He started flipping pages, then stopped on a page and began to read. After a few seconds, his gaze lifted. “I think you might be on to something, Carly.”
“So I need to talk to Ted Butcher.”
He made a face. “If his last two dances with death were drug overdoses, it sounds like he’s a habitual user.” When I gave him a blank look, he added, “He loses credibility.”
“So you’re saying if I can get Ted Butcher to confess to doing Bart Drummond’s bidding, it might not help me one bit.”
“Help us one bit,” Marco said. “And yeah. That’s exactly what I’m sayin’…unless he has evidence tying him and the deed to Bart.”
“How likely is that?”
“Not very.”
I pulled the cookie sheet with turkey bacon out of the oven, and Marco made another face. “I’m not eatin’ that, Carly.”
“Good. More for me and Hank.”
“Your reluctant prisoner.”
“Hey!” I protested, turning to face him with a pair of tongs in my hand. “I’m only trying to prolong his life. And he doesn’t protest. Much.”
He grinned. “I was teasing. But I’m still not eating turkey bacon.”
I dished up a plate for Hank and cut his pancake into pieces before pouring a small amount of maple syrup on them. Then I grabbed the coffee pot to give him a refill and carried it and the plate out to the porch. When I came back, Marco was patiently waiting, his forearms on the table, but he gave me a weird look.
“What?”
“Do you cut up his meat for him too?”
It took me a second to realize what he was saying, and it didn’t set right. “Are you serious?”
“I know your job is to help him in exchange for free rent, but he’s not feeble.”
“The man is eating on his front porch so we can have privacy,” I said in a low tone, internally acknowledging that Hank was on the front porch because that was where he chose to be, but even so. “He’s got a kitten in his lap. How’s he going to balance a plate and a kitten while he’s cutting up his pancakes?”
Marco held up his hands up in self-defense. “Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought of that.”
I stared down at him, my all-too-familiar fears bubbling up. “I don’t know whether to believe you or question if you said that just to shut me up.”
His eyes widened in surprise, but then he said, “Honestly? Maybe a little of both, and I’m sorry for that.” His mouth pulled into a pained grin. “You make me a more honest man.”
I knew he hadn’t meant anything malicious, yet the hairs on the back of my neck still stood on end.
“Sit down,” he said, gesturing to the chair on the other side of the table. “Let’s figure out a game plan.”
I put a plate of bacon and eggs on the table and sat down, watching him for a second while I nursed my coffee. I hated that doubts about him were swirling in my head. He thought I babied Hank too much. There wasn’t anything sinister in saying so. Yet my fragile psyche reminded me that I’d let men control me for most of my life, and that I’d always made excuses when I saw warning signs. I didn’t want that to happen with Marco too.
“Do you want to talk about Hank?” he asked evenly as he picked up his silverware.
“No. I do not want to talk about Hank,” I snapped.
“I was wrong to say that,” he said. “But he used to be a very powerful man. Just tread lightly.”
Squinting, I shook my head. “What exactly are you suggesting? That he’d hurt me if I make a wrong move?”
“No,” he said patiently. “Just the opposite. He cares about you enough to let you do things he’d normally do himself, just to make you happy. I’m sayin’ don’t take too much of his independence from him. That’s all.”
I didn’t think we were in danger of that happening, but it was something to consider, so I nodded. Then I picked up my fork, eager to change the subject. “So I need to track down Ted Butcher.”
“You’re gonna need an address. I can come up with that, but I don’t want you goin’ there alone. I’ll go with you. Who knows how dangerous he might be?” He frowned. “I’ll look up his priors while I’m at it.”
“Okay,” I said, slicing off a piece of pancake. “Sounds good. I’m also going to find Sandy Steadman and talk to her.”
He gave me a blank look.
“She’s one of the ladies lunch club members, and she seems the most likely to talk. Plus, she’s not dangerous. I’ll ask her about Pam’s son and see if I can get more information about his arrest. The personal stuff Pam went through, not the legal details.”
