One Foot in the Grave

by Denise Grover Swank

  “I meant to tell you,” Ruth said in an amused voice behind me. “Wyatt’s waitin’ for you, and he’s got his undies in a twist.”

  Not surprising.

  “Did he mention why?” I asked quietly enough that I hoped he wouldn’t hear me.

  “Nope. He just took a seat and ordered a coffee. He’s on his third cup, so now he’s extra wound up.”

  Great.

  “Thanks.”

  She laughed, but I knew if she thought he was a threat to me, she wouldn’t be so jovial. It was more likely she was hoping to watch me hand him his ass on a platter.

  Too bad she hadn’t been in the parking lot of Greener Pastures a couple of hours ago.

  Ignoring Wyatt, I headed for the family sitting in the booth at the front of the tavern. Annette and Eric were seated across from each other, and relief filled her eyes when she saw me coming toward her.

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here earlier,” I said, sliding into the booth next to Eric. “This was my first afternoon off in weeks and I got detained running errands.”

  “Oh, you don’t need to apologize,” she said. “I think I should apologize to you. I think one of your bosses is upset about us being here.”

  “Max?” I asked in surprise. While I probably should have cleared this with him, I doubted he’d care. We had lots of empty tables at this time of day, and I was usually trying to find work to do. It looked like Annette had ordered drinks for her and Eric as well as a basket of fries. Max was a shrewd businessman. He’d see it as money he wouldn’t have had otherwise. Hell, some of the nightly regulars took up tables for hours and spent less than this.

  I glanced over to Max at the bar, and he responded a grin.

  “No, not the guy behind the bar right now,” Annette said. “The guy at the end. With a cup of coffee. He was servin’ drinks when we first got here and I asked for you.”

  “Ohhhh,” I said, drawing it out. “That’s not my boss. That’s my boss’s brother, and while he’s been helpin’ out lately, he won’t be here much longer. You don’t need to worry about him.”

  Her eyes flew wide. “That’s Wyatt Drummond?”

  “You don’t know him?” Given how large the Drummonds loomed over Drum, I’d figured everyone in the area would know him by sight.

  “I’ve heard of him, but I’ve never seen him. My husband takes our car to Greeneville for maintenance and such.”

  Which meant she likely had a newer car.

  She still looked uncomfortable. “I don’t want to step on any toes.”

  “No toes or any other appendages have been stepped on,” I said with a laugh. “Wyatt’s not very happy with me today, and I suspect he was taking it out on you. I’m sorry you were made to feel uncomfortable. I’ll make sure it’s handled.”

  “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble,” she said with a frown.

  “Don’t you worry about that,” I assured her. “How about you get out Eric’s work, and I’ll help you both figure out how to do the problems?”

  Relief washed over her face, and we spent the next fifteen minutes working through a few problems together until Annette and her son felt comfortable trying some on their own.

  I left them to get started and headed over to the bar to check in with Max. As I slid behind it, Wyatt shot me a deadly glare.

  “Where the hell have you been for the last hour and a half?”

  “You have no right to ask me that,” I said in a short tone. “We’re not together anymore, and even if we were, you wouldn’t have the right to dictate my comings and goings. The fact is, I didn’t ask you to follow me. I didn’t want you anywhere near me.”

  Fury filled his eyes. “I’m tryin’ to keep you safe, Carly. Maybe if you weren’t acting like a child, you would put aside your hurt feelin’s and see that.”

  My mouth dropped open, but I decided not to blast him, however much I wanted to stab him with my words. I inhaled deep, refocusing my energy. “What did you say to that mother seating in the booth in the corner?”

  He darted a glance in that direction, and a sheepish look washed over his face. “Let’s just say you weren’t my favorite person when she asked to speak to you.”

  Max stepped over, eyeing us like we were a pair of skittish horses. “Is havin’ you two in the same place gonna be a problem?”

  Wyatt grunted “no” as I said “yes.”

