We pulled out of the lot in the same direction, heading back toward town, but he took a turn toward the sheriff’s station and I headed to Walgreens.
I didn’t think Ashlynn worked at Walgreens. For one thing, she’d called her place of employment a drugstore and most people of the people who’d refer to a chain pharmacy by such an archaic term resided in Greener Pastures. But Marco was right about the go bag, and while I suspected he was also right about getting most of the items in Greeneville, I could easily explain getting personal hygiene products to put in it.
Grabbing a basket once I got inside, I headed for the shampoo aisle, grabbing my usual shampoo and conditioner, but I also picked up a box of dark brown hair dye. I preferred my hair long, and had let it grow out past my shoulders, but if I had to run again, I knew I’d have to drastically change it again. Which meant I’d have to go shorter than the shoulder-length bob I’d gotten last October. Much shorter. That or a wig. Sadly, I wasn’t sure my vanity could handle something shorter than my chin.
I also picked up some ibuprofen and Tylenol, bandages, antibiotic ointment, a few skin care products I used, as well as some feminine hygiene items. Then, because I decided to be optimistic, I grabbed a puzzle I hadn’t seen before and two bags of butterscotch candies for the ladies at the nursing home.
When I checked out at the counter, I gave the female cashier a big smile. “Is Ashlynn working today?”
She blinked in surprise. “Ashlynn? Ain’t nobody who works here named Ashlynn.”
I shook my head and laughed. “My grandmother must have gotten confused. She told me that her friend’s daughter works at the drugstore. She thought it was Walgreens, but I guess there must be a few pharmacies in town.”
“I’ve got a granny like that,” the woman said as she scanned the items. “She gets everything turned around. She probably works at Jones’ Pharmacy about a half mile down on Pine Street. Either that or the urgent care pharmacy.”
“Thanks.”
She picked up the box of hair dye and glanced at me. “You really shouldn’t go darker. Have you considered going blonde? It would be a more natural fit for your coloring.”
Didn’t I know it.
I just smiled and said I’d take it under consideration and then handed my debit card over, resisting the urge to groan, over both her comment and the total. A few minutes later, I was on my way toward Jones’ Pharmacy.
Jones’ Pharmacy was old and had obviously been there for multiple decades. The parking lot was empty, and once I got inside, I found it small and surprisingly empty. The vinyl tile floors were yellowed and the edges of some of the sparsely stocked shelving looked rusted. I wondered how the place stayed in business, especially with Walgreens so close.
I really should have planned this out ahead of time, because I didn’t want to just go in and ask for Ashlynn, which meant I had to make a purchase. I headed to the gift card endcap, figuring Ruth’s birthday was coming up and she might appreciate a gift card to Target. Or maybe I’d give it to Jerry as a housewarming gift. My stomach dropped at the reminder that he was moving out to the Drummond property, playing into whatever plan Bart might have for him.
One problem at a time.
I took the gift card to the unmanned register at the front, but an older man waved me to the pharmacy counter in the back. “I’ll check you out down here.”
I walked up to the counter. He took the card and punched the numbers into the register instead of scanning it. I wondered how he’d activate it with his ancient machine.
“How much you want to put on it?” he asked, looking over the wire reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.
“Twenty?”
“Gotta be twenty-five or more,” he said in a grumpy tone. I wasn’t sure if he was irritated at me for getting a gift card or the company for setting the limits. Probably both.
“Then twenty-five.” I glanced around before turning back to him. “Say, is Ashlynn workin’ today?”
His forehead furrowed. “She was supposed to,” he snapped, “but the dang fool hasn’t show up yet.”
I felt equal parts relief and concern. “Did you try to call her and see why she was late?”
He released a low growl as he punched in the numbers again and received an error beep. “It ain’t my job to track her down! Your generation doesn’t know the meaning of work. Why can’t y’all just show up to work like you’re supposed to?”
I almost told him that I was used to working six days a week, but I wasn’t here to clear my character or stand up for “my generation.” “Do you think her not showing up has something to do with her mother?”
His head jutted back. “Her mother? What about her mother?”
Did gossip not travel at the speed of light in Ewing like it did in Drum? Or maybe he felt he was above it all. In any case, I wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. “Never mind.”
He tried punching numbers into the machine again, which issued another loud beep. The man started cursing a blue streak. His cheeks were flushed an unhealthy red, and he looked like he might rocket out of his chair any moment and start beating the machine against the wall. Or me.
“I changed my mind about the gift card,” I said, taking several steps backward. “I’ll let you get back to…” I wasn’t sure what he was getting back to. In fact, as empty as the place was, I wasn’t sure how he could afford to employ Ashlynn.
“If you see her, tell her she’s fired!” he shouted, spittle flying out of his mouth.
I really didn’t want that responsibility, but I wasn’t about to argue with him, so I continued backing up until I bumped into the front door and left.
I sat in my car, taking several deep breaths as I grasped the steering wheel. Why was he so angry? If that was his usual state, it was no wonder he didn’t have any customers. How could Ashlynn stand to work there? And, more importantly, what had happened to her?
