Murder in Waiting (A Tourist Trap Mystery Book 11) by Lynn Cahoon

Author:Lynn Cahoon [Cahoon, Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Lyrical Press
Published: 2020-06-29T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 13

When Greg opened the door at first, I couldn’t see anyone; then he stepped back and Mike Masters walked into our living room. He smiled and waved at me. I returned to the table and moved the food onto the cabinet and the kabobs into the microwave. They just might stay warm if our uninvited guest didn’t stay too long. I filled a fresh glass with iced tea and took it and mine out to the living room. “Greg, this is the writer I was telling you about. Mike Masters. Mike, how do you like your tea?”

“Black is fine. Thank you.” He reached out and shook Greg’s hand. “Look, I know you all have been busy here, what with Frank’s death and all, but I wanted to talk to you again about the Mission Wall. We don’t want a piece of California history to be forgotten for centuries again. The wall waited for years to be found, and when you took the steps to preserve it, that meant something.”

Greg motioned to the chair and the iced tea I’d set down in front of it. “It meant Jill’s been put in limbo for the last four or five years. That’s all. Sit down, Mr. Masters. We’ll hear you out, but ultimately, it’s Jill’s house and her decision.”

Mike sat and sipped his tea. “This is good. I’ve been grabbing one at the shop before I start my afternoon writing session. Your barista is a real character.”

“Deek has his moments.” I sat down next to Greg on the couch. “Look, I’m not sure I’m refiling the application.”

“Don’t tell me you’re selling to that developer!” Mike set down the glass on the coaster a little too hard. “A piece of history is worth a lot more to South Cove than a water park.”

“I didn’t say I was selling to anyone. And how do you know about the developer?” I leaned forward, watching his reaction.

“I’m a writer. I watch everything. I overhear people talking.” He squirmed a little in the chair.

When Greg raised an eyebrow, Mike blushed. “Okay, so I eavesdrop. It’s not illegal.”

“Illegal, no, but it’s rude.” Greg didn’t move from his spot. He had his arm draped casually around the couch. He looked relaxed, but I’d taken a body language class. For men, taking up as much space as possible was a power move.

“I’ll agree with that. I just hate to see guys like that win. They come into these small towns, promise the moon, and when the parks don’t make money, they leave. And the park falls apart with disuse. They’re like those frackers in the west. All they want is the money. When the money runs out, they’re gone.” He took another sip of his tea.

“I said I wasn’t selling. In fact, I’ve told everyone I’m not selling.” I glanced at Greg. “They can’t make me sell, right? I mean, the mayor had been pressuring Miss Emily to sell, but that was because of the way she kept up the place.

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