When I got back to his house, I made quick work of bringing in the bags and putting the food away before I found my spare pair of jeans and put my dirty ones in the laundry room.
“Did you get my Coke?” he called out from his chair.
“Yes.”
“Did you find Wyatt?”
I was thankful he was in the other room because I stopped what I was doing and tried to figure out what to tell him. Less was best, I decided. “Yep. I found him.”
“Did he get a license plate number?”
“He says he didn’t.”
I heard him push out a sigh. “Probably for the best.”
I scrubbed the rest of the bathroom, then helped Hank in to use the toilet.
“Why’d you go and clean it all up?” he asked in bewilderment. “It’s just gonna get messy again.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it.”
I needed to be at the tavern by five, so I made an early dinner consisting of spaghetti and a homemade sauce I threw together with some hamburger, crushed tomatoes, garlic powder, and some of the yellow onion and basil and oregano. I made a list of more spices to get the next time I was at the store. Hank seemed pretty content in his chair, so I had him check his blood sugar and brought his bottle of insulin from the fridge.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” I asked, watching him inject his stomach.
“Not anymore,” he said, handing me the syringe. “Don’t throw that away. I’ll reuse it.”
My eyes about popped out of my head. “Excuse me? Isn’t that how people get HIV and Hep C?”
“I ain’t gonna give a disease to myself,” he grumped, lowering his shirt over his stomach. “Just put it on the counter and I’ll take care of it later. Now where’s my food?”
“Aren’t you supposed to wait fifteen minutes?”
“Are you Nurse Patty now?” he asked with a frown.
“No, I’m Chef Carly, and since I control the food, I say you’ll wait.” I cast a glance to the clock on the wall and took note of the time. 4:13. At 4:18, I handed him his plate. He was in a foul mood when I handed it to him, but it quickly changed after a couple of bites.
Still, I couldn’t help thinking this meal probably wasn’t good for him either. I’d figure out a way to learn more about a proper diet for diabetics at the library tomorrow. Among other things.
“I’ll put the leftovers in the fridge in case you get hungry later,” I said after he finished. I’d been cleaning the kitchen in between taking bites of my own food. “Wyatt said he’d come check on you after he gets done at the garage, so he can fix you a plate.” Then I added, “There’s enough for him to have some too.”
“It’s so damn good he’ll eat it all,” he complained.
I laughed. “Then I’ll make you more.”
I’d barely had a chance to do any sleuthing in Seth’s room, let alone the hours I needed to clean it up to make it habitable. Wyatt had carried my suitcase in earlier and set it inside the door, where it now lay on the floor. Although the clothes inside were a bit askew from my quick search for jeans, it was still the neatest part of the room.
Maybe I’d just sleep on the sofa tonight. It might be better to sleep closer to Hank anyway.
I gave Hank another dose of ibuprofen and left Wyatt a note on the kitchen table telling him I couldn’t convince Hank to take his pain medication but maybe he could. Then I grabbed my jacket and told Hank I’d be back after midnight.
It was getting dark when I drove into town and I was paranoid, constantly looking in my rearview mirror for any sign of the black truck. Those people had almost killed Wyatt. Whatever they wanted, they weren’t playing.
When I walked into the tavern, Tiny gave me a warm greeting and Ruth looked happy to see me. “I thought for sure you’d quit. Takin’ care of Hank has to be a full-time job.”
“Wyatt is going to stay with him tonight. He says he’s going to help share the responsibility.”
She gave me a look that suggested she thought my insistence was cute. “If you say so.”
“Your car is parked out back with a full tank of gas.” Which had cleaned out another sixty bucks from my bank account. Ruth’s car was a gas guzzler and had a massive tank. And of course, gas cost more up here.
“Say,” I said. “Seth’s funeral is Friday, and I don’t know how long it’s going to last. Do you think Max will be pissed if I’m late Friday afternoon? I’m sure it gets busy on the weekend.”
“Don’t you worry about Max. He’ll likely be there himself. We all will.”
“Do you know where I could get something appropriate to wear to the funeral?” I asked, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I don’t have a black dress or anything.” I wasn’t sure I’d even be welcome at the funeral, but I suspected Hank could use the support, and I knew I needed closure, or as much closure as I could get until I found out who’d killed him.
“Yeah,” she said, bright-eyed. “I’ve got a black dress you can wear. And shoes too. They might be a little big, but we can stuff tissues in the toes or something. I can bring them to you tomorrow. You still workin’ the night shift with me?”
