7
Outside the jail, Livy glanced at Alex. He seemed nervous . . . or anxious. “Kate’s house is on the way to Johnny B’s. You want to drop your car off there? And Kate probably has something in the fridge we can eat.”
He checked his watch. “Noon already? I am hungry. Let’s do that.”
A few minutes later, Livy turned into her aunt’s drive behind Alex’s blue Impala. Maybe over lunch she’d get a little more information on what they’d found at Samantha Jo’s apartment this morning.
“Chicken salad is in the refrigerator,” Kate said when they entered the kitchen.
“Sounds good,” Alex said.
“It always is.” Livy took the bowl out and sliced a piece of her aunt’s sourdough bread as Kate set plates on the bar. She had no idea how Kate ran a successful pottery shop and found time to cook. She glanced at Alex. “Bread?” When he nodded, she cut two more slices. “Why did Ben check with ViCAP on this case?”
“I found a note at Samantha Jo’s apartment, warning her to quit the job at Johnny B’s. It sounded like maybe she’d received an earlier one. Did Robyn ever receive anything like a note?”
“No,” Kate answered. “Chase and I searched the house from top to bottom after she left, trying to find a clue of why. We didn’t find anything like that. Everything at the house looked like Robyn thought she was coming back. No clothes or shoes were missing, and she’d put sausage from the freezer in the refrigerator to thaw for breakfast the next morning. I’ll never believe she left home that day with intentions of never returning.”
Which would mean Robyn didn’t leave voluntarily. Livy’s muscles tightened. Which opened the very real possibility she was dead. Except, she had mailed Kate a letter after she left. And she’d called Chase and left a message. Livy focused on that as she finished her sandwich. Fifteen minutes later, she placed her paper napkin on the plate. “You ready?”
Alex nodded. “Good sandwich, Kate. Thanks.”
“Glad you enjoyed it.” Kate turned to Livy. “I’m so glad you took off this afternoon. Now I can deliver an order of mugs if you’ll pick Abby up at school.”
“At three?” When Kate nodded, she checked her watch. That would give them a little over two hours at Johnny B’s. Should be plenty of time. “I’ll pick her up.”
When Livy pulled into Johnny B’s complex, Alex whistled. “This is like a mini strip mall.”
She laughed. “Yeah. There are all sorts of shops here, from food to clothing to even a game room. He’s making a fortune leasing it all out—except for his original diner and coffee shop. That’s where he hangs out. A lot of truckers really like this place, and not only truckers but tourists and local folks as well.”
Livy drove around to the side, past a long row of eighteen-wheelers.
“Some of these look like they have sleepers. Why would they stop here?”
“To eat, take a shower, and sometimes just to have a long bed to stretch out in.” She pulled into a parking space in front of the neon sign that proclaimed Johnny B’s Grill and Coffee Shoppe. “If we’re lucky, Johnny B will be here.”
“Just who is Johnny B? Is that his name?”
“Johnny Baxter is his legal name, but no one calls him anything but Johnny B. He saw a place like this out in the Pacific Northwest. Somewhere around Seattle, I think. Anyway, about ten years ago, he opened up the first section of the plaza. It was a really nice convenience store where truckers could get diesel, a shower, and food. Word spread through the trucker world, and he soon was adding on. As far as I know, he runs a clean place. No drugs and his waitstaff at the lounge a few doors down have been instructed if they are aware that a trucker is going out on the road, no alcoholic beverages. Says he’s not going to be responsible for some family getting hit head-on by a drunken truck driver. There are no alcoholic beverages sold at the grill. This is a place where a trucker—or anyone—can get a decent meal and good coffee.”
“I’m sure you questioned him when Robyn left?”
“I did, Ben did, even Chase. Johnny B was shocked. Said he never saw it coming. Said she never flirted with any of her customers, was just always pleasant and friendly, but not too friendly.”
“Here’s hoping he has information on Samantha Jo.”
Livy hesitated. Logan Point was a small town, suspicious of strangers. “I need you to pose as a tourist. I’ll ask the questions and—” She broke off as a frown creased his brow. “Something wrong?”
