by Fiona Grace
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Ali peered through the windshield at Bo Bronnigan’s house. “Nice place,” she murmured over the steering wheel.
She had gotten his address off the documents Marco had been served, seeing that he lived not too far outside of Willow Bay. One short coastal drive later, here she was, sitting in her car outside his mini-mansion, trying to build up the guts to go inside.
Sitting in the passenger seat beside her was Scruff. The little dog had spotted her getting into her car and come running to her, yip-yipping, making it very clear he wanted to join her for another road trip. Considering how welcome his presence had been on their last trip together, Ali readily let him inside.
“If I’m not back in ten minutes, call the cops,” she joked. Then she found her courage and got out of the car.
As she headed up to the front door, Ali wondered if this was a terrible idea. Piper was right—men who did the sort of things that Bo Bronnigan did had no conscience. They couldn’t be reasoned with. But she had to try, for Marco’s sake. And if she could change a bunch of council members’ minds—people who were notorious for being stuck in their ways—then surely she stood a chance!
She took a deep breath and knocked.
A minute later, the door opened.
There stood a sleepy looking Bo Bronnigan, in his slippers and silk pajamas, in the middle of the day. His blonde hair was a tufty mess. Ali had evidently woken him up, either from a nap or a late, late sleep in. Either way, he was clearly someone with a lot of spare time…
“What?” he asked, looking her up and down with disdain with piercingly light, blue eyes, almost eerie in their paleness.
“Ali Sweet,” she said, holding out a hand for him to shake, which he promptly ignored. “Fair enough.” She let it drop. “I’m here to talk to you about Marco Rossi.”
“Who?”
Ali felt her eyebrows raise. “Marco Rossi,” she repeated. “The man you’re suing.”
“Oh, right, right.”
He said it in such a casually dismissive way Ali found her eyes narrowing with distaste. The mini-mansion. The daytime sleeping. The blasé attitude. This man was clearly a career conman. He made his living out of other people’s misery. And a good living at that!
Bo folded his arms impatiently. “What about him?”
“This lawsuit will ruin him,” Ali explained.
“And?”
“And you should care about that! This is a human being’s life we’re talking about.”
“He should have thought of that when he served me a killer pizza!”
Ali rolled her eyes. “Surely you know the ingredients of a pizza. I mean, it’s a pizza! There are three basic ingredients!”
“Meat. Feast. Delight,” he said nastily. “Nothing about that description screams anchovy, does it?”
He printed the word anchovy with both hands in the sky as he said it. Ali raised a very unimpressed eyebrow.
“Anchovy?” she repeated. “You’re suing him because of the cheese.”
“Cheese. Yeah, whatever. That’s what I meant.”
He wasn’t even trying to sound convincing now. He knew full well the case was bogus, and he didn’t even care enough to lie properly.
Through the door, Ali could see into his home, which was pretty messy. Various bottles of prescription medicine were scattered about in their distinctive amber bottles. Far too many to have come from any single doctor. It was all part of the ruse, she realized. Bo and his lawyer must’ve duped a whole bunch of doctors in order to get medical records to support their claims in court.
“Look,” Ali said, putting her hands on her hips. “I get it. Life is hard. Earning a living is hard. You make yours by scamming money out of profitable businesses, and clearly, you do it very well.” She gestured with her open arms to his home, and fought back the urge to add, ‘and without conscience.’ She continued aloud. “I, personally, prefer to earn my money the honest way, with hard work. And the thing is, so does Marco. He’s not some rich business owner who can afford a lawsuit! He’s not turning millions of dollars of profit. He’s just a person, like you, like me, trying to find a way to make ends meet. This will cripple him. End his business. His career. He cannot bounce back from this.” She thought of Sullivan and his ruthless expansion projects. “I understand wanting to bring down a nameless, faceless, greedy corporation. I really do. But what is chump change to them is Marco Rossi’s entire life savings, and all the money he inherited from his dear, sweet nona. You must be able to see the difference?”
