Chapter 10 #2
A thick silence filled the booth. Fletcher decided to wait for his drink before saying another word. Not that pouring alcohol on this situation would be a good idea, but this wasn’t his meeting. He was only along for the ride.
The quiet stretched, only filled in by the country music lazily playing in the speakers and the chatter of the other patrons. The waitress brought their beverages.
“I’ll keep a watchful eye on these, and when you boys are close to the bottom of the glass, I’ll bring another round,” she said.
“Thanks.” Fletcher lifted his tequila and sipped. He’d make it last. He needed to remain sharp around this slimy asshole.
“So, how about you tell us why you called this meeting?” Dawson raised his drink and took a long, slow draw as he eyed Decker.
“I’m not even sure where to begin.” Decker exhaled slowly. “It’s a long, convoluted story, and there are still some holes and missing pieces that don’t make sense.”
Fletcher glanced toward Dawson, but continued to nurse his drink, which kept him from saying—or doing—something he might regret.
“That’s not helpful,” Dawson said. “Why don’t we begin with why you started coming around Calusa Cove four months ago?”
Decker stared into his dark liquid for a long moment. He sipped, scratched the side of his face, and sipped some more. “Have you ever heard of a private equity investment firm called Sea Glass Under the Stars?” Not once did he lift his gaze.
“We have,” Fletcher said. “But what does that firm have to do with you, this town, and your bid on the Old Crab Shack?”
“It’s a bit of a story.” Decker leaned back, tilted his head, and swiped a hand down his face. “Please give me a little time to tell it. I promise most of it will make sense in the end.”
“All right.” Dawson nodded. “The floor is yours.”
“But we reserve the right to interrupt and ask questions,” Fletcher added.
Decker blew out a puff of air and nodded. “About five years ago, I was working for someone else. Someone who knew I had aspirations of going it alone and seemed to be supportive of my goals, even though that meant I’d leave the company and start my own.”
“That’s mighty big of your old boss, especially since you’d become the competition,” Dawson said.
“Not in my mind.” Decker tossed his hand over the back of the booth.
Some of his confident swagger had returned.
“The man I worked for did mostly new builds and neighborhood developments. That really wasn’t my passion.
I liked restoration, but definitely not remodels.
I wanted to do things like remake old churches.
And when I do new construction, it’s about adding flair and flavor to what’s already in the surrounding area.
” Decker shook his head and laughed. “My old boss used to call me a hippy. Said my ideas were too…out there. But take my project over on Marco Island. I’m rebuilding a couple of old warehouses and turning them into—”
“Restaurants and some local hangout,” Fletcher said. “We heard all about it and can’t say the locals were all that thrilled.”
“Well, now that depends on who you talk to because I nearly walked away from that deal.” Decker leaned forward, resting his hands on the table.
“You boys think I don’t care about people and community, when I know that matters.
I understood that the county was torn. Afraid of change.
I let them sit around and discuss it and figure out if it’s what they…
and the townspeople…really wanted. Sure, there are a few who vehemently disapprove.
And that will always be the case. Change is hard.
But I’m not destroying the fabric of the neighborhood.
I’m not changing the feel of it either. I’m hopefully adding to it. ”
“I almost believe you.” Fletcher raised his drink.
Decker let out a sarcastic grunt. “I suppose I’m either a really good salesman and liar.” He took a good swallow of his bourbon. “Or I’m just fucking passionate about what I do.”
“We’re getting sidetracked,” Dawson said.
But before Decker could say another word, the waitress showed up with their food. That was probably a good thing, because it allowed tensions to settle.
Fletcher loaded his plate and mentally prepared for the rest of whatever was going to come out of Decker’s mouth. So far, he actually believed the man. At least about his passion. The gleam in his eyes couldn’t be faked.
“So, you were talking about Sea Glass,” Dawson said.
Decker nodded. “I made my move and left Tate Construction. Six months into putting a bid on my first project, Tate came after me, hard. Said I stole the plans right out from under him, which was utter bullshit because I didn’t even know that Tate was all of a sudden moving into the restoration business. ”
“Is he doing that now?” Fletcher asked. “Because we did a little checking up on you and all that. It disappeared, and he went back to building track homes.”
“He went far enough to make it look good and make me nervous.” Decker polished off a shrimp, downed his drink, and waved to the waitress. “Can I get a Coke, please?”
