than they’ve ever raised before.”

  “Probably because it’s the first time they’ve gotten Brett Garner to attend,” George suggested.

  I saw that Bess was trying hard not to smile. “I’m not sure Brett’s as big of a draw as you think he is, George.”

  George looked at us wide-eyed. “But Brett Garner is one of the most famous poker players in the United States. He’s won the World Series of Poker twice!”

  “I know he’s impressive,” I said. “I’m just not sure the average River Heights citizen knows who he is. Professional poker is still a pretty niche game.”

  “If Ned were here, he’d back me up,” George grumbled. Ned Nickerson, my boyfriend, shared George’s love of poker. Unfortunately, he was out of town at his cousin’s wedding.

  “I think the event is so popular because it’s on a boat this year,” I said. For the first time, the gala was being held on the Delta Queen, a refurbished riverboat that was originally built in the late 1800s. Back then, it had transported people up and down the river in luxury. It used to have a full restaurant; entertainment, including a casino floor; and dancing with live music. Now it just hosted short dinner cruises. It was well known in River Heights that Buddy Gibson, the owner and captain, had saved up for years to buy and restore the Delta Queen. His stepdad had been a riverboat captain, and Buddy had always dreamed of continuing the family tradition. It took him close to two years to get it back into working condition; there’d been a big story in the River Heights Bugle when it had finally opened. Tickets were notoriously hard to secure.

  Bess grinned. “Mom was really proud when she was able to rent it. Apparently, Buddy gave her a great rate.” She leaned in to whisper, even though it was just the three of us in the car. “Seriously, my mom got him to let Pet Crusaders use it for almost nothing.”

  I smiled, then glanced over and noticed Bess clenching her fist, something I knew she did only when she was stressed out. If we were using George’s poker language, it would be her “tell,” or signal, that something was wrong.

  “Are you nervous, Bess?” I asked.

  “A little,” she replied. “It’s just that my mom has been working so hard on this event that I want it to go perfectly. Margot, the head of Pet Crusaders, is really high-strung. She’s been flying off the handle if anything is even slightly off. The other night I saw my mom crying; Margot yelled at her because the caterers were going to switch green olives for black olives on one of the appetizers.”

  “I’ve seen Margot at the galas, but she’s always rushing around, so I’ve never actually met her. But now I have to meet her to tell her not to mess with my aunt,” George muttered.

  Bess looked up at her in alarm. “Don’t say that! Margot’s going about it the wrong way, but I understand why she’s putting so much pressure on this event. She’s going to use the money to open a second no-kill shelter in River Heights. That’s twice the number of dogs and cats that will be saved every year.”

  George looked chagrined. “Great! Now I sound like a heartless monster.”

  We pulled into the parking lot, hopped out of the car, and headed to the boarding area. Well-dressed couples ambled about, slowly making their way toward the bright white boat. The light from the setting sun reflected off the vessel’s surface. Each deck of the three-story riverboat looked almost like an elongated tier of a wedding cake. My favorite detail was the carved railings around each deck that from a distance looked like lace. At the front, large steam pipes proudly stood tall, and a re
d paddle wheel was at the boat’s rear. It looked both delicate and strong.

  Bess led us through the maze of cars, scanning the parking lot for her mother.

  “It looks like a good turnout,” I noted.

  All of a sudden, a voice called out, “Bess! Over here!”

  We turned to see Bess’s mom waving at us and hurried over to her.

  “I’m so glad you girls could make it,” Mrs. Marvin said.

  “We wouldn’t miss it,” I said.

  “There’s no way I would skip out on seeing Brett Garner,” George said enthusiastically.

  “Or any event that supports the lives of animals,” I added.

  “We got our cat, Joey, from Pet Crusaders, and he’s the best,” George agreed.

  “So how’s it going so far, Mom?” Bess asked.

  “Oh, well, you know Margot. There was a lot of drama getting everything ready this afternoon, but once we shove off, I’m sure it will be fine.”

