One Foot in the Grave: Carly Moore #3

by Denise Grover Swank

I stopped in my tracks in the hallway to his office. “What?”

  “Carly,” he said, turning to face me. “May’s first husband was Tater.”

  In response to my blank look, he said, “Franklin.”

  My mouth dropped open as if it were hinged.

  “No one told you?”

  I felt sick to my stomach. “No.” I shook my head and stared at him in disbelief. “What were you thinking hiring Molly?”

  Wyatt had condoned it too!

  “Molly claimed it wouldn’t be a problem, and Ruth…she’s like a robot.”

  “That’s bullshit,” I hissed under my breath. “Max!”

  He scrunched up his face, clearly perplexed. “Do you think it’s gonna be a problem?”

  “Of course it’s gonna be a problem! I can’t believe they’ve gotten along as well as they have so far.”

  He frowned, then glanced in the direction of the back room. “I know you have to leave early, but can you take Ginger under your wing today?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “Good, you’re in charge of the dining room until you leave,” Max said, then headed back out to the bar.

  When I got to the back room, Ginger was pacing the small space in a Max’s Tavern T-shirt, radiating nervous energy. “Do you really think I can do this?”

  “I don’t see why not,” I said. “You’re an intelligent woman who’s used to juggling three kids, a husband, and Hank,” I teased.

  She laughed. “True.”

  “Thanks for doing my laundry the other day.”

  She waved it off. “You’ve been working crazy hours. It was the least I could do, although you have to know I didn’t expect to get a job offer out of it.”

  “We need help, and you could use a job that works with your kids’ schedule. I see it as a win-win.”

  We headed into the dining room, and I told Molly she was taking Ruth’s section, which earned me a dirty look. I told Ginger she would shadow a few orders with me, then I’d let her loose on the bar and a couple of tables, just like I’d done with Molly her first night.

  I unlocked the door, not surprised to see a line outside, but not prepared for the grumbling.

  “We’ve only got an hour,” one of the men griped. “You need to open sooner.”

  I supposed that might be possible if Molly and Ginger worked out, but I had other things to worry about…like a group of cranky men and two barely trained waitresses.

  The men got seated, and we started taking orders—Molly keeping up with the rush, and Ginger picking up the rhythm of it quickly enough for me to set her loose after only a few orders. Marco helped out by bussing tables and refilling drinks.

  When we were at the height of the lunch rush, Max motioned me over, holding up the phone.

  Crap. Talk about bad timing.

  Molly noticed as I made my way to Max’s office, and she said, “Are you seriously takin’ a phone call now?”

  “Yes. I am.” I understood why she would question the timing, but I’d been around months longer than her and had often worked the lunch shift alone. I sure as hell didn’t need her policing me.

  Once I was in Max’s office, I shut the door behind me and picked up the phone, pushing the blinking button for line one. “This is Carly.”

  “Is everything okay?” Wyatt asked. “Lula said you needed to talk to me right away.”

  “I didn’t say right away,” I said, taking a seat in Max’s chair, “but yeah, I have to ask you some questions and I need some straight answers.”

  “What do you want to know?” He sounded guarded, not that I was surprised, but I didn’t have time to beat around the bush, and neither did he.

  “Tell me about Heather’s other boyfriends.”

  He was quiet for several seconds. “Based on your tone and your appointment this morning, you’ve already figured out there were several.”

  “Several? I only know about two, and only one by name. Fill me in.”

  “I’m sure you know she had a fling with Bingham. She was up-front about that after we got back together.”

  “I know about Bingham, and I know she had a boyfriend before she was murdered, but I don’t know much about him other than that he was from Ewing and she met him at the salon where she worked.”

  “Well, you know more than me,” he said in a dry tone.

  “What do you know?”

  “That she was seeing him after I was arrested.”

  “From what I learned, it might have started before that.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “You said you knew about him. What can you tell me?”

  “Like you said, I’m pretty sure she met him at work. I figured he was a client at the salon.”

  “Do you have a name?”

  “No.”

  I tried to rein in my frustration. “Look, Wyatt, if you want me to do this, you have to be more forthcoming. I shouldn’t have to drag every damn answer out of you.”

  “I knew she was unhappy,” he snapped, but then his tone softened. “She wanted me to propose at Christmas, but I wasn’t sure I loved her. I just couldn’t seem to pull the trigger. I think deep down I knew she was wrong for me.”

  “So you didn’t follow through, and she found a boyfriend on the side?”

  “I didn’t know the timing overlapped, but I’m not surprised.”

  “What do you remember about the night you were arrested?”

  “Really? We’ve already covered this, Carly.”

  “No. Not completely. You said your father had you followed and arrested to drag you back into the fold. Did he tell you that?”

  “No, but we weren’t exactly speakin’ at that point. I knew the sheriff got an anonymous tip. It stands to reason it was Dad.”

  “What if it was someone else?”

  “Who else would do it?” he asked, sounding unconvinced.

  “Heather’s boyfriend. What if he had you arrested so Heather could coerce your parents into paying her not to testify against you?”

