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Abe would be surprised if Jo ever came round for dinner again. In fact, he wouldn't be at all shocked to wake up tomorrow to find that she'd never made it back to her apartment.
She'd showed up that evening with Henry, the two of them still basking in the satisfaction of a case well closed, and Abe had happily thrown an extra handful of pasta into the already simmering pot for her. Spirits had been high, and the evening had slipped inconspicuously into night while they'd talked and drank and ate out on the terrace. In the midst of warm air and good company, they'd all gotten rather drunker than they'd intended – Abe suspected that was the main culprit. It was certainly the excuse Henry would use tomorrow.
At some point, the topic of the past had arisen, and Abe had gone of on a tangent about how the lack of technology throughout his childhood had left him with almost expert skills in other areas.
“Chess,” he'd announced emphatically, waving his wine glass around, “had nothing else to do, so once I got too old for children's games mom taught me to play. She learned from dad, but he was always more interested in me learning the piano. Tell you the truth I think he was afraid I'd get too good and beat him at it.”
“Yes, well, you never did.” Henry had said. Jo had looked at him strangely and he'd amended, “...So he always told me.”
Abe had chuckled and carried on, “We played all the time, especially during the winter when it was too cold to go outside. I had this little travel set that I took with me to 'Nam, kept me from going nuts. Nowadays there's nobody that I can't beat.”
Henry had cleared his throat pointedly, and Abe had rolled his eyes, “Except you, of course.”
“You're very sure of yourself.” Jo had grinned over the rim of her own glass.
“I'm almost 70 years old.” Abe had pointed out, “I've earned the right to be sure of myself.”
Jo had leant forward, chin in one hand. “You know, Sean and I played a lot of chess. He always said that all self-respecting professionals should know how.”
“Well that sounds like fighting talk.” Abe had said. Jo had raised a challenging eyebrow, and he'd continued, “You think you play a good enough game to beat someone twice your age?”
“Careful, Jo.” Henry had said, “He won't go easy on you, and he really is very good.”
“Oh, well now I have to agree.”
They'd grabbed their glasses and the remaining bottles of wine and moved back into the house. Abe had brought the board in from the front and set up, and Henry had seated himself in a nearby armchair.
The alcohol had settled him into a pleasant buzz, and Abe knew the board like the back of his hand, so he hadn't really been bringing his A game. That was his excuse. Conversation had continued while they had played, so Abe had only had half an eye on the board when Jo had slid a knight towards him and announced “Check mate.”
“What?” All talk had come to an abrupt halt, and Henry had risen out of his chair to examine the board closer. Then he had laughed and patted Abe sympathetically on the shoulder.
“I think she's got you.”
Jo had leant back in her chair looking unreasonably smug, and Abe had flicked over his king in defeat. “Good going, kid.”
“Thank you.” she'd picked up her drink again and turned to Henry, “What about you?”
“Don't let the success go to your head, Jo.” he'd said.
“Hey,” Abe had replied, “I've graciously accepted defeat. The least you can do is step up and do the same.”
“Not wishing to sound hubristic,” Henry had said, “But I fear Jo would be the one having to be gracious.”
Jo had barked a laugh and sat forward again, “Now that's what I call fighting talk. Accept or concede, Henry.”
“Very well.” Abe had gotten out of his chair to make room for Henry, who had removed his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. They both looked prematurely smug, and Abe had settled down to watch them with amusement; Jo had beaten him by a fluke and his own distraction, but he didn't expect her to stand a chance against Henry. The man had been playing for over two centuries after all.
It had all gone as expected, right up until the moment Henry had lost his queen.
Now, Abe's chair was drawn right up to the table and the self-satisfied smiles had vanished from both their faces. Jo was struggling more this game, partly because Henry really was that good, and partly because he was now giving the game his undivided attention. The friendly banter had vanished long ago, and all eyes were on the board. Abe watched with fascination as their pieces danced around each other and the fallen soldiers piled up to one side. No one had come this close to beating Henry in years.
