“I’ll send your final pay there. It’s best if we don’t contact each other again. I’m going to destroy this phone.”
“Don’t stiff me, boss,” Herbert said as if he were uttering a pleasantry.
“Have I ever?” Matthew demanded, his tone icy.
“My point is this isn’t a good time to start.” Now his right-hand man sounded defensive.
“I have too much to lose to screw this up.” If he were in Herbert’s shoes, he’d have misgivings. “Check the box once a week. Heed my words about the crop. Act fast and don’t be greedy.” He hung up, his lips twisting. Kind of ironic he’d utter those words when it was greed that had led him to using his neighbor’s land.
His other phone rang. The number on the screen had him scowling, tense, girding his parental loins for an ex-wife custody discussion battle. “Maureen.” While he aimed for pleasant, his instant tension bled through his greeting.
“Josh and I are going to The Mount for the week. You’ll have to bring Dillion home now because I won’t be here tonight.”
Bitch. Always changing their custody agreement on a whim. He’d played along. Mr. Nice. He’d let her call the shots, going along with her orders even though they grated.
Hell, who was he kidding? He’d like to wring her bloody neck. “Would you like me to keep Dillion for the week?”
There was a silence. A pause. “What about your work? I won’t have you leaving Dillion with sitters.”
Matthew held back his snort with difficulty. According to Dillion, Maureen left him with the neighbor on a regular basis. “No, I’m working from home this week. I’ll make sure I confine my work to the evening when Dillion is in bed or if he’s napping during the afternoon. I have three or four visits arranged, but they’ll be short and I can take Dillion with me.”
“I’ll want to talk to Dillion every night,” Maureen warned.
“No problem. Will you ring at the usual time? Around five?”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “Don’t make me regret this, Matthew. I won’t give you a second chance.”
“Thank you,” Matthew said. “I appreciate this, Maureen.”
“You can drop him off next Sunday night at six.”
“Okay. We’ll be there.”
Maureen hung up halfway through his sentence. Matthew disconnected on his end, triumph blooming as he pumped his fist in the air. His stupid bitch of an ex had played right into his hands. Kismet or what?
His phone went again, and his stomach bucked with misgivings. Hell, had Maureen changed her mind already?
“Yes.”
“This is Cassie Miller-Pope, your next-door neighbor. My friends and I went for a walk and discovered a cannabis plot on my land. Where you aware of this?”
“Pardon?” Matthew wanted to chortle, so great was his relief that Cassie was on the end of the phone call rather than his wife. “Did you say cannabis?”
“Yes. You haven’t noticed anything strange?”
“No. I walk through our trees, checking for signs of pests, but other than a bit of a pruning once a year, we leave our trees to do their thing. Where is this plot? Do you think that is why you had vandals in your house?”
Her gasp was audible. “That would explain things,” she agreed. “I have had rather a lot of bad luck.”
“Have you rung the cops?”
“Not yet,” she said. “I wanted to check with you first.”
“Where is the plot?”
“It’s on our common boundary, but is growing on my land. Whoever owns the plants has tried to disguise them with a border of pines, the same variety as yours.”
He considered, consulted his watch. Herbert should have had time to harvest the buds by now. “Would you like me to pick you up and we can visit the local police together to lodge a complaint?”