“I don’t know. Did I just lose control of this case?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We need a plan, and I’m providing one. Even if I’m with you, people inside the diner might not open up to a private investigator. What’s your problem?”
“I know we need a plan, but I thought we might come up with one together.”
Livy stared at him. Together? And where did he get off telling her how to do her job?
“There! That’s the problem.”
“What?”
“It’s written all over your face.” He folded his arms across his chest. “You don’t respect my abilities because I’m a private detective. Just because you’re a cop and I’m not doesn’t mean I’m stupid. Before we go any further, we need to get this out of the way.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Or was it? Maybe unconsciously she had leaned that way. “Just how do you suggest we handle this?”
“I’ll go in as a tourist, like you said.”
She huffed. “If you agree with me,” she said through her teeth, “what’s the problem?”
“Your high-handed tone, that’s the problem. Don’t talk down to me. You’ve done it ever since we met.”
Is that what she’d done? Probably. She tilted her head, taking in his firm jaw and chiseled lips. Alex Jennings was not a pushover. She liked knowing he’d stand his ground. “I apologize.”
“Thank you. And I agree that you should ask the questions. That is what you were about to say?”
“Yes. Once I’m asking questions, you can chime in, like you had heard about the case.”
“I like that, but I think I should go in first and order. That way it’ll give time for everyone to look me over and hopefully decide I’m not a cop or private eye.”
She hated to admit he was right. “Okay, go ahead. I’ll check my email.”
After he’d entered the diner, she clicked on the email app on her phone. The sheriff in Knoxville whom she’d emailed earlier today had replied. Nothing new on Robyn’s file.
After ten minutes, she climbed out of her SUV and walked toward Johnny B’s, noticing a note in the front window advertising that Johnny B’s was hiring a waitress. Probably not Samantha Jo’s job since she’d quit a month ago.
Inside the diner, Livy paused to let her eyes adjust to the darker atmosphere. Alex sat at the counter. She recognized three locals at tables near the front. One of them was finishing up his lunch while the other two had coffee cups in front of them as they were surfing the internet.
She counted eight customers she didn’t recognize seated at other tables. Over-the-road truckers, she figured. She spied Johnny B at the end of the counter behind a cash register, wearing his customary white shirt and black pants. The buttons on his shirt strained to contain his ample belly. Finding him here meant this must be their lucky day. A smile stretched across his face when he spied her.
“Detective Olivia Reynolds. You’re a sight for sore eyes. What brings you to my place today?”
“Need to ask a few questions about one of your former waitresses. And that’s Livy to you, mister.” She grinned but was dead serious. Other than her father, no one but Mac had ever gotten away with calling her Olivia.
“I told Ben Logan yesterday everything I know about Samantha Jo Woodson. Can I buy you a cup of French Market?”
“I think I’ll pass today.” Johnny B knew she didn’t like chicory, but he always asked anyway. She slid onto a stool in front of the owner. “Did you know someone threatened Samantha Jo because she worked here?�
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Johnny B’s eyes widened. “No way. This is a decent place. I mean, you got truckers here, and they get a little too friendly sometimes, but Samantha Jo never led any of them on. Who was it?”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t be here. Did you ever see anyone take a special interest in her?”
“Half the men who came in here, that’s all. She’s a pretty girl.” He slid a handful of bills into the register. “Ask any of these men. Jason there”—Johnny B pointed toward one of the three men she’d recognized—“now, he never would ask her out, but he wanted to. And Timothy over there, he got red-faced every time she came around him, just like Bobby over there.”
Livy shifted to where she could see the men. “Do you think they’d mind talking to me?”
“All you can do is ask.”
“Might help if you encouraged them.”
“Yes, Olivia.” Johnny B rapped a glass on the counter. “Okay, gents, you all know Olivia Reynolds. She wants to ask you some questions about Samantha Jo. You help her out. Okay?”
