Detective Flood is back, and this time he’s looking into the remarkable (and recent) success of Chuckie Sheedz at the poker table. In a private game, thousands change hands, and one of those high rollers want’s him to make sure there’s nothing funny about the card game. The stakes are high (sorry about that) and Flood’s going to make sure nobody gets a raw deal (sorry about that one, too.) Go all in (we better stop apologizing now) with the brilliant sleuth as he uncovers the secrets of the high rollers.

This short story has mature content including violence and mature language. Adults should use discretion when deciding if it is appropriate for children in their care.

Here is a preview:

“You trying to say something?” Now we had a real scowl. “Then say it.”
“I’m not saying. I’m thinking.”
Sheedz’s square body relaxed in his chair. He reached for his coffee. “You just keep it that way.”
Getting nowhere, I imagined I needed a consult. I had seen Sheedz, wife, and three kids leaving the Salton First Congregationalist Sunday service. I found Reverend Little at his desk in the rectory. I admired the man for facing the task of all today’s religious - fighting like Custer against the circling tribes of Godless cynics and social engineers. We’d shared frank conversations about all of that. I knew I could ask him for a character reference for Chuckie Sheedz.
He took off his wire-rimmed reading glasses and tried to straighten his eternally drooping bow tie. “Do people still say salt of the earth,” he asked.
“You just did,” I said.
He started in with enthusiasm. When he was through I had a picture of a rock solid family man with an unassailable business reputation - impeccably honest with just a soupcon of arrogance to make him human. Lately he had been donating generously to the church. Poker profits for sure, I thought. When the reverend said goodbye, it was to a baffled man.