Buried in Secrets

by Denise Grover Swank

  He was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, well, I guess it didn’t seem important.”

  “I was trying to find out more about Pam, and you had information all along,” I said, a hint of accusation leaking into my tone.

  “I don’t have much information on her. Nothing that will help you out.”

  “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

  His gaze flicked to me, and I was fairly sure I saw a flash of pride. “I barely know the woman.”

  “What do you know about her?”

  “She’s a mousy thing. Scared of her own shadow but devoted to her kids. Seth didn’t like goin’ over to their house, but Ricky’s daddy didn’t approve of Ricky comin’ over here. She let him come anyway, but she always seemed scared of me whenever she brought him over.”

  “Did you ever meet Rob, her husband?”

  “No.”

  I studied him closely. He’d expanded on every other answer…why not this one? The first rule of lying is to never share more than necessary. Was Hank lying to me? If Seth and Ricky had been as close as everyone said, what was the likelihood his path had never crossed with Rob?

  “What do you think of Ricky?”

  His lips quivered with a smile. “He’s a good kid. He was a good friend to Seth, especially after Barb died, but I hadn’t seen him for at least a month or two before Seth’s death.”

  “When Seth started plotting with Bingham?” I asked.

  “Probably.”

  “Do you know anything about Ricky’s brother’s accident a little over a year ago?”

  “Not much. Ricky’s sister took care of him while his brother was in the hospital, but I don’t know any details about the accident.”

  “You don’t remember anything about the other driver?”

  “I only know that Thad and his friend were in the hospital for several weeks.”

  “The friend’s name is Spencer Gensler. Do you know anything about him?”

  “Nothin’.”

  “What about his family? His parents are Donald and Kay Gensler.”

  He shook his head. “They’re probably from Ewing.”

  I made a mental note to check. “Why’d you keep this from me, Hank?”

  His eyes turned glassy. “It’s hard to think about anything to do with Seth.”

  “Hank…” I reached out and took his hand. “I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head, then pulled his hand away. “Save your sympathy for someone who needs it. I should have told you, but like I said, I don’t know much and I didn’t want to dredge up old memories.”

  Was he telling the truth? I hated that I was questioning him, but the doubt wasn’t so easily dismissed.

  “Do you know much about the goings-on in Ewing?”

  He shook his head. “Mary had some friends in Ewing, but I’ve lost track.”

  “Do you know anything about an insurance agent named Jim Palmer?”

  His brow rose. “The man who was killed?”

  “His father.”

  He got a pensive look, and he was quiet for so long I didn’t think he was going to answer, but then he said, “I remember hearing something, but its only coming in bits and pieces. Something to do with his wife.”

  “You mean Jim, Jr.’s wife, Melinda?”

  “No, his daddy’s wife. Naomi.”

  “You don’t remember anything else?”

  He pursed his lips and shook his head. “No. But I remember Mary yappin’ on…something to do with church, I think.”

  Well, crap. If it was flat-out gossip, I wouldn’t find it in a paper or a police report. But Thelma might know something.

  “That’s good,” I said. “It’s something.”

  “But not very helpful.” He looked frustrated.

  “Hey,” I said with a smile. “It’s more than I had before, and I know someone who might know more details now that you’ve pointed me in a direction.”

  “You think Naomi’s squabble at church had something to do with Bart?” He shook his head. “You’re chasin’ your tail on that one.”

  I’d chase anything at this point.

  Chapter Twenty

  I had time to fold a load of towels that had been in the dryer for two days as well as sweep and mop the living room and kitchen before I portioned out the food I’d cooked into containers for several days’ worth of meals. Even with the chores, I still pulled into a space in front of the library a few minutes before ten.

  I sat in my car, looking through my notes to help prepare for my research. While I planned to do a search for Naomi Palmer, I intended to focus most of my attention on the Crimshaws, then the arresting officers for the cases I’d collected in the notebook. Good thing I’d started writing down the cases’ web addresses in case I needed to go back later.

