PAR FOR CINDERELLA

by MCCARTY, PETIE

  As he checked the boat’s fuel level and wiped the morning dew from the interior, he heard a car pull up, then he heard voices arguing and someone shouting. Peering out the back of the tour boat, he spied a red-faced Archer Bartow hollering and waving his arms about at the two shrimpers running their seafood tents. Nice guys both of them. Aidan had often visited with them as they came and went in the marina to offload their daily catches for the local restaurateurs to purchase right off the dock.

  The two men were trying to explain something, but Archer continued to rant and shout over the top of them.

  “Something wrong?” Aidan asked as he closed the distance between the tour boat and the tents.

  “You keep out of this, Crosse,” Bartow hollered. “It’s none of your affair. You’re in enough trouble around here.” He turned back to the shrimpers. “I told you two to put your tents down by Riley’s. You didn’t pay enough for this location.”

  “No need to scream, Mayor,” Aidan said, not budging from his spot.

  Bartow whipped back around. “I told you to butt out!” Drops of spittle flew from his mouth when he yelled.

  “Yeah? Well you’re disturbing the peace here in the marina.”

  “How dare you!” More spittle. “I’m the mayor of Cypress Key. I can’t be accused of disturbing the peace!”

  “Well then, you’re disturbing my peace,” Aidan said, “and making a fool of yourself and drawing a crowd.” He waved at the wide-eyed group of early festival tourists attracted by all the commotion.

  Bartow stared dumbfounded at the visitors, then pointed an angry finger at the shrimpers. “Move your tents.”

  With a glare at Aidan that could light a signal flare, Bartow climbed into his Cadillac and barreled out of the parking lot, forcing the wide-eyed tourists to jump back.

  “Thanks, Aidan,” one of the shrimpers said. “Bartow is losing it this year over the festival. Been screaming at vendors all over town this morning.”

  “I can see that. Need any help moving?”

  “Nah,” the other shrimper said, “but we won’t be selling much seafood way down at Riley’s. We been right here every year, but Bartow wants twice as much for this spot now.”

  “Don’t worry,” Aidan said, “I’ll send my tour patrons and anybody else that wanders past down to your tents.”

  The two men grinned. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

  Aidan did as he promised and announced on his microphone when bidding goodbye to his tour that the fresh seafood down by Riley’s was the best in Cypress Key. Over half his tour patrons headed that way, glad for a recommendation.

  “Now you’re selling seafood too?” a familiar voice said when the crowd leaving the boat had thinned.

  Shaun grinned at him from the dock and nodded at the tip jar in his hand. “Now that’s something I never thought I’d see. Aidan Cross working for tips.”

  Aidan glanced down and gave a half-hearted chuckle. “I give them to Casey.” He frowned at his friend. “She and Frank need all the money help they can get. And why haven’t I heard from you? I’m assuming you got my voicemail, email, and texts?”

  Shaun grinned. “I did and they sure helped. Which is why I’ve been too wrapped up until now to get in touch. You did good work, Aidan. Maybe you should come work for me.”

  “Right. So where are we? You got anything you can pin on Bartow yet? He was around here this morning and seems to be coming unglued.”

  “He should be,” Shaunessy agreed. “My investigator and I were fairly certain the Velascos were our culprits, but your confirmation got a couple special agents of the Florida Department of Law Enforcement assigned to help me. The FDLE handles public official and police misconduct and can’t initiate a full investigation without definite proof, as in names and criminals to go on.”

  “That’s great, right?”

  Shaun nodded. “They have wanted the goods on the Velascos for several years and have never been able to pin anything on them. Your phone call and texts together with your source were all the FDLE needed to launch a full investigation. The two agents with me are already out interviewing Bartow’s clients around town.”

  Aidan did a fist pump.

  “As for Bartow freaking out, my snitch says the Velascos have given your mayor a small window to come up to scratch or his time is up. Literally.”

  “Define small window,” Aidan said.

  “Days, according to my informant.”

  “There’s no way.”

  “Correct. Which is why he’s freaked out. He’ll only get worse, and my guess is he may try something crazy to get the laundering venue he needs to appease the Velascos.”

  “The Seafood Festival?”

  “Possibly,” Shaun agreed. “We’ll keep a close eye on him and his vendors this weekend.”

  “You’re sticking around?” Aidan was glad his friend would be close by. His instincts were kicking up dust and making him nervous.

  “Oh yeah. The FDLE managed to rent a house here for a few days.” He smiled. “From a thankful realtor.”

  “Whose partner happens to be Bartow?”

  “Exactly.”

  Aidan was finally feeling real hope that Cypress Key could turn itself around.

  “You know Bartow’s got the sheriff and the only judge here in his pocket,” Aidan told him.

  “Getting intel on them too.”

  Aidan couldn’t help another fist pump.

  Shaunessy frowned. “You watch your back. This guy’s in real trouble, in over his head. When you corner a rattlesnake, you’re never really sure what direction he’ll strike.”

  Early birds for Aidan’s eleven o’clock tour wandered down the dock toward them.

