Clearly, an invitation to leave.
She held up her forefinger. “Just a couple more things. Your restaurant started out as a family operation. After your cousin’s death, did any other family members help out? Your wife? Children?”
“No.”
Lacey wanted to ask more, but his “no” had a ring of finality to it. Okay. She switched off her tablet and tucked it into her purse.
She wasn’t ready to go yet, though. Some off-the-record talking was yet to be done. She hoped.
“You’ve done a great job with the place,” she said, gazing around. “I remember my mother saying how much she liked working here.”
“Yeah? That didn’t end so well, did it?”
Lacey winced, but doggedly went on. “You gave her a job when my family needed money.”
Jorgen rubbed his forehead. “I gave her a job because she applied for it, and one of my waitresses recommended her.”
“Bonnie, wasn’t that her name?”
“Yeah, Bonnie Rosen. They were friends.”
“Was my mother a good employee?”
He raised one eyebrow. “Well, she was friendly. Sometimes too friendly.”
Lacey leaned forward. “Can you remember who she was friendly with?”
He made a sweeping gesture. “Every guy she waited on.”
“Can you remember any names?”
Jorgen gripped the edge of the bar with both hands. “What’s this about, Lacey? You got some agenda besides the articles you’re writing for Elton Watts?”
“I’m, ah, thinking of writing my family history.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Look, I had enough of your family ten years ago. Having my restaurant dragged into your father’s trial nearly ruined my reputation. Your mother gave us a bad name with her…her flirting and her…her carrying on.” His face turned red.
“But—”
“I don’t know what your game is, but don’t come around under the pretense of working for our town’s celebration when you got another reason. You’re asking for trouble.”
“Trouble? What kind of trouble?”
His gaze fell on the tape recorder. “And turn that off!” He reached for the machine.
Lacey snatched up the recorder just as his fingers grazed the top. She switched it off and thrust it into her purse. “There. Is there anything you want to say to me now?”
“Far’s I’m concerned, we’re done here.” He grabbed her coffee cup and dumped what remained into the sink. Then he pulled a towel from the rack and swiped the counter.
“Jorgen!” someone called. “I’m here.”
A woman stepped through the doorway into the bar. “Oh, I didn’t know you were busy…” She squinted at Lacey as she came closer. “You’re Lacey Morgan, aren’t you? I haven’t seen you in a lo-o-ng time. Do you remember me?”
Lacey studied the woman. “Yes, I believe I do. You’re my mother’s friend Bonnie—”
“Right. Bonnie Rosen.”
Bonnie had short, reddish-blond hair cut in uneven lengths. Her short-sleeved blue blouse had an owl appliquéd on the pocket, and the matching flared skirt hit her legs just below the knees. High-topped black shoes completed her outfit.
“What brings you here?” Bonnie looked from Lacey to Jorgen.
Lacey explained her assignment. “Jorgen’s been telling me the history of the restaurant.” She glanced at Jorgen, who was still polishing the bar vigorously. When he didn’t respond, she said, “I was just leaving. Oh, wait. I do want to take some pictures, especially of that tree stump where the original owl sat.”
“I can show you where that is,” Bonnie said.
“Great.” Lacey jumped off the stool. “Thanks for seeing me today, Mr. Miller.”
“Sure, sure,” he said without looking up.
CHAPTER NINE
BONNIE LED LACEY from the bar, chattering about owls. Despite the clunky shoes, Bonnie moved with a fluid, gliding motion, undoubtedly acquired from all her years as a waitress.
They went through the kitchen, where the cook, a young man in his twenties wearing a white chef’s hat, diced potatoes on a cutting board. He barked orders at three helpers, one stirring a pot on the stove, another slicing bread and a third stacking dinner plates on a shelf. The aromas of roast beef and tomatoes filled the air.
Bonnie waved at the chef as they went by. “Smells wonderful, Frankie.”