  Carnita was walking down the sidewalk toward the library, so I closed my notebook, grabbed my purse, and got out of my car, meeting her at the front door.

  “Oh,” she exclaimed. “You’re early today.”

  “I’m pretty sure I reserved a computer last week. Ten to one.”

  She beamed. “Well, let’s get you started.” She unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. “Go ahead and boot up a computer. Your pick.”

  I took the one at the end—fewer prying eyes, although I found most people who used the computers were more interested in their social media accounts than my research. After I turned it on, Carnita signed in, and I got started before the other two people who had reserved spots showed up.

  As I’d expected, my search for Naomi Palmer didn’t turn up much, but I did find an obituary that dated ten years back. The family had asked for donations to the American Heart Association in lieu of flowers, so I wrote down that she’d probably died of a heart condition. But it was an article in the Ewing paper that got me excited—a mention of her name at a coat drive run by the First Baptist Church of Ewing.

  I told myself not to get too worked up. Sure, Jim, Jr.’s mother attended the same church as the Crimshaws, but that didn’t mean the younger Palmers still did. They might not attend church at all, but given the fact they were fine, upstanding citizens, I suspected they did.

  Leaning toward Carnita’s desk, I asked, “Hey, Carnita. Do you happen to carry church directories?”

  She made a face. “That’s a new request. No, but it’s probably a good idea for the people who are interested in genealogy. You’d be surprised how many there are these days.” She cocked her head. “You trying to figure out a family tree?”

  I couldn’t confess what I was really up to. “Yeah, something like that.”

  “Which family? I might be able to help.”

  Crap. Who could I name without giving myself away? “The Binghams.”

  She chuckled. “Believe it or not, Todd and Lula have been doin’ their own research into his family tree. Well, both of their families now.” She lowered her voice. “Lula’s mother’s gettin’ out of prison next month, you know.”

  I couldn’t hide my surprise. Last November, Lula had mentioned that her mother was likely getting out in the spring, but she’d never shown up and I’d assumed it had been a lie or her parole board had rejected her. “So Lula’s researching her own family tree?”

  “Seems like it,” Carnita said.

  That was news to pack away for another day. “Well, if Lula and Bingham have already started researching their family trees, I’ll just talk to them about my questions.”

  “That’ll save you some time,” Carnita said. “The last time Lula was in, she told me they’d traced Todd’s family back to 1827.”

  I wrinkled my nose in confusion. “I’ve never seen either one of them in here using the computers. When do they come in?”

  “Todd has his own internet.”

  Likely satellite internet, not that I was surprised since he had a satellite phone. Marco had talked about getting satellite internet but had put it off up until now since it was well over a hundred dollars a month for super slow service.

/>   Turning back to the computer, I searched for Jim Palmer, Sr. next. There was more about him than his wife. Jim, Jr. had apparently learned about civic engagement from his father. The older man had a friendly smile and looked a lot like his son. His obituary showed he’d died a year after his wife, also a heart attack based on the same donation request.

  On a whim, I searched for the First Baptist Church of Ewing and found few hits other than their website and a Yelp review page with a 2.6 rating. I clicked through to the outdated website. There wasn’t a list of church members, but there were some old photos of previous social events. On the page featuring an ice cream social from three years prior, I found a photo of several members of the younger Palmer family—Jim and his two kids, all three smiling and looking happy.

  And there was my connection linking Pam to Jim.

  Still, just because they attended the same church didn’t mean they’d had any kind of relationship. If the church was large, they might not have even known each other, although I suspected it wasn’t a mega church. Given the fact that Rob Crimshaw had earned a reputation for being an asshole, I doubted the two families were friends, but they probably knew of each other. It also put Pam and Jim within the same social circle, but I had a hard time seeing the younger insurance agent having an affair with the nearly decade older, unpolished Pam.

