“Well, we haven’t seen ghosts roaming the place, so I guess we’ll be all right,” Grant said. “But we’ll be on alert. Want us to let you know if we see a ghost?”
Both cops chuckled. “Sure. Why not?” Short cop said and set his contact card on the table between Grant and Elias. “Enjoy your time in Red Rock.” The men continued on to their table a few feet away from the Fortress operatives.
“That was interesting,” Rayne said, her voice low. “I wonder what that was about.”
“Feeling us out to see if we’re legitimate,” Elias said.
“That’s why they relaxed when you mentioned that we’re under Dutch’s protection?”
He nodded. “Visiting MCs don’t stay in another club’s territory without permission. The cops wanted to know if they should expect trouble between the two clubs soon.”
“Should they?” Iona asked.
Elias’ grim expression said it all.
“How soon?”
“In the next 24 to 48 hours.”
“Wonderful.” Rayne sighed. “More sleepless nights while we wait for the MC to take a crack at us.”
“The good news is not all the members of the MC will come. Just a select number of those who are friends with Heath or Trish.”
Iona wrinkled her nose. “I have a feeling no one is Trish’s friend.”
“We certainly aren’t.”
A group of women who looked about retirement age entered the coffee shop and greeted Megan.
“Morning, ladies.”
“We’ll have the usual, dear.” A tall, slender woman beamed at the owner.
“I’ll bring your order to your table in a couple of minutes.”
“That’s fine, dear. No rush.”
The ladies settled at a table near Iona and her friends. As soon as they sat down, the women talked. By the time Megan arrived with their orders, Iona knew who in Red Rock was having affairs, who was working two jobs to make ends meet, who had been laid off or fired, and who was at home sick. This last topic was the one Iona had been hoping to overhear.
“Did you hear about Merriweather, the old farmer up on Dale Hollow Road?”
The other women leaned in closer. “No. What happened?” a woman in yellow asked.
“Well, that’s the thing. Nobody knows what happened to him.”
Yellow woman scowled. “That makes little sense. Did he fall or something? You’ve got to give us a hint.”
Tall woman leaned in. “Somebody beat him to a pulp.”
The other women gasped. “Really?” Yellow shook her head. “That’s just wrong. Who would beat up an old man like that?”
Who, indeed? Iona waited for the women to come to the obvious conclusion that an MC was in the area. Everybody knew those MCs were full of dangerous criminals who wouldn’t think twice about sinking low enough to beat Merriweather.
A woman in a blue sweater said, “Oh, you know who is responsible.”
Yellow looked confused. “But I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”
Blue leaned in closer. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? Who else would be mean enough to do something so heinous to an old man?”