“Everything I make is wonderful.” Frankie grinned and tossed the potatoes into the steaming pot on the stove. Water splashed over the sides, sizzling as it hit the burner.
Outside, Lacey slipped on her sunglasses against the bright sunlight. Looking around, she quickly spotted a ceramic owl sitting in a clump of ivy twined around a tree trunk. “Great bird,” she said.
“Yes, he’s the best in the collection,” Bonnie said. “Jorgen found him in an estate sale when he was looking for fixtures for the restaurant.”
“Isn’t he afraid someone might steal him?”
“He’s cemented onto a post that’s been driven into the center of the trunk and into the ground. He’s secure.”
Lacey pulled out her camera and photographed the owl from several angles. When she lowered her camera she caught Bonnie’s worried look.
“Jorgen was hard on you.”
“So you overheard.”
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard enough to get the gist.”
Lacey slipped her camera into her tote. “The interview was going okay until I mentioned my mother.”
Bonnie nodded. “That was a tough time for all of us.”
“You were her friend.”
“I was. I got her the job. And when she and Jorgen clashed, he blamed me.”
“I’d like to hear about that.”
Bonnie glanced at her wristwatch. “I’ve got a few minutes before I’m officially on the job. Let’s sit and we’ll talk.” She nodded at a wrought-iron table and metal chairs.
Lacey sat and slid her hand into her tote again, intending to take out her tape recorder. Then she changed her mind and decided to keep their talk off the record.
“So, why didn’t my mother and Jorgen get along?” she asked.
“He said she was too friendly with the customers—the male customers—and gave the place a bad rep.”
“Was she too friendly?”
Bonnie tilted her head. “Your mom was, well, clueless. She’d never worked before. She didn’t know she could get in trouble by acting that way with customers who might want to get to know her better, if you catch my drift.”
“Like Al Jr.?”
“Yes, like Al.” Bonnie nodded, her expression solemn. “He’d lost his wife when Rory was ten, you know, and never married again. I don’t know why. He was such a nice man.”
“Okay, but who else besides him was my mother friendly with?” Lacey leaned forward.
Bonnie made a sweeping gesture. “Everybody.”
“Can you give me some names?”
Bonnie eyed her. “Hon, what’s this all about? Why do you want to dig up all that old stuff?”
“I want to know my mother better. I was so young at the time—”
“And thick with Rory Dalton. He’s still single, you know.” She smiled, flashing a dimple in her left cheek.
Not wanting to go there, Lacey kept on task. “I read in Mother’s journal that someone was following her home after work. Do you have any idea who?”
“Your mother kept a journal?” Bonnie widened her eyes.
Lacey realized her mistake too late. She waved dismissively. “Just a book where she wrote some poetry.” True enough.
“I never knew anybody followed her home.” Bonnie frowned. “But if so, maybe the person was watching out for her.”
“I never thought of that. Maybe Jorgen?”
“Maybe. He was protective of her, like a dad or a big brother would be.”
“Did he have any family besides his cousin? I asked him if a wife or children helped out in the restaurant
, and he said no, but then clammed up. Like he didn’t want to talk about anything personal.”
“You’re right about that. He’s always been a very private man. But I know he did have a wife and a little girl, too. A couple years after he and Danny started the restaurant, she up and left him and took the girl with her. He said she left because she hated living here and wanted to go back East to live with her folks. He never wanted to talk about them, and so we didn’t ask anymore.”
“Thanks for telling me, Bonnie. I’ll respect his privacy and not mention a wife and child in my article.”
“No problem. But, Lacey, I still want to know, why all this interest in the past?”
Bonnie’s sympathetic manner prompted Lacey to speak frankly. Besides, she’d already revealed the existence of the journal.
“Bonnie, do you really believe my father shot Al Jr. in the back in cold blood?”
Bonnie wrinkled her forehead. “The jury said he did.”
“But what do you believe? You knew my father, didn’t you?”
“Sure, I knew Rick. Me ’n’ Tom went out to dinner with your mom and dad a few times.”
