Page 18 of Betrayal In Calusa Cove
The waitress arrived, all smiles and long braids tucked under a Massey’s Pub ballcap. They ordered quickly—two iced teas, smoked mahi tacos for Fletcher, a fried shrimp po'boy, and a side of fries for Keaton—which he got every flipping time. The man never ordered anything else. Ever.
“I take it we’re here to watch and listen to those two over there and not discuss your love life?”
Fletcher leaned forward, his tone low. “Dawson got a call from Lilly. Said the guy Decker was having lunch with looked like he sweats mortgage deals and overpriced scotch.”
“I sat with my back to them, pretending I didn’t see Decker when the hostess sat me. But if Decker noticed me, he didn’t even flinch.” Keaton leaned back as the waitress showed up with their iced teas.
She placed them on the table and shuffled off.
Keaton lifted his tea and took a slow sip. “I can’t say I heard much…some chatter about the development site on Marco Island, but that’s it so far.”
“Well, tune in those ears of yours,” Fletcher said, shifting in his seat to keep himself mostly blocked by Keaton, but if Decker saw him, so be it.
“They’re talking something about plans, drawings.” Keaton tilted his head slightly toward the right. Massey’s had no barriers between the porch and the dining room—just open windows and a half wall. “Hard to make out all the words over the hum of lunch service and that woman over there squawking about the price of her cheap wine.”
“The wine here is overpriced, but it always has been,” Fletcher mused, wishing he were on the other side of the table.
“Okay. I’ve got a few more words. They’re generic, but troublesome,” Keaton said. “Fit the landscape...enticing package...drawings by Monday... And this is the best or maybe the worst piece…gotta be better than the other bid...”
“Is that Decker saying all that?” Fletcher asked.
“No.” Keaton shook his head. “It’s been the other guy. He’s a chatterbox. His tone is clipped, like he’s got a chip on his shoulder or something. About the only thing I’ve heard Decker say is, yeah, okay, right, I’m on it.”
The waitress appeared with their food in record time. The service had always been generally good. But the food, which had always been piping hot and absolutely delicious, along with the atmosphere, had been the reason this place had survived after the scandal with Paul Massey.
“Anything else?”
“Only that Decker’s noticed you, and now all I hear is a few faint whispers I can’t make out.” Keaton dug into his food. “God, this shit is good.”
“You know, there are other things on the menu.”
“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
“You’re pathetic.” Fletcher took a bite out of his Mahi taco.
“And you spent the night with Baily and weren’t going to tell us about it.” Keaton waved his fork around. “I’m a little butthurt over that.”
“I don’t kiss and tell, and it’s none of your damn business.” Fletcher eyed Decker’s table. So much about that man bothered him, but so far, everything he’d said checked out.
However, he was still planning on bidding on the Crab Shack. That just pissed Fletcher off even more.
“Right, because when I had my head up my ass over Trinity, you didn’t make that your business.”
“That’s different.” Fletcher jerked his head. “Looks like Decker’s friend is getting ready to bug out.”
The slick man got up and buttoned his blazer with the sort of poise that screamed boardroom. As he passed the window, he glanced toward Keaton and Fletcher. His gaze lingered, just long enough to register awareness. Then he was gone, disappearing down the steps toward the parking lot.
A beat later, Decker pushed back from the table and made his way toward their high-top with the confidence of someone who believed he held all the cards. Or maybe a man who didn’t care about anyone else but himself. Or maybe it was something entirely different. Whatever it was, Fletcher wanted to wipe the smug grin off the asshole’s face.
“Well, if it isn’t Calusa Cove’s finest,” Decker drawled, resting his knuckles on their tabletop. “Enjoying your little stakeout lunch?”
Fletcher looked up slowly and smiled lazily. “Not many places in this town to go for lunch, and I ate the sandwich Baily made me this morning over my break as a snack a couple of hours ago.” Damn, that felt good to say. “Did you have the Mahi tacos? They’re good. Fresh caught every morning.”
Keaton picked up a fry and took a bite out of it. “Real crispy. Not too salty. Just right.”
Decker chuckled. “Sure. Just two civil servants, talking shop. Coincidentally seated near me and my associate.”
“It’s a small town,” Fletcher said easily. “Massey’s only has so many tables, especially on a warm day like today. Granted, winters don’t get too chilly in South Florida, but we can have some biting temps.”
