“So they’re in financial trouble?”
“Not like they were a few years ago, but rumor has it their credit cards were maxed out.”
“Melinda must have put a lot of money into her inventory.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Selena said. “She said she was trying to bring class and culture to eastern Tennessee, only her insinuations insulted half the town, and the other half wasn’t about to buy her stuff anyway. Plus everything was overpriced for the area. I heard she started selling her inventory online, but by then it was too late.”
“What about their kids?” I asked. “Have they been in any kind of trouble?”
Selena’s eyes narrowed. “What do Jim’s kids have to do with Pam shootin’ him?”
How much should I tell her? She was a huge source of information, and the more invested she was, the more she might share. Still, I ran the risk of endangering myself. What if Selena couldn’t be trusted? What if she picked up the phone after I left and called Bart himself?
“I’m just trying to understand the situation,” I said. “Obviously, something made Pam snap. She has a controlling, abusive husband, and two of her three children have had issues—”
“Three,” Selena said. “Ricky nearly flunked three classes this spring. Pam had to go to the school and ask the teachers to work with him so he’d bring them up to Ds.”
Poor Pam, but I felt for her kids too. When children were unhappy, they acted out, and sometimes in big ways. “Unless Pam just drove around randomly and stopped at Jim’s office, he somehow fell onto her path. I’m trying to figure out the connection.”
She nodded, her lips pursing as she contemplated what I’d said. “Laurie is a bright girl, but also pretty and sweet. She’s not popular, but the other students like her well enough. Now that I think about it, she’s a lot like her father.”
“Is she in any sports or activities?”
She drew in a breath. “I don’t know…” She sounded frustrated, but I didn’t think her annoyance was with me. “I think she was on the yearbook staff.” Getting to her feet, she walked over to a bookcase and grabbed a hardcover book off the shelf. “This is last year’s yearbook. Laurie will be in there. You can see what she was involved in. Also, maybe check the newspaper. It lists all sorts of things from grade school game scores to dance recitals. I’m sure you’ll find both kids in there. Plenty about Jim and Melinda too.”
“Okay. I’ll get it back to you soon.”
She handed the book to me. “No hurry. I get them every year, then promptly place them on a shelf. I rarely have occasion to open them.”
I placed the yearbook on my lap, covering it with my notebook, then looked over my notes. “Back to Pam,” I said as Selena took her seat. “I know she had a daycare that she ended.”
“Yes, after Thad’s accident. It was only part time and the parents found other caretakers while she was dealing with his recovery.”
“Did she get another job?”
“No, Rob preferred she stay home, but he let her volunteer at the church.”
Rob sounded like a real prince. “And did she volunteer at the church?”
“Oh yes.” She nodded. “She’s in charge of the nursery, or I guess she was. She’s always loved babies. After she got over the disappointment of Ashlynn’s pregnancy, she started lookin’ forward to his arrival. She planned on spendin’ a lot of time with her grandbaby.”
“Is there anyone who doesn’t like her?”
She laughed. “Are you askin’ if Pam has any enemies? Heavens, no. Everyone liked her, but people did take advantage of her.”
That didn’t surprise me. I’d seen her with Diane at the ladies’ lunches. “Do you think Jim Palmer could be connected to anyone who upset her?”
Her lips pursed. “A revenge killing? Doesn’t seem like Pam.”
“But she went off her meds. I know anxiety is a side effect. I just don’t know how long it lasts.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. That was three months ago. Pam just isn’t the vengeful type.” She frowned. “Except…”
“Yes?”
“A couple of weeks ago, I saw her snap at the store clerk in Ewing. We were at a secondhand shop, and Pam found a crib she wanted to buy for Ashlynn. But we were going to lunch, so she asked the clerk to put it on hold. When we went back to the store, another clerk had already sold it, and Pam was furious. She yelled at the clerk and called her incompetent. I had to drag her out of the store before they called the police. Once I got her back into the car, she broke down, bawling. She was horrified at what she’d done. She apologized profusely and asked me to take her home even though we’d planned to go to another store.”
“Was she under stress because of her husband?”
“I honestly don’t know. I told her I thought Rob was being ridiculous about her medication, and she kind of clammed up after that.”
“Is there anything else you can think of that might have upset her a couple of days ago?”
“And enraged her enough to kill a man?” She shook her head. “There’s a big difference between chewing someone out and murdering them.”
She was right, but I couldn’t help wondering what had driven a normally meek and mild woman to snap, not once but twice.
I couldn’t think of anything else, so I closed my notebook and put it back in my purse, along with the yearbook and my pen. “I need to head to work, but if you come up with anything you think would help, please let me know.”
“I’m still not convinced this is goin’ to help her.”
“Maybe not,” I said, “but at least we’ll know we tried.”
Selena walked me to the door, and I headed back toward Main Street, letting everything I’d learned roll around in my head. I’d learned a lot from Selena, but none of it had helped me reach any conclusions. Instead, I’d been left with more questions.
