Page 35 of The Last Grift
“And when I kick the bucket, just what is this dog gonna do?”
Lundin looked pleased. At least, Gabe thought his lips curved ever so slightly upward.
“That’s not a flat-out no. I’ll call the shelter this afternoon and see what we can set up. What else?” Ranger Man frowned. “It’s been damn busy and Greta’s not back until next week. The other day, I busted the Perkinses up The Valley harvesting chanterelles. There was some sort of fire at Paulson Point. The usual offseason trespassing’s been going on in the park.” He shot Gabe a hard glance, then turned back to the old man. “Does all that count for civilized conversation?” he asked with what appeared to be an actual smile.
Dammit for real. Casey Lundin smiling was not fair, not fair at all. Luckily, the guy hated him because Gabe knew he’d be in trouble. Also, he’d just sworn off relationships for the foreseeable future.Note to self.
Elton chuckled. “It’ll do.” He took another sip out of his mug. “Don’t suppose you’ve heard from Gordon? I’ve been trying to reach him but haven’t been able to. And after all he’s been through, I worry.”
“I’ll keep my eye out for him.”
“What else has been going on, aside from the usual from Calvin and Dwayne?” Elton asked. “Those two aren’t going to stop, you know, they’re just going to make it harder for you to catch them.”
“Yeah, true. Well, this guy”—Lundin pointed his chin Gabriel’s direction—“was one of the trespassers. Tried to stay over at the fort the other night.”
“I wasn’t the only one,” Gabriel replied hotly. “Other people were there too.”
“The kiosk at the park’s entrance was vandalized too. There’s never anything in it this time of year, but repairs will cost. And the Paulson Point thing.”
“It wasn’t by me,” Gabe protested. “I was here last night, ask Elton. Vandalizing property really isn’t my cup of tea.”
“Sounds like bored kids,” Elton interjected.
Gabriel scowled at Lundin. “I don’t even know what Paulson Point is. Do I look like I go around setting random fires to you? I promise you, I do not have that kind of energy. Jeez, I just fucking got here, in case you haven’t figured that out. I don’t even know where most places are.”
“Yeah, you did just get here, and I want to know why. What are you doing at Elton’s place?”
“Yeah, I don’t think you get to be privy to that information.” Gabe channeled his snottiest Heidi Karne impression.
Gabriel and Lundin glared at each other.
Elton cleared his throat. Reluctantly, they both returned their attention to the older man.
“Gabriel, Paulson Point is a marine park, takes up the southern tip of the island. You can only camp there if you paddle in, but there are some hiking trails and spots to park for those in the know.” Elton transferred his gaze to the ranger. “Casey, for your information, Gabriel is telling the truth, he washere last night. I could hear him snoring through the walls. Where exactly was the fire?”
Snoring? Had he snored? Gabriel shot a glance of disbelief Elton’s way. He shrugged.
“I talked to the TCSO on my way here,” Lundin said. “They say it was set nearer to the walk-in entrance rather than the boat-in end of the park. One of the locals saw what they thought were flames and called it in. A patrol car drove by. I didn’t hear about it until this morning, when Nolan stopped by my place for a chat.” He made a face like he’d sucked on a lemon. “But you’re right,” he admitted reluctantly, “it probably was kids.”
“How’d someone get a fire started in this weather?” Elton asked. “Never mind. Probably used fire putty.”
“I haven’t set fire to anything and have no idea what fire putty is,” Gabe chimed in. “My worst crime recently”—he definitely needed to use that qualifier—“has been the trespassing thing.”
Lundin took a long, deep sip of his coffee, eyeing Gabriel as if he wished he could see inside his head. For his part, Gabriel did everything he could not to shift around or act like he had a guilty conscience. What did he care what this guy thought of him?
Did. Not. Care.
Except that Lundin was Elton’s friend and had appointed himself the old man’s protector, so maybe that gave him a few points. Gabriel figured he should consider it. Maybe.
Was Casey Lundin the Don Quixote type? Tilting at windmills and not succeeding? Or was it tilting windmills and not succeeding? Fighting the good fight, whatever that was.
It exhausted Gabriel just thinking about it. He was not the man for the Good Fight. Not even the Good Scuffle. Anymore, he was the man for the Good Couch and theGood Crime Thriller. After a lifetime of moving from place to place, one con to the next, Gabe wanted a safe place to justbe.
Gabe and Elton were quiet while Lundin stepped into the kitchen and set his empty mug in the sink.
“Like I said, I’ll keep a look out for Gordon.”
The front door shut behind him, and soon enough, Gabe heard a car start.
