Southern Comfort - Fern Michaels [41]
So was the tip last year a hoax? What about the recent call? He had to admit he wasn’t one of those agents who had a sixth sense or was tuned to all things criminal, but this time his nerves were twanging all over the place. Then again, his twanging nerves might have something to do with the DEA trying to oust him. He knew he was a little late entering the game, but if there was a way to backtrack and prove himself, he was going to do whatever he could to make it happen. If he was successful and got fired for his efforts, at least he’d be able to live with himself.
Suddenly, traffic slowed, and Tyler slammed on his brakes. The SUV behind him braked with a loud screech, stopping within a hair of his rear bumper. Tyler craned his neck to see if he could spot anything in front of the long line of cars, but most of the vehicles were SUVs, and it was hard to see over their tops. Either an accident of some kind or a car had broken down in the middle of the road.
Tyler climbed out of his car as a dozen or so other lookie-looks trying to see what the problem was climbed out of theirs. It was an elderly bearded man, who bore a striking resemblance to that macho writer who’d lived in Key West, who clued them in from nine cars up that a pickup had broken down. While they waited outside their cars, the people chatted among themselves, including Tyler in their conversations. He was one of them. He liked the feeling and joined in, talking freely about the heat, the road, the pipeline that carried the water supply to Key West. He was told to go to Sloppy Joe’s, Ernest Hemingway’s favorite watering hole, to eat and enjoy the view. Also he was told of the upcoming Sloppy Joe’s Thirtieth Annual Papa Look-alike Contest on July 22–24. That explained the bearded old man.
Kids scampered around, and dogs in the backseats howled their unhappiness at not being allowed to join in. Tyler loved it all. He listened to glowing details about Key West’s spectacular sunsets and the quaint bed-and-breakfasts.
Tyler turned when he felt a hand on his arm and saw a pleasant freckle-faced thirtysomething woman asking what was going on. She smelled like warm sunshine and vanilla. She was wearing jeans, a cherry red tank top, and a baseball cap. Great tan and no makeup. The girl-next-door type.
Tyler pointed ahead, and replied, “That guy up there said a pickup broke down. It looks like they’re trying to push it to the side although there isn’t all that much room. It might be a little while.”
“Oh, well.” The woman shrugged. “I’m on vacation, so I’m in no hurry. How about you?”
“Yeah, me, too,” Tyler lied with a straight face.
“Your first time to Key West?” the pleasant woman asked.
“No. I’ve been here before. I’m staying at the Southernmost Point Guest House.” Was she flirting with him the way he looked? He decided she was. “Have you been here before?”
“My first time. Actually, it’s kind of a vacation and work trip all rolled into one. I teach tenth grade at J. P. Stevens High School in Edison, New Jersey. We’re going to be studying famous authors when school starts in September, so I thought who better than Ernest Hemingway? Nancy Holliday,” she said, holding out her hand to be shaken. Stunned, Tyler stuck out his hand, surprised at how solid her handshake was.
“Nice to meet you, Nancy. Currently, I live in LA, but I get around a lot with my job. Looks like traffic is starting to move. Nice meeting you.”
Nancy Holliday smiled and lit up Lawrence Tyler’s world. “Maybe we’ll see each other again. I understand Key West isn’t all that big. You know, small world, etc.” She laughed again, and Tyler grinned.
“Tell you what, I’ll meet you at Sloppy Joe’s tomorrow around eight if you aren’t busy. Hey, we better get moving,” he said when horns started