  Shaun stuck a five-dollar bill in the tip jar Aidan still held. “Thanks for the tip,” he said and laughed as he stepped aside for the tour patrons to reach the boat.

  On Aidan’s trips in and out of the marina that afternoon, he spied Bartow’s gold Cadillac at different locations up and down Ocean Boulevard and often the mayor himself, usually gesturing wildly at whomever he had cornered.

  The town bustled with excitement as tourists paraded up and down the now-closed Ocean Boulevard, sampling seafood delicacies, buying souvenirs and paintings, and consuming beer, wine and colorful festival concoctions involving copious quantities of rum and sold at portable bars along the route.

  Still no sign or word from Casey.

  The woman kept him on a wild roller coaster ride—this time by finally admitting he was her boyfriend and then doing a disappearing act for a few days—but what a ride.

  Aidan missed her with a gut-deep ache but knew he’d be better off giving her time to cool down and change her mind about whatever had sent her into hiding. He had learned that to get Casey to change her mind you had to convince her it was her idea.

  You were wasting your time trying to argue her into the corner where you wanted her.

  Just like Aidan driving the tour boat these three days. If Frank had ordered her to let Aidan do it, she would have dug in her heels. If he and Casey were going to get back together, Casey had to think it was her idea or she’d never be happy. She had so little control over everything in her life she insisted on it when she could. Otherwise, she didn’t trust the players to stay.

  Once the last tour had ended and he checked his cell phone for messages for the fortieth time and found none, Aidan stored all the tour supplies and cushions, filled the gas tank, covered the console and motor, and drove to the golf course. He’d ask Casey to go to the Seafood Festival with him tonight. On a date. If he saw any flower vendors on his slow circuitous crawl through town traffic, he would try that too.

  He lost on both counts. No flowers and no Casey when he arrived at the Cypress Key Golf Club. Only Frank locking up the buil
dings after the last foursome had departed.

  “I was about to call you for a ride,” he said when Aidan joined him. “Very few twilight players today. Everyone wanted to hit the festival, gorge on food, and watch the fireworks tonight.” Frank clapped him on the back. “Which is what we’re going to do. Let’s go grab a quick shower and go.”

  Frank strode for the Jeep.

  “Where’s Casey?”

  Frank never slowed. “Took my truck. Said she wanted an early start on the festival since she was gone all day yesterday,” he called back over his shoulder.

  Enough! Screw giving Casey time to make up her own mind. Aidan was going to find her and argue her right into that corner and not let her out until she swore she was his.

  Chapter 24

  “Hurry up! What are you doing back there?” Evelyn hissed into the darkened interior of the cart barn.

  “Looking for gas. What do you think I’m doing?” PJ sniped back.

  “I thought you brought the gasoline with you.”

  “And get pulled over or have someone see me with the back of my truck full of gas cans?” He glared at her as she hovered just inside the doorway. “It’s not like you came dressed to help me or anything.”

  She gasped. “And have the smell of gasoline on my clothes?”

  “Oh heaven forbid.”

  “Just shut up and find some gas. I want both sheds burning together, so it’s too late to save them if someone sees smoke and calls the Fire Department.”

  “Why burn these sheds?” PJ asked, as he rummaged in a closet in one corner.

  “With no golf carts and no mowers, the Stuarts will be out of business, and they’ll have to leave. This rundown course needs income every single week to stay afloat,” she said gleefully.

  PJ poked his head back out of the closet. “Is this to help Dad so he can make them one of his loans?”

  She didn’t like the sarcasm he added to the word loans. Archer was a talented businessman who knew how to make money. Everything the man did was brilliant. But he was careful and didn’t trust anyone to help him in his business. Even her. Evelyn knew because she’d offered enough times.

  “No!” she snapped. “And don’t you dare mention this. He’d kill us both if we got caught for vandalism and tarnished his good name.”

  “Heaven forbid,” he muttered again, “with the election in six months.”

  “Precisely.”

  “I’m not sure I should be helping you if Dad’ll be that pissed off,” he grumbled.

  “Now PJ,” she said, stifling her impatience, “we discussed this.”

  “I just don’t get why we’re doing all this vandalism to the course. That last fiasco with the sugar in the gas tank cost me five grand. Do you hate the Stuarts that much?”

  “I’m doing this for you,” she retorted. “I keep telling you I’m trying to help you win Casey back.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  She pulled up the sweetest smile in her inventory, even if she did want to smack her stepson in his thick head. Lord, PJ had always been slow. “Of course I am, dear.”

  He stopped searching altogether, and she fought the urge to scream at him.

  “No!” he said, all righteous indignation. “It’s all your fault I lost her.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  He stalked toward her, and she resisted the urge to step back. If she did, she would be back outside, and someone could spot her. Though who would be out here on this second-rate golf course with a festival going on in town. Thank God, she’d insisted they hide their vehicles in the woods behind the stupid maintenance shed. PJ would have left them right out front for anyone to see.

  The big boy kept coming. “Silly, am I?” Furious, he stabbed a finger at her. “You’re a liar, and I should never have listened to you.”

  What lie? Heavens, she’d told so many, but they were all for a good reason.

