Before I could try to land another zinger he hung up and texted me four new addresses. The man was trying to make sure I wouldn’t see daylight, at least not on my own time.
“Your boss, huh?” Jeanine asked, mouth full of hash brown.
“Hey, does this ‘Nicoletta’ live on the island?” I changed the subject.
“Over in Beach Haven, by The Shell. Why?”
“Show me where.”
Nick Denardi 