Inside the library, much to Benny’s delight, the front parlor was solely dedicated to media, including a bank of state-of-the-art computers.
Charlotte was truly impressed with the entire facility as well as the eager, gracious staff. “Is there something in particular you’re looking for?” the librarian at the information desk asked with a smile. “Not being nosy, mind you. It’s just that I was born and raised here and know just about everything that’s happened in the past forty years.”
A smile pulled at Charlotte’s lips. The woman was a perfect cliché of a little old lady librarian, complete with blue-gray, bouffant-styled hair and horn-rimmed glasses.
Shades of Bitsy Duhè.
Like Bitsy, Charlotte had no doubt, she made it her business to know everything that went on in Oakdale.
Confiding in the woman would probably speed up her research process, and though she was sorely tempted, after a moment’s hesitation, Charlotte shook her head. “Thanks, that’s very kind of you. But what I’m looking for is the type of thing that I’ll recognize when I see it, if you know what I mean.” Which was the truth, sorta kinda. Besides, for all she knew, the librarian could be best friends with Alex’s mother, or worse, a relative of the Scotts. One thing that she’d learned about Oakdale, the citizens seemed to stick together and protected their own. Nope, best not to go there or stir up that hornet’s nest.
While Charlotte scanned headline after headline of the weekly newspaper, and learned more than she’d ever wanted to know about Oakdale, Benny searched the Net at one of the computers for anything he could find about Alex Scott.
An hour later, Charlotte felt the need to stretch, as well as take a much-needed bathroom break. Then she hit pay dirt. Their time reference had been close, but what she’d found came at the end of the year before their calculated year. It continued through that year, and on into the following one.
Enthralled, she scanned through article after article that detailed every aspect of the murder, Alex’s arrest, and his trial.
According to one article, the prosecution insisted that, because of the Scotts’ prominence in the community and the local publicity, any jury chosen would be biased in Alex’s favor. He’d filed a motion to have the trial moved to Jackson, and the judge had granted his motion.
So that’s why, she thought. She’d wondered why a town so tightly knit would convict a member of one of its most prominent families, with what appeared to be circumstantial evidence, especially since there were no witnesses.
In the next article she read, Alex’s car was found parked near the street-end of the long driveway; his sister’s body was found a few feet in front of the vehicle.
Throughout the trial, Alex had vehemently denied killing his sister. He had testified that the last thing he remembered that night was feeling sick and going inside the house to the bathroom to throw up. He claimed that he must have passed out, because the next thing he remembered was waking up on the bathroom floor to the sound of police sirens. Only problem, a couple of the kids who had been at the party testified about hearing Alex and his sister arguing about his promise to give her a ride to a girlfriend’s house.
There were pictures of Alex’s parents, his sister, and even a shot of their home. But the picture that got to her most was one of Alex being led away from the courthouse in handcuffs. It was a huge color picture that took up almost a third of the front page.
Nice-looking kid, she thought as she stared at the skinny boy with his thick mop of blond hair. In the picture, two burly policemen who towered over Alex were leading him away from the courthouse. The teenager’s shoulders were slumped in defeat, and there was a tortured, hangdog expression on his pale face as he stared back over his shoulder at someone. Probably his parents, she figured.
There was no mistaking the lost look in his dark eyes, and Charlotte felt her heart breaking just thinking about what must have been going through his mind at that moment. Poor kid. Yes, he was eighteen at the time, but from personal experience in dealing with her own son, Charlotte knew that eighteen didn’t automatically mean he was a full-grown, responsible, mature adult. In fact, in many cases, it meant just the opposite. In Charlotte’s opinion, the years between fifteen and twenty-one were fraught with danger and pitfalls, especially for boys.
As if mesmerized, she continued staring at the picture. Then a strange thing happened. It was only a feeling, just the barest hint of familiarity, but the longer she stared, the more convinced she became that she’d seen Alex somewhere before.
At first she thought that it was just another instance of her imagination playing tricks on her, but the more she tried to convince herself that she was imagining things, the more she came to believe that there was definitely something there.
Maybe it was his eyes. She squinted her own eyes in an attempt to block out everything but his eyes. Yep, that was it. Somewhere, at some time, she’d seen those eyes before. She was sure of it. But when? And where?
A hand descended on her shoulder from behind, and she almost jumped out of her skin.
“Sorry,” Benny said with a pat to her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but I did call out several times.”
Her heart still pounding and unable to keep the excitement out of her voice, she said, “Look—look at this.” She pointed to the screen. “Please tell me I’m not imagining things. I could swear that I’ve seen this person before.”
Benny stared at the picture. After several long moments, he finally shrugged and shook his head.
“He doesn’t seem familiar to you?”
Again, Benny shook his head. “Sorry, not really.”
“You’re sure?” she persisted.
Benny nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I’m sure.”
Charlotte sighed. “Phooey, and here I thought that I was on to something.” With one last look at the picture, she turned off the machine, then stood and stretched. “Any luck at the computer?”
