Page 67 of Off the Hook

His comment struck a nerve. “I wonder if it’s an inside job. It’s probably a $300,000 payout.” Even though my phoneconversation with the owner half an hour earlier gave me no reason to suspect such a thing, it was worth considering.

A playful glimmer flickered in Oscar’s eyes. “Wanna go shake ‘em down and see if they flinch?”

“Sure, why not?” It was something to do. I chugged the last of my lukewarm coffee and picked up the new one Oscar had brought me. “You drive.”

On our way up to Key Largo, Oscar’s phone rang. “It’s Agent Flannigan,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Hopefully he’s got news on putting the mystery killer away.” He punched the green button on the screen of his Charger to answer through the car speakers. “Agent Flannigan, Detective Ramirez here. I’ve got you on speaker with Detective Pierce again.”

“Oh good. I was hoping you could come meet me in Homestead.”

Oscar's brows shot up as he smiled at me. “Yeah, sure. I take it you have something to share?”

I looked out the window to hide my rolling eyes. My partner won the award for Overstater of the Obvious.

“In person. Meet me at Robert Is Here.”

Oscar’s face scrunched. “The smoothie stand?”

“That’s the one. What’s your ETA?””

Oscar and I exchanged a glance, and I nodded emphatically. The unlikely insurance fraud investigation could wait. “Thirty minutes?” he answered.

“Great, see you there.”

“That’s a strange choice of venue,” Oscar said after ending the call, a perplexed crease in his brow.

“Maybe not for a clandestine meeting.” I rubbed my palms together, excited about returning to the iconic roadside fruit stand that had gained notoriety in recent years. I’d known it since I was a kid. “I haven’t been to Robert is Here in ages. The Key Lime Papaya Passionfruit smoothie is out of this world.”

“I’m partial to the Oreo Chocolate Banana Milkshake myself,” Oscar said, grinning.

“You do you,” I laughed. “Might need to loosen your belt after.”

“You keep on watching your waistline, Detective,” Oscar cackled, patting his ample pot belly. “I’m married. Those days are over.”

“I’m more worried about diabetes than getting fat,” I said with a grin.

“They make insulin for a reason,” Oscar said, dead serious. “That’s why I’ll be having two slices of chocolate truffle cake at Louis’s birthday dinner Saturday night,” he raised two proud fingers between us and my mind chuckled at the sight of him looking like a poor impersonation of a hippie. “You’re coming right?”

“I can’t Saturday. I’m going to a wedding.”

“Oh yeah? Friends in Miami?” he asked.

“Don’t play coy. Everyone in Smugglers Cove knows the baby brother Rodman is getting hitched.”

“Oh. I mean, of course I heard about that, but I honestly didn’t think you’d be going.”

Why would he? Oscar didn’t know that I’d spent every single night with Coulter for two weeks. The temptation to come clean tore at me, but the resolve to protect my personal privacy won out.

“Half the town is going to the reception party afterwards. You guys should stop by after dinner… and cake.” My mouth drew to one side as I wiggled my brows.

“Are you suggesting we crash the Rodman wedding?”

Ignoring the second opportunity to come clean that I was about to pass up, I held my smile. “Think about it. It’d be a show of good faith from the MCPD after almost wrongly accusing the man of murder.”

“We didn’t almost wrongly accuse him,” Oscar argued, as though it was preposterous. But the undertone of regret took the wind out of his protest’s sails.

“No we didn’t, Oscar,” I said. I let it hang there because we both knew what I was thinking.Wedidn’t.Hedid. But I wasn’t trying to pick a fight. “I was joking,” I lied, “but not about the invitation. Trust me, you don’t want to miss this party.” I knew it was going to be a good one because I’d enjoyed helping Corinne with logistics for the past week.

“We’ll see how it goes,” he said before pivoting back to the matter at hand. “We have more important things to think about right now.”

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