“No. I mean yes. That’s great. Where?”
“Jump Off Jack’s. It a brewery.”
“I’ve heard of it. Perfect. I’ll see you there.”
He turned the camera on himself. “Hey, looks like I finally got a date with the chief of police. You know how I love a woman who can take charge.”
He laughed like things always went his way, because apparently they did, and strolled out of the station.
“I’m beginning to dislike leprechauns,” I muttered.
“Beginning?” Than asked.
“Tish still keeping an eye on him?” I asked Myra.
“Yep. They’re outside.” She pointed at the paperwork on my desk. “Finish that. As soon as the Bombers clear out, Hatter and I will escort our guests in holding out of town.”
My attackers would have their day in court. But their sentencing was out of my hands. It would be taken up by the judge and court in Newport some other day.
Eventually Baum and his fans left, and Myra and Hatter got rid of the jerks in holding.
When one o’clock rolled around, I drove over to the brewery.
It was time to deal with the leprechaun.
Jump Off Jack’soutdoor picnic tables were filled with tourists and the parking lot was packed. I jogged up the narrow staircase to the restaurant which was a long, rustic space above the massive brewery with windows facing the harbor.
The delicious smell of burgers and fish and chips, along with yeasty hops and something sweet, like pineapple, filled the air.
“Delaney Reed,” Chris Lagon, proprietor of the establishment and our resident gilman, called out. “Pour you a beer?”
He was halfway to the kitchen, an empty tray of glasses balanced in one hand, a pitcher of water in the other. Those tattoos down his arms did a fabulous job of disguising the slight scaling of his skin.
I wasn’t surprised to see him working the rush hour. He had always been hands-on with this place and his customers. It was part of what had put it and him on the must-see list of several regional magazines.
“Just a Coke, thanks,” I said.
“You meeting with…” He tipped his head toward the far corner of the room and the table by the window. Patrick sat on one side of the table, Odin sat on the other. They seemed to be having a spirited, friendly conversation.
“Yep.”
“Want me to throw a burger on for you?”
“Gods, please,” I said. “Thank you.”
He was on the move again, smooth and graceful like only a creature of the water could be.
I walked between tables occupied by unfamiliar people laughing, eating, and stealing quick glances at Patrick Baum.
Patrick stood and waved at me like I might miss him. Like I might miss the only person in the room everyone was there for. Like I might miss the camera he’d propped on a napkin holder, facing the harbor.
Footage for his show. The boats on the slips and the bay surrounded by the forested hills would be beautiful, I was sure.
I wondered what we would become once Patrick was done with us.
“Gentlemen.” I pulled out the spare chair next to Odin and sat.
“Perfect timing,” Patrick said. “Mr. Odin and I were just finished.”