  “What are you talking about?” Best find out, so she could deny. “I’m your stepmother. I love you.”

  PJ snorted. “You only love yourself. You’re a big liar.”

  “What lie, dammit?” she demanded.

  “You told me the day before prom that you saw Casey kissing Bubba Hansen in Coastline Park and convinced me that standing her up for prom would be great paybacks.”

  “It was great paybacks. She deserved it for cheating on you.”

  PJ took two more steps, and she saw his hands ball into fists. She backed right to the threshold and teetered there in her spike heels. Had he been drinking? She’d ordered him to come sober.

  “The only person guilty of cheating is you,” PJ snarled. “Bubba Hansen and my guys and me were in the Sand Dollar last night, talking about old times and the golf match.” He grimaced in pain.

  Evelyn rolled her eyes. “And?”

  He exhaled hard and narrowed his eyes. “Bubba and I got pretty drunk, and he said he always wished he could’ve had a chance with Casey Stuart. Said he’d had a crush on her in high school.”

  Uh-oh.

  “Of course that pissed me off, him saying that. I said, ‘Dude, Evelyn saw you making out with Casey in Coastline Park right before prom.’ I told him that’s why I stood Casey up. I wanted to hit him so bad right at that moment.” PJ pounded his fist into his palm.

  To hell with being seen. Evelyn stepped beyond the door ready to slam and lock it if she had to.

  “But you know what he said?”

  I can guess.

  “Um, no. What?”

  “Bubba said Casey wouldn’t let him get within a foot of her. He’d never touched her. She only had eyes for me back then.”

  “I did see the two of them,” she insisted for good measure.

  “No! You, dear stepmama, lied to me!” he shouted.

  “Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “I’m pretty sure I saw them.”

  “Stop your lying! I’m going to tell Casey I’m sorry and get her back. I won’t help you ruin her course. You said the vandalism would make her run to me for help. But she didn’t, and she’ll really hate me if she finds out we burned the place.”

  Evelyn saw her goal of getting rid of the Stuarts vanishing right before her eyes, and rage took over. She had nursed her hatred for years. Hatred at Casey for getting between Evelyn and Dave and keeping them from getting close. Hatred at Frank for telling Dave she was fooling around with Archer. She had only used Archer and other men to make Dave jealous, so he would pay attention to her instead of Casey and that stupid bank project he worked on at all hours. Dave would be alive today if it wasn’t for Frank and Casey Stuart.

  She would get her paybacks on those two come hell or high water. She didn’t lose. She refused to lose. Her hatred for the Stuarts and all they had cost her spurred her onward, and she brushed aside any fear of her brawny and very angry stepson.

  “Now you listen to me, Peter James Bartow. You have already helped ruin Casey’s course. You burned the greens and put sugar in Frank’s mower tank. At five-thousand-dollars damage, that’s felony vandalism.”

  “You told me to!”

  “My hands are clean, and who do you think your father will believe?”

  PJ’s eyes went wide.

  “I never touched a thing,” she said. “Now you will set these two sheds on fire, or I’ll turn you in for all the golf course damage, plus, I’ll spill the goods on you and your stupid trio for your pot smoking and occasional cocaine hits. What will Archer say when I tell him you deal pot to support your habit? Hmmm?”

  PJ was aghast. “You’ve been spying on me?”

  “Of course. Always pays to spy on your friends, and your stepchildren. Keeps everyone in line.”

  “I hate you,” he whispered.

  “I don’t care. Now get to
work. I’m going to town to meet up with your father.” She patted her pocketbook. “But first, I need extra insurance that little Casey will disappear.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “You just do what you’re told.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Casey had managed to give Aidan the slip again, snagging her uncle’s truck and heading early to the festival. When she’d asked Frank for the keys, he had eyed her suspiciously, but he’d handed them over. Just as she reached the door to the maintenance shed, he’d called out his best chicken-cluck impersonation.

  Pride made her want to spin around and deny, but she’d only be trying to convince herself as well as her uncle. She’d been daydreaming of going to the Seafood Festival with Aidan since the day he arrived in Cypress Key. Holding hands with the handsomest guy in town as they strolled along the festival tents would have added additional luster to her newfound confidence, to say nothing of Cypress Key’s revised opinion of her ability to attract male attention.

  But that would all be playacting. The truth was, she didn’t trust herself to be with Aidan all evening for fear she would forget her rebuilt confidence and pride and beg him to stay in Cypress Key. With her. The thought of him leaving never really left her and kept a slow, dull ache right around her heart. She couldn’t even wish she had never met him, for the last week had been some of the happiest days of her life. No one could make her nerve endings sizzle like Aidan Crosse.

  She drove straight to her Aunt Belle’s house, hoping she could talk her godmother into strolling the festival tents with her. The only thing worse than not getting to go to the festival with Aidan would be showing up all alone.

  Belle Crawford was just coming out her front door when Casey pulled up at the curb. Casey’s mood lightened seeing her godmother attired in white capris, a wildly-flowered Hawaiian shirt, a broad-brimmed hat, and sneakers.