  I turned to researching the Crimshaw family next, focusing on Rob. Not much pulled up on him, but there were several hits from twenty years prior. He’d been in multiple bar fights and acquired a few DUIs. His name often popped up in association with his father, Stewart Crimshaw. He’d been arrested multiple times for drug possession.

  That would have been when Hank was in the thick of the drug game.

  Stewart’s last arrest had been for possession with intent to deal, and not a sell to a few friends amount. He’d been carrying a large quantity of OxyContin. Hank had sworn he hated the stuff, so did that mean Stewart Crimshaw had been working for Bingham? Only, it had happened decades ago, back when Bingham was probably just getting started. Whoever he was working for, he’d gotten a ten-year prison sentence. I couldn’t find anything about him after that.

  Had Hank lied to me about selling Oxy?

  An unsettled feeling filled the pit of my stomach, but I reminded myself that he and Bingham had overlapped, with Bingham selling the stuff that Hank wouldn’t. The odds were greater that his supplier had been Bingham.

  What had happened to Stewie? The last article was from eighteen years ago, so he should have been released by now. Had he come back to Drum?

  I was about to do more research on Thad’s accident when the computer suddenly shut down and the lights went off.

  “What the hell?” the man on the far end shouted, banging the side of the monitor.

  “Did you forget to pay the electric bill, Carnita?” the woman next to me asked with a chuckle.

  Carnita didn’t look so amused, almost like she was wondering the same thing. “It’ll probably turn back on in just a moment.”

  But it didn’t.

  “How about I go out and see if anyone else’s power went out?” I said as I closed my notebook and got to my feet.

  Relief filled Carnita’s eyes. “Good idea.”

  I headed out the front door, but since it was daytime, it wasn’t so easy to determine at a glance. There seemed to be some commotion over at Watson’s Café, so I headed over and realized right away that their power was out too.

  “We’re dealin’ with this as best we can,” Sheila, an older waitress, shouted over the excited voices in the dining room. Greta stood to the side, watching the uproar in dismay.

  Sheila inserted her fingers between her lips and released a wolf whistle, and the room instantly quieted. She might be wearing a pink and white vintage style waitress outfit that made her look like a pushover, but she was tough as they come and wouldn’t put up with crap from anyone. She could likely give Ruth a run for her money. “Now that I have everyone’s attention,” she said as though scolding a child. “The power is out and will be indefinitely. Watson found out the construction crew out at Drummond’s new resort cut a power line and they have no idea when they’ll get it fixed. Might be today, might be tomorrow.”

  There was another uproar, but Sheila whistled again, and the room quieted, although there was still some annoyed murmuring. “We’ll be gettin’ out as many orders as we can. The rest of you will be free to go, drinks on the house. We’ll come around table to table to let you know where you stand.”

  I wondered what that meant for the tavern. I’d heard the power went out occasionally, but it hadn’t happened since I’d shown up in town.

  Greta saw me, and her face brightened as she hurried over. “Sorry we won’t be able to serve you.”

  “I wasn’t here to eat anyway,” I said. “I’m working over at the library and thought I’d see who else lost power.”

  “The whole town from the sounds of it,” she said. Her eyes lit up. “Looks like we both got the day off. Want to hang out this afternoon? I’ll call Lula and see if she’s in.”

  I knew I should say no, but part of me really wanted to have some girl fun. Besides, call me devious, but I was curious about Lula’s mother. “I have a few errands to run. Maybe I can join you two at some point?”

  “We’ll probably just hang out at Lula’s.” When she saw my hesitation, she laughed. “Not her cabin. At Bingham’s. You should see how she’s fixed it up.”

  Her cabin, where she’d spent her entire life up until last December, was not only literally falling apart, but it didn’t have electricity or running water. Still, I wondered if Bingham’s house was much better. I’d never been inside, but I’d spent some time on his rundown front porch. Lula must have been a miracle worker to make his house hospitable in such a short period of time.