“That’s a good idea. I’d feel better if you stick to the people least likely to hurt you, but don’t take any chances. No one thought Pam was dangerous either. If you’re worried about your safety at all, walk away or find a way to contact me. I’ll come straight away.”
I nodded. “I thought I might talk to Pam’s daughter too. Take her a casserole and see what she says.”
He took another bite, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, that could be good. Try not to make it look like questioning. You’re just expressing your concern and checking on Pam’s well-being.” He looked up at me. “What time are you going into work today?”
“Five.”
“So you have all day.” His lips twisted. “Are you wanting to fill it with this stuff or do you have something else you need to do?”
“This is it.”
“Then let’s pick another old case to look into as well. If Bart catches wind we’re tryin’ to pin him to the wall, he’s gonna pull out all the stops. We need to make sure we’ve got enough evidence to arrest him…and keep him in custody.”
“Don’t you think he’s more likely to figure out what we’re up to if we poke into several of his favors?”
He was silent for a moment. “We don’t have to go balls to the walls with more than two cases. You stick to gatherin’ information about Pam, and I’ll see what I can dig up on Ted Butcher. Then we’ll meet later to discuss what we’ve learned.”
“I’m workin’ until midnight.”
“Tell Hank you’re stayin’ with me tonight. I have some interviews this morning, but I’ll come by the tavern to check on you after I get off my shift.”
I smiled at him. “Look at you. All grown up and doing big boy stuff.”
He laughed. “I could take great offense to that, but I’m so grateful to have the opportunity—” his grin spread “—I have to agree with you.”
I lifted my coffee mug. “To a successful investigation.”
He touched his mug to mine. “All of them.”
Chapter Nine
We came up with a short list of people for me to talk to before I went to work, deciding that I should stick to visits I could call social visits, so I didn’t attract the attention of the sheriff’s department or Bart Drummond himself…if he was involved.
“Why isn’t the Ewing police department handling the murder investigation?” I asked as I pushed my empty plate away. “It happened within the city limits.”
“Because the sheriff’s department would end up handling all the forensics anyway,” he said. “We usually claim jurisdiction over murder cases. In some cases, the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation comes in and takes it over from both of us.”
“Do you think the state will take over in this instance?”
“No. It’s pretty cut and dry. Pam Crimshaw shot Jim Palmer at close range with a handgun in front of three witnesses—two employees and a customer. There’s no doubt she did it and she confessed. Her motive doesn’t really matter in terms of the case.”
“Even if we prove Bart was behind it, Pam’s still going to prison, isn’t she?”
He gave me a long look. “She killed a man, Carly. A man with a wife and two kids. She stole him from the people who care about him.”
I nodded, knowing he was right, but Pam was so quiet and meek. I suspected it would have taken a lot to make her shoot someone
.
“Too bad I can’t talk to the victim’s family,” I said. “If she killed him as a form of repayment to Bart, then he must have gotten himself into trouble. Maybe he even asked for a favor himself.”
“There’s always the funeral or the wake,” Marco said. “I can come with you. The body’s in Knoxville for an autopsy, so the funeral will probably be in a few days.”
“That would be tasteless to ask questions there,” I said, feeling slimy.
He pushed out a sigh. “I can figure out a legitimate excuse for us to go.”
Still, it felt smarmy. We would be questioning the character of a murdered man. Then again, I had no intention of approaching anyone in his family, and it would be a good opportunity to learn more about him.
“I’ve been thinkin’ about Jerry,” he said slowly, as though he anticipated my reaction and was preparing himself for it.
“And?”
“Him workin’ on Drummond’s land might be a good thing.”
My mouth fell open. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He held up a hand. “Now hear me out.”
I gave him a dark look.
“Jerry might be a little slow at times, but he isn’t stupid. What if he has his own reason for workin’ for Drummond?”