“No, ma’am.” He gave her a sheepish look. “Maybe if I was more computer literate or had several days to read all of the hits, I could find him, but—”
Charlotte squeezed his arm. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up over this. I didn’t have much luck either, except for confirming what Dawn told us about the Scott boy being railroaded for his sister’s murder.”
Benny grimaced. “Guess there’s nothing left to find here, then.” Through gritted teeth, his tone angry with frustration, he said, “This whole trip—nothing but a complete waste.”
“Not a complete waste,” she insisted. “We’re not giving up yet. As for finding him through the computer, my sister, Maddie, is great at that kind of stuff.”
Brave words, she thought, but truth be told, she wasn’t quite sure what to do next. While it was true that Madeline had helped her find articles written by Bruce King, she had no idea if her sister could help them locate Alex Scott using the computer. Or even if Maddie would try.
Charlotte glanced up at Benny. “I need to visit the ladies’ room; then how about that cup of coffee? I don’t know about you, but I could use a shot of caffeine about now.”
“Yes, ma’am. Me too.”
After her trip to the ladies’ room, Charlotte gave a little wave to the librarian who had helped them, smiled, and mouthed the word “Thanks,” then followed Benny out of the library to where he had parked the limo.
By mutual consent, they agreed to return to the Coffee Corner. There, over coffee, they would discuss what to do next. Though the drive was short and took very little time, for some reason the picture of Alex Scott haunted Charlotte. No matter how many times she told herself that she was just imagining things, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d seen him before. But again, when and where had she seen him?
Chapter 13
As they entered the Coffee Corner, it smelled just as good as Charlotte remembered from earlier that morning. Unbelievably, almost every table in the little café was occupied. Suddenly, all conversation stopped, and all eyes turned to sta
re at them as they headed for the counter.
“Not a good sign,” Benny said beneath his breath. There was dead silence another moment; then slowly, the buzz of conversation began again, and Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief.
Once they had their coffee, Benny led the way to one of the only two empty tables, the one farthest from the counter, near the entrance. After they had seated themselves, in a low voice Benny said, “Wonder what’s wrong with him?” He tilted his head toward Joe Harper behind the counter.
Charlotte chanced a quick look at the proprietor, but the man had turned his back to them. “Probably the same thing that’s wrong with everyone else in here?”
“What’s that old saying? If looks could kill?”
Charlotte shuddered. Though neither Joe Harper nor the other patrons were exactly hostile, it became increasingly obvious that none of them were thrilled with her and Benny’s presence in the coffeehouse.
Charlotte took a drink of her coffee. The café au lait was strong and hot, just the way she loved it. She leaned across the table and in almost a whisper, said, “The only thing I can think of is that Mr. Harper’s cold-shoulder attitude has to have something to do with me trying to get in touch with Dawn. As for the rest, who knows how they found out? News travels fast in a small town.” She frowned. “Still, why would me asking the whereabouts of Alex Scott be a problem?”
“You’ve got me. Like you said, ‘Who knows?’ But I guess that answers our question.”
“About whether to stay or leave?”
Benny nodded.
Charlotte stared down at her cup. “Yeah, I’m beginning to get the feeling that we’ve worn out our welcome in Oakdale.”
“Guess it’s time to pack our bags and hit the road.”
“Might as well,” she replied. “Given what I’ve seen so far, I doubt seriously if anyone will be willing to talk to us now.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
Charlotte stared down at her coffee for long seconds, her mind racing. They’d come so close to finding out something important. She could feel it in her bones. Too close to just walk away. Somebody in this town knew something. She was sure of it. Then, like the proverbial lightbulb switching on in her head, she knew what they had to do.
“Unless…” She raised her gaze to stare at Benny.
“Unless what?”
“There is one more person who might talk to us.” When Benny gave her a puzzled look, she lowered her voice to a whisper, and said, “Remember our waitress at Karen’s Café? You know—the one who flirted with you? I believe her name was Sally.”
When Benny rolled his eyes, she kept her features deceptively composed, and in the most serious voice she could conjure, she said, “I figure you could use your manly wiles on her—”
“My what?” Benny stared at her as if she’d suddenly grown two heads.
The people at the next table glanced their way, so Charlotte cupped her hand around her mouth. “Manly wiles,” she repeated softly, hard-pressed to keep from grinning.
“What the heck is that?”
“Well, folks usually say feminine wiles, but I figure what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.” Benny’s expression reminded Charlotte of someone who had just sucked a lemon. Unable to contain herself any longer, she burst out in laughter.
When several people around them turned to stare, Charlotte covered her mouth in an attempt to smother her laughter. “Just teasing,” she told him, fighting for control. “But—” She held up her forefinger for emphasis. “All you’d have to do is flirt with her a little and she’d be putty in your hands.”
Benny shook his head. “I’m not believing this.”
“Aw, come on, Benny. ‘Take one for the Gipper’—or in this case, take one for Angel.”
“That’s ‘win one for the Gipper.’”
“Whatever.” Charlotte waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Will you do it?” she hurriedly added. “All you’d have to do is stand there looking all manly and smile at her. I’d do all of the talking.”
“And this is the best you can come up with?”
“At the moment, yes, unless you have a better idea.”