  Max put his hands on his hips and pushed out a sigh. “Funnily enough, when I pictured myself becomin’ a daddy, I didn’t see myself disciplinin’ a couple of grown adults, and I sure as hell didn’t expect for one of them to be my older brother.”

  Wyatt gave Max a look that should have brought him to his knees.

  “I don’t have time for this nonsense,” I said. “I only came over to tell you that I’m helpin’ a little boy with his math homework.”

  Max did a double take. “Say what?”

  “He didn’t understand how to do it, so I showed him and his mother.” I made a face. “Actually, I helped a little girl the night before, and the mother of the little boy caught wind of it and brought her son in for dinner last night to see if I could help him. They didn’t quite get it, so I’m showing them this afternoon while we’re not busy.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Max said, resting his hand on the counter. “You’re helping a kindergartner with his math homework.”

  “Not a kindergartner,” I said in exasperation. “A third grader, and it’s the new math, which is totally confusing when you don’t know how to do it, but once you get it, it makes higher math easier, which is why it’s so important for the parents to understand so they can help their children.”

  Max stared at me like I’d started speaking Russian. “Where did you learn how to do this new math?”

  I shrugged, the neurons in my brain scrambling to come up with an acceptable answer. “I tutored in Atlanta as a side job. Retail doesn’t pay much.”

  “Huh,” he said, shifting his weight and casting his gaze to the booth.

  “Sounds like several of the kids don’t know how to do it,” Wyatt said, turning his head sideways to look at his brother. “Maybe you could have Carly host a tutoring session in the afternoons, after school. The kids and their parents would likely order food while they’re here, and it’s a dead time anyway. Great opportunity to give back to the community but make some money too.”

  Wyatt turned to me, his expression softer, and part of me wanted to push him off his barstool. He knew I’d been a schoolteacher, and I’d confessed how much I missed teaching. Just when I was sure I hated him, he went and did something nice.

  My eyes burned and I had to look away.

  “You know,” Max said, sounding excited. “That’s actually a good idea.” He turned to look at me. “Can you help with other subjects besides math?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I can help with it all.”

  “We could call it Max’s Homework Club,” Max said. “We could host it a couple days a week from three thirty to five, which would clear them out before the dinner crowd.”

  “The families just might stay for dinner,” Wyatt suggested. “And maybe we should name it something else since Carly’s gonna be helpin’ with the homework and not you.”

  Max rubbed his chin. “Yeah, maybe so.”

  Annette glanced over at me with a look of panic.

  “Excuse me,” I said, heading around the corner of the bar. “Duty calls.”

  I spent the next ten minutes helping Eric work a few problems before they left. Some customers came in with the dinner crowd, and I kept glancing at the door, watching for Marco. I hadn’t spoken to him since I’d left my long, rambling message. I was eager to tell him about my encounter with Emily, but that would have to wait until later. The last thing I wanted was for either of the Drummond boys to overhear me.

  Ruth was at the food counter when I headed back there to pick up the plates for table three. Neither of our orders were up, so I leaned against the counter and glanced
toward the front.

  “What are you watchin’ for?” she asked. “Or should I ask who?”

  Not much got past her. “Marco.”

  “I heard he was guarding the construction site.”

  I nodded. “He was until they gave it the all clear. The construction guys must still be out there.”

  “Max says they got a late start, so they’ll probably be out there for a while yet. Bart’s gonna push them to get a full day’s work in to make up for the lost time.”

  That stood to reason, but it also meant there’d likely be a late dinner rush.

  “Say, Ruth, I know you and Heather weren’t friends, but do you happen to know who went to her going-away party?”

  She looked uncomfortable. “That was a long time ago.”

  “Not really. Not like decades. You were working here. Surely you heard rumors.”

  “I was older than her and her friends,” she said, curling her upper lip. “And they were trouble with a capital T.”

  “Abby and Mitzi?” I asked in surprise.

  A grin stretched her mouth as she turned to face me. “Someone’s been doin’ her homework. Should I start calling you Veronica Mars or Nancy Drew?”

