12
“Your friend doesn’t look good.”
“I know,” Mike acknowledged as we pushed the remaining river-worthy canoe far enough from the shore to keep it from bottoming out when we got in. We’d decided our only option was to paddle to Sharkey’s place and take our chances.
“Anything strike you as weird about his story?” I asked.
“Specifically?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know the man, but something just feels off. Why would anyone use his business as a cover?”
Mike stretched out his arms, rotated them in a few broad circles, then tugged on his shirt at the neckline to straighten it. I tried to not be distracted by the way it clung to one muscled shoulder.
“Lots of tourists, so people coming in from out of town aren’t suspicious?” he speculated. “Maybe it’s not about Levi’s business. Maybe it’s
