Aces and Knaves

brief questions, including "Where?" and "When?" and then said, "Yes. Yes, I'll be here."
    He turned to me. He said, choking on his words, "That was the police. Ned was mugged...he's been shot."
    "Shot?" I said, uncomprehending. Then, as it sank in, “Is he...?"
    "He...he's dead."

    Chapter 6 DETECTIVE WASHINGTON
    "Hello."
    I was surprised at how fast my father picked up the phone. He obviously wasn't asleep. I had expected he would be. I was still preparing what to say to him. "Oh...hi Dad."
    "Karl? Where are you?"
    "In San Francisco."
    "I know that. Are you all right?"
    "Of course. But Ned..."
    "I know about Ned. The San Francisco Police called me over an hour ago. You weren't with him?"
    "No. I was supposed to meet him at ten, but he never showed up."
    "Thank God you're all right."
    I had never heard my father so concerned about my safety. "I'm fine, Dad. But someone should call Mrs. Mackay."
    "I did that, myself. She has friends with her now. The police didn't know anything about you so I called Arrow and she told me what hotel you were staying at. I called the hotel, but you weren't there."
    A lot had taken place while I was out of the loop. I said, "The police are on their way here."
    "Are you at your hotel now?"
    "No. I'm at the home of James Buchanan." Looking out his picture window at a postcard view of a lit-up Golden Gate Bridge.
    "James Buchanan? How do you know him?" He sounded incredulous.
    "I didn't until tonight. Ned said to meet him here." Lights of cars moved in both directions over the bridge, like fireflies on parade.
    There was silence at the other end of the line. The doorbell rang. I said, "I think the police are here now. I'd better go."
    "When are you coming home?"
    "Tomorrow morning." It occurred to me that it was already tomorrow.
    "I'll talk to you when you get back."
    "Dad? Is there anything I can do while I'm here?"
    "No. Everything is taken care of."
    "Dad, I'm...I'm sorry about Ned."
    "So am I." His voice cracked.
    There wasn't anything else to say. I said goodbye and hung up. Stan opened the front door and admitted a woman and a man, dressed in civilian clothes.
    The woman said, "I'm Detective Washington and this is Detective Lawson, San Francisco Police Department." She showed him a badge. "I would like to speak to James Buchanan."
    "I'll take you to Mr. Buchanan," Stan said. "You might also want to speak to Karl Patterson." He indicated where I was standing a few feet away in the living room. "He flew to San Francisco from Los Angeles with Mr. Mackay this afternoon."
    "Yes, we do want to talk to Mr. Patterson," Detective Washington said. And then to her partner, "I'll talk to Mr. Patterson. You talk to Mr. Buchanan. You know what to ask him."
    James had cleared the casino immediately after we had found out about Ned's death. He seemed very upset. Everybody had left, including all of the young men, except Stan and a couple of others who were closing things up downstairs.
    Stan escorted Detective Lawson to James' office, where he had closeted himself after kicking everybody out. Detective Washington came into the living room and introduced herself to me. She had a strong voice and her demeanor and body language said she was in control of the situation; her black hair was cut short and her blue pantsuit was the color of power. She was tall, with graceful movements, and I suspected she could take care of herself in a fight as well as any man.
    "I'm sorry about Mr. Mackay," she said, softening her voice a little.
    "Thank you."
    "I'm glad we found you. One of your father's people gave us the name of your hotel, but you weren't there."
    "I was here." Obviously. Okay, Karl, get control.
    "May I ask you a few questions?"
    "Of course."
    She sat in an armchair and motioned me to a sofa facing it. She produced a pencil and a spiral notebook.
    "When was the last time you saw Mr. Mackay?" she asked.
    "About 6:30 or a little later. We flew up from LA together and he drove me to my hotel. Then he...well, I thought he was going to a business meeting."
    "Where was this meeting supposed to be held?"
    "At the Golden Palace Restaurant," I said, remembering what Stan had said.
    "Did Mr. Mackay tell you he was going to this meeting?"
    "Yes. Actually, he didn't tell me the name of the restaurant. I got that from Stan, the fellow who answered the door. Mr. Mackay was supposed to be here at ten."
    "Did you know that Mr. Mackay never actually went to the Golden Palace?"
    "I didn't find that out until Mr.