Page 23 of Mike

“I’m a server at the Local Moose, just west of Orono.” And shpluck. She hadn’t remembered to use the southern accent that went along with her fake persona. Joe gave an internal shrug. It probably wouldn’t matter.

Mike went to say something, but Joe held up her hand and continued.

“Two nights ago…” Had it really been less than forty-eight hours since Joe had uncovered the plot to kill Mike? It seemed impossible. Since then, she’d tagged and stalked a bunch of people, and formed a crush on the man in front of her.

“…I was waiting tables when I overheard a man and a woman plotting to kill someone.”

“Don’t tell me.” This time Mike blew out a disbelieving breath. “I was named as the target.”

Joe hissed. “Listen buster. Do you want me to tell this, or do you want to continue being a jerk?” Dang-a-lang, the man could be tenacious, but Joelle found she actually liked the challenge he presented.

Instead of speaking, Mike acquiesced, making a “continue speaking” motion with his hand.

Smart man.

“I didn’t know much about the pair doing the scheming, at first, but at the end of the night the woman gave me her credit card.” Now Joelle got smug. “Does the name Melanie Carlese ring a bell?”

For a moment Mike looked shocked, then?—

“Fucking hell,” he growled.

“Exactly,” Joe concurred. “It turns out your ex-wife and her new boy-toy are making plans to put you ten feet under.”

“For what purpose?” Mike snapped, clearly no longer in a teasing frame of mind. Still, she couldn’t help but needle him.

“Because you, Mr. Dumb-asp, haven’t changed your will or your life insurance policy since she walked out on your tushy over a year ago.”

That finally shut the man up. He looked sheepish, then incredulous, and finally, once again, pissed off as all get out.

“Their planning murder because of…money?” he barked.

“Isn’t that the motive of most every criminal these days? Money or passion? And Melanie clearly dried up regarding the second, where you’re concerned.” Joe wasn’t sure how anyone in their right mind would choose Cameron over Mike. It didn’t say much for the state of Melanie’s gray matter.

Joe launched right into answering the rest of Mike’s queries before he went totally ballistic. “After IDing our perps, I did a little research into who you are, found your pertinent info, then, yes, I tagged your vehicle and put the cameras up at your house in order to keep an eye on your safety. I also stuck a little go-bot on your ex’s vehicle, and today, when I saw your position and theirs converging, I booked it here to hopefully derail your immediate demise.”

“The brakes,” Mike muttered.

“Yeah.” She’d guessed right at what infrastructure would be messed with. “I figured it had to be your brakes they were targeting. Cameron didn’t look bright enough to come up with anything more creative.” Joe had to ask a question that had been eating at her. “But seriously dude? Why haven’t you changed your paperwork yet?”

If Mike’s anger was adorable as heck, his spiral into uncertainty had Joe wanting to wrap her arms around the man and comfort him. Clearly, he was floundering.

“I… I guess it just slipped my mind,” he eventually ground out, then scrubbed a hand down his face, clearly thinking better of his answer. “Ah, hell. Truthfully?” He looked butt-hurt, but he persevered. “I’ve been avoiding anything that makes me think of her; of the divorce, and how easily I was betrayed by a woman I thought I knew so well.”

Joelle understood. Sometimes it was easier to scoop uncomfortable poop into a locked litter-box in your brain instead of taking the fetid turds out and examining them.

Regardless, she gave Mike a mental noogie. “And now that you know? Will you see your lawyer ASAP and get things fixed?”

“Damn straight I will,” Mike glowered before he focused on her again, his eyes narrowing.

Joelle wasn’t stupid. It was clear Mike had finally deduced that she had, against all reason, been acting on her own to mitigate his possible murder instead of coming to him or going to the police. He was about to grill her on her motives…and who she really was.

“So Miss Smarty-pants, why didn’t you?—”

“Hey, Mike. Is everything okay?” One of four men who were fast approaching, barked out.

Perfect timing. She and Mike were no longer alone; the quartet interrupting the would-be interrogation.

“Everything’s fine, Cisco,” Mike groused.

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