Page 35 of Killer Honeymoon
“He said he didn’t like Les enough to bother,” Estelle said. “There was another witness, though, who placed Frank in the vicinity.”
Royce snapped his head around and met Sawyer’s gaze. Their Frank? Wait. When had he staked a claim on the older man? Sawyer read his mind and shrugged. The two women ended their conversation when another customer approached the counter.
“Be safe in the storm,” Loretta called to Estelle, who waved and continued toward the front door.
“See?” Sawyer whispered. “Storm’s coming.”
Sawyer and Royce replaced the items they’d been studying and headed toward the checkout also.
“Morning, fellas,” Loretta said. “You boys get an earful?”
Sawyer shuffled his feet and wouldn’t meet Loretta’s gaze, but Royce locked in on her shrewd blue eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, ma’am.”
“Uh-huh,” Loretta said, a smirk teasing her lips. “Have everything you need for the storm?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sawyer said.
Loretta handed him his credit card receipt. “Be safe, ya hear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Royce replied.
Once outside, they secured their supplies in the back of the golf cart and zipped toward their house.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to go into town and chat with Gary,” Royce said. “I was kind of a dick to him our first night here. I’d like to make amends. His outfit has taken exceptional care of the house.”
“Okay,” Sawyer said. “We’ll go as soon as we put the groceries away.”
Fifteen minutes later, they walked hand in hand toward the downtown area. Gary’s assistant informed them her boss was attending a breakfast meeting and wasn’t due back for an hour or so. She asked for their names, but Royce told her they’d stop back later.
They decided to shop for souvenirs while they were downtown. Royce found the perfect mug for Tara. It was turquoise with a painted red lobster with a grumpy face and an extended pincher. The caption read:Tell me to smile one more time. Sawyer bought a few shot glasses for some of the guys in their lives. When they stepped out of the store, they turned right and headed deeper into the touristy area. That’s when Royce spotted Gary, who had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to talk to a man who looked like the rich guy fromGilligan’sIsland.The stranger wore a pair of white slacks, a navy-blue shirt, and one of those little scarves with the tails tucked into the open shirt collar. The older man’s face was nearly as red as the scarf. Had he tied it too tightly and cut off his circulation below the neck, or was he boiling mad?
“Bet we know who that is,” Sawyer said.
Before Royce could reply, Gary and the man they presumed was Lester Moore turned and headed in their direction. Both men wore hostile expressions on their faces and were too caught up in their exchange to notice Royce and Sawyer observing them. Acting on instinct, Royce pushed Sawyer into the closest souvenir shop to avoid running into the men.
Sawyer tried to turn around to get a better look, but Royce propelled him deeper into the store.
“Good morning,” said a young guy behind the counter. “Can I—”
“Just browsing,” Royce replied hastily. “But thanks.”
“Why are we ducking in here?” Sawyer asked. “You said you wanted to speak to Gary, and I’m betting that Thurston Howe lookalike is Lester Moore. Chatting up Gary would allow us to assess the property developer.”
Royce pressed a finger to his lips and guided them off to the side, where he selected two pairs of sunglasses off the rack and two bucket hats with bright prints from a display. Royce donned a pair of sunglasses and pulled on a pink hat with flamingos all over it, then handed the second pair of sunglasses and a baby blue hat with sharks to Sawyer.
“You can’t be serious,” Sawyer said.
“Hurry,” Royce hissed as he peeked around the postcard stand. “They’re getting closer.”
Sawyer rolled his eyes and put on his disguise. They’d only met Gary the one time, so it was unlikely he’d recognize them. Sawyer had to admit he liked the lens in the sunglasses, though. They made everything around him look brighter. Sawyer shrugged and checked out the display of shorts and found some that matched their bucket hats. They were shorter styles than they usually wore, but the pink would look good against Royce’s tan legs. Sawyer fantasized about groping Royce through the fabric and removing the shorts with his teeth until Royce waved him over.
Sawyer figured it would be too obvious if they scanned the postcards together, so he chose the kiosk next to Royce and checked out the cool shot glasses on display. They’d covered most of the guys in their lives, but he’d like to have a few for poker nights at their house. They typically drank beer, but on occasion, they consumed more potent spirits. He was about to cross the store to get a basket for his items when Gary and the man they presumed to be Les stopped in front of the souvenir shop. Sawyer stepped back to blend in with the shadowy recesses of the store’s corner, but the two men were so engaged in conversation that they wouldn’t have noticed him. From the scowl on Gary’s face, their chat wasn’t going well.
“This is the last straw, Gary,” the older man spat. Literally. Spittle clung to the corners of his mouth.
“I understand your anger, Les, but I think it’s only fair to point out that no one saw Frank launch anything through the wheelhouse window. There’s only one witness who saw him paddling near the harbor.” Gary held up his hand when Les started to speak again. “I know it’s a pretty big coincidence, but Frank is in his seventies. Do you really think he has the strength to launch a brick from the water through the window?”
“I think he hates me enough to try.”