The Babbling Brook Naked Poker Club - Book One by Ann Warner Page A

the most, he is the logical choice
to do the speaking.”
    “How perfectly reasonable.” I smiled at
Myrtle.
    “Yes. Man to man. I think that’s best.”
    “Of course you do.” I moved my leg before
Lill could whack me again. “You’ll arrange with Eddie to be there,
of course?”
    “Of course,” Myrtle said.
    “Now that’s settled, shall we play
cards?”

    ~ ~ ~
    “We asked you to meet with us,” Edna said, speaking out of turn, I
might add, “because we need your advice.”
    I thought it an uncomfortably bogus way to
begin. We were gathered in Myrtle’s apartment, and there was barely
space for the six of us to sit, what with the way the living room
was stuffed with furniture and knickknacks. Clearly, if Myrtle had
made any effort to downsize when she moved to Brookside, it wasn’t
successful.
    I was squashed between Lill and Edna on the
sofa, and although that was preferable to sharing the other sofa
with Bertie and Myrtle, it wasn’t comfortable. Eddie had pulled up
a chair from the dining room table, and I envied him that solitary
seat. I wished I’d thought to do that instead of sinking into the
depths of Myrtle’s puffy couch.
    Eddie cocked his head and smiled at Edna.
“You know I’m always happy to help you guys.” He turned the grin,
full of teeth, on the rest of us.
    Deciding enough was enough, I squirmed to my
feet, collected one of the dining table chairs, and seated myself.
There, I could breathe again.
    Everyone waited until I was settled, and
then Bertie cleared his throat, thoroughly, as was his habit. “We
called you here in order get to the bottom of some . . .
uh, discrepancies we’ve happened to notice.”
    “Discrepancies?”
    “Yes. Well. I don’t suppose there’s any good
way to say this.” He halted and cleared his throat again.
    Really, the man needed an antihistamine.
    “Recently, Myrtle noticed that you didn’t
return the proper change when you did her grocery shopping.” Bertie
pushed the words out quickly and then sat back, blinking at Eddie
and looking, to my eyes, rather like a tortoise.
    Eddie frowned and sat up straighter. “Yes. I
remember that. A calculation error. I tried to correct it, but she
refused to take the money.”
    “Yes. Hmm.” Another round of throat
clearing.
    My normal level of tolerance is two throat
clearings followed by two less-than-stimulating Bertie
pronouncements, and that had now been officially exceeded.
    “It so happens that last week my change was
also shorted, and this week, I was charged for a gift card I didn’t
order,” Bertie said.
    “Oh shit. Did I mix that up? Sorry,
man.”
    Eddie’s eyes swung to his left, something
detective dramas claim is a sure sign the perp is lying. But I’ve
heard it discussed by more competent experts on NPR, and they said
the best way to spot a liar is by watching for micro facial
expressions.
    “That was supposed to be on Mary’s
bill.”
    Furtive. That was my diagnosis.
    “No, no. Mary had a gift card on her bill as
well. But it wasn’t hers.”
    Eddie’s face twitched, and although it was
over in a fraction of a second, I saw guilt in that twitch. He
sighed and looked left again. So maybe detective dramas have a
point.
    “Sounds like I screwed everything up.”
    He continued to look everywhere but at any
of us. And that decided it for me. He was lying. No question.
    “Guess I’d better go over my notes to see
who the card belongs to. Thanks for letting me know.” He stood.
    “Just a moment, young man,” Edna said. “I
believe you better hear us out.”
    Eddie still held on to that cocky smile, but
he slumped back on the chair.
    Edna nodded at Bertie, no doubt urging him
to continue, but I decided man-to-man just wasn’t getting the job
done.
    “We did some checking this last week,” I
said. “Besides Bertie and Mary, we found two other customers who
had gift cards on their bills they didn’t order. And several
residents can document you shorted the change you gave