What I really needed was computer time, but there was no way that was happening at the library. I had to go to work soon anyway, and Max had no problem letting me use his computer as long as he wasn’t working on the books. I didn’t take him up on it too often—he and Ruth were far more curious than Carnita—but it might be worth the hassle tonight.
When I passed my car, still parked in front of the library, I thought about moving it but decided against it. It wouldn’t be a long walk later, and if I felt uncomfortable, I’d ask Marco or Max to walk to my car with me.
Max looked surprised when I walked through the front door, so I headed to the bar to say hello.
“I was at the library and left my car down there,” I said. “It seemed like a good day for a walk. Do you mind if I use the computer in your office?”
“Didn’t you just use one at the library?” he asked with a laugh.
“They were all tied up.”
Grinning, he shook his head. “Head on back and check your Nosy Book.”
I snorted. “Facebook. And that’s not all I do. I’ve been researching the town.” I’d admitted as much to him and Ruth a while back, in case they ever came into the office at an inopportune moment. Part of me wanted to let Max in on what I was doing, but even if he hated his father, and I thought he did, I didn’t know how he’d feel about me trying to bring him down.
“I think it’s just a cover, so you don’t look like you’re killing your brain cells tweetering.”
“Tweetering? You sound like a seventy-year-old man.”
He laughed. “It’s better than killing my brain cells.” I started to head back, and he called after me, “Hey, you need the password.”
I stopped and gave him a surprised look. “Password? You finally took my advice?” I’d been shocked to learn he left his office unlocked most of the time and didn’t have a password on his computer.
He made a face and grabbed an order pad and pulled off a sheet, scribbling something on the back. “Yeah, well, I guess it makes sense.” He handed the paper to me with a grin. “Guard it with your life.”
“You know it,” I said, taking the slip from him and heading to the back.
Ruth was sitting in a booth, reading a copy of People Magazine, a new one from the looks of it, and Tiny was scrubbing his grill. I waved hi to both of them on my way to the back. I wanted to ask Ruth about her friend—the one she was interested in hiring—but I’d ask later. I had more to research than I had time to type into the search engine.
Sure enough, when I woke up his computer, there was a password box. I entered the code—Max1$King—and laughed. He’d come up with that to irk Ruth every time she signed in to help with the books.
I did a search for Jim Palmer on the local paper’s website, and it pulled up page after page about his community involvement. Too much to spend time on, so I searched for his kids next. Pete—Peter—had played T-ball and baseball, as well as soccer and basketball. He’d made the seventh grade B honor roll last year, and there was a photo of him at the high school homecoming parade. The float for his baseball team had been sponsored by Jim Palmer Insurance.
Laurie brought up more, but not by much. She’d been in dance recitals at Miss Nancy’s Dance school since she was three. She’d also played sports when she was younger, but there was no mention of it once she hit middle school. She’d made the A honor roll all through middle school and her freshman year, and the single photo of her in the paper, from a high school student council, showed a fresh-faced girl who looked happy. Pete’s photo had struck me the same way.
Next I looked up Melinda, realizing that I only had about ten minutes before I had to get out to work. Melinda’s search brought up Jim’s murder first, and I realized the kids’ names had been left out of the news reports about Jim’s death. I silently complimented the news editor who had made that decision. But after the stories about Jim’s death—which had all the information I did, rehashed in multiple ways—were the articles about her store, Hometown Charm. There was a photo of Melinda standing next to the front window. With her short, wavy blond hair and her sweet, light-blue dress, she looked a bit like Reese Witherspoon. There were several other articles about the store, followed by some pieces about events she had attended with Jim. There were a few photos of the two together. Jim always had a big smile, his arm around his wife, but her smile looked fake in a couple of them.
Melinda didn’t want to live in Ewing, Tennessee, but had she loved her husband? Was she the one who’d approached Bart Drummond and asked for a favor?
I glanced up at the time on the top corner of the computer and groaned. My time had run out.
Chapter Eighteen
We were busier than usual through the dinner rush, and then people showed up to watch the Braves’ baseball game on Max’s big screen TV.
Marco showed up after the dinner crowd left and headed toward the bar to hang out with Max. Ruth must have noticed, because she immediately sidled up to me.
“Why don’t you take off early?” she said with a grin. “I’ll close tonight.”
“You’ve been here since noon,” I protested. And because I didn’t want to get into yet another conversation about Marco—just last week she’d accused me of giving him chronic blue balls—I changed the subject. “Hey, what’s the word on your friend taking over Molly’s position?”
“She’s coming in tomorrow morning for an interview, so you don’t need to come in until your tutoring club starts.”
“Are you sure?” I was relieved that I’d have more time to investigate, but I didn’t want to pile onto Ruth’s workload.
“I’m going to be here anyway, and if it works out, I’ll have her stay for her first shift.” She pulled a face. “Besides, I can use the extra cash. Franklin’s truck broke down, and some of the parts are expensive.”
“Okay, if you’re sure…”
“Good,” she said. “That’s settled. Now, you get on out of here. We’re slow enough that Max and I have it covered.”
It was only eight-thirty, but if she needed the money, I didn’t feel inclined to say no. I’d prefer to talk to Marco sooner rather than later. “I guess I’ll go check with Max.”
