CHAPTER 7
On Friday afternoon, Wayde drove out to the Ft. Lauderdale airport, parked in the long-term parking lot and boarded a plane for Nassau in the Bahamas.
After checking through customs, he hailed a cab. A short time later a taxicab, with the usual talkative driver, pulled up in front of a stately white country home situated on the waterfront.
A doorman showed Wayde into the house. A butler picked up the luggage and was about to take it upstairs when Matey Rhineman entered the vestibule. She was well-built, a stylish, beautiful woman in her mid-thirties with honey-blonde hair.
“You must be Mr. Wayde. I’m Matey Rhineman.” She held out her hand.
He took it, “How do you do, Mrs. Rhineman. It was very nice of you to invite me.” He let go of her hand and smiled. “I’ve never been invi
