Chapter 8
Just before lunch Monday morning, Barnaby poked his head around the cubicle of the firm’s financial manager, Darrell Lincoln. The handsome, African American man had his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose as he studied the computer intently.
“Hey, D.”
Darrell glanced his way. “What is it?”
“I was wondering if you want to go to lunch with me.”
Darrell removed his glasses and leaned back in the chair. “Okay. Where?”
“I don’t care, you pick. No places that only have meat, though. I’ll pay.” Barnaby smiled.
“You?”
“You look skeptical. Actually, Travis is paying. I have his corporate credit card.” He laughed.
His friend rolled his eyes. “I have to pay those bills when they come in, you know.”
“Sure, and you’ll already know about the charge, so you won’t be surpris