  “Neither,” I said, rolling my eyes as I laughed. “But if you know anything, I’d really appreciate hearing it.”

  She was silent for a moment, her gaze drifting to the dining room, and I realized she was watching Wyatt behind the bar, but this time without her usual animosity. “I didn’t know Heather well. I mostly just knew of her, but not until she came back after high school. She moved in with her aunt. My mom knew Hilde. Heather had given her grief in high school, and it didn’t sound like Hilde was too happy she was back. I don’t know much, because my mom and I weren’t seein’ eye to eye back then. She was hooking up with a particularly disgusting guy and hittin’ the bottle pretty hard.”

  My face softened. “Ruth, I’m sorry.”

  Her mouth was all smirk, but I could see the pain in her eyes. “What are you sayin’ sorry about? None of that is your fault.”

  No, but she rarely talked about her mother. I knew she’d died from a drug overdose a few years ago, although she hadn’t been a drug addict all that long in the scheme of things. Based on what Ruth had told me before, her mother’s vices of choice had been alcohol and men who were bad for her.

  “Do you remember anything else?”

  Her mouth twisted to the side as she scanned the counter to see what was holding up her order. “I heard Dick Stinnett was at that party. He dated Molly’s sister, May, after Heather left. May was there too.”

  “Do you know where Dick lives or where I might find him?”

  Her brow lifted. “You want to talk to him?”

  “I have to find out what happened at the party,” I said. “From what I’ve heard, she supposedly left the next day. I need to find out who saw her last.”

  Tiny put two plates on the counter, and Ruth shot me a dark look before grabbing them. “I think he’s workin’ at a used car lot in Ewing.” She started to leave, then hesitated. “Carly, just remember that the very last person who saw her was also the person who killed her.”

  A shiver of fear shot down my spine. She was right, and apparently Wyatt had also considered that little tidbit—likely why he was being so protective in his overbearing way.

  Tiny handed me a couple of plates but held my gaze. “You lookin’ into Heather Stone’s murder?”

  His curiosity caught me off guard. He rarely made small talk during the dinner rush. “I’m just askin’ people questions.”

  “You know the Drummonds weren’t the only ones who wanted her gone. I hear she had a thing with Todd Bingham before she and Wyatt got back together the last time.”

  “Todd Bingham?” Well, crap. That shouldn’t have surprised me, yet it did. But it added a new element to the case. She was buried on the disputed Bingham-Drummond land, after all, and Lula had called in sick after Heather’s body had been found. “Thanks.”

  “You thinkin’ about goin’ out to talk to him?”

  Was I? Dammit, I was.

  “Maybe take the baby a gift to get in the door,” he suggested. “We’ve all seen Bingham has a soft spot for that baby.”

  “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Although I was pretty sure Bingham would see right through that approach. He was a shrewd man who’d taken his father’s bare-bones criminal enterprise and run with it. I knew he was capable of murder, but I didn’t for a minute think he’d killed and buried Heather Stone. If he were responsible, he would have dug those bones up and moved them before the ink was dry on the judge’s signature releasing the land to Bart. Or maybe Bart was the one who’d killed her, and he’d hoped to pin it on Bingham.

  Still, I wouldn’t be surprised if Bingham knew something. It wasn’t a bad idea to pay him a visit tomorrow morning before I went to work at noon.

  I took the plates out to my table, pleased that I now had three people to talk to—Bingham, Dick Stinnett, and May McMurphy. I’d talk to Bingham first and then figure out where to go next.

  I grabbed glasses from one of my tables to get refills, and as soon as I set them on the counter in front of Max, he gave me a perturbed look.

  “What?”

  “Got any idea why Marco called a few minutes ago, frantic to make sure you were safe from Wyatt?” he asked with a raised brow.

  I grimaced. “What did he say?”

  Exasperation covered his face, and he sounded irritated when he said, “Like I said, he asked if you were safe from Wyatt.”

  “And what did you say?” I asked.

