Bay St. Louis
Monday
For the next three days the honeymooners walked the beach, rode their bikes, swam in the ocean, and read novels by the pool—all the fun things vacationers were supposed to do. Every evening they dined on fresh seafood, with sweet potato fries, coleslaw, and, of course, dessert. Tonight they had split a piece of key lime pie with vanilla ice cream, and washed it all down with sweet tea.
“Ugh,” Nate moaned on the drive back to their B and B. He held his gut with one hand as though in pain. “Tomorrow I’m going for a run at dawn. I feel as if I’ve gained ten pounds since we arrived.”
“Ditto about putting on weight, but I sure don’t want to run in this heat. I’ll cut back to five hundred calories a day for the next three months to make up for it.”
Nate handed her a restaurant mint. “Five hundreds calories a day. Is that even possible?”
Isabelle pulled her glasses down with one finger. “Only if I staple my lips shut.”
Back at Mrs. Russo’s lovely home on the bay, they parked under the protective arms of a live oak tree. Overhead, thousands of stars and the bright moon lit the flagstone path to the porch. A cool breeze off the water brought relief on the humid night. With his arm around Isabelle’s shoulder, Nate felt like the luckiest man on earth. “What’s your pleasure, Mrs. Price? Shall we walk the beach or maybe swim to Cuba?”
“Let’s sit in the rockers for a spell and then head to our suite. Maybe we’ll turn in early…and maybe we won’t.” Turning her face up to his, Isabelle winked impishly.
“Sounds like a perfect ending to another day in paradise.”
They had barely settled against the cushions when Mrs. Russo appeared in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt, folks, but someone is waiting for you in the parlor.”
“At this hour?” asked Nate, his romantic notions curtailed.
“Yes. Apparently, the matter couldn’t wait. The woman said her name was Mrs. Mitchell.”
Isabelle jumped to her feet. Nate followed at a more leisurely pace.
“Izzy, Nate, forgive me for disturbing you, but I couldn’t sleep until I spoke with you.” Sitting in an upholstered chair, Cassie Mitchell looked miserable.
Nate immediately regretted his selfishness. “Are you staying here tonight?” he asked.
“No. I found a less-expensive place along Highway 90, less than fifteen minutes away.”
Isabelle pulled up a chair and reached for Cassie’s hand. “What have you found out about Craig?”
Cassie burst into tears, making decipherable conversation impossible. Finally, she choked out a skeletal update of her husband’s life. “An assistant in Craig’s office has always liked me. I wouldn’t say we were friends, but when I went there she wanted to help. Colleen insisted Craig wasn’t involved with someone at work.” Cassie blew her nose in a tissue. “She told me that two men came to see him a couple months ago. They wouldn’t give their names but said they were personal friends. Craig wasn’t thrilled to see them. Then two weeks before he left, those men came back. Colleen didn’t know what was discussed, but they were in Craig’s office a long time. Three days later, Craig showed her an airline ticket and asked if it was possible to cash it in. She examined the fare and said yes. The next day Craig called the office and said he needed a leave of absence because his brother was sick.” Cassie broke into more sobs. “Craig doesn’t even have a b-brother.”
While Isabelle comforted Cassie, Nate surreptitiously glanced at his watch. “Who do you suppose those men were?” he asked.
“They weren’t old friends. By her description, one was a bookie named Mickey Pierce and the other probably a hired thug. Craig once showed me a picture of Pierce—the man had a crooked nose and looked as if he was sweating. That’s exactly how Colleen described him.”
“Talk about a cliché,” said Nate.
Cassie nodded. “I suppose so, but this is worse than anything I feared. I can handle being left for another woman. I can even handle Craig falling off the wagon and gambling. But this man must be forcing Craig to do something against his will.”
“Hold up, Cassie,” said Nate. “Nobody can make somebody gamble. It isn’t like holding up a bank. What if he gambled and lost? Even if Craig owed this guy money, there’s no way he could make the cards fall a certain way.”
“How could you be so sure? Pierce probably recruited my husband to cheat the casinos down here.”
Nate rolled his eyes. “Some small-time bookie from Nashville isn’t going to rip off the Golden Magnolia of Bay St. Louis. These big casinos employ professionals to spot card sharks within minutes of them sitting down.”
Cassie struggled to her feet. “I don’t know what’s going on, but those men bought his plane ticket here. Craig hates to fly, so he cashed it in and drove down instead. All that nonsense about another woman was smoke and mirrors to keep me away. Craig could be in real danger.”
When Nate heard the pain in her voice, his chest tightened. “If Pierce and your husband are up to no good, we can hope they’ll be banned from the tables before they do something illegal. As much as I respect your loyalty to Craig, there isn’t anything you can do. Why don’t I follow you back to your hotel to make sure—”
“No, thank you. I can find my way around a small town like this. I just wanted you and Izzy to know I’m here. If you see Craig before I do, I would appreciate a phone call.”
“Of course.” Isabelle patted her shoulder. “Please call us if you’d like to meet for lunch or dinner sometime.”
Cassie forced a smile. “Nothing would make me happier than the Mitchells taking you two to dinner. Thanks for listening to me, especially since this is your honeymoon. Good night.” She left the parlor without another word.
Nate and Isabelle walked to their suite in a somber mood. Nate fell asleep wondering if it was something in the salty air that put a damper on romance.