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fingernails on the book.
    She looked up when the elderly manager ambled back from the office. “Delbert, did Mr. Fitzgerald pay with a credit card?”
    â€œI intended to mention him to you, Asha. He originally requested a bungalow, but they were full up—that honeymoon party for the Gibsons. I put him in five until they checked out. I really hated to lodge such a fancy gent in number five, but that was the only room available.”
    Asha frowned and winkled her nose. “The one with the cracked ceiling tiles?”
    Delbert nodded, sticking his hands in the pockets of his oversized sweater. “I sort of felt bad, him being quality and all.”
    â€œYeah . . .” She sighed. “It’s on my to-do list, Delbert, which gets longer every day. Not many around here are able to redo ceilings. Colin cannot handle it due to his vertigo, so I’ll need to hire someone from Lexington or Leesburg. It’ll cost me an arm and a leg. Still, with all this windfall business because of Keeneland, I should be left with some extra cash to toss around for repairs.”
    â€œYou know, Asha, my offer stands. I could help out a bit. I have some money saved and it just sits in the bank not doing much.”
    â€œYou’re a dear heart, but I’m determined to do all this onmy own—prove something to myself, you might say.” She patted his arm and gave it a small squeeze. “How did Fitzgerald pay for the room?”
    â€œThe first two nights, cash. I moved him to the bungalow this morning when it became available. He paid for two weeks in advance.”
    â€œCash again?”
    Delbert nodded. “Nice crisp hundred dollar bills. He stays around here for a few weeks, you can fix your ceiling tiles.”
    Asha glanced back at the office safe, glowering. “Maybe I should check them. He might be a counterfeiter.”
    â€œGirl, you always had a runaway imagination. Your mother figured you’d be a writer.”
    She shrugged. “So far, I can’t muster enough discipline or time.”
    â€œWell, don’t go writing about counterfeiters when you do. One look at Fitzgerald rules that out. He’s money. Wears a Rolex. Tips well, too. He’s quality . . . like you. That intimidates
some people
around here, gets their inferiority complexes perking. Besides, I always check big bills. They had that funny little strip thingy in them. They’re legit. So is he.” The old man paused as a distant look came into his eyes. “He reminds me of someone . . . a long time ago . . .”
    â€œDon’t say ‘in a galaxy far, far away,’” Asha teased, picking up her purse where she’d set it by the register. “He works for Trident Ventures, the bunch trying to buy Valinor. They sent in their gunslinger to put pressure on me. Me is
not
a happy camper.”
    Delbert laughed. “Ah, well, they can’t buy what you aren’t selling, eh? Get a good night’s rest. My rheumatism’s acting up. I’m going back to my room to prop up my feet and watch Leno, maybe catnap a bit.”
    â€œâ€™Night, Obi-Wan,” Asha said, but he’d already turned and didn’t hear her jest. She pushed out the door and continued around the side of the building to the bungalows.
    She was halfway down the driveway leading to the smallcourtyard when she noticed Jago. Wary, she pulled up. Oh, not that she feared he might harm her. This threat came from a different direction, and was more dangerous.
    He sat on the rock wall, the white of his shirt shimmering in the autumn night. His hand lifted to his mouth, and from the small flare of red, she saw that he was smoking.
    â€œStrike two,” she growled so he couldn’t hear. “A developer
and
a smoker.”
    Asha didn’t care for smoking, detested how the scent clung to clothes, hands and hair. While she hadn’t been that close to him in the restaurant, she failed to notice