“No more bourbon?” the waitress asked.
Decker shook his head, sitting up a little taller. “Tate made just enough noise that I struggled to get my business off the ground. I was considering leaving South Florida until Tessa Gilbert came strolling into my world. She was all glamorous and beautiful, and, at first, I was all in.”
“All right. Let’s cut to the chase,” Dawson said. “We know she funded your business. We know she was your girlfriend. What we don’t know is why this story matters.”
“I’m not surprised you know all that.” Decker wiped his fingers on his napkin and pushed his plate aside.
The waitress set a tall, cold soda in front of him and he took his time slurping half that down.
“For about five minutes, I thought Tessa was interested in me. The man. Two months in, when I was telling her about my problems with Tate, she offered to help. She’d give me the money I needed, and she’d smooth things over with all the people she knew.
And she knew people, let me tell you. I didn’t think anything of it.
She was my bed partner, and while I didn’t love her—never loved her—it worked.
Until it didn’t.” He craned his neck. “She started putting projects in front of me that I wanted nothing to do with. Things that would tear communities apart. Or didn’t make sense to me. ”
“What about the Marco Island one? Was that her?” Fletcher asked.
“No.” Decker shook his head. “As a matter of fact, she was downright pissed off when I agreed to take that one on. It’s one of the reasons I ended things with her, although she didn’t take that too well.
” He sighed. “Then one night, about five months ago, she came to me and told me she needed me to start coming to Calusa Cove.” Decker arched a brow.
“Now, that’s interesting.” Dawson’s expression didn’t change.
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Fletcher rubbed his hands on his jeans. “Why? What does she want to do with this town?”
“It’s not her, but I didn’t know that right away.
” Decker closed his eyes. His chest moved as he took in a heavy breath.
“I told her I didn’t have time for whatever games she was playing.
” He blinked. “A week later, a packet came to my house. Inside it, there was information on all of you…and Baily.”
Fletcher pounded his fist on the table.
“Relax,” Dawson said softly. “Go on.”
“Also inside were fabricated images of me taking bribes from city officials. A couple of images of her face, beaten, with a note that stated that if I didn’t do what she wanted, she’d ruin me—and that she had more dirt. More things on me that would not only bury me but put me in prison.”
Fletcher glanced between Dawson and Decker.
Dawson rubbed his index finger and thumb over his chin, like he always did when deep in thought. “I gotta ask. Any chance these things are true?”
“No,” Decker said. “But I was scared. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. Poor kid from Miami. Grew up with nothin’. I’d come here. I’d watch. Observe. And I’d report back, just like I was told. But then, the old Crab Shack burned down, and things changed.”
“She asked you to put in a bid,” Fletcher said.
Decker nodded. “I’ve been trying to find a way to claw myself out of this mess. And then, yesterday, I thought. Fuck it. I don’t care. None of it’s true. A good lawyer would be able to help me prove that, so I told Tessa I didn’t give a shit. To go ahead and burn me.”
“Ah, so that’s what that phone call was all about in front of the coffee shop,” Fletcher mumbled.
“I didn’t realize you’d heard, but yeah,” Decker said. “Only, now it’s worse.”
“Worse how?” Dawson asked.
“Tessa got someone else involved. Someone who doesn’t just threaten. They call in hitmen to do their dirty work, and people don’t ever find the bodies.” Decker fiddled with his cup.
“That’s a big accusation.” Dawson leaned forward, elbows on the table, his cop attitude coming off his skin.
“But it’s the truth.” Decker held Dawson’s gaze. He didn’t waver. Didn’t back down.
Fletcher was almost impressed.
“I know these people. I grew up in Miami trying to avoid people like them. People who took advantage of the less fortunate. I watched as my neighbors were offered things that were too good to be true. All they had to do was trust. Sign on the dotted line, and we’ll solve your money problems. Before you know it, you’ll be able to afford college for little Johnny.
It’s all a lie. All one big scam to control the streets of Miami and other cities like it. ” Decker exhaled.
“Are we talking a cartel?” Fletcher asked.
“Oh, they have connections to cartels.” Decker cocked his head. “They work with them, building a stronger pipeline of drugs, guns, and human trafficking into the country.”
“I’m starting to wonder if you’re not connected,” Dawson said.