  Silence hung over the line for a moment. Then he asked, “Do you have any proof of that? Because my parents did pay her off to leave, but I’m pretty sure they offered, not the other way around.”

  “But only five thousand dollars. That’s not much in the scheme of things. You know she was banking on so much more.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “I need to know what happened at her going-away party.” I steeled my back, preparing to put up an argument if he tried shooting me down. “Were you invited?”

  “No,” he scoffed.

  “What made you decide to go?”

  He was silent for several seconds. “I heard she was pregnant.”

  My stomach dropped. I hadn’t been prepared for that.

  “I went to confront her,” he said. “To make sure it was mine.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She laughed at me. Told me she’d lied about takin’ the pill for the last six months of our relationship, tryin’ to get pregnant so I’d have to marry her, but it didn’t happen because I had bad sperm.”

  “She tested your sperm?” I asked in disbelief.

  He snorted. “No, but Heather couldn’t take responsibility for anything. Not even failing to get pregnant, so of course it had to be my fault.”

  “I heard you were in a room with her for half an hour. What did you do in there all that time?”

  “There was no way in hell I was there for that long. More like ten minutes. Fifteen minutes tops. And we were in the room because I didn’t feel like discussing her possible pregnancy in a room full of people.”

  “You discussed the fact she wasn’t pregnant for fifteen minutes?” I asked.

  “There was a lot of rehashin’ about how I’d screwed her over and wasted her life. But she told me she was leavin’ Drum in her dust, and she’d never give me a second thought after she left.”

  “Did you know she was going to Tulsa?”

  “No. She never said anything ab
out it to me, but I tried to pay her as little attention as possible after we broke up.”

  “If you weren’t paying attention to her, then who told you she was pregnant?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I found a note in my mailbox that said Heather was pregnant.”

  “How long did you have the letter before you confronted her?”

  “The same day. I don’t know how long it was in my mailbox. I hadn’t checked it in days.”

  “Did it look like a man or a woman had written the letter?”

  “A woman, I guess,” he said. “It had swirly handwriting.”

  “Were you drunk when you confronted her?”

  “What?”

  “A witness said you were drunk.”

  “I wasn’t drunk,” he said in disgust. “I’d had a beer before I found the letter, but I sat with it for a good hour before I went to the party.”

  “Did someone drive you?”

  “No, I drove myself.” Then he added, “I wouldn’t drink and drive, Carly. Not after my arrest.”

  “What did you do after that? Where did you go?”

  “Home,” he said. “And no, I don’t have an alibi for the rest of the night.”

  I should have asked sooner, but it stood to reason he didn’t given the fact he had me trying to find the real murderer. “The night you were arrested, what time did you break into the garage?”

  “Carly…”

  “Answer the question, Wyatt,” I snapped.

  “Around midnight. Maybe later.”

  “You went and confronted your father and came home and started drinking. What made you decide to get your baseball?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, getting angry. “I was furious with my father.”

  “But whose idea was it to go? Did Heather plant the seed?”

  He hesitated. “Maybe.”

  “And you drove? She let you drive knowing you were drunk?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She didn’t try to stop you. She let you drive. She probably planted the idea in your head.” I paused. “She set you up, Wyatt.”

  “Well, congratulations, Carly,” he said in a wry tone. “You can call up the sheriff and tell him I had motive to kill her.”

  I pushed out a sigh. “Look, the key is finding out who helped her, because she didn’t orchestrate your setup alone. Someone had to make that call.”

  “Unless she prearranged it with the sheriff’s department. But she still would have needed an accomplice.”

  Then a new thought hit me—what if her boyfriend worked for the sheriff’s department?

  “Who was at the going-away party?” I asked.

  “I didn’t pay much attention. I went there to talk to her. I let her berate me, then I left.”

  “Whose house was it at?”

  “Mitzi’s. She was furious when I showed up.”

  I really needed to talk to Mitzi.

  “You’re in hiding now, right?” I asked. “You’re not trying to hide in the shadows and follow me around, are you?”

  “It’s shortly after noon,” he said in a teasing tone. “There aren’t many shadows.”

  “You know what I meant.”

  “I went to Lula like you suggested.”

  “How are you getting along with Bingham?”

  “Trust me, I’m staying as far away from him as I can.” I heard the sound of a car in the distance. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call Max later to check in.” Then he hung up.

  I knew I needed to get back to work, but first I looked up the number for Drum Veterinary Clinic and called Abby.

  “Dr. Donahey,” she said after Sasha transferred the call.

  “Abby, it’s Carly,” I said. “I have another couple of questions for you.”

  “Ask away,” she said, “although there’s no guarantee I’ll know the answer.”

  “You said that Mitzi told you Heather was going to Tulsa. Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. Did you ask Mitzi?”

  “She wouldn’t see me.”

  “What?”

  “I guess it would be more accurate to say her husband wouldn’t let me see her.”

  She was silent for a moment. “Paul is a controlling asshole.”

  “I was surprised he was home.”

