Chapter 5
Fletcher adjusted the brim of his Parks and Rec ballcap as he stepped onto the wooden deck of Massey’s Pub.
The aroma hit like a rocket speeding through the sky right before it landed on its target, clean.
It was the perfect blend of bacon, grilled meat, and a hint of something sweet.
He’d heard that Mrs. Massey had given up trying to find a buyer, and because business was still booming, she continued, trying to forget her husband had turned out to be a drug and arms dealer.
He glanced around and smiled. He was glad she’d been able to rebound, and that the town had done its best to forgive.
At least people weren’t boycotting since the place was humming with its usual midday buzz—locals and tourists mixed like old friends and new stories, a playlist of Jimmy Buffett and Kenny Chesney underscored the clink of glasses and low thrum of conversation.
It was Florida through and through. Breezy, open-air charm with a warm wood bar, fans twirling lazily overhead, and faded nautical maps framed on the walls.
Inside, the AC was humming, but most folks preferred the shaded tables on the wraparound porch, where the scent of grilled fish and lime from the kitchen rolled out with every swing of the screen door.
He caught sight of Keaton already seated at a high-top near the window, the man unmistakable in his Fish and Wildlife uniform—tan shirt, green patch, and mirrored shades he hadn’t taken off despite being inside. Fletcher slid into the seat across from him.
“I heard something fascinating this morning before leaving for work.” Keaton pushed his shades to the top of his wavy hair, which always looked like it needed a good combing, yet was perfectly styled at the same time.
“Did Trinity figure out how to have a baby without going through labor?” Fletcher smiled as he sat down, lifted his cap, and ran his fingers through his hair, wishing he had Keaton’s mop.
Everyone wished they had Keaton’s hair.
“She can’t wait to be a mother.” Keaton shook his head.
“But at our last doctor’s visit, she asked if it were possible to be put under, have the kid taken out of her body, but not by C-section because she doesn’t want scars.
” He smacked his hand on the table. “But she also doesn’t want any pain meds or anesthesia, which she mentioned in the same breath.
The poor doctor blinked, turned to me, and said, Good luck. ”
“Trinity is a walking oxymoron,” Fletcher said. “She’s strong. Independent. Can weather almost any storm. But she told Baily that pushing out a baby is the most terrifying thing ever. Baily figures she’ll have one contraction, and the baby will pop out.”
“With my luck, it’ll be forty hours of Trinity turning into a foul-mouthed princess.” Keaton chuckled. “But that brings me to what has me so utterly amused.”
“Dare I ask?”
“Baily called Trinity at seven and informed her of where she spent last night.”
“Your wife has a big mouth.” Fletcher’s lips tugged into a smile. He swiped his hand across his face to try to cover it.
“Not really. She happened to be in the bathroom, putting on her makeup, and had her cell on speaker. I just happened to stroll in at precisely the right moment.” Keaton grinned like a big kid. “So, you and Baily, eh?”
“What are we, Canadian all of a sudden?”
“Hey, I lived in Oregon for a little bit. It’s kind of like Southern Canada.”
“Not even close, dude.” Fletcher took an ice cube from his water and chucked it at Keaton.
“Tell that to my cuz, Foster. He thinks he’s all sorts of Canuck.”
“I just can’t with you sometimes.”
Keaton shrugged. “So, Dawson’s dealing with old man Jenkins and Cooney's chickens?”
Fletcher let out a sigh, flagging down the waitress with a nod. “I could hear Jenkins in the background blustering that if one more rooster crosses onto his side of the fence, it’s gonna end up in a stew pot.”
Keaton let out a hearty laugh. “That man needs a new hobby.”
“What he needs is fewer bullets.”
The waitress arrived, all smiles and long braids tucked under a Massey’s Pub ballcap. They ordered quickly—two iced teas, smoked mahi tacos for Fletcher, a fried shrimp po'boy, and a side of fries for Keaton—which he got every flipping time. The man never ordered anything else. Ever.
“I take it we’re here to watch and listen to those two over there and not discuss your love life?”
Fletcher leaned forward, his tone low. “Dawson got a call from Lilly. Said the guy Decker was having lunch with looked like he sweats mortgage deals and overpriced scotch.”
“I sat with my back to them, pretending I didn’t see Decker when the hostess sat me. But if Decker noticed me, he didn’t even flinch.” Keaton leaned back as the waitress showed up with their iced teas.
She placed them on the table and shuffled off.