Bo looked her up and down, as if assessing her. For a fleeting second, Ali actually thought she might have gotten to him. Then he shrugged and let out a long sigh.
“It’s too late,” he said. “The wheels are in motion. There’s nothing I can do to stop it.”
“Yes there is! Drop the suit!” Ali cried, impatient.
“No,” he replied. “If I drop the suit then it will all have been for nothing. I’ve already done so much to get this far. There’s nothing left standing in my way, and I’m not backing down now.”
He went to shut the door on her, but Ali wasn’t backing down. Her attempts to reason with him flew out the window—that ship had sailed—and she jammed her foot in the door before he had a chance to close it. Bo saw her foot and rolled his eyes at her attempt.
“Go away,” he said, sounding so over this whole thing.
“Not until you agree to drop the suit,” Ali told him.
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I’ll chain myself to your door!” Now she understood Devon’s suggestion back at the town hall meeting!
“Ugh. What is it with you people!” Bo cried. “This is meant to be easy money. But first that councilman’s bill almost ruins things, and now this! Listen, lady, chain yourself to whatever you want. If I can erase one problem, I can erase another.”
‘Problem?’ Ali thought. ‘What could he mean by that?’ She wasn’t sure, but she found her heart racing.
Then a chill ran all the way up her spine. If the bill was passed and bankrupted the business owners, then Bo’s lawsuit would have been pointless. Her blood ran cold. Did he kill Marvin Chessley to save the businesses, just so he could ruin them himself?
His words were like a slap to the face, and she instantly pulled her foot out of the door, as if she’d been burned. The door slammed right in her face, just an inch from her nose.
Ali staggered back, her mind reeling as Bo Bronnigan’s threat echoed over in her mind. He’d erased a problem. The councilman.
Somehow, she made it back to her car, but she was practically hyperventilating as she pulled open the door and slid inside. Scruff began to bark shrilly at the state of her.
She fumbled for her keys, her hands trembling so hard she couldn’t even get them into the ignition on the first attempt. Scruff barked again, more stressed and insistently.
Ali turned to him to explain her panic. “Scruff. I don’t think Sid’s the killer.” She cast her eyes up to the mini-mansion again and shuddered. “Bo Bronnigan killed Marvin Chessley.”
Ali felt panic rise up inside of her. The wrong man was in jail! Or at least in jail for the wrong crime. Sid was still a vandal, but graffiti and murder were worlds apart when it came to appropriate punishment.
But more importantly than the wrong man being in jail, was the fact the right man was walking free. Ali had to do something to prove he was the killer. She’d have to lay a trap…
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
“Are you sure about this?” Marco asked from his position by his pizzeria’s window. He was shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, Ali noted, and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.
“I promise you. This is going to work. We’ll save your business.” To herself, she added, ‘And catch a killer all in one go. Two for one.’
Marco tugged at the collar of his shirt. Unlike Ali, he clearly didn’t have much faith in the plan. But Ali had figured out how Bo Bronnigan ticked, and
she was confident this was going to work.
“I need a drink,” Marco said, stepping away from the large window of his pizzeria.
They’d both been standing beside it, looking out at the dark sky and the boardwalk’s many tourists enjoying their evenings out. Usually, those tourists would be coming inside because Marco’s doors would be open for business, but tonight they were closed and the sign on the door explained it was for a private function.
“Want one?” Marco called from the corner bar, as he fetched a wine glass down from the bar’s wooden beam where they hung prettily upside down, in a row.
“I’d better not,” Ali said, looking over her shoulder at him. “I need my wits about me.”
The mere hint of what was to come was enough to cause the nervous Marco to grimace and fill his wine glass all the way to the top, before taking a long, deep glug.
Just then, Ali heard a knock on the window. She turned back to see Teddy on the other side, dressed in a suit and holding a briefcase. She went over to the door and unlocked it for him. He came inside and twirled on the spot.
“How do I look?”