“And what would that be?” In my mind’s eye, I saw Bart Drummond. Then a new fear struck me. “Oh my God. Do you think Bart considers this a favor?”
His eyes widened. “What? No. Jerry didn’t ask him for a job. He said Bart offered it.”
“So why do you think Jerry took it?” I asked.
“What if Jerry means to spy on him?”
“Jerry? Spy?” I asked in shock, but after a moment’s consideration, I realized it wasn’t such a shocking suggestion after all. Jerry had shot Carson Purdy, saving our lives. He was tougher than he seemed. And yet… “He has no reason to. He has no idea we’re digging up dirt on Bart, and I’ve never heard anything about him having a personal vendetta against the Drummonds. His wife died of cancer, which not even Bart Drummond could have pulled off. It seems unlikely.”
“Maybe so, but we could try to use him.”
“First, listen to what you just said,” I said, getting irritated. “Use Jerry? The man who saved our lives?” I shook my head. “No. We will not be using Jerry.”
He reached across the table and placed his hand over mine. Tingles shot up my arm and I ached to turn my hand over and link our fingers. To prolong the moment. Which irritated me given the fact I was pissed. It made me question my judgment. Again.
“Carly, that’s not what I meant,” he said, squeezing my hand, obviously oblivious to my reaction. “It was a poor choice of words, so just hear me out. That man thinks the world of you. He’d keep an eye out for things if you asked.”
“I’m already worried about him working for the devil himself. The last thing he needs is to put himself at further risk.” I shook my head again, forcing myself to pull my hand out from underneath his. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Okay,” he said, sitting back in his seat. “We’ll leave it be.”
Maybe so, but I couldn’t help thinking that he only intended to leave it be for now.
Standing, he picked up his plate and walked over to the sink. “Let’s agree to check in with each other at some point today. Where are you going to get started?”
I stood too, pursing my lips. “Ewing. I’m thinking I might go see Thelma at the nursing home. She knows a lot about Bart’s favors. I think I found the house fire she mentioned in my research. A lot of innocent people died. If we can link Bart to that one, we might have something. Maybe she’ll tell me more this time because I have names and dates.”
Thelma was my friend Greta’s grandmother, and she’d proven a wealth of information about all things Drum related. Particularly the Drummonds.
“Just be careful what you allude to.” Since Hank didn’t have a dishwasher, Marco plugged the sink and filled it with soap and water. “We don’t want to tip anyone off to what you’re up to.”
“Thelma won’t tell anyone.”
“Probably not, but there’s a chance other people might be listening.” He held out his hand, reaching for my plate.
“You sound paranoid,” I said, handing it to him with a weak smile. “But so am I. I’ll be careful.”
He washed a plate and handed it to me to dry, I took it without even thinking. We’d spent enough time together to have a comfortable routine when we were at Hank’s—he preferred washing and I liked to put the dishes away.
“If you’re planning on bringing Pam’s daughter a casserole today,” he said, scrubbing the next plate, “you might want to run to the Dollar General to pick up some ingredients that are more Drum friendly.”
I laughed. “You think the good people of Drum won’t like cauliflower rice?”
He shot me a grin over his shoulder. “Not likely. I love you, and even I won’t eat it.” He froze for a second before turning back to the sink. “You know what I meant.”
Still, some of the awkwardness from the night before had leaked back in. My heart stuttered. Marco’s affection for me went deeper than friendship, and however reluctant I was to admit it, I knew the same was true of my feelings for him. But if we brought it out into the open, we’d have to do something about it, and I still wasn’t ready. So I ignored his profession, even as it burned inside of me.
“Message received,” I said in a teasing tone. “No casseroles with cauliflower rice for you or the citizens of Drum.”
He handed me a plate, his ornery grin back. “Trust me. We all thank you.”
We finished up the dirty dishes, and he helped me decide on what to bring Pam’s daughter and Sandy from the ladies club. Chicken and rice casserole for Ashlynn, and brownies for Sandy. I had all the ingredients for both and wouldn’t have to run into town to get anything.
