“You’re late. I said nine o’clock. It’s almost ten.” Quentin Ashland glared at the figure settling into the shadows across from him in the back booth of Sandler’s Oyster Bar. The restaurant was full of shadows. Nick Sandler knew what his customers wanted, and they didn’t want oysters. They wanted shadows. Some business transactions required darkness.
Tony DeNitizi glared back. “Oh, quit your bitchin’. You don’t own me, Ashland. I’m here. So talk.”
“Yeah, you’re here. I own enough of you to make it a real bad idea to cross me. Don’t even think about forgetting that.”
“So what the hell you want?” Tony’s hand itched to pull his Glock out of his shoulder harness and unload every damn bullet into Quentin’s head. That’d wipe the smug expression off Ashland’s face. Permanently. That day would come. But it wasn’t here yet. Ashland had too many files stored in too many places. Files the DEA would love to get its hands on. Not to mention the ATF. And every state law enforcement agency in every state from Florida all the way up the coast to New York and New Jersey.
Quentin leaned forward. “What the hell you think I want? I called you, didn’t I?”
“Who? And you got any idea of where and when?”
Quentin slid a picture across the table.
DeNitzi picked it up and threw it back down.
“Are you fucking crazy or just plain stupid?”
“You talk to all your customers that way?”
“You’re not a customer. You’re a blackmailer. And that’s a Drayton. Of Drayton Oil.”
“You actually read the papers?”
“I watch the news, too. Parker Drayton. Heir apparent of the oil company dedicated to making America independent of foreign oil. Not exactly anybody that’s gonna just slip unnoticed from the radar. Why the hell would you want him dead?”
“None of your damn business why. Didn’t think you’d be squeamish about it.”
“I’m not squeamish. I’m a businessman. In a business involving calculated risks. This one’s not a risk to take.”
Quentin leaned forward. “What’ll happen if you don’t isn’t a risk, my man. It’s a certainty. I will take you down.” He waited for that to sink in. “Besides, Drayton’s not a risk. Just an unfortunate accident. He’s going to be taking a chopper ride out in the Gulf in the next few days. To some old abandoned offshore oil rigs. His regular pilot’s not going to be available. I’m sure you’ve got someone who can fill in for that pilot. And that chopper—well, it’s going down. With no survivors. Not that anyone knows about anyway. Whether there actually are any—well, that’s your call. Because if there aren’t any survivors, nobody’s ever going to know what happened, now are they?”
“And you guarantee when that chopper ride’s gonna happen?”
“I’ll know.”
“Might work.”
“You better hope it does.”
* * *
“…and so they all lived happily ever after.” Katherine finished the story and sipped her wine. “You believe us, Aunt Lillian? Or you want to call the men in the white coats to take us away?”
Lillian held out her wine glass. “A bit more, please, Kat. Of course I believe you. I’m a Shipton. Blood calls to blood and like to like. Besides, I never heard of two psychos having the exact same story. And I don’t think you could have planned this as an elaborate joke to hit me with. You didn’t know I was coming.”
“That is just so not right,” Carrie sighed. “Y’all sitting there drinkin’ wine in front of me, knowing I can’t have any.”
“You aren’t off the hook yet, young lady.” Aunt Lillian pointed her finger. “You still haven’t told us the story behind our impending little bundle of joy.”
“I know. And I will. I just—I’m not ready to talk about it yet, Aunt Lillian. The mosquitos are really beginning to cut loose out here, I think patio time’s over, let’s go in.”
Katherine’s phone rang.
“That’s Parker’s ringtone. You two go on in, I’ll be in in a few.”
“We wouldn’t eavesdrop if you came inside and stopped feeding the mosquitoes, you know.”
“I know. But it’s more romantic out here by the pool. I can pretend he’s not a thousand miles away.”
“Kat and Parker sittin’ in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g…”
Katherine laughed. “Carrie, quit it! I’ll be in in a minute.”
The sliding glass doors whispered shut.
“Hello, handsome!”
“Hi, beautiful! Have you had a good day?”
Katherine almost laughed out loud. “It’s been an amazing day! Absolutely amazing. And guess what? Carrie flew in this morning to surprise me and Aunt Lillian flew in this afternoon!”
“Did they coordinate that?”
“Not on purpose, no.”
“Well, I’m glad. Haven’t met either of ‘em yet, but from the speaker phone conversations I’ve heard, they’re exactly what you need to get the wedding motivated and organized.”
“Don’t think I’m not going to take advantage either! I’m going to stay in my studio and paint and let them do the whole thing.”
“Slacker.”
“Smile when you say that, cowboy. Did you have a good day?”
“Sure did. Dad’s got this new deal taking off. It involves recycling some older oil rigs out in the Gulf.”
“Who says you can’t be a businessman and an environmentalist at the same time?”
“Knew you’d like that. I’m going out to start inspecting them early tomorrow morning and I doubt phone reception’s going to be great. Like leaving at the crack of dawn tomorrow morning early. Gotta be at the helipad at six a.m. So don’t worry if you try to get me and can’t.”
“Don’t know if you’ve noticed this yet, but I’m not the clingy type who’s got to have hourly phone conversations. I never bother you when you’re working.”
She heard his smile through the phone. “I’ve noticed. I even worry if you’d call me in an emergency.”
“Of course I would!”
“I guess what I really mean is, I worry about what you’d class as enough of an emergency to call me.”
“I’ll just avoid having any emergencies. Problem solved. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Now you.”
“Me?”
“You avoid having any emergencies, too. Especially while inspecting offshore oilrigs. Helipad, huh? Helicopters scare me.”
“We use a top of the line independent contractor for planes and choppers, you know that. We’re oilmen, not air jockeys, and we know it. We let the professionals do the flying and the maintenance, much more cost efficient. Our only venture into flying is to keep helipads in strategic places. And I’ll do my best to avoid emergencies, too. Promise.”