Livy shook her head at Johnny’s use of her full name as she walked to the tables. She paused at the counter beside Alex as he sipped his coffee. She stared at the menu on the wall that listed the different coffees. Taylor’s words rang in her mind. You need to open yourself up to different possibilities. Why not? She dug three dollars out of her pocket. “Johnny B, I think I’d like a hazelnut latte, if you don’t mind.”
He made a face, and she laughed. That was worth the inflated price of the drink. “If you don’t approve of lattes, you shouldn’t sell them.”
She acknowledged Alex as she waited for the waitress to make her latte. He was close enough to the tables to follow their conversation. “Afternoon,” she said. “Passing through town?”
“Something like that.” He pulled out a twenty and pointed to the coffee mugs behind the counter for sale. “I’d like to buy two of these,” he said to the waitress as she handed Livy her cup.
Livy stared at the cup. Whipped cream in coffee? What had she ordered? She took a sip and forced herself not to gag. No way would she let Johnny B know it was her first latte or that she didn’t like it.
She shifted her attention to Jason Fremont, a local hunter, trapper, and taxidermist. He always seemed to belong in another era with the leather vests he’d made from skins he’d tanned. His table was between Timothy Nolan’s and Bobby Cook’s. “Hey, guys. Do you mind if I sit here, Jason? That way I can talk to all three of you at the same time.”
“My pleasure, Detective Reynolds.” The lanky trapper closed his computer and sat up straighter in his chair. “But I have to wonder why you’re here asking questions. You’re a Memphis cop.”
The usually quiet Jason surprised her. She didn’t have a ready answer and took another sip of the drink as she scrambled for one. The latte was growing on her. “Well—”
“Yeah,” Timothy Nolan said. “Did Ben Logan call you in on the case?”
She studied the part-time trucker. He lived with his elderly mother on a farm near the river. Where Jason was quiet, Timothy was outgoing. “No, Ben didn’t call me in, but he’s aware I’m asking questions. As to why I’m here, Samantha Jo is my friend.”
“She’s a sweetheart.” The statement came from the rotund Bobby Cook. He pushed his plate back, then picked up his soda and took a long draw. “Somebody said Samantha Jo went missing Saturday,” he said as he put the bottle on the table and used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth.
“No,” Timothy Nolan said. “I saw her Sunday.”
Livy jerked her head around. “Really? Where?”
“Pulling out of the driveway at her apartment. I was on my way to McDonald’s to get breakfast since Molly wasn’t open. I asked her if she wanted to join me.”
“What’d she say?”
“Said she didn’t have time. Had somebody she needed to meet.”
Livy set her mug on the table and pulled out her notebook. “Did you tell Sheriff Logan this?”
“He didn’t ask.” Timothy’s eyes widened. “And I just remembered.”
“See.” Livy jotted his statement in her notes. “Maybe you’ll remember something else.”
“I talked to her Saturday at Molly’s,” Bobby said. “And she didn’t say anything about leaving.”
She turned to Bobby. He had been a few years ahead of her in class, but she knew him from visiting his mother with Kate when she was a kid. She’d been “poorly” in Kate’s terms, and her aunt regularly took bread or vegetables out to her. “How’s your mother?” she asked.
“Like she’s always been. Around the house the main topic we discuss is her ailments and meds. She rarely gets out. Never cooks. That’s why I eat here or down at the diner all the time.”
She hid a smile with a sip of her latte. Mrs. Cook had always enjoyed discussing her health with anyone who would stop and listen. “What did you and Samantha Jo talk about?”
“I always let her do the talking. She wanted to be a big country singer. Johnny B let her sing here one night, and she ain’t half bad.”
“Not half bad? You’re crazy,” Timothy said. “She has a great voice. And one day, she might make it in Nashville if she gets a good break.”
It was evident the two men thought she’d left Logan Point for Nashville. “Did she ever mention anyone she might stay with in Nashville?”
Bobby snorted. “She thought that kid she came here with was going to stake her, but he didn’t have enough money to stake anybody. And then he run off and left her. It’s a wonder she didn’t get pregnant.”