The rest of the wine disappeared without any of them noticing as the game slowly tipped in Jo's favour. She checked Henry twice, but he escaped both times, and for a moment Abe thought he could see the chain of actions that he would use to bring the game to an end. Then:
“Check mate.” Jo slid her bishop three squares across, and it was over.
For a second Henry simply stared in disbelief. The Abe broke the silence with a loud, throaty laugh, “Nice one, Jo! What else have you been hiding from us?”
“Where on Earth did you learn to play like that?” Henry asked, still looking completely blind-sided.
“Oh, Henry. You know a good magician never reveals her secrets.”
“You are not a magician.” He pointed out.
“What makes you so sure?” Abe asked, “Come on, anyone that can beat you has gotta have something going for them.”
“Yes, well,” Henry said, rolling his sleeves back down, “congratulations, detective.”
He was annoyed. He was putting up a good front, but Abe could see the signs. Judging from the amused look on Jo's face, she could too.
“If you'll excuse me,” Henry said, “It's really time we cleared the terrace.” He disappeared back upstairs and Jo chuckled.
“Aw, did I hurt his ego?”
“He'll recover.” Abe said, sliding into Henry's abandoned chair, “Seriously, though, how'd you do that? Most kids your age don't even know the rules.”
Jo's amusement became more pronounced, “My dad was a big gambler, he had me working out odds every Sunday night. By the time I left home I could do probability in my sleep, managed to turn it into a bit of a party trick at college. That's all chess is – probabilities. I think Sean asked me on our first date cause he saw me play.”
“Impressive.” Abe said, “Don't tell Henry, though, keep him guessing.”
“Of course.” Jo said, “Though maybe I should stay away from the morgue for a while. I prefer scalpels when they're not buried in my chest.”
“Hmm. Though of course, if that situation does arise, then you understand that Henry is a very old friend and I will feel honour-bound to lie to your colleagues on his behalf?”
“Abraham!”
“What? You can't ask me to betray him. Besides, you beat him at chess. Any reasonable jury would see that as justification.”
Jo raised an eyebrow, “Really? Even with half the NYPD testifying against him?”
Abe shrugged, “Henry's saved a fair bit of money over the years, he'd be able to afford a very good lawyer.”
Henry chose that moment to reappear, their empty plates in one hand. Jo glanced back to Abe, “No scalpels upstairs, right?”
“No. If he goes down to the lab, though, you'd better take off.”
“What are you two talking about?” Henry asked as he dumped the dishes in the sink. He had that I'm-above-all-you-children look on his face that Abe had seen so often, though usually directed at other people. He exchanged a glance with Jo, who looked like she was having to clamp down her laughter. “Doesn't matter,” he told Henry.
“Very well,” Henry replied, “You're working tomorrow, aren't you detective?”
“Yeah.” Jo replied, “Is that my cue to leave?”
“Oh no.” Henry came back over to the table, and Abe saw that his eyes were glinting. “I was just wondering if you were up for a rematch.”
Jo gazed steadily at him for a moment. Then a grin spread slowly across he face. “Ohh, Henry. Are you sure you're ready for this?”
“Quite sure.”
“Why don't you make it interesting?” Abe asked, “Put money on it?”
They both turned to look at him. Then Henry said, “Now there's an idea.”
Jo folded her arms, “I'm game if you are.”
Abe escaped from the table, deciding that getting in between the two of them really wasn't a good idea. Neither had been suggesting the bet, come to think of it. The wine was clearly going to his head.
“You want the white side this time?”
“That's very gracious of you.”
Forget Jo making it back to her apartment – at this rate, there would probably be only one of them leaving the table alive.
Abe rolled his eyes and decided to go wash the dishes and leave them to it. When it came down to it, he didn't want to have to testify against either of them, so the less he was around to witness, the better.
Plausible deniability, and all that.