“Like a lawyer,” Ali said with a smirk. “The real question though, is how do you sound?”
Teddy’s face transformed in an instance, from playful to serious. “My client is well within his jurisdiction, sir!” he said in a deep, commanding voice that was at least a semitone lower than his natural one. Then he wiggled his strawberry blonde brows, switching back to normal Teddy. “How was that?”
“Spot on,” Ali replied.
Marco tugged his shirt collar again. “I’m glad you two are enjoying yourselves,” he said wryly as he came over to them, wine glass in hand.
“Someone’s a little nervous,” Ali explained to Teddy as she rubbed Marco’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Marco. I promise you.”
“Yeah, you couldn’t be in safer hands!” Teddy assured him. “We’re the Sweet siblings!”
“See,” Ali re-iterated. “Just trust me.”
Marco’s eyes flicked back and forth between them. He took another deep glug of wine.
“Oh! They’re here,” Teddy said suddenly. He straightened his tie. “Quick, quick, everyone in their positions.”
The three of them scurried to the dining table and took their seats. It was the largest one in the pizzeria, specifically chosen by Ali to look intimidating, a bit like walking into a job interview. But of course, Bo Bronnigan and his lawyer appeared entirely unperturbed by the staging. They waltzed right into the pizzeria like they owned the place, the lawyer looking unflappable in his Gucci suit and Rolex watch and slicked-back gray hair. He thumped his case on the table—an expensive leather Louis Vuitton, instantly identifiable by its famous, distinct pattern.
“Good evening gentlemen,” Teddy said in the same commanding voice he’d demonstrated earlier, and Ali had to hold in her smile. He really was a very good actor.
“Please, take a seat,” he added, gesturing to the chairs.
“No need,” the lawyer replied. “This won’t take long.”
Hovering behind him, Ali caught Bo smirking. But Teddy didn’t react to the obvious attempt at power play.
“Very well,” he continued in the same steady voice. “You understand why we’ve called you here today. My client would like to make a settlement to keep this out of court.”
“Yes,” the lawyer replied. “And we’re here to tell you in person that there will be no settlement.”
“You haven’t even heard the offer yet,” Teddy countered.
“And we don’t need to. Your friend here already played her cards.” He gestured to Ali. “We know your client’s worth nothing. Only the court has power to seize his assets to pay for the damages. So we’ll be taking it to them.”
Marco shot a pained expression at Ali, but she kept her composure, and focused on Bo. His body language during the whole exchange had been becoming increasingly fidgety. Not because he was nervous, but because he was enjoying this moment a little too much. Marco’s pain excited him. Just as she’d predicted…
“We’re done here,” the lawyer continued, and he gave Bo a head jerk. The two men motioned for the exit.
“Not quite!” Ali said, raising herself to her feet.
Both men turned back to look at her—the lawyer with an irritated expression, and Bo with a malevolently gleeful one.
“Miss Sweet, you’re wasting your time,” the lawyer began. “There is no negotiation to be had.”
“I understand,” Ali replied. “But we’re not actually here for a settlement, either. We invited you here because of a different matter entirely. Marvin Chessley. The murdered councilman.”
Beside her, Marco’s eyes darted up with utter confusion. The poor guy had no idea what was going on. Ali had gone out of her way to not reveal anything of the plan to Marco, as she feared his nerves would blow their cover.
Bo let out a snort of laughter, earning himself a glower from his lawyer, and a hushed warning: “stay quiet.”
Ali smiled secretly to herself. This was exactly what she’d predicted and hoped for. Bo was the front of their operation, the con man who had enough chutzpah to pull off the stunts, a guy who lacked any sense of shame or remorse. A man without a conscience. But his lawyer had the harder job of the two, because he had to keep Bo in line. And men like Bo could be loose cannons. All Ali needed to do was light the spark and watch him blow.
Marco took another huge gulp of wine. He was obviously not enjoying a single moment of this, and Ali couldn’t blame him. From the outside looking in, it probably seemed like the whole thing was already spinning out of control. Little did he know it was going exactly how Ali planned.