“That’s no way to talk about Samantha Jo.” Low and fierce, Jason Fremont’s voice stilled the other two men. “She never slept with that boy. Not that he didn’t try. I think that’s why he up and left her. And she paid her share of the bills.”
Livy turned to the trapper. “How do you know this, Jason?”
A blush spread up his neck and across his face. “I just know.”
“Do you know where she went?”
“No, but I know she didn’t run off with nobody. And that kid she came here with—wasn’t anything going on between them.”
“When did you see her last?”
“Friday night. We went to the movies after she got off work.”
“Didja kiss her?” Bobby elbowed him.
“None of your business what I did or didn’t do.”
Livy shifted in her chair so she could see Alex in her periphery. He’d swiveled his stool around and was openly listening in. “Are y’all talking about that girl who went missing?”
The three men turned to stare at him. “I couldn’t help but overhear,” Alex said.
Bobby folded his arms across his chest. “Who are you?”
He stood and extended his hand to Bobby. “Alex Jennings. I’m looking for a job here in Logan Point.”
Livy gripped her pen. Where in the world was Alex going with this? As Bobby hesitantly shook Alex’s hand, Johnny B stood and walked to the tables.
“Do you know how to cook? Not sure if you’d be interested, but I need a cook for the evening shift.”
Livy shifted her focus to Johnny B. He’d been paying more attention to their conversation than she’d realized.
“I put myself through college cooking at a local hamburger joint.” Alex tilted his head as though he were considering the job offer. “Let me think about it, and I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
“Good deal,” the restaurant owner replied.
Timothy leaned forward, staring at Alex. “How’d you know about Samantha Jo?”
“I was at Molly’s Diner earlier today, and everyone was talking about it.”
Alex’s gaze slid past Livy, and she turned. The other men in the room stared their way. Since she had their attention, she might as well use the opportunity. Livy slid off the chair and walked where all of them could see her. She counted ten other men in the room and a couple of local women. “I guess you’ve figured out we’re looking for Samantha Jo Woodson,
who used to be a waitress here. If you have any information on her whereabouts, I’d appreciate it if you’d come and talk to me.”
She turned back to Jason, but he’d slipped out the door.
“He didn’t want to talk to you anymore about Samantha Jo,” Bobby said. “He’s been sweet on her ever since she worked here.”
Livy studied the other two regulars. “How long have you been eating here?”
They looked at each other. “I’ve been coming ever since it opened,” Bobby said. “Johnny B doesn’t allow drunks, so I don’t have to worry about getting into no fights to have to explain to Mama.”
“Yeah.” Timothy jerked his head toward the men sitting at tables. “We’ve all been coming here since it opened.” He turned and squinted as he surveyed the room. “Except maybe George there. How long you been coming, George?”
George lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “Couple of years. Why?”
“Do any of you remember my cousin Robyn?” Livy asked.
“That girl that ran off and left her kid?”
Livy turned to look at Timothy just as her watch chimed an alarm, and she checked it. Time to pick up Abby, but first she wanted to hear what Timothy had to say about Robyn. “You knew her?”
“We all did. I always liked her. Never could understand why she worked here, though. I mean, it’s a nice place, but she never seemed the type to work in a diner. But then, neither did Samantha Jo.”
Robyn’s alarm went off at five, and she rolled over, feeling for the snooze button. It had taken her until one to relax enough to sleep, and four hours’ sleep wasn’t enough to make a long trip on. Five minutes later, her alarm went off again, and she groaned. Get up. Unless she wanted to stay in Logan Point overnight, she needed to get on the road, and she pushed herself out of bed. She had to leave by six if she wanted to get a glimpse of Abby as she left school.
After a quick shower, she slathered Amazing Grace lotion on her dry skin. Abby had always loved the scent. What if . . . She brushed the thought away. No way would Abby get close enough to smell the lotion. By six, Robyn was on the road, thankful the morning sun would be behind her. The cities passed by almost in a blur. Kingsport, Knoxville, Chattanooga.
Gone without a Trace Page 7