Page 40 of Forgotten Path

Fred’s gaze was steely. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Buddy of mine. Jayson.”

He chewed on Lowell’s response for a long moment. Then he said, “Sometimes. Why?”

“I’m looking for work. Thought there might be something I could do for you.”

Fred was about to blow the guy off. Then he reconsidered. “You live with Judy?”

“Well, yeah. Temporarily.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Fred bet this guy had been temporarily living with his grandmother for at least a decade. But Judy was connected; she was plugged into the town gossip. Probably even more so than the hostess’s uncle.

“Sir?”

“I do have something you might be able to do.”

“Anything!” Lowell straightened his back, eager and willing to hear his assignment.

“I could use a pair of eyes and ears in town.”

Lowell slumped a little. “What exactly does that mean? You want me to spy on people for you?”

“I’m a businessman, Craig. You probably know I’m building those luxury homes over at Emerald Estuary Estates.”

“Yes, sir. Everybody knows that.”

Fred didn’t bother to hide his pleasure. “Well, son, it’s gonna be hard to sell those homes if Oyster Point gets a reputation as a hotbed of crime.”

“Crime?”

“Surely you heard about Doctor Ashland?”

“Yeah, but nobody’s saying that was murder.”

The way the young man said it—so confident—intrigued Fred. “How do you know that? I heard the FDLE sent investigators. They only get involved in major crimes.”

“Nah, one of the officers is a buddy. He told me they were called in because Doc Ashland worked for law enforcement.”

“Joel Ashland? Wasn’t he just a general practitioner?”

“No, sir. He was the county medical examiner down in the Keys. The FDLE is here out of, like, professional courtesy.”

“You have this on good authority?”

Lowell thought for a moment before answering. “I do.”

Fred slapped his hand against his thigh. “See, this is what I need. Someone to pay attention, monitor the investigation, and ask smart questions.”

“And then report back to you?”

“Exactly.”

Lowell rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I do have some contacts. I suppose I could do that for you.” His eyes narrowed. “What’s this monitoring job pay?”

Fred peeled two fifties off his bill roll and laid them on the bar. “That’ll depend on the quality of the information you bring me, son. Here’s a hundred to get you started.”

Lowell snatched the money up and shoved it into his pocket. “You won’t be disappointed.”