I cast a glance at the clock on the dashboard—1:45. I had to be at work at five, and since I couldn’t go to the courthouse, I didn’t have anything else to do in Ewing. Turning on the car, I decided to head back to Drum to pay a visit to Selena, but first I pulled out my phone and called Hank.
He answered after a couple of rings. “I’m watching my programs, so make it quick.” Loud voices were arguing in the background.
I grinned. He didn’t have caller ID, so he had no idea who was on the line. “Hank, it’s me. Carly.”
“Everything okay?” he asked, sounding concerned. I rarely called him, and he probably assumed I’d walked my way into another mess. He wouldn’t be wrong. The volume of the voices lowered.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m working late so I wanted to warn you that Wyatt’s coming over for breakfast tomorrow.”
“Why?” he asked in a dry tone.
“He just felt like it,” I said. “And he’s cooking.”
“Is he bringin’ real bacon with him?”
“I don’t know.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. While I’d told him not to bring bacon, I wouldn’t put it past him to do it anyway. Then again, maybe not since he was trying to worm his way back into my life. “I didn’t ask for the menu.”
“Hrmph,” he grunted.
“Third, he’s going to be working on your car to make it drivable for you. That way you won’t need to wait on me if you feel like heading into town.” He didn’t say anything. “That’s a good thing, Hank. But if you don’t want Wyatt do to it, we can find someone else.” I cringed, then added, “Marco offered to help.”
“That boy don’t know shit about fixin’ cars.”
“He wouldn’t do it himself,” I said with a small laugh. “He offered to help me find someone else who could.”
“Let Wyatt do it,” he grumped. “He won’t charge us much.”
“Okay, then. Which means Wyatt’s still comin’ over to make us breakfast and look at your car.”
“You don’t need to be here for breakfast. I can let you know when he leaves.”
Did I tell him that Wyatt’s offer came with strings? I’d save that for now. He was willing to let Wyatt help, and I didn’t want to screw that up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, but you can always call me at the tavern after five if anything comes up.”
“You be safe, girlie,” he said gruffly. “And tomorrow morning, stay in bed with the man who deserves you instead of running to the man who turned his back on you.” Then he hung up.
Looked like Wyatt had a lot of groveling in his future.
Before I headed back to Drum, I had somewhere else I wanted to see. Well, two places. I had no idea where Jim Palmer Insurance was located, but I did know how to get to Sonic. If the fast food restaurant was only a couple of blocks away, then the insurance office couldn’t be hard to locate.
I drove past the Sonic, heading south. Sure enough, after I drove a block, I saw a crowd and some bright colors ahead. As I got closer, I realized the people were gathered around a makeshift memorial that consisted of flowers, stuffed animals, and homemade signs in a business parking lot.
I’d just found the insurance office.
I’d only intended to drive by, but I found myself pulling into the parking lot of an abandoned building next door. The lot was nearly full with at least ten cars, but I found a space at the end that was partially grass.
As I walked over, I took in the crowd, which consisted of at least thirty people of all ages. A group of women were hugging each other, and a couple of men stood to one side. There were several boys who looked like they were middle-school age.
I hung back, not sure why I felt drawn to stop, but allowing myself to take in the moment. There was an eight-by-ten photo of Jim in the center, and tears filled my eyes as I stared at it. It was easy to depersonalize this, to make it all about Pam, but the truth was a man’s life had been snuffed out in an instant. Apparently he’d touched many people, and his loss would hurt for some time to come. Pam had done this. Pam had set this tragedy in motion.
No, Bart Drummond had instigated it. And while Pam might belong in a jail cell for her part, it was unfair that she alone should be punished.
I turned around and went back to my car, determined to make this right.
Chapter Sixteen
While I knew the general area where Selena Martin lived, I didn’t have an address. Since Drum was decades behind the rest of the world, the best place to look was the phone book, especially since Marco had made it sound like Selena had lived in Drum for ages. I could have stopped by the tavern to look through their phone book, but the library seemed like a better option. Fewer questions to answer.
Carnita was at her desk when I walked in, and all three computers were occupied.
“Carly, what a lovely surprise.”
“I just need to borrow your phone book.”
She laughed. “As often as you borrow it, you should see about getting one of your own. They don’t have one at Hank’s or the tavern?”
So much for not having to answer questions. “We do at both places, but it just seemed handier to stop here.” I smiled at her. “I figured I could also check on the books you ordered. Two birds with one stone.”
“They haven’t arrived yet, but I’m expecting them any day.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “Say, I meant to tell you the other day, I’m thinking of giving the kids a reading challenge. I’m going to give them prizes based on the number of books they read from the library.”
I could hear Marco in my head, telling me that I needed to stop spending money on the kids and save it for my escape. But it wasn’t that easy. I couldn’t turn my back on those kids.
Which meant I just needed to make sure I didn’t have to run.
“Oh, such a good idea! I used to have a summer reading program, years ago, but now my budget is too tight. Thank goodness for Dolly Parton’s Imagination Library. I try to sign up every new baby I hear about to get their free book every month. But that doesn’t mean the parents read to them.”
