“He owns several businesses in the area. His favorite is the gun shop. I’ll give you the address.”
Maida grabbed a scrap of paper from underneath a crab paperweight to scribble on. “Technically, we’re a bed and breakfast, but we’d love to have you join us for supper. Nothing fancy, but it’ll stick to your ribs.”
Unlike Councilman Squier’s invitation, Drayco didn’t hesitate to say yes. A night without fast-food mystery meat and rubber potatoes would be a nice change from his typical fare. And no sultry specters of former fiancées as a distraction.
He excused himself to call his answering service, which yielded a message from his accountant. Those were getting more frequent. He dialed another familiar number and waited for the steely baritone voice, which said, “Unloaded that damned Opera