  “He works nights for the sheriff’s department. He’s a deputy sheriff.”

  I gasped. “You’re kidding. What’s his last name?”

  “Conrad. Paul Conrad. Trust me, if he knows about this, you’ll never get to talk to her.”

  I let that soak in for a moment—both that he was a sheriff deputy and that Abby was sure he wouldn’t let me talk to his wife. What he hiding something? “Do you happen to know who Heather’s boyfriend was? The one she was seeing right before she left town?”

  “She had another boyfriend? That’s news to me.”

  “I think she was meeting him at the Mountain View Lodge. They spent a night there the week before she left. I have the receipt.”

  Abby was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again, she sounded more subdued. “Wow. I didn’t know. Mitzi would know better than I would.”

  Or maybe Dick or May, but I didn’t need to mention that. “And Paul won’t let me talk to her.”

  She paused again. “Maybe you should just let it go, Carly. I worry this is dredgin’ up a lot of memories she would rather forget. Just let the sheriff’s department do their job and leave it at that.”

  “But they’re pinnin’ this on an innocent man,” I said.

  “Can’t Wyatt come up with an alibi?” she said, her voice strained. “I just know Mitzi didn’t sound good on the phone. This is really upsettin’ her.” Then she said, “Hey. A client showed up. I’ve gotta go.”

  She hung up and I thought about what she’d said about Mitzi and Paul. I didn’t want to cause her grief, but I suspected she had more answers than anyone. I wanted to talk to her more now than I had before.

  I just needed the element of surprise.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I headed out to the dining room and found absolute chaos. A large group of construction workers had come in and filled every single chair at the bar. Ginger was handling the rush as best she could during her first hour of waitressing, and Molly looked furious.

  “Where the hell have you been?” she barked as I tried to figure out where to start first. Marco had taken some of the drink orders for my new customers, so I started taking food orders and getting them in so the laborers could get back to work on time. I was dying to talk to Marco, but I knew it would have to wait.

  It was nearly one thirty before we had everything under control. Molly had survived the rush, even if she’d fallen behind for a bit, and Ginger had jumped right in and handled all of the customers at the bar—with a little help from Max and Marco.

  When we got a breather, Molly cornered me at the server counter. “What makes you think you’re special enough to walk off the floor for nearly ten minutes?”

  I gaped at her in disbelief. “And just how long have you worked here?”

  She lifted her chin in defiance. “That’s irrelevant.”

  “Did you have to cover my section?” I demanded.

  “No, but—”

  “Are you my boss?”

  “No—”

  “Did my absence hurt you in any way?”

  “People were complainin’.”

  “To you?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “Let’s get one thing straight, Molly,” I said with a cold tone I rarely used. “You worry about you and let me take care of me. Max was fully aware that I had something I needed to deal with, but instead of taking off the entire shift and letting you deal with it all, I took off a few minutes to handle it. With his permission. I’ve worked here for months, while you are still on probation.”

  She stared at me in shock.

  “I suggest you spend more time handling your own customers
and less time supervising me.”

  “Order up, Molly,” Tiny said with plenty of judgment in his voice.

  Molly gave him a hateful look, grabbed her plates, and stomped off to the dining room.

  “You gonna tell Max about that hissy fit?” Tiny asked, leaning in the window.

  “Tiny…”

  “That’s a fat no.” He sucked in a deep breath, then said, “I know the dining room is none of my business, but she’s never gonna work out here. She’s got a mile-long grudge against Ruth, and now she’s buildin’ one against you. I know y’all need the help, but I don’t trust her.”

  “I’m not gonna be responsible for getting someone fired, Tiny.”

  “You think I don’t know that? That’s why I’ll be tellin’ Max every bit of nonsense I’ve heard that woman spout.” Then he turned back to deal with his own employee, who, for all her incompetence, was at least respectful.

  Tiny placed my order on the counter, and I delivered it to my customers before checking in with Ginger. I’d thought she might be flustered, but her eyes were glowing with excitement.

  “Is it like this every day?” she asked.

  “Not quite this crazy,” I said, “but it’s been hopping lately with the construction crew.”

  “I can’t wait to come back tomorrow.”

  I hoped what I was about to tell her didn’t make her change her mind. “I really hate to do this, but I’m going to need to take off early, and I’d like you to cover my section too.”

  Her smile fell, and I was sure she was about to blast me too, but instead she lowered her voice and asked, “Are you leaving to help clear Wyatt’s name?”

  I hesitated, not sure how much she knew.

  She leaned closer and whispered, “Junior’s covering the garage so Wyatt can tail you, although now I hear he’s hidin’ from the sheriff. You’re helpin’ him, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  Taking a step back, she said, “Then what are you doin’ here? We’ll handle this. You go save our boy.”

  Our boy. Wyatt wasn’t my boy, and the look on her face said she realized her mistake.

  “Carly, I’m sorry. I know you two broke up, but since you’re helpin’ him, I thought…”

  I shook my head. “We’re not getting back together. That man has too many secrets. Too much baggage. I’m only helping him out as a friend.”