Page 59 of Bait and Switch
“Stevens doesn’t live on the island anymore. It would be a bit of a drive with a dead body in the back of a car,” Elton pointed out.
Casey scowled at no one in particular. “Not if you’re the sheriff.”
“We know that Stevens ultimately was the owner of theShangri-La, so killing Vale and dumping his body there was a message.”
“A direct threat, I’d say.” Greta said. She’d been silent for so long he’d almost forgotten she was on the line.
“Still can’t figure out why they came back and firebombed theTicketas well as theShangri-La.”
Gabe had returned to pacing between the kitchen and the hallway, his hands clasped over the top of his head as they brainstormed. Casey felt a sharp ping in the center of his chest —like the pull of a muscle that hadn’t been used much before now—that he was starting to realize had everything to do with Charming. He felt a bit dizzy, and it had nothing to do with the knock on his head.
“Ifit was the same person.” Greta sounded thoughtful. “But who else would it be?”
“There’s coincidence and then there’s the ridiculous,” Casey said, struggling to his feet. He had to move even if every cell in his body screamed for him to sit his ass back down. “For now, we assume it was the same perp. They must’ve thought Gabe saw or heard something he shouldn’t have.”
He looked over at Gabe, a complicated expression flitting across his face as he watched Casey try, and fail, to hide the pain he was in. His ribs weren’t broken, but there was going to be a hell of a bruise.
“Maybe they didn’t expect you back so soon, or at all,” Casey continued. “Who besides Elton and me knew for sure that you were living there? If Keith-the-cat hadn’t alerted you, maybe the arsonists would have torchedTheBarbaratoo. Did Vale know you were living aboard? Or did he assume that I could find you because of what my friend Marlene told him?”
“My bet is Peter didn’t know I was living there and just figured you might know where I was if you were asking about me. He was always good at recon.”
They were all quiet now as they realized just how narrowly Gabriel and Casey had avoided serious injury or death. Casey winced as he moved slightly, reminding himself that he hadn’t avoided getting hurt entirely.
“Well, what are we doing now?” asked Greta.
“Nothing tonight, but tomorrow we ride,” said Gabe. “Or something like that anyway. I’ll drive Casey and Bowie back to the marina—and don’t argue with me, Ranger Man, I’m not having it tonight.”
“Ranger Man,” Greta repeated, laughing, although she tried to hide it with a cough.
The call ended with a promise they’d touch base first thing.
Casey released the groan he’d been holding back since Gabe mentioned the marina.
“What?” Gabe asked as he collected the now empty bowls and walked them into the kitchen, rinsed them out, and set them on the counter. “What else could there possibly be?”
“As far as I know, the pier hasn’t been cleared yet. And even if it was declared safe,TheBarbarais still out in the middle of the bay. I’ll admit it, rowing out there tonight is not on my top ten list.”
Gabe stepped back into the living room just as Elton was pushing himself to his feet again. “It’s been a day, and this old man is going to bed. There’s the spare room. You can share the bed in there, or one of you can take the couch. Bicker quietly, please. I, for one, would like a decent night’s sleep.”
He shuffled off and disappeared down the hallway. First Gabe, then Casey glanced at the couch. The piece of furniture was hardly big enough to earn the name. It wasn’t long enough for Elton to lie on, much less either of them.
“I’ll take the recliner, you can take the bed,” Gabe said, his expression as grim as if he’d offered to throw himself into a pit of hungry lions. “The recliner is—no offense—Elton-shaped and lumpy. I think you might end up in more pain.”
Casey already regretted the time he’d just spent on it; it felt like a violation of Elton’s personal space, and it’d done his aches and pains no favors. However?—
“It’s not a big deal. I’ll take the recliner.” Casey was resigned to not getting much, if any, sleep anyway. He could always drop to the floor once Gabe left the room.
“Seriously, it’s fine. I’ll take it.”
“I said quietly,” Elton called out, his voice muffled by walls and a shut door. “Just share the damn bed, it won’t kill you. Spare blankets are in the hall closet if you need more than what’s there.”
“I don’t know, it might kill one of us,” Gabe muttered darkly.
Common sense fled.
Now Casey wanted to prove to Gabriel and Elton that it really was no big deal if they shared a bed. They were adults. Sharing a bed didn’t mean they’d jump each other’s bones. He shook his head—which, again, hurt—because that was not what he wanted to be thinking about.
Even if that’s exactly what had crossed his mind.
