Dead Simple

lips in a serpent-like manner, and Grace knew immediately he didn’t have to worry about Bob’s hand – unless he got lucky in the pick-up.
    It was Grace’s turn to open the betting. He eyed the rest of his companions.
    Tom Allen, thirty-four years old, a detective in Brighton CID, with a serious, boyish face and a mop of curly hair. Dressed in a sweatshirt over a T-shirt, he peered at his cards impassively. Grace always found him hard to read.
    Next to Tom sat Chris Croke, a motorcycle cop in Traffic – or Road Policing , as the department was now called. With lean and wiry good looks, short blond hair, blue eyes and a quick-fire charm, Croke was a consummate ladies’ man, who seemed to live the lifestyle more of a playboy than of a cop. He was hosting tonight’s game in his flash, fifth-floor apartment in the coolest apartment block in Brighton, the Van Alen. Ordinarily a cop living such a ritzy lifestyle would have aroused suspicions in Grace, but it was well known that Croke’s ex-missus was a socialite heiress to a vast football pools fortune.
    Croke had met her when he’d stopped her for speeding and it was his boast that, despite giving her a ticket, she had still married him. Whatever the truth, that was now history, but there was no question he had done well out of the marriage, because when she had finally got tired of the erratic hours that were the lot of any cop’s spouse, she had settled a pile of loot on him.
    Croke was reckless and unpredictable. In seven years of playing with him, Grace found his body language hard to decipher. He never seemed to care whether he won or lost; it was much easier to read people who had something at stake.
    Grace turned his focus on Trevor Carter, a quiet, balding man who worked in IT at Brighton police station. Dressed conservatively in a grey shirt, sleeves rolled up, unfashionably large glasses and drab brown trousers, Carter was a frugal, family man, who played the game as if the welfare of his four children depended on it. He rarely bluffed, rarely raised and as a result rarely finished any evening up. Carter’s giveaway was a nervous twitch of his right eye – the sure-fire signal that he had a strong hand. It was twitching now.
    Lastly he looked at Geoff Panone, a Drugs Squad detective of thirty, dressed in a black T-shirt, white jeans and sandals, with near-shoulder-length black hair and a gold earring, who was puffing away on a massive cigar. Grace had learned from watching him over the past couple of years that when he had a good hand at Draw poker, he systematically rearranged the cards in his hand, and when he had a lousy hand, he didn’t. Worryingly, he was now rearranging his cards.
    ‘Your bet, Roy,’ Bob Thornton told him.
    The limit was always the pot on the table. No one could bet higher, which kept the stakes to an affordable level. With six of them putting in a total ante of three pounds, that was the opening ceiling. Not wanting to give anything away, and at the same time wanting to keep everyone in, Grace opened with one pound. All of them came in until Trevor Carter, who raised by three pounds, the twitching of his eye even more pronounced now.
    Geoff tossed in a further two pounds. Bob Thornton hesitated just for a fraction, just enough for Grace to know that he definitely did not have a good hand so far and was taking a chance because it was the last round. He decided to press his opportunity and raised by a further three pounds.
    Everyone looked at him. They knew he’d had a bad night and this was a giveaway. But it was already too late to do anything about that.
    Tom threw his cards down and shook his head. Chris hesitated for some moments, then tossed in five pounds. Trevor and Geoff upped their bets to match also. Bob Thornton followed.
    ‘How many cards?’ Bob asked Grace.
    Changing two would have revealed he had three of a kind. But changing two would have given him better odds. Grace decided his strategy and changed just one, dumping his three of clubs, retaining a seven of spades. He picked up a seven of hearts.
    His heart leapt. A full house! Not a top one, but a seriously strong hand. Tens on sevens. Now he was in business!
    Certain from watching the change of cards of the others that he had the strongest hand, Grace decided to seize his opportunity and bet the ranch. To his dismay, each of the next three players in turn dropped out and he realized he’d pushed it too hard. But then to his relief Trevor Carter came in