Tolk: Picnic will walk Lindsay to the clinic and meet us back here.
“Hey, Duck? What’s going on? You’re growling,” Melissa says, pointing at my phone.
I look down and see that my knuckles are white. I want to lie, but that’s no way to start a relationship between partners. It would also be a good way to call Melissa an idiot; something that she’s not. She already knows not to trust Bob. I’m sure she wouldn’t accept a ride from a stranger either. I tell her what’s going on.
She’s as mystified as I am. “One guy might be Bob, but who’s the other one?” Her question mirrors my own.
“I don’t know. Until we do, I’d like you to stay out of sight at the restaurant. Mason is there; he has to sign for the liquorshipment. If things go well and the guy is friendly, I’ll walk him across the parking lot from the clubhouse.”
“If it’s Bob, feel free to run him out of town. I don’t mind.”
I pull her in for a kiss. “I love you. Let’s get this done so we can come home and start planning our engagement party.”
I take a minute to ensure all my back-up is in place before we leave the house. I’m not taking any risks with Melissa’s safety. First, I text Picnic to ask if Paul Browning is also at the Halfway Café. The state deputy is a regular there. When Picnic confirms he is, I send a message asking if he’ll stay there for a few minutes. Then I text Mason to confirm he’s already at the restaurant. I hand Melissa her helmet and fire up my bike. I drop her off at the grill’s back door. Mason hustles her inside.
I breathe a little easier once I know Melissa is safe. I loop around the back alley and pull onto Main Street. Less than a block later, I swing into a parking space in front of the Halfway Café and check out the parking lot. I spot my guy right away. It’s nobody I expected. I walk over to him and nod in greeting. “Melbourne.”
The billionaire takes one look at me in my cut and nods like he just figured out a puzzle. “Clifford. Good to see you.”
I shake the hand he offers. Something is off with this entire situation, but I don’t get the feeling that he is the source of the weirdness. If anything, he seems like more of a problem solver. “How can I help you?”
“I was hoping to speak with your wife about the new contract she signed with Martinique,” he says.
“Mel doesn’t have an active contract with Martinique. They fired her months ago.”
Melbourne sighs heavily and shakes his head. “That’s what I was afraid of.” He reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out an envelope. “A week before the cruise, I bought into the restaurant as a full shareholder. What sold me was Bob Overbridge’spromise that they’d come to an agreement with Melissa for her to come back. He even gave me a copy of her new contract.”
He offers it to me but I don’t need to see it, mostly because I fully believe that Bob is fucking stupid enough to try to scam a billionaire. “That’s news to me. And to her. Melissa has been working at the Bar and Grill for the last week, ever since we got back from Florida. She’s our new head chef.”
“I thought something was off when I spoke to her on the Tropical Wave. She’s not the type to play games. I never managed to track down Bob on the ship, so I flew to Chicago. That’s when I discovered that he’s missing, Paula has filed for divorce, and that none of the staff at the restaurant or the other owners know anything about Melissa’s return.”
“It sounds like you have a problem,” I say.
“I do. I need to find Bob so we can have a discussion.”
“Involving a lawyer or two?” I tend to solve my problems more directly. But a billionaire has other weapons at his disposal. A lawyer can make Bob hurt for longer than I can.
“Involving a lawfirmor two,” Melbourne says.
“I might be able to help with Bob’s location. Give me your contact information and check out the café. They have good pie. I should have an answer for you in the next twenty minutes.” I am assuming that the other guy in town is Bob, but after Melbourne’s appearance, I’m not as sure as I was five minutes ago.
“I do like pie.” Melbourne hands me a business card, beeps the locks on his rental Lexus, and heads into the café.
Tolk has been watching from the café’s doors. I wave him over and text Picnic inside to keep an eye on our new friend. “Is he okay?” Tolk asks.
“I think so. He’s a business acquaintance of Melissa’s, and he’s on her side. The problem is waiting at the clubhouse.”
“Where do you want me?”
“Watching my six.”
I text Mel to let her know that my first meeting was friendly and I was heading to the second. Tolk and I rumble into the clubhouse’s parking lot and see a cheap-ass rental compact parked in the spot closest to the front door. Bob Overbridge is in the driver’s seat, drumming on his steering wheel. When he sees me, he throws himself out of the car wearing a frown like he’s about to lecture me for keeping him waiting.
“Duck, I want to talk to Mel. Now. Where is she?”
“Not here.” Thank fuck. He’s more than agitated; he’s scared. It’s a dangerous combination.
“Quit fucking around. I need to talk to my wife.”