  I pointed my thumb toward the exit. “I’ll let Carnita know what’s going on, then check in with Max.”

  “Great,” she said, then gave me a hug. “I hope we see you later!”

  I headed back to the library to give Carnita the news. The other two people at the computers had left, but Carnita said she’d stay open. The two front windows and glass door let in plenty of light, and she didn’t need electricity to check out books and DVDs. She planned to write the checkout information down in a notebook until the system came back up.

  I drove down to the tavern and used the key to let myself in the back door. It was close to eleven, but Max would be up and Tiny would be in soon to get ready for the lunch crowd. I could hear Max’s voice coming from his office, and he didn’t sound happy, so I stayed by the back door. I couldn’t completely make out his side of the conversation, just a word or phrase here and there, including, “you better make this right.” Then I heard the bang of the phone receiver slamming down on the cradle.

  “Hey, Max?” I called out and was met with silence.

  A few seconds later, he appeared in the hallway, his eyes wide. “Hey, Carly. I thought you weren’t coming in until Tutoring Club.”

  “Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it, but I was at the library and checked in at Watson’s when the power went out. They found out the construction crew at Drummond’s resort hit a power line and we might be out of power until tomorrow.”

  “Fuck,” he said with a groan as he turned away. “I’ll have Tiny and Pickle get the generators out of storage.”

  “You have generators?” I asked in surprise.

  “Gotta plan for a rainy day,” he said, but he seemed agitated.

  “Is everything okay, Max?”

  “It’s fine…other than this headache.” He made a face. “We’ll probably be busier than usual tonight. Some people have generators, but most don’t, so they’ll be hungry and we’ll be ready to help ’em out. I might need you to cancel Tutoring Club so you can do a supplies run to Ewing to buy us a bunch of hamburgers, buns, and potatoes. One generator can run the grill, fridge, and fryers, so Tiny and Pickle can fry up burgers and make fries pretty effic
iently.” He’d switched to business mode pretty quickly, but I was still wondering about that phone call.

  Could it have been about Pam?

  “I don’t mind going to Ewing,” I said, figuring I could visit Thelma to ask more questions. It was obvious my hangout with the girls wasn’t going to happen anyway. “I can pay a visit to my friends at Greener Pastures, and maybe see if Marco has time to meet me for lunch. Just give me a shopping list, and I’ll get what you need.”

  His gaze took in my dress, hair, and makeup, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  I cringed. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

  His eyes flew wide. “So you two really weren’t together before?”

  My face flushed. “Max.”

  “What finally convinced you to take the leap?” he asked, leaning his shoulder against the wall, a sly grin lighting up his eyes. “It was me, wasn’t it? All that pesterin’ wore you down.”

  I snorted. “Hardly.” Then because I didn’t see a reason to keep it a secret, I added, “He got me a telescope.”

  He blinked. “Say what? A telescope?” He laughed. “Okay…maybe I’ll have to try it sometime.”

  I nearly told him it wouldn’t work, but I doubted he’d go to that much effort to bed a woman. Then again, although he’d apparently earned a reputation as a lady killer, I hadn’t really seen him with many women. Occasionally, a young woman would come in late and stayed at the bar past closing, but I’d only seen a few of them.

  His rakish smile turned friendly. “Let me call Tiny and we’ll figure out what we need. Thanks for doin’ this.”

  “Of course. No problem. Just tell me when you need it by.”

  “I suspect we have enough to tide over the lunch crowd. It’s the dinner crowd that will bleed us dry. Let’s say four so Tiny doesn’t have a stroke worryin’ about havin’ enough food.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll call a few people on the Tutoring Club list and have them spread the word that we’re canceling today. No one will be surprised because of the electricity.” Then I added, “Say, did you interview Ruth’s friend? If she’s starting, we should probably let her know she doesn’t need to come in.”