Captain Noonan, the “Bearded Holmes” of the Sandersonville Police Department, was popping open the little windows on his weekly, free, pull tab from Sandersonville grocery when Harriet, his administrative assistant, came into his office. When she saw what he was doing, she neighed a false laugh like a donkey.

“Do you know what your chances of winning anything are?”

“Sure. But these are free.”  Noonan shook the pull-tab. “Who knows? Maybe I can win big time and retire to some city on the ocean.” Noonan leaned back in his chair.

“You are IN a city on the ocean.”

“Yes, but I’m working.”

Harriet kind of snorted. “If you wanted to big bucks you should have dealt with Ed McMahon.”

“I am!”

“He’s dead!”

“Yeah, but I have the same chance of wining the big bucks with him dead as I did when he was alive.”

Harriet did not see the humor in the comment. “OK, Mr. Big Bucks, you’ve got one of your odd cases on Line Three. Something about cards being stolen and then returned.”

“Gift cards?”

“Hey, don’t ask me.” She pointed to the telephone on Noonan’s desk. “Line three.”

* * *

“Noonan.”

“Is the ‘Bearded Holmes” of the Sandersonville Police Department.”

“Depends,” Noonan replied. “Are you calling because of a crime or are you selling advertising.”

There was a pause at the other end of the line. “Quite a choice” the voice came back. “I’m not sure it’s a crime but I can sell you campaign advertising if you want to spread your fame in Boise, Idaho.”

“No, to the second,” Noonan snapped. “Tell me about the ‘not sure it’s a crime.’”

“This is Skylar Wisconsin, just like the state, calling from Boise, Idaho. I’m not a cop.”

“I’ll bet you get a lot of laughs in Idaho with a name like Wisconsin.”

“Yup. And my middle name is nine. The number.”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“My parents were hippies. They changed their names to ‘Wisconsin’ when they lived in a commune. My middle name is nine, the number. My brothers middle name is 13. I kid you not.”

“Life is full of surprises, Skylar Wisconsin. If you’re not a cop, what do you do and why are you calling me?

“I run a small political consulting firm in Boise. I manage campaigns of assembly people, referendums, state house and state senate campaigns and occasionally a low-budget congressional race. I’m small-time, I must admit. I’m not making the big buck.”

“Who is?” Noonan looked at the pull tab in his hand, shook his head and tossed it into File 13. “OK. Why are you calling?”

“For some background, one of my clients is trying to make some forms of gambling legal in Idaho. Right now games of chance like poker or roulette are illegal. My client is trying to change that.”

“And you are calling me because . . .” Noonan left the sentence hang.

“My client’s had a strange turn of events. About a week ago 100 pounds of cards disappeared. Playing cards. Cards my client hoped would be used for gambling after the referendum passed.”

Noonan pulled out his worn notebook. “100 pounds of cards. We’re talking about playing cards, right?”

“Yes. They are all printed with my client’s expected casino name on them. About 400 packs of cards.”

“They disappeared?”

“Yup. Then they came back.”

“They came back?”

“Correct. So, what’s going on?”

“Well, if they came back, what’s the problem?”

“My client thinks the cards may have been altered. You know, by someone who wants an edge in gambling. Maybe they were marked in some secret way.”

“Well, why not just throw the cards out? Get new ones.”

“It will take too long. The referendum is in a week. If it passes, my client wants to be up and running in another week. He wants to hit the ground running.”

Noonan was scribbling in his notebook. “I don’t know what I can do for you but let me try. Seeing as you are calling from the ends of the earth.”

“Idaho is not the end of the earth (pause) but you can see it from there.” He chortled.

Noonan chuckled. “OK, jokes aside. How do you know the cards were actually taken and then replaced? Are you sure they are the same cards? Do you trust all of the people working in the warehouse where the cards are kept? How long were they missing? When is the referendum? How close is the vote? Is anything unusual happening between today and the referendum?”

“Easy questions. My client knew the cards were missing because the spot on the shelf where they were stored was empty. He rents warehouse space so there are lots of people working in the warehouse who have nothing to do with his business. We popped open some of the card decks and looked them over. They were my client’s cards. We had some card pros look at them for marks and got nothing. The cards were missing for about a week, as close as we can guess. The referendum is in a week and the vote is close. Unusual events? We’re talking Boise! We thrive on making things unusual. But there is nothing special like a circus or traveling Shakespearean play. There are a lot of last-minute election gatherings for candidates and the referendum but that’s about it.”

“Tell me about the gathering for the referendum.”

“Not much to say. It will be a picnic in a park. There’ll be a band, barbeque and some drawings for prizes. Nothing unusual.”

“Will it be close to an airport?”

“Yeah, but why?”

“I’m just guessing but I’d suggest you pull out about ten decks of cards and go through them slowly. And I mean, card by card. My bet, you will find some cards missing. Why the airport? Because I think you are going to be card bombed.”

“Huh?”

* * *

Two weeks to day after Noonan had talked with Wisconsin – in Idaho – Harriet came tripping into his office with a spread of cards. “You got a strange package today. It was nothing but cards.” Harriet showed him he cards. “And they are all black, Aces and Eights.”

“No note?”

“Yeah, its reads, ‘I’m just sending you the black ones for your office wall. The rest came down like rain.’ What’s he mean by that?”

“Aces and Eights. The dead man’s hand. That’s what Wild Bill Hickock supposedly had in his hand when he was killed.  No one knows for sure but the legend is he had a hand of Aces and Eights. Hickok. Quite the character. Shot in the back of the head in Deadwood, South Dakota, in 1876. Ever since, Ace’s and Eights have been known as the ‘dead man’s hand.’”

“Yeah, so? What’s that got to do with Idaho? That’s not South Dakota.”

“Nope. See, I got a call from a man in Idaho who said about 100 card decks had been stolen and then replaced. The logical conclusion was the cards had been marked. When it was confirmed they had not been marked, what was left was something had been taken out. I suspected Aces and Eights, the dead man’s hand. The only logical thing the cards could be used for was to send a message. And, and, and . . .” Noonan cut off Harriett’s attempt to cut into his sentence. “And the only way to send a message of cards anonymously was by plane. Apparently I was correct. As you can see from the note,” Noonan pointed at the note. “The Aces and Eights were airdropped.”

“That was just a lucky guess!”

“Nope. It’s history. Aces and Eights, dead man’s hand, dead man’s vote for the referendum. I heard it failed.”

“Maybe. Gambling is waste of money. You know how I stopped my late husband from gambling?”

“OK, no, how?”

“I spent it before he got it.”