“Check? Just tell him.”
I hesitated, if only because Marco and Max looked deep in conversation, but they’d seen each other the night before, and I really, really wanted to know what Marco had learned. So I went over anyway.
“Hey,” I said as I scooted up to Marco. “Ruth wants to close tonight. She said she needs the money for parts for Franklin’s truck. In fact, she told me to take off now.”
I expected Max to protest, but instead he nodded. “Sounds good.” He shot a grin to Marco. “I suspect that means you’ll be takin’ off too?”
Marco looked guilty. “We can pick this conversation back up next time I come in.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Max said with a laugh. “Just promise you won’t stay away for over a week again.”
“With things this busy at work, I can’t promise it, but I’ll try to at least stop in for lunch or dinner.”
“Good enough for me.” Max beamed as he offered Marco his hand over the counter.
Marco shook it with a matching grin. “Missed you, man.”
“Missed you too.” Max made a shooing motion. “You two crazy kids take off and do whatever it is you claim you don’t do.”
Marco followed me to the backroom so I could grab my purse, then we headed out the back door to the parking lot.
“Where’s your car?” he asked, sounding concerned.
I groaned. “I left it in front of the library. I stopped there this afternoon to get Selena’s address out of the phone book.”
“Hop in,” he said, gesturing to his Explorer, which was parked on the street next to the building. “I’ll drop you off at your car. Did you have any problems today?”
“No, but I found out a few things.”
“I did too, but let’s wait until we get to my house before we start going through it.”
“Okay.”
We didn’t talk on the short drive to my car, and I followed him out to his house. Lights glowed in the windows, and I felt some of my stress fade. I always felt like I was hiding from the world when I was with Marco at his house. Was that part of his appeal?
He took my overnight bag from me as I got out of the car, and we walked to the porch together. The smell of Italian spices hit me as I walked in the door.
“Oh!” I said as I set my purse on the kitchen table. “What did you have for dinner and is there any left?”
He laughed as he shut the front door and locked it, then he handed me the bag. “I saved some for you. Go take a shower if you want, and I’ll make you a plate.”
I offered him a warm smile. “Thanks.”
Now that we’d gotten more comfortable together, he knew I liked to shower when I got off work, so if I was staying over, I usually showered right away.
Not only was I hungry, but I was eager to talk to Marco about our discoveries, so I emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later with damp hair, wearing pajama shorts and a T-shirt.
A plate of spaghetti and meatballs sat on the table, and Marco sat at the head of the table with his laptop open.
“Feel better?” he asked, looking up.
“Yeah. That looks delicious, but are you planning on sharing? That looks like it’s enough for two people.”
He laughed. “You know I always end up eating from your plate when you eat after me. I’m only planning ahead.”
I grabbed my notebook out of my purse and sat down in front of the plate. “I had a good chat with Selena after I left you.”
“And I found out more about Thad Crimshaw’s case. And a bit about Ted Butcher too. Including the police report for the house fire in question.”
I perked up. “Oh?”
“How about I start with Butcher?”
“Okay,” I said as I picked up a fork and started to dig into the noodles.
“The car crash was Butcher’s first run-in with the law. Not even any speeding tickets. His tox screen was nega
tive, but his story changed about what happened—at first he said he lost control and hit the tree, and in a later statement he claimed to have fallen asleep. The officer who took the second statement said Butcher seemed despondent, but he attributed it to his injuries, which were extensive. Broken legs, a broken arm, internal injuries. The officer included in the report that Butcher was scheduled to go to a physical therapy rehab center and that he had no support system to care for him. He was divorced at the time of his accident, but I don’t know for how long, and his parents were deceased. His next police report, two years later, was for a DUI arrest. He hit another car while high on Oxy. Thankfully, the occupants of the other car weren’t injured, and neither was Butcher. He got off with probation. There are more reports, several overdoses, some breaking and entering charges. It’s obvious he became a drug addict, likely after the accident.”
I swallowed my mouthful of food. “Which goes along with my theory that he couldn’t handle the guilt. He tried to kill himself, and when that didn’t work, he tried to lose himself in drugs.”
“Orrrr…” he said, drawing out the word. “He got hooked on painkillers after his accident. From what I can tell, he was just a normal guy, living his life. He had a job with a small metal fabricator in Ewing. It’s not uncommon for people you wouldn’t suspect of becoming drug addicts to get hooked on them after a major injury.”
“So you don’t think there’s a connection?”
“I didn’t say that,” he said, tilting his head. “But it’s not clear cut.”
I swirled more spaghetti on my fork. “So we need to talk to him. Did you get an address?”
He hesitated. “Yeah. He’s at the Northeast Correctional Complex in Mountain City.”
I paused with my fork halfway to my mouth. “What’s that? A drug rehab center?”
“No, it’s prison.”
“Oh,” I said, then took a bite.
“His last arrest was for breaking into a house and stealing their electronics and jewelry to pay for his drug habit. At least he got sent to Northeast. They have a substance abuse counseling program.”
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