Page 117 of Smitten with the Single Dad

“Well, this here beer is much appreciated compensation. Been meaning to try that Witbier I hear the island talking about.” Mal squinted his milky, blue eyes from the sunshine, but the intense rays just made all the silver hair sticking out of his nose, along his cheeks, and from his ears seem to glow like tinsel on a brightly-lit Christmas tree.

“It’s my fave,” Wyatt said with a laugh. “And, I’m sure I don’t have to mention, but I will anyway, that your discretion on things is also very much appreciated. We’d rather nobody knows who is on the jet, or why.”

“Oh, people know better than to ask me anything. I’m sure Jolene Dandy will have her suspicions and be passing them around the island like candy until everyone believes them to be true. But my lips are good and sealed. Tough to hide a jet flying over the island though.”

“Well, luckily, we have Brooke on the island. So people can just think it’s afamous friend of hers or something.”

Mal snorted. “No way would I let some millionairecelebutantland on my runway. I’d be chasing them off with my ten-gauge.”

Chuckling, Wyatt merely nodded. “Well, we’ll let peoplebelieveit’s a friend of Brooke’s or something.”

All Mal did was shrug. “When is your guest expected?”

“Within the hour. So if it’s all right with you, I’ll just hang out here until then.”

Mal shrugged again. “Doesn’t matter to me. I’ve gotta go pick my peas.” How that man wasn’t cooking in a long-sleeved flannel shirt and dark-blue jeans was an enigma to Wyatt, but he didn’t seem to be bothered as he slowly toddled down the well-worn path through the grass toward his enormous, fenced garden near the beach.

Wyatt found a spot in the shade on the porch and took a seat. It was the first opportunity he’d had since arriving back at the pub and the chaos there, to actually take a deep breath.

Clint and Bennett agreed though, they were missing something.

And even though Wyatt didn’t really know Ginny all that well, she didn’t strike him as the type to be a mole. And she didn’t have blonde hair like Shelley described.

Unless it was two different people? Or more than two?

Then again, wigs these days could be very convincing.

So, who was it then? Who was on Wyndham Croft’s payroll?

As they interrogated each staff member, Clint took meticulous notes to see if they could catch anyone in a lie. But everyone’s stories were corroborated. When Nadine told them where everyone was and what they were doing when they first found out about the bomb, she wasn’t lying.

Someone there was though.

Someone leaked not only Vica’s whereabouts today, but probably the fact that she and Wyatt went off to Seattle to get married. He did, after all, announceto the whole staff that they were getting married. And it was only a last-minute decision to bring the boys with them. Burke and Dom said that the staff were all chatting about the wedding the day of as well.

He thought back to the first day when Vica was nearly hit while out for a walk. It’d been earlier in the morning, around nine. Some staff came in early to help with kitchen or bar prep. Dom was training some of his front of house staff to barback for him and he had them come in at nine to receive booze shipments, clean, and get things ready for the day.

So who was on that day and that early?

He fired off a text to Dom to send him the schedule for the front and back of house for that day, as well as the wedding day, and the day Vica was shot on the property.

Who among his staff was the snitch though?

He was running through their interviews over and over in his head, trying to figure out what he was missing when a text message came through.

Five minutes out.

That was Barnes. He had Evie Sanchez with him, and they were closing in on San Camanez Island.

Mal came trudging up the path again with a big basket hooked on one arm. Zucchini, cucumbers, peas, chard, beans, and corn all teamed out of it like a cornucopia. “You need any zucchini? I’m hemorrhaging the stuff.”

Wyatt shrugged. “I mean, if they’re making it tough for you to sit down, sure. I can whip up some fritters. I’m sure the boys would love them.”

Mal’s chuckle spoke of decades of smoking cigarettes, and so did his tobacco-stained fingers. Wasn’t the man a retired endodontist? Surely, he had to know that smoking was bad for the gums. He dug his weathered hands into the basket and pulled out two beautiful, yellow zucchini squash. “These things grow like damn ivy. I swear. Take over my whole garden if I let ‘em. Only thing a bigger asshole than squash are potatoes.”

That made Wyatt laugh as he accepted the squash.

“Mind you, I always over-plant zucchini anyway,” Mal said, more to himself. He headed into the house, only popping back out to grab all the cases of beer Wyatt brought him. Then he nodded at Wyatt and disappeared for good just as the jet came into view, cruising over the treetops.

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