Page 63 of The Romance Fiasco

“Like an old cod washed up on shore.”

“Magnus. There’s something to this. You know it. I know it. Ray did. Chip for sure.”

“What? Like when he died it was open season on the island?”

“This place has been pirate-free since our grandfather won it in a poker game. We need to find out about that night, why the pirates stayed away, and what they’re doing here now.”

“Probably looking for the same thing we are. But you do know this is all a game. A clever way for Chip to cover his tracks, to not feel bad about leaving his family a bunch of weather-worn, worthless properties.” But even as I speak these words, I’m not so sure.

“Have you seen the Driftwood in the light of day?” CJ asks.

I have and he’s not wrong. Royal and Isla have done a magnificent job updating it while maintaining the resort’s unique character.

CJ lifts his thumb as he names the members of the so-called Pirate Defense League. “On Mondays, he met for canasta with Melly Lipman. There was Ray, of course. He and Chip would play chess on Tuesdays. Wednesday was cribbage with Slidell Williams and Thursdays were backgammon with Amelia Cross. Friday was poker night, and they’d all get together.”

“You think they were the original crew, present when he won this island?”

“Could very well be his original crew.”

“So, we’ll question them.”

“An interrogation? They’re kind of old, fragile. Don’t want to cause anyone’s blood pressure to go haywire,” I caution.

“I meant for us to make house calls, stop them if we see them in town. No need for criminal inquiries. We just need to find out what we can.”

“I thought you were friendly with the locals,” I say.

“Not them. They’ve kept to their little clique. The thing is, I never knew if the Pirate Defense League was to protect islanders against piracy or to defend the pirates.”

Whereas I thought CJ was a ball of chaos, his mind seems surprisingly squared away.

“Me neither.”

“That’s why we have to get on the inside.”

“Consider it done. I’ll run background checks and figure out a way...” Even if I have to call in another favor to Dallas.

“I’m not looking for their social security numbers. I could obtain those easily enough. I meant in a more personal fashion, Mag. Have them tell some old stories. Work some elicitation.”

The spycraft term makes me wonder about what CJ does with his days...and if he’s had some covert nights.

“Will do.”

“Game on,” CJ says as Chip always did when he’d send us on his wacky adventures.

A little thrill runs down my spine as I repeat, “Game on.”

This sounds more like a mission even though I’m out of the service. But I have a complication in my life. A beautiful one. I fall asleep thinking about the kiss with Lally.

When I wake up the next morning, she’s still bright in my mind. I can’t escape her. Don’t want to, so it’s no surprise when I go to town for coffee that I find her standing next to the dock, dog leashes in hand, and chatting with Robyn and Isla.

An invisible current hums between us. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, I find my lips lifted at the corner. “Hello, ladies. Nice morning.”

No sooner are the words out of my mouth than I’m drenched with water. When I wipe my eyes, I notice the proliferation of plastic pink flamingos planted around town.

Lally

CHAPTER 15

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