  “I told him you two were bickering like usual, but everything was fine other than that. Was I wrong?”

  So Marco hadn’t told him I’d pepper sprayed Wyatt, and Wyatt hadn’t mentioned it himself. Once again, I was caught in a tangle of omitted information.

  I was about to tell Max myself, but both of us were distracted by the sight of Bingham and Lula walking in with their baby. Four of Bingham’s men followed behind them.

  Talk about lucky timing. I’d wanted to arrange a meetup, and here he was at the tavern.

  “That’s a first,” Max said, his brow furrowed. “He’s dining with his family.”

  Bingham had been a regular customer ever since I’d started at Max’s Tavern, but he’d never once come in with Lula, let alone the baby.

  Tables were self-seating which Bingham and Lula were both well aware of, but apparently Bingham wanted his men close to their table, because he scanned the room, looking for two tables together. There were two in Ruth’s section, but he made a couple of younger men at a four-top table get up and move so there would be an empty table in front of an available booth in my section.

  It was an obvious maneuver to get me to wait on them, and Max didn’t look happy about it. Neither did Wyatt, who was pulling a draft beer.

  Ruth hurried over with a drink ticket and gave me a worried look. “It looks like Lula’s over whatever fake illness she had. You good with waiting on ’em?”

  I’d had multiple encounters with Bingham, most of them here in the tavern. Ruth knew he was sometimes trouble for me, but I could handle him. “Yeah.”

  I grabbed the refills that had brought me to the bar, and after I placed them on the table—they were for the two guys who had moved—I walked over to greet Bingham and Lula.

  “Hey, Carly,” Lula said with a bright smile. She was holding her sleeping daughter in the crook of her arm.

  I couldn’t help oohing over the baby. “Beatrice is getting so big already!”

  “Like a weed,” Lula said, looking at her baby with so much love it took my breath away.

  I wanted a baby someday. Multiple babies. I just didn’t see that happening. I couldn’t bring a baby into the mess of my life, and after everything I’d been through, I didn’t see me ever “settling down” with a man, let alone placing enough trust in him to have a baby with him.

  “Oh, somebody’s gettin’ baby
fever,” Lula cooed.

  I snorted, shoving all my dreams back into the chest I kept them in. There was no room for children in my life. Thanks to my father. The irony was he likely needed a grandchild to carry on the legacy of the Hardshaw Group.

  “Nah,” I said softly. “Just admirin’ yours. She’s so beautiful, Lula. You’ve truly been blessed.”

  Lula’s gaze lifted and locked with Bingham’s. “Trust me, I know.”

  I really didn’t want to stick around for their lovefest because, to my surprise, jealousy rose up in me again. Not of Bingham—I resisted a shudder—but of what Lula had. Of what I likely never would.

  “Can I get you something to drink? Or I can go ahead and take your order if you know what you’d like,” I said, digging my order pad out of my apron pocket. Bingham was here enough to know what we had available, and Lula had worked here.

  “Tryin’ to rush us out of here?” Bingham asked in a low growl.

  I was about to respond, but Lula beat me to it. “You hush now, Todd. She means no disrespect.” She glanced up at me. “Ain’t that right, Carly?”

  “Of course,” I said in shock. I wasn’t sure if I was more surprised that she’d spoken to him like that or that he’d clamped his mouth shut. “I was just thinking you might want me to get your food out quickly so you can eat in peace while Beatrice is sleeping.”

  Lula beamed up at me. “You are just the sweetest.”

  She proceeded to give me her order and Bingham’s. I expected him to contradict her, but he remained silent with his arms folded over his broad chest, his gaze on the baseball game on the TV in the back corner of the room.

  I turned to the table of bodyguards, and Bingham told them to order their food with their drinks. They seemed taken by surprise and a couple of them had a hard time settling on what they wanted so quickly.

  I ran the food orders back to Tiny, then took the drink orders to the bar. Most of the men had ordered beer, so, lucky for me, I got to take their ticket to Wyatt, whose gaze was firmly on Bingham.