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 last night. Hotel personnel recall Mr. Kristancic arriving back at the Ramada Renaissance around midnight, accompanied by an unidentified female guest.
Lt. Ned Rust, of Manhattan's twenty-third precinct, said they are looking into whether the woman might be a call girl, but have received only sketchy details as to her appearance.
"Mr. Kristancic apparently spent the evening at the Murray Hill Poker Club, a private club on East Thirty-third Street
, and may have met up with the woman there," Lt. Rust said.
According to Lt. Rust, the crime scene showed no signs of struggle or robbery, indicating that Mr. Kristancic, who had more than ten thousand dollars in cash among his personal effects, may have known the killer.
The lock to my apartment turned, and Andie, wearing jeans and a leather jacket, walked inside.
She seemed surprised to see me home. For the past six months I'd been a partner at Bay Star International, a global security firm. "Nick . . ."
"How's Rita?" I looked up. "You said you were staying at your sister's last night."
"Yeah." Andie dropped a bag of groceries on the counter. "Then I had an audition today."
I pushed the newspaper article across the table. She picked it up and read. Finally she nodded, looked up at the ceiling, then back at me.
"You are quite an actress," I said.
She sat down in the chair across from me. She looked at me, not trying to hide a thing. "He killed my son, Nick. He killed the jury, too."
"How did you know he was in New York?" I asked.
"Your friend, the one from Homeland Security . . . Harpering. He sent you a fax a few days ago. It was about a guy you were interested in a year back. He wrote that the man had reentered the country under a different name. Homeland Security knew where he was staying, the hotel in Times Square."
"So is it finished now? Cavello. Nordeshenko."
"Yes, Nick." She nodded. "It's finished."
I stood up and went over to her. I pulled her up and hugged her, pressing her head against my chest. After a while I asked, "So how did the audition go?"
She shrugged. "Not too bad. It was a Law and Order episode. I got a callback."
"Oh. For what?"
"Jury forewoman, if you can believe it," Andie said. Then she smiled. "It's just one line, Nick. The judge asks, ‘Madame Foreperson, have you reached a verdict?' And I look at her, a little like I'm looking at you now, and I say, ‘Yes, Your Honor, we have.'"
About the Authors
James Patterson is one of the best-known and bestselling writers of all time. He is the author of the two top-selling new detective series of the past decade: the Alex Cross novels, including Mary, Mary; London Bridges; Kiss the Girls; and Along Came a Spider, and the Women's Murder Club series, including 1st to Die, 2nd Chance, 3rd Degree, 4th of July, and The 5th Horseman. He has written many other #1 bestsellers, including Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas; Lifeguard; the International Thriller of 2005, Honeymoon; and Beach Road. He lives in Florida.
Andrew Gross worked with James Patterson on Lifeguard. He lives with his wife and three children in New York.
James Patterson, Judge & Jury
(Series: # )
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