With a grimace of distaste, Benny shrugged, then muttered, “Maybe she won’t be working tonight.”
Ignoring him, Charlotte glanced at her watch. “It’s still a bit early for dinner. Maybe we can catch her before she begins her shift.”
A few minutes later when they neared the restaurant, Charlotte said, “Try to park so that we can keep an eye on the front entrance.”
“But what if the wait staff goes in and out a back door?” Benny slowed the limo to turn into the restaurant’s small parking lot across the street.
Just as he turned into the parking lot, Charlotte spotted a car pulling up alongside the curb in front of the restaurant. The passenger-side door opened, and she recognized the woman who climbed out as the hostess. The woman blew a kiss at the driver, then turned and went inside the front entrance. “I think they go in through the front entrance,” Charlotte said.
Grumbling about know-it-all women, Benny parked the limo so that it faced the front of the restaurant. Two more vehicles pulled up and dropped off passengers in front, and both women were dressed in the black-and-white waitress uniforms.
“Maybe she got to work early and is already inside,” Charlotte said after several minutes had passed. “We might have to go inside after all.”
“I don’t think so,” Benny retorted. “Isn’t that her?” He pointed at a lone woman who was walking toward them from down the block.
Unless her eyes deceived her, Charlotte couldn’t believe their luck. The woman was Sally the waitress, and she looked as if she was headed straight for the limo.
“Hurry, roll the windows down,” she told Benny.
The second the windows were down, Sally’s face split into a huge grin, and she waved.
“Wave back,” Charlotte urged quietly. “And smile.” Though Benny groaned as if in pain, he dutifully smiled and waved.
Within seconds, Sally walked right up to the driver’s side. “Well, hey there,” she drawled as she bent over and braced her arm along the window ledge, her face within inches of Benny’s. “I didn’t expect to see y’all again so soon.”
To Benny’s credit he didn’t back away. Charlotte leaned toward him and smiled at Sally. “What time does the restaurant open for dinner?”
“Not for another thirty minutes or so,” Sally responded, her eyes never leaving Benny’s face. “Say, I was just wondering, would it be okay if I could see the inside of your car? I’ve never been inside a limo before.”
This was almost too good to be true. “Of course it would,” Charlotte answered quickly before Benny could object.
Unlike the cool reception they had received back at the coffeehouse, it was evident that no one had bothered to tell Sally that she wasn’t supposed to talk to the strangers in town. Either that or Sally was just too enamored with Benny and his limo to care what the rest of the town thought.
“In fact,” Charlotte said, “if you have a few minutes, Benny could drive us around the block. Couldn’t you, Benny?”
When Benny turned to stare at Charlotte, a shadow of annoyance crossed his face. After a moment, though, he nodded. “Sure, why not?”
Sally’s eyes widened, and she backed up a couple of steps. “That would be terrific,” she gushed.
Taking his time, Benny slowly opened the door, and with the enthusiasm of a man suffering from arthritis, he climbed out and opened the back door. With a stiff little bow and a wave of his hand, he motioned for Sally to climb inside.
“I think I’ll join you back there,” Charlotte said, and before Benny had time to close Sally’s door, Charlotte hopped out of the passenger’s side, opened the back door, and climbed inside, seating herself in the seat opposite to Sally.
“This is just gorgeous,” Sally said in awe as she smoothed her hand over the sumptuous leather seat, then eyed
the minibar. “Is that one of those compact refrigerators?” Without waiting for a response, she opened the small door next to the minibar. “It is. Oh, my goodness. Just look at that.”
Inside were a variety of drinks including soft drinks, water, and wine.
“Help yourself,” Benny told her as he firmly shut the door, then climbed back inside the driver’s seat.
Sally glanced over at Charlotte as if waiting for Charlotte to give her permission as well. “I think I’ll take a bottle of water,” Charlotte told her with a smile, then leaned forward and selected a bottle of the special brand of water that Angel kept on hand.
“If it’s okay, I’d like a Coke,” Sally said.
Once they had their drinks and Benny had pulled out of the parking lot, Charlotte cleared her throat and said, “When we met the first time, you said that you went to high school with Marti. Would you mind me asking you a few questions?”
“About Marti?”
“Yes and no,” Charlotte responded. “Benny and I need your help.”
“My help?”
Charlotte nodded. “I don’t guess you’ve read today’s newspaper yet.”
Sally laughed. “No, I don’t read the newspaper—not the local one anyway. It’s more of a gossip rag and social tabloid about the uppity-ups who run this town.”
Charlotte sighed. How to begin? “Listen, Sally, Benny and I came here in hopes of helping Marti out of a jam.”
Sally frowned. “Are you talking about Marti being arrested for murdering that no-good sleaze Nick Franklin?”
“You know about that?”
Sally smiled. “I may not read the local rag they call a newspaper, but I keep up with what’s going on in the outside world. I subscribe to several real newspapers, but unfortunately, I’m always a day or so behind, thanks to our local post office. I didn’t really know about Marti’s arrest until after I finished work last night. And since I plan to study law one of these days and I know her personally, Marti’s whole case really interested me.”
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