“And?”
Bonnie shrugged. “I felt bad about him going to prison, and really, really bad about losing your mom. She was my friend. But if he did it, he did it.”
“I don’t believe he did. I’ve never accepted the jury’s verdict. I want to find out the truth.”
“What difference does it make now? They’re all dead.”
Lacey straightened her spine. “But I’m not, and it makes a difference to me.”
Bonnie shook her head. “Lacey, hon, stop wasting your time. Get on with your life.”
“Bonnie!”
Jorgen stood in the restaurant’s open back door, his feet spread apart and his hands propped on his hips. A scowl darkened his sun-weathered face.
“What are you doing out here?” he went on. “We open in fifteen minutes. You need to put the daily special sheets in the menus.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
Apology written across her face, Bonnie jumped up.
Lacey stood, too. “My fault. I was photographing the owl—” she gestured toward the tree trunk “—and Bonnie was telling me its history.”
Jorgen swiped the air, as though swatting a fly. “We got a business to run here.”
“Of course. I’m on my way.”
“Nice seeing you again, Lacey, honey.” Bonnie’s gaze lingered on Lacey, and then she turned away and hurried toward the restaurant’s back door. “Coming, boss.”
*
LACEY’S NEXT APPOINTMENT was with Kristal Wilson and her aunt, Millie Nixon, at Millie’s Boutique. A childless widow, Millie had adopted Kris after her parents drowned in a boating accident, and now they worked together in the store.
Lacey stopped to admire the window display of T-shirts with “Silver River Days” across the front and then stepped inside. Kris stood behind the counter wrapping a purchase for a customer. Millie swept by from the dressing rooms, her arms laden with clothing.
“Hello, Lacey. What do you think of this outfit?” Millie held up a blue linen jacket and matching slacks.
“Very nice. Probably not for me, though. I’m pretty much at home in my tights and tees.”
“I know. But if you ever need to, ah, dress up a little, keep this in mind. The color would be great on you.” She hung the outfit on a nearby rack, adding the other items she carried.
Kris’s customer left, and she joined Lacey and Millie. “Hey, Lacey, just in time for lunch.”
“Uh-huh. But let me get some info on the raffle before we go.” She pulled her tablet from her purse.
“The raffle was Kris’s idea.” Millie favored her niece with a fond smile.
“I thought a raffle would be a good way to get people into the stores,” Kris said. “Each participating business will have their prizes on display and a jar or a box to collect the tickets.”
“What are you offering?” Lacey tapped the tablet’s keyboard.
“Several of my handbags. Come see.”
Kris led Lacey to a window display featuring a large, barrel-shaped glass jar surrounded by several handbags.
“Beautiful.” Lacey exchanged her tablet for her camera and snapped a picture.
“Aunt Millie thought we should offer the vinyl purses she ordered.” She cast a covert glance at Millie, who had finished hanging up the clothing and was now tidying the counter. “She’s not exactly onboard where my designs are concerned.”
“I can’t imagine any woman not wanting one of these.” Lacey ran her fingers over a bag’s brocaded fabric.
Kris laughed. “You have to say that. You’re my friend.”
“No. And to prove it, when I get my raffle tickets, I’ll put them all in your jar.”
Kris drew back and raised her eyebrows. “Then you’re staying for the celebration? I hoped you would.”
“Ah, no, I’m not. But do I have to be present to win?”
“No, but I wish you would be here, for lots of reasons.”
Lacey sighed. “I don’t even know if I’m doing the right thing by staying this long.”
Kris looked at her wristwatch. “Let’s continue that subject over lunch.”
A few minutes later, seated in a cozy booth in the restaurant section at Abby’s Bakery, and having given the waitress their orders, Kris and Lacey chatted about the upcoming celebration, Kris’s new handbag designs and Lucas’s day-camp experiences.
Visiting with her old friend gave Lacey a warm feeling. She had friends in Boise, but no one had taken Kris’s place. They’d been through a lot together.
