Hydrofoil Mystery by Eric Walters

Carefully I removed one and examined it. It was long and thick and brown and had a paper wrapper around the end. I read thewrapper: Cuba. I’d only smoked a few times and I really didn’t know much about cigars and smoking, although Tim and most of my new friends smoked. There was always a haze of smoke hovering over top of any poker game I’d seen or played in. But I did know that the most expensive cigars in the world came from Cuba.
    I counted out and removed another eleven cigars until I had an even dozen. I was going to put the lid back on the humidor when I was struck by a thought: there were so many cigars in there that he wouldn’t know if a few were missing, and I might be able to sell them. Maybe I’d even try to smoke one. I hadn’t enjoyed the few cigarettes I’d smoked, but it might be different with a cigar. I reached back in and drew out two, hesitated and took a third. I put the lid back on the humidor. I tried to put them into one of my pockets, but they were too long. I removed them and gingerly tucked them into the front of my pants. They’d be fine there until I got to my room.
    I walked out of the room and closed the door behind me. I felt the cigars digging into my leg and shortened my stride so I wouldn’t break them. I opened the door to the drawing room and was surprised to see the furniture had been cleared away to the sides of the room and in its place four folding tables had appeared. The guests started to take seats at the chairs, four to each table. Then, to my utter amazement, decks of cards were brought to the tables. They were going to play cards!
    â€œI’ll take one of those,” Casey said, putting a hand on my shoulder.
    â€œWhat?” I asked, dumfounded, staring around the room.
    â€œThe cigars. I’ll take one.”
    â€œOh, yeah,” I answered, handing him a cigar. “You’re all going to play cards?” I asked, although it seemed pretty obvious what was going on.
    â€œYes, bridge. Have you ever played?”
    â€œIt’s a very ingenious game,” Mr. Bell added, coming up from behind me.
    â€œI … no … I’ve never heard of it.”
    â€œThere is a great deal of strategy involved, not unlike playing poker, but with a partner. Are you familiar with poker?” Mr. Bell questioned.
    â€œOh sure, I know …” I stopped. “I know a little bit about poker … I saw some men playing it once.”
    I had almost blabbed out what a good player I was. It was always wrong to brag about being good at anything, but doubly wrong when it was poker. It worked to your advantage to let people think you didn’t know the game; after all, how could somebody who didn’t know how to play cheat or hustle? It was better if they just thought you had “beginner’s luck.” It was safer for the guy you took to be mad at Lady Luck than at you.
    â€œI want you to pass out the cigars to the gentlemen and then come and pull up a seat right beside me. I’ll explain the game to you as we play. Learning to play bridge should be part of every young man’s education,” Mr. Bell said.
    â€œYou want me to sit beside you?”
    â€œYes, when you’re finished I expect you to pull up a chair.”
    I slowly handed out the cigars. What was he up to, and what did he want from me? He probably just wanted toimpress me with how smart he was, I guessed. Or maybe I was there to fetch and carry for him.
    I pulled a chair over and sat down just off to the side. As I did, I could feel the stolen cigars breaking, but there wasn’t much I could do. The cards were shuffled and dealt until they were all distributed. That meant each player had been given thirteen cards. I was close enough to see Bell’s cards cradled in his hands. I noticed immediately that nobody seemed to be shielding their cards very well; if I leaned ever so slightly over to one side I was sure I’d be able