  Mrs. Marvin led us up the metal boarding ramp. I was about to hand my ticket to the usher when a tall woman with short red hair came marching toward me. Her hair was pushed back so it looked like flames coming off her head. As she tore down the ramp, her black shawl billowing behind her, she reminded me of a picture of an evil faerie I’d seen in a book of Irish mythology. I found myself taking a step back, my hands reaching instinctively for my friends.

  “You,” she said with a hiss, “are not allowed on this boat.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mark Twain

  I STARED AT THE WOMAN. My mouth Opened and closed like a fish’s as I struggled to come up with a response.

  “Margot,” came a voice from behind me. “Be reasonable.”

  I turned to see a small, mousy woman with bangs and glasses standing next to a man sporting similar glasses.

  “Reasonable?” Margot hissed. I realized that Margot wasn’t objecting to me and my friends boarding, but the couple behind us. My shock was quickly replaced by curiosity. What did Margot have against this nice-seeming couple?

  “Was it reasonable when you released mice into our cat-adoption event, making all our cats go mad chasing them around the gym?” Margot asked. Fury flew off her like beads of sweat.

  “That wasn’t—” the woman started to say, but Margot cut her off.

  “Was it reasonable when you distributed that pamphlet that said all our cats were feral and would never be socialized enough to live in a house with children?”

  “Margot!” the man said forcefully. “Joanne and I told you that we had nothing to do with either of those incidents.”

  “And I told you, Patrick,” Margot retorted, “that I don’t believe you!”

  The woman sighed. “Just because we work for a different pet-rescue organization doesn’t make us the enemy.”

  Margot cocked her eyebrow defiantly. One look at her face showed me that there was nothing these people could say to convince her that this was true.

  “My wife is right,” Patrick said. “We’re all on the same team; we want to save as many animals as we can.”

  “In any case,” Joanne continued, “we bought our tickets fair and square.”

  “Then we’ll give you a refund,” Margot said icily.

  Mrs. Marvin stepped forward, brushing past me to put a calming hand on Margot’s shoulder. “Do you really want to give back that money?” she asked. “Think of the new shelter. Every dollar helps.”

  Margot turned sharply toward Mrs. Marvin, and I thought she was about to yell at her for getting involved. But before Margot had a chance to respond, a tall man with a bushy beard and a crisp white captain’s uniform approached. I recognized him from photos online as Buddy Gibson.

  “I’ve held departure as long as I can due to the traffic,” he told Margot, “but we need to leave ASAP to keep our schedule.”

  Margot looked from Buddy to Mrs. Marvin to Joanne. Finally she set her mouth in a straight line. “All right,” she said. “You can come onboard, but if anything untoward happens in the three hours we are on this boat, I’ll have the police waiting to arrest you the second we’re back on dry land.”

  “Fine,” Patrick huffed. “But our only plan is to play poker and support homeless animals.”

  He and Joanne marched onboard, pushing roughly past Margot, who stood watching them with a look of pure disgust on her face. After a moment she turned with a dramatic swish of her dress and followed them.

  “Wow,” George whispered. “Who knew there was so much drama in the world of pet rescue?”

  “Haven’t you learned by now?” I asked. “There’s drama everywhere.” In my years of sleuthing I’d investigated cases involving historical museums, ballet companies, and organic farms. I had learned that people could get heated and passionate about anything.

  “Well, let’s hope that was the last of the drama for tonight,” Bess said.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Marvin agreed wholeheartedly. “Come on, girls. Let’s get you all checked in and onboard.”

  Mrs. Marvin led us up the gangplank to a check-in desk area, with an office set up behind it. A thin woman holding a clipboard was standing there. She was pale with long, dark hair and sad eyes. Even though she grinned at us, I had a sense that her mind was a million miles away.

  “This is Catherine,” Mrs. Marvin said. “She is going to take care of you.”

