Page 45 of The Last Grift
Of course, Lundin lived at the marina. Why couldn’t he have said so yesterday when he’d been grilling Gabe about his ownership of theTicket? Which reminded Gabe that he still didn’t have a deed to show Lundin and hadn’t paid his fucking trespassing fine yet. Hadn’t bothered to look at it again.
A sharp click brought Gabe back to the present. Elton had set his now empty coffee mug on the table at his elbow and was beginning the slow process of rising to his feet.
“This old man is hungry. I’m starting dinner. One of Rizzi’s useless deputies will be by in the morning to ask me a bunch of questions. Come with me into the kitchen, we should go over our story.”
Gabriel heaved himself to his feet as well. Picking up Elton’s cup along with the one he’d used, he took them into the kitchen and rinsed them out, then set them in the top rack of the tiny dishwasher.
“Anything I can do to help?” he asked. “I’ll pick up some groceries tomorrow.”
“Can you cook?” Elton countered.
“I mean… yes?” His mother had not believed cooking was something only women did. Gabe had been cooking since he’d achieved double digits.
“You can cook dinner, then. I don’t like mushrooms.”
Gabriel laughed. “Okay, no fungi.”
“On another note, in all seriousness, you haven’t been clear with me about what brought you running here from the big city, but I kind of like you for some reason. Don’t mess with Rizzi and his friends. You don’t want to land on their radar.”
Fuck, the security video from the gas station probably took care of that. Gabe had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach—his bad luck might be about to turn even worse.
Without bad luck, Chance, you wouldn’t have any luck at all.
Thanks, thanks a lot.
“Spaghetti okay? I saw pasta noodles and sauce in your cupboard.”
“If I’m not cooking it, it sounds great.”
TWENTY-ONE
GABRIEL
Friday
Over their dinnerthe previous evening—spaghetti and iceberg lettuce salad because he “needed his greens,” Elton had bitterly grumbled while also liberally dousing said greens with ranch dressing—Gabe and Elton had reasoned that, if the investigating deputy was halfway decent at his job, they’d eventually trace Dwayne Perkins and his brother to the gas station. After all, Gordon had called 9-1-1 that fateful day, and presumably he had told the responder both Dwayne’s and Calvin’s names.
“You’re going to want to make yourself scarce for that. They’ll be on the lookout for your car,” Elton had muttered. “After someone stops by tomorrow, I’m going to make a few phone calls myself. I have an idea I want to follow up on.”
“What?”
“It’s just a fancy, I doubt anything will come of it. Why is there such interest in Gordon’s property? It’s ten acres, not even a drop in the bucket. The peninsula is over two million. I have a question a local land lawyer might be able to answer for me.”
“That’s not a bad idea at all. I think I’ll stop by Lundin’s and talk to him.”
“He’s up and out early.”
“I guess I have to be up earlier then.”
Most of their conclusions assumed there’d be an investigation into Dwayne’s death. It wouldn’t have bothered Gabriel’s conscience if the Sheriff’s Office chose to ignore Perkins’s early demise, but seeing as Dwayne was—had been— the sheriff’s nephew, Gabriel figured he wouldn’t be that lucky.
The trespassing violation was bad enough; he didn’t want anyone doing a background check on him. Gabriel didn’t know who the Colavitos had on their payroll, but he wouldn’t put it past them to have somebody back in Seattle PD keeping an eye out for his name. Larry Colavito was nothing if not thorough in his grudge-holding.
He wokebefore daylight Friday morning and dragged his body out of Elton’s place before Elton was up and about. Too early, if Gabriel was being honest with himself. On the plus side, he figured out Elton’s coffee maker and had a travel cup of steaming hot coffee sitting pretty in the Honda’s center console.
A red Jeep Wagoneer was parked in one of the spots at the marina. Gabriel didn’t think he’d missed seeing it there before, he wasn’t that oblivious, so he assumed it was Lundin’s and that it meant he was at home. Ranger Man probably drove the green Forest Service truck for work.
Parking the Honda, Gabriel hopped out and dug into his coat pocket for the key he still hadn’t gotten around to making a copy of. He let himself onto the dock and strode pastThe Golden Ticket, shooting the sailboat a baleful glance. So far, the boat had been nothing but a pain in his ass. He was lucky that Elton saw fit to invite him to stay at hishome.