“You’re doing the best you can,” I assured her. “And I’m picking up on the other end. Teamwork.”
She smiled. “Teamwork.” Then she reached under the desk and pulled out the phone book. “And here you go.”
I took the phone book to the round table in the center of the book section and flipped the pages until I found the Martins. There were six of them, and while Selena’s name wasn’t in the book, S.G. Martin was, with an address on Parson’s Street—the street behind the Methodist church.
I wrote the address in my notebook, then took the phone book back to Carnita.
“That didn’t take long. Find what you were lookin’ for?” she asked as she took it from me.
“I did. Thanks.” It was obvious she was fishing for information, and while I would love to ask her if she knew Selena, I couldn’t forget what Marco had told me. I needed to keep this quiet.
I headed outside and paused for a moment. My car was parked on the street, but it was such a nice day and Selena’s house was only a few blocks away…I decided to walk instead.
The house was a cute light blue and white ranch style house with an older sedan in the driveway. The landscape beds were bursting with flowers, giving the home a cozy, inviting feeling.
I walked up to the front door and knocked, hoping the car in the driveway meant Selena was home.
A youthful-looking older woman with reddish-brown hair opened the door.
“Hi,” I said, giving her a smile. “I’m Carly Moore. I know Pam from working at Max’s Tavern, and I was wondering if I could talk to you about Ashlynn.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh. I’ve heard of you. You’re the one who found poor Seth Chalmers.”
My chest tightened. This was the third time today someone had said that to me.
“Yes,” I finally said. “I did.”
“And you were with him when he died.”
A lump filled my throat. “Yes.”
She took a step backward. “Please, come in.”
I walked through the door and took in her warm and cozy living room. The furniture was older, but it looked well-worn and loved.
“Would you like a glass of tea?” she asked as she shut the door. “It’s warming up out there.”
I nearly laughed at her idea of warming up. It had to be in the low eighties at the most. I was used to it being in the nineties in Dallas. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”
She gestured for me to sit on the sofa as she walked into the kitchen. “I’ve been meaning to contact you,” she said from the other room. “So you saved me the effort.”
“About Seth?” I asked in surprise.
“Yes,” she called out, and I heard the clink of ice cubes against glass. “And other things.” A half minute later she walked out with two glasses of iced tea. She handed one to me and took a seat in the loveseat perpendicular to the sofa. “I hear you’ve started a tutoring club at the tavern.”
“Oh, yes. Twice a week,” I said, taking a sip of the tea, pleased that it wasn’t sickly sweet. Iced tea in eastern Tennessee meant sweet iced tea, and some people overdid it to the point that it tasted like tea-flavored sugar water.
“How did that come about?” Her voice had a wary tone.
I could understand why she was leery. If someone who didn’t know what they were doing started incorrectly teaching the kids, it could do more harm than good. “I used to work as a tutor in Atlanta,” I said. “One of the kids who came into the tavern this spring with her parents was struggling with her math homework, so I offered to help. The mother of one of her classmates heard I knew how to do it, and they came in for dinner and asked me to help too.”
“So you’re doin’ this to bring in more business to the tavern?” she asked in a firm tone. “I hear you aren’t charging.”
“I love helping kids, and three-thirty to five is our slow time. So it gives me something to do, and it’s a way to give back to the community. Win/win.”
“But you don’t have a degree,” she said. “Y
ou don’t understand the state standards.”
I took another sip of my drink, stalling. I did know the state standards. I’d looked them up, but a retail clerk likely wouldn’t know. “I can assure you that I’m not harming their education in any way. I’m only bolstering them.”
“I know you aren’t harming them,” she said, her tone still direct. “The mother of one of your students showed me what her child had been working on. It’s obvious you know what you’re doing.”
“I only want to help.”
“The elementary school is full of tenured teachers who don’t give a crap about those kids. They want to finish out their thirty years and collect their pension.”
“I don’t know anything about that, ma’am.” I said. “I only know that several children needed help, and it all just grew from there. I’m grateful that Max has agreed to host it.”
Her gaze pinned mine long enough that I started to feel uncomfortable. She definitely had the teacher look down. I needed to change the topic.
“You knew Seth,” I said. “Did you have him as a student?”
“For two years,” she said. “That boy was smart as a whip. I had high hopes for him.”
“I know he was a talented artist.”
She nodded. “Once he set his mind to something, his determination helped see him through.” Tilting her head, she said, “I hear you’re living with his grandfather.”
“I am.”
“And how do you find that situation?”
I wasn’t sure what to make of her question. “I find it just fine,” I said with a tight smile. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I want to talk about Ashlynn.”
She sat back in her seat and took a sip of her tea. “It had occurred to me.”
“Like I said, I know Pam Crimshaw from the tavern. She and her three friends used to come to lunch every other week or so, so I was beyond shocked when I heard what she did. I took the kids a chicken and rice casserole this morning, and Ashlynn said she needed a ride to Ewing for work.”
She studied me for a moment. “That was certainly thoughtful of you.”
Buried in Secrets: Carly Moore #4 Page 14