After a lull in which they both were busy enjoying their roasted turkey salads, Kris leaned forward and in a low voice asked, “I have to know, Lacey. Are you and Rory getting back together?”
Lacey shook her head. “Not a chance. With our background, how could we?”
“Then why did you take the job with the Sentinel?”
Lacey plucked a roll from the basket and broke it in half. “I read something in my mother’s journal that may prove my father’s innocence.”
Kris dropped her jaw. “What? Are you kidding?”
“No, I’m serious.” She told Kris the story of the amethyst necklace. “I thought staying here awhile longer might help me with my personal quest. That doesn’t mean I’m not interested in the job for Elton. I am. You know how I love history.”
“I do, and I know you’ll give it your all, but I don’t see how a missing necklace proves your father’s innocence.”
“It doesn’t—yet. But it might when I find out what happened to it.”
Kris finished a bite of salad. “I think you’re wasting your time.”
Lacey bristled. “I don’t consider my time wasted. I thought you, of all people, would understand.”
“I’m sorry, but I think you’d be better off putting the past behind you and using your time to get back together with Rory.”
“Oh, like you’re getting back together with Sam?” Lacey bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to sound so sarcastic, but too late to take back the comment now.
Kris’s face turned red. “Our breakup was way different from yours and Rory’s.”
“Yes, as I recall, when Sam went off to college, you were going to wait for him. But while he was gone, you married Nolan instead.”
“Sam and I argued and broke up before I started seeing Nolan. Besides, waiting wasn’t my choice. It was Sam’s.”
“But you didn’t want to leave Silver River to be with him, either.”
“That’s true,” Kris admitted. “I wanted to stay here and work at the store. I owe Aunt Millie a lot.”
“I know.” Lacey’s anger softened. “She’s been a wonderful parent to you all these years. But Sam’s here now, so what’s keeping you two apart?”
Kris looked down at her plate. “It’s too late for us. We really hurt each other.”
“Does that mean you’re never goi
ng to get married again?”
“No, I’m not saying that. But not to Sam.”
Lacey waved a hand. “See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Rory and I are in the same situation. Sometimes, the past just can’t be healed.”
A noisy group passed by on their way to the adjacent booth. After they were settled, Kris said, “I wonder if it’s the same for Sharone and Jaxon? Remember the promise the six of us made when we were in high school? We were all going to be married and live in Silver River and be friends forever.”
“We were young and naive. By the way, has anyone heard from Shar? Or Jax? Last I heard he was at the police academy.”
“He finished that and took a job in Brighton. But no one’s heard from Shar. I don’t think even her parents know where she is. Her mom still has Flower Power, though.”
“I know. I stopped there on my way into town and bought some roses for Gram. I asked about Shar, but her mom just said she wasn’t sure where she was. She acted like she didn’t want to talk about it, so I didn’t push.”
They were silent a moment, and then Kris said, “Oh, Lacey, I don’t want us to argue, but as your friend, I can’t help worrying about you—and Rory, too. I care about both of you. And even if it’s too late for me and Sam, it might not be for you and Rory.”
“That’s not what’s on my mind,” Lacey insisted. “Proving my father’s innocence is what matters.”
After they had finished lunch and gone their separate ways, Kris’s last words lingered in Lacey’s mind. She’d all but echoed Gram’s accusation that Lacey had an ulterior motive for her inquiry into Al Jr.’s tragic murder. Well, they were wrong. She and Rory? Together again? No way. Nothing could be further from her mind.
*
RORY WAS POLISHING the rear fender of his ’57 Chevy when Sam drove up in his Mustang. Sam stepped from his car and entered the garage. “That’s tonight’s project? Spit and polish?”
Rory dug his cloth into the polish can and spread the wax over another section of fender. “Yeah, I’m getting her ready for the show. What’s on your agenda?”
“New wipers. Not that I’m expecting it to rain anytime soon. But they came today, so might as well put them on. Part of the restoration.”
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