“Gentlemen, perhaps you’d like to take a seat now?” Teddy suggested.
“No thank you,” the lawyer said in his clipped tone.
Too late. Bo eagerly sat himself down, as if relishing in hearing what Ali had to say. Behind him, the lawyer looked increasingly frustrated, but he followed Bo’s lead and sat. He steepled his hands on the table ahead of him, and pursed his lips, clearly attempting to maintain his poise but showing some telltale signs of being rattled. A higher blink rate, a tightening of the muscles in the neck—all unconscious things that Ali was perceptive enough to spot. It gave her the confidence to plough on.
“Let me paint a picture for you,” Ali said, stepping away from the table. All eyes followed her as she paced back and forth. “Two men roll into town. Willow Bay. Just another small coastal town with a bunch of independent stores. They have a single goal in mind: find the next location for their scam. They’ve done this before, plenty of times, up and down the state. It’s foolproof. All they need is the perfect place, a restaurant without an allergen list. Easy. There’s plenty of them. The allergy doesn’t matter. Could be anchovies. Could be cheese. Could be anything, really. You know how to spin it in the doctor’s office so you can get a record to ’prove’ the allergy exists anyhow.”
She gestured to Bo, who was failing to hide his arrogant smirk of pride. He really loved tricking people and messing with them. His poor lawyer was faring significantly worse, though, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and looking like he wanted to be anywhere else.
“Whatever evidence you think you’ve got on us, I can assure you it won’t hold up in court,” he snapped, sounding rattled.
Ali ignored him and carried on. “You find the perfect spot. Marco’s pizzeria. The plan goes off without a hitch. There are plenty of witnesses to confirm what happened. This should be another easy job. Except… you didn’t do your research. Willow Bay isn’t just another small coastal town. It isn’t what it looks to be on the surface. Because it’s on the cusp of going through some major changes. Turns out you’re not the only scam artists in town. Sullivan Raine and Councilman Marvin Chessley are about to pull off their own scam, a much bigger, more audacious one than you two have ever managed, might I add.”
Bo pursed his lips. He definitely didn’t like hearing that
.
“What terrible timing,” Ali continued. “What bad luck. You pick a restaurant that’s days away from being bankrupt! Who pays your bill then? No one. That’s who.” She paced away then back again. “Now any normal person would accept it’s too risky. They’d drop the case, pack their bags, and move on to an easier spot.” She directed the words at the lawyer, whose uncomfortable squirming in his seat told her everything she needed to know: that was exactly what he’d suggested. Then she turned her attention to Bo and slammed both her fists on the table. “Only problem is, one of you is not a normal person! One of you sees a problem and fixes it. And since human life means nothing to you, all you have to do is erase it.” She clapped her hands. “Problem solved.”
The tension in the room was mounting. Ali could feel it, the mixture of Marco’s confusion and the lawyer’s panic, and Bo’s building fury. Everyone was simmering, and she just had to turn up the heat, so they boiled over.
“There’s not much time to act, unfortunately,” she continued. “Less than twenty-four hours to stop the bill from passing. But that’s fine. That’s enough. No problem. You find out where Marvin works and hang around in the parking lot until he’s finished for the day. There’s no one around, so you pounce on him, drag him into the bush, bash him in the head with a rock…”
“This is ludicrous!” Bo yelled, cutting her off and leaping to his feet. “A piece of bad fiction! A completely made-up story!”
Ali held in her excitement. It was the first time Bo had said anything during the whole meeting, and she knew that meant she was getting to him.
The lawyer was on his feet too, telling Bo to be quiet now, not in the subtle manner of before, but in a proper panicked pleading way. “If you’re quite finished insulting my client, we’re done here,” he said to the three on the other side of the table. “Expect a slander suit in the post.”
But Ali wasn’t done. Not yet. She had one more ace up her sleeve. Now to dial it up to eleven.