Aces and Knaves

Elma said, "You know, a lady is not supposed to do this, but I want to thank you for the other night. I have been seeing things a lot more clearly since then."
    She hugged me and walked away with the same spring in her step I had seen when she arrived. I was happy and sad at the same time, realizing that she didn't need me any more—at least not like that.

    Chapter 30 THE BET--2
    The voice that answered my ring didn't belong to Stan. I was glad of that; I hoped Stan wasn't here tonight. When I gave my name the voice got back to me in 30 seconds with the puzzle of the day.
    I solved it within two minutes and was clicked into the house. As I walked downstairs to the casino I heard the perfect diction of Nancy Wilson as she sang "When Sunny Gets Blue." The crowd was even lighter than it had been last Wednesday. Monday night must be the slowest night of all. Either that, or James had cleaned out everybody in San Francisco.
    The young man who greeted me at the bottom of the stairs was neither Stan nor Art, but a clone whose name I promptly forgot. I asked him whether James was present—Art had assured me last week that James would be back here on Monday—and received a positive response. He went into the control room to retrieve James while I waited, rehearsing what I was going to say.
    James bustled out with a broad smile on his face and said, "Karl, baby, what a pleasure. Where's Arrow? I heard that you and she stayed here last week."
    Instead of shaking my hand he gave me a quick, masculine hug and I half-expected the kiss of death to follow.
    "I'm all alone tonight," I said and waited for him to mention that I had accused him of murder.
    Instead, he said, "That's a damn shame. Arrow is on my all-time list of favorite women. Well, did you come to give me a report on one of my other favorites?"
    Meaning Elma. "She's a tough nut, but I'm working on her. I feel confident I can swing her over."
    "Well, you've got a few more days." He dismissed my news with a wave of his hand. "What would you like to do tonight?"
    "Make you a proposition."
    "Another one?"
    "Yes. This one depends on your reputation for absolute honesty." Elma had told me that James' best trait was that he always kept his promises. Of course he expected others to do the same. Seamus had also said that. The Goodwins, too.
    James looked amused. "This sounds serious. Shall we sit down?"
    He led me to a vacant table. I struggled with how to phrase my request. After a couple of false starts I said, "I-I need to have the answer to...need to have you answer a question for me. A yes-no type question."
    "Go ahead; ask me the question."
    "It's not that simple. If I just ask you the question you can decline to answer. I don't want to ask the question until I'm sure you will answer it."
    Drinks magically appeared in front of us, a clear liquid for James with a slice of lime and a straw, iced tea for me. James sipped his drink through the straw and regarded me with his blue eyes. He said, "This must be a very serious question. What do you propose?"
    "I'll gamble for the right to ask the question. But you have to promise to answer it."
    "So I have to think back over my whole life and determine whether there is anything I've done that I wouldn't admit. Is that it? Because you know more about my life than most people. You've even been to the town where I grew up and talked to people there.
    "But I must admit that this is intriguing. I've lived my life in a straightforward manner; I'm not trying to hide anything. What question do you want the answer to that you wouldn't just come out and ask me? More information about the Dickie incident? I can't think of a question answerable by yes or no that would help to clarify that. The truth is rarely a yes-or-no affair."
    I was tempted—tempted to ask the question: Did you have any part at all in Ned's murder? But if it were that easy, getting murder convictions would be a snap. No, James lived and died by The Game. And winning The Game was the only way I could ensure getting a truthful answer.
    "What kind of odds will you give me?" I asked.
    "Most people who come here do so because I'm their last hope. If they're going to lose their company anyway, they're willing to buck the odds to save it. But with you, Karl, it's a different story. All you want to do is ask me a question. Besides, you have a better head for figures than most of the others. You know the odds are against you."
    "I'll be honest with you," I said. "I plan to