Keaton lifted his tea and took a slow sip. “I can’t say I heard much…some chatter about the development site on Marco Island, but that’s it so far.”
“Well, tune in those ears of yours,” Fletcher said, shifting in his seat to keep himself mostly blocked by Keaton, but if Decker saw him, so be it.
“They’re talking something about plans, drawings.
” Keaton tilted his head slightly toward the right.
Massey’s had no barriers between the porch and the dining room—just open windows and a half wall.
“Hard to make out all the words over the hum of lunch service and that woman over there squawking about the price of her cheap wine.”
“The wine here is overpriced, but it always has been,” Fletcher mused, wishing he were on the other side of the table.
“Okay. I’ve got a few more words. They’re generic, but troublesome,” Keaton said. “Fit the landscape...enticing package...drawings by Monday... And this is the best or maybe the worst piece…gotta be better than the other bid...”
“Is that Decker saying all that?” Fletcher asked.
“No.” Keaton shook his head. “It’s been the other guy. He’s a chatterbox. His tone is clipped, like he’s got a chip on his shoulder or something. About the only thing I’ve heard Decker say is, yeah, okay, right, I’m on it.”
The waitress appeared with their food in record time. The service had always been generally good. But the food, which had always been piping hot and absolutely delicious, along with the atmosphere, had been the reason this place had survived after the scandal with Paul Massey.
“Anything else?”
“Only that Decker’s noticed you, and now all I hear is a few faint whispers I can’t make out.” Keaton dug into his food. “God, this shit is good.”
“You know, there are other things on the menu.”
“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
“You’re pathetic.” Fletcher took a bite out of his Mahi taco.
“And you spent the night with Baily and weren’t going to tell us about it.” Keaton waved his fork around. “I’m a little butthurt over that.”
“I don’t kiss and tell, and it’s none of your damn business.” Fletcher eyed Decker’s table. So much about that man bothered him, but so far, everything he’d said checked out.
However, he was still planning on bidding on the Crab Shack. That just pissed Fletcher off even more.
“Right, because when I had my head up my ass over Trinity, you didn’t make that your business.”
“That’s different.” Fletcher jerked his head. “Looks like Decker’s friend is getting ready to bug out.”
The slick man got up and buttoned his blazer with the sort of poise that screamed boardroom. As he passed the window, he glanced toward Keaton and Fletcher. His gaze lingered, just long enough to register awareness. Then he was gone, disappearing down the steps toward the parking lot.
A beat later, Decker pushed back from the table and made his way toward their high-top with the confidence of someone who believed he held all the cards.
Or maybe a man who didn’t care about anyone else but himself.
Or maybe it was something entirely different.
Whatever it was, Fletcher wanted to wipe the smug grin off the asshole’s face.
“Well, if it isn’t Calusa Cove’s finest,” Decker drawled, resting his knuckles on their tabletop. “Enjoying your little stakeout lunch?”
Fletcher looked up slowly and smiled lazily. “Not many places in this town to go for lunch, and I ate the sandwich Baily made me this morning over my break as a snack a couple of hours ago.” Damn, that felt good to say. “Did you have the Mahi tacos? They’re good. Fresh caught every morning.”
Keaton picked up a fry and took a bite out of it. “Real crispy. Not too salty. Just right.”
Decker chuckled. “Sure. Just two civil servants, talking shop. Coincidentally seated near me and my associate.”
“It’s a small town,” Fletcher said easily. “Massey’s only has so many tables, especially on a warm day like today. Granted, winters don’t get too chilly in South Florida, but we can have some biting temps.”
Decker shrugged. “I get it. Everyone and their brother are curious about whether or not I’m gonna put in a bid, and you boys are stirring up trouble about it, no doubt. Truth is, I haven’t decided anything.”
Keaton gave him a steady look. “Funny. Sounded like your friend had a few ideas.”
Decker’s grin didn’t quite reach his eyes. “He’s got ideas everywhere. Talks a big game. Rattles off a million and one things. His philosophy is you’ve got to toss five hundred darts into a black hole. One will land on something.”
“So, what are you shooting your darts at?” Fletcher asked.
“You just don’t quit, do ya?” Decker sighed.
“Look. Yeah, sure, we both know I’m interested in the old Crab Shack property.
That doesn’t mean I’m going to bid on it.
I’m not even sure I’ve got a workable idea.
One that the town would even consider, which means I’ve got some thinking to do.
Not to mention, I’ve got other projects lined up, and the timing could all be wrong. ”