Page 90 of Your Every Wish
I jolt forward. Maybe Bent has a clue to the mystery of why Willy bought a broken-down trailer park. “You knew him?”
“Never had the pleasure. But he sounded like a real character. This it?” He pulls into the driveway of the office, aka my trailer, and turns off his engine. “I’m sorry for your and Emma’s loss.”
“How do you know about him?”
“He bought this place right out from under me.”
“The two of you were in a bidding war?”
“Some LLC and I were in a bidding war. I didn’t realize it was him until I met you. Then I did a little research.”
“So, you never met him?”
“Nope. Seems to me he bought the place, then never stepped foot on it. And if he did, it’s news to me. Of course, not too long after he was . . .”
“Arrested and convicted of insider trading.” No need to candy-coat it.
“Unfortunate thing that was. And the park—excuse me, I meanresort”—he smirks—“continues to go to hell. But now that you and your sister are here, help is on its way, right?”
“Are you always this sarcastic and rude?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
The rain is coming down in sheets now with no sign that it’ll let up anytime soon. I tell myself it’s the reason I haven’t fled the warmth of his truck yet.
“You must have a hard time winning people over with that glowing personality of yours,” I say.
“Nope. People around here seem to like me. A lot.”
“There is no accounting for bad taste.”
Another bark of laughter from him. At least he gets as good as he gives.
“Glad I happened to drive by when you needed a ride.” He eyes the passenger door, a subtle signal—okay, not so subtle—to get out.
“Thanks,” I say begrudgingly. “Stay dry.” Or drown.
I hop out and land in a puddle, splattering water all over myself. Smooth move. I turn to see if he saw but he’s already backing out of the driveway.
At the door, I shed my wet and muddy shoes and hang my jacket on Ginger’s hall tree. Emma’s sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through a photo album that looks vaguely familiar.
“Who was that?” she asks absently.
“Bent McCourtney. I got caught in the downpour when he happened to drive by, and he gave me a lift.”
“That was nice of him. Crazy weather, huh?”
“Terrible. If not for Bent I would’ve had to swim home. I’m going to hit the shower.” My running clothes are soaked through to my skin, chilling me to the bone.
“Hurry up, I want to show you something.”
The urgency in her voice makes me stop and turn around. “What?”
“Go ahead and shower first before you catch a cold. This is going to take a while.”
Now I recognize it. It’s the photo album from Willy’s safe, the one we took with his watch and ring. The latter turned out to be one of those cheesy high school class rings. And the watch, a Rolex knockoff. Both clearly held sentimental value for Willy because neither is worth more than a few bucks.
“Why are you looking at that? Is there something in there that can help us find the money?”