  “That’s an awesome watch!” George said, indicating the high-tech timepiece that Catherine was wearing.

  She self-consciously pulled down the sleeve of her jacket to cover it. “I know it doesn’t really go with my outfit, but I just feel better when I wear it,” Catherine explained.

  “That’s a satellite GPS watch, right?” George asked.

  “Yeah, it’s incredibly precise.”

  “If I had a watch like that, I’d never take it off either,” George said.

  “Catherine is the rock of this whole operation,” Mrs. Marvin said, steering us back on topic.

  Catherine looked down shyly. “I’m just doing my job.”

  “She’s gone above and beyond her job duties,” Mrs. Marvin replied. “Not only is she the one who suggested we ask Buddy to let us use his beautiful boat, but she’s here tonight even though her mother is in the hospital undergoing cancer treatments.”

  George, Bess, and I all looked at Catherine in alarm. “I’m so sorry to hear about your mother,” Bess said.

  “We think she’s going to be all right, but it will be a long recovery.” Catherine paused for a second and looked like she wanted to say more, but didn’t.

  “Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help,” Mrs. Marvin said.

  “Thanks,” Catherine replied with a small smile.

  “Can you get these three all checked in?” Mrs. Marvin asked her. “I want to make sure everything is going according to plan in the kitchen.”

  “Sure,” Catherine said brightly.

  “All right, girls,” Mrs. Marvin told us. “You’re in good hands with Catherine. I’ll find you later to make sure you’re having a good time.”

  She kissed Bess on the cheek as we said good-bye.

  Catherine took our names and confirmed that we were on the list. “Are any of you entering the poker tournament?” she asked.

  George puffed out her chest and stepped forward with a mixture of nervousness and pride. “I am,” she said, handing over the entrance fee.

  Catherine carefully counted it. Even though I’d seen George count the cash three times already, I was still nervous that somehow she’d be short.

  After a moment, Catherine put the money in a steel box and handed George a stack of poker chips.

  “You’re assigned to table five. After ninety minutes, the four players with the most chips will proceed to the final table to play with professional poker player Brett Garner.”

  George didn’t say anything. She just stared at her chips with a goofy grin on her face.

  “Thank you,” Bess said to Catherine on George’s behalf. “I hope
your mom gets better soon.”

  Catherine smiled. “Your mom’s been really great during all this.” The way she emphasized “your mom” piqued my interest, and this time I couldn’t resist.

  “Has someone not been great with you about this?” I asked.

  Catherine looked around and then said quietly, “Let’s just say that Margot is amazing with animals, but not as good with people. She didn’t understand why I would need extra time off to take care of my mom and help my brother.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “That’s tough.”

  “But,” Catherine said, “enough about me and my problems. This night is supposed to be fun. Go have a good time!”

  We thanked her for her help and entered the big room on the main deck of the boat. It was about the size of a high school gym, but much fancier! The dark mahogany walls had windows and doors to the outer deck, and the setting sun filled the room with a golden glow. A red-and-gold rug covered most of the floor, but you could still make out the edges of the hardwood floor, which matched the walls. There were eight poker tables in the center of the room, with a dance floor and stage on one end. Men and women in crisp white shirts and black vests stood at each table, ready to deal as soon as we pushed off from the shore. Chandeliers made of gold and crystal hung from the ceiling. Except for the security cameras dangling from the ceiling at opposite corners of the room, I felt transported back in time to the late nineteenth century, when traveling was as much about the journey as the destination.

  I looked at George and Bess, who seemed as enchanted as I was. Then I felt the boat lurch as the engine turned on and a loud horn blasted above us.

  “MARK TWAIN!” a voice blared over the loudspeaker.

  “Did he just say ‘Mark Twain’?” George asked. “Like the author of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “I read about it online. ‘Mark twain’ means the water is deep enough for the boat to proceed. And it was actually a pen name. His real name was Samuel Clemens. He was a riverboat captain, so that’s why he chose it.”