Page 49 of Sea Breezes at The Beach House Hotel

“You drive,” said Rhonda, putting an arm around Clint’s waist and leading him to the back of the hotel.

“Should I tell Nell?” I asked Clint.

“Not yet,” said Clint. “We need to catch Claudine. I need those papers back. I’ll never be able to work for anyone else again if I get caught up in that bad deal.”

As soon as Clint settled in the backseat of my car and Rhonda had buckled herself into the passenger seat, I took off.

“Chances are she’s using Alligator Alley,” said Rhonda. “If so, we should be able to catch her. I’m going to make a call to remind the State Troopers.”

I drove through town, and once we reached the point where Alligator Alley began, and I had a clear view of the road ahead, I accelerated.

“I’m sorry for this,” said Clint. “I can hardly believe the situation I’m in. I should never have taken this job and invested in the project. And now I just want to get out of it.”

“If something seems too good to be true, there’s usually a reason behind it. Not always a wise choice,” Rhonda said. “But you’ve resigned. Right?”

“The board wants me to make an appearance before they officially release me. I told them I’d come to D.C. as soon as the doctor gives me permission to travel.” He lifted his right arm in his soft cast. “This isn’t the problem. My other arm is.”

I glanced at Clint in the backseat through the rearview mirror. Stress and pain had taken a toll on him. He looked older and more vulnerable than I’d ever seen him.

“You and Nell and the kids can stay at the house as long as you need to,” I said.

“Thanks. Nell and I talked most of last night,” said Clint. “With my financial background, I’ve already spoken to Reggie and Will about working with them. It won’t be the glamorous job I’m leaving, but it’s an honest one with room for growth.”

“What kind of car does Claudine have?” I asked Clint.

“She drives a sporty silver BMW.” He peered ahead. “I think that’s her ahead of us in the distance.”

I pressed down on the accelerator. Claudine had no problem playing dirty. When called upon, Rhonda and I could step up our game.

I passed Claudine and then slowed down, making her slow as well and forcing her to the side of the road, where I stopped my car.

Rhonda got out and walked over to the driver’s side of Claudine’s vehicle.

When Claudine noticed her, she gunned her engine and prepared to back up her car to get away, just as a Florida Highway Patrol car pulled up behind her.

Rhonda waved to the State Trooper. “Hi, John. Thanks for coming. We have a problem here.”

“What’s going on, Rhonda?” he asked. Tall, with broad shoulders and thick gray hair, he took off his sunglasses and smiled at her.

“Miss Everett has some paperwork we need,” said Rhonda. “She obtained a signature under duress.”

The officer walked over to Claudine’s car. “Please get out of the car, ma’am. We need to talk to you.”

As Claudine stepped out onto the verge, I helped Clint out of the car, and we joined them.

Claudine whipped around and faced him with a scowl. “You! What do you have to do with this?”

“You know damn well what you did in order to get my signature on those papers,” Clint said.

Claudine turned to the trooper. “Officer, do I look like the kind of woman who would do something bad?”

The trooper gave her a steady look. “I learned a long time ago not to judge someone by their appearance.”

Clint stepped forward. “I was in a meeting with this woman not long ago. She served us coffee, and shortly afterwards, I felt a strange sensation, as if I were suspended in time. Something like that. She pushed papers in front of me and forced me to sign them.”

“And then what happened?” the officer asked.

“She left, and a few minutes later, I called Ann Sanders for help,” said Clint. “I felt too sick to run after Claudine.”