Marco pulled the drain stopper and let the water out of the sink, then cast a glance at the clock on the wall. “I need to get going, but if you’re still in Ewing this afternoon, give me a call. I have an interview there at one.” He hesitated, sounding unsure of himself. “Maybe we can do a late lunch.”
“I’d like that,” I said, hating that we were suddenly tiptoeing around each other. A week ago we would have just planned it and been done with it.
He dried his hands with a towel, his biceps reacting to the simple movement in a way that attracted my eyes. Then he turned to me, putting his hands on my upper arms as he held my gaze with a serious expression. “Be careful, Carly. Very careful. Try not to look too suspicious.”
“Okay.”
He hesitated again, acting like he wanted to give me a hug, but instead he dropped his hold and headed for the front door.
I followed, my heart heavy. Hank was in his chair, still petting his kitten. I realized too late I hadn’t been careful about letting Letty out. She bolted over the threshold, straight for the bird feeder. Birds went flying, some squawking in protest.
“Look what you did,” Hank grumbled, then pushed out a sigh.
“She’s a hellcat, Hank,” Marco said with a grin as he opened his car door.
“I thought gettin’ that cat fixed would settle her down,” Hank said.
Marco laughed. “I was talkin’ about her owner.”
I snorted and rolled my eyes, but I grinned back. “Better that than a pushover.”
Hank grumbled something about being stuck with two hellcats, and at least Smoky was sweeter than pie, but he gave me a soft look. I’d been a pushover, and now I wasn’t. He knew it and was as proud of me as I was of myself.
We watched Marco pull away in silence while Letty skulked around the yard, trying to find more birds to torment.
“You two okay?” Hank asked.
I started to tell him we were fine, but I was done lying to him. I might keep things from him—sometimes because he insisted he didn’t want to know all of my secrets—but I refused to lie. “Honestly, I don’t know.”
�
��That boy loves you, you know.”
Tears stung my eyes. “I’ve suspected.”
“You love him too.”
I shrugged. My feelings were complicated, mostly because I didn’t know how to trust them. “Maybe.”
He kept his gaze on Letty, who was still as a tree stump, watching the bird feeder. “I’ve been in love a few times. Only found one woman I loved more than I loved myself. That’s a sign of true love, girl. If you love someone else enough to give up part of yourself to make them happy.”
The pancakes began to churn in my stomach. I wasn’t sure I would ever love anyone enough to give up part of myself. Not anymore. “I gave up part of myself for a man before, Hank. That’s why I’m standing here now.”
“You picked the wrong man, girlie. Ya both gotta be willing to sacrifice yourselves, or it ain’t gonna work. That’s why Wyatt was never gonna be the one for you. He wasn’t willing to give you what you needed.” He pointed toward the road. “That man would take a bullet for you without even blinkin’. He’d move to Timbuktu if you asked. He’d give you babies if you want ’em, and not if you don’t. But you gotta love him the same way, or it won’t work any better than bein’ with Wyatt.”
His words beat into me. They had the feeling of truth. But even though I knew Marco would run with me if I asked, I doubted he’d be happy about that decision. And I couldn’t think of a single thing I was willing to give up for him. I wasn’t sure if that was a sign I didn’t love him enough or if it just made me a bitch. Part of me felt like I had nothing left to give up.
“Don’t look so troubled,” Hank said with a sad smile. “You don’t trust easy, as you shouldn’t, but you trust Marco more than anyone else in this God-forsaken town. That has to mean something.”
“What if it takes me too long to figure out how I really feel?” I asked. “What if he gets tired of waiting?”
Hank reached over and took my hand. “Then it wasn’t meant to be. There ain’t no rule book that says we get a great love. And there ain’t no rule that says we won’t get several. But I truly believe the Almighty has a plan for us. That He takes the shit life throws at us and turns it into fertilizer for new things.”
Buried in Secrets Page 7