I gave her a grateful smile. “Yeah. Thanks, Ruth.”
“Don’t think a thing about it, but we better tell Max. I know he doesn’t know about the funeral yet.”
Ruth told him, and within minutes, Max had declared that the tavern would be closed from two thirty until six on Friday so the town could attend the funeral and pay their respects. Afterward, the mourners would be welcomed back at the bar for a post-funeral celebration of life. He tasked Ruth and me with spreading the word to the customers, knowing it would shoot through the town like wildfire. He also told us to be sure to bring around the jar he’d put on the counter to collect funds to help cover Seth’s funeral expenses. I almost told him that Wyatt had covered it, but the last thing I wanted to do was stand between the two brothers. Still, I felt awkward.
The dinner shift was busy again tonight but less so than the night before. While the patrons weren’t overly friendly, they weren’t as openly hostile as they’d been.
Jerry came in early—within minutes of my arrival at the tavern. He sat in my section and ordered the Wednesday special and a coffee. I also brought him out two tiny pieces of pie, telling him they had been cut too small to serve to anyone else, when in truth, Tiny had cut a piece in half.
Jerry mumbled his thanks, refusing to meet my gaze, and I couldn’t help thinking that he was scared of me. Did he think I’d killed Seth? For some reason, that bothered me more than when I’d wondered if Max and Wyatt might suspect me.
By nine, I’d already made more tip money than the night before, and I was about to take a break when I saw Dwight stroll into the bar with a small group of friends.
“You know him?” I asked Max while standing behind the bar.
“Dwight Henderson,” Max said, keeping his gaze on the man. “Known as Dewey to his friends. He’s bad news walkin’.”
“He’s working at Mobley Funeral Home. He told Hank his daddy’s fallen ill and he got a job closer to home to take care of him.”
“You don’t say.” He turned to look at me with an amused grin. “How do you know more about this town than I do?”
I flashed him a tight smile. “Friends in low places.”
He turned serious. “You took Hank by to see Seth at the funeral home.”
“That too.” I paused, then said, “Dwight was crude with me and acted disgusting to both of us. I kicked him out of the room while Hank was paying his respects to Seth, and I may have threatened his job. His boss told Hank that he didn’t have to worry about seeing Dwight again, and now I’m worried we got him fired.” I paused. “Does he come in here very often?”
Max’s jaw hardened. “Before Monday night, I hadn’t seen that man step foot in here in over a year. So no, I don’t think the fact he’s here tonight is a coincidence.”
We both watched as he and his two friends, who looked just as seedy,
sat at a table in my section.
“I’ll get Ruth to cover their table for you,” he said.
“She’s on her break.” Franklin had brought her dinner, and they were sitting in his truck out back.
Max tossed the towel on the counter and started walking to the end of the counter. “Carly, cover the bar.”
I grabbed his arm and tried to stop him. “Max. Don’t.”
He gave me a hard look. “No one comes in here and treats my staff disrespectfully.”
“He hasn’t even said anything to me yet.”
“And I aim to keep it that way,” he said, pulling free.
“Max!” I whisper-hissed, but he ignored me and sauntered over to the table.
“I’m here to see your new waitress, Drummond,” Dwight said, leaning back in his chair. “Where is she?”
“Takin’ a break. What can I get you gentlemen?”
“What you can get me,” Dwight said in a loud voice, “is your smart-mouthed new waitress. I want to give her my order.”
He sounded drunk and we hadn’t even served him a drink yet.
“Well,” Max drawled, propping his hands on his hips in a nonchalant pose. “Ruth’s definitely got a smart mouth on ’er, but I wouldn’t exactly call her new. And like I said, she’s takin’ a break, so lucky you gets me and my handsome mug instead.”
A dark smile spread across Dwight’s face. “I ain’t talkin’ about Ruth, and I ain’t talkin’ about Lula either.” He turned his gaze on me. “I’ll just wait here for your new girl to be done with her break.”
Tiny appeared in the doorway to the back. “Carly. I need you in the kitchen.”
I walked out from behind the counter, intending to go to Tiny, but something told me it would be a mistake. If I didn’t deal with him now, I’d have to deal with him later. Better to face him here, where Max and Tiny had my back, than to risk him showing up at Hank’s later.
I gave Tiny what I hoped was a reassuring look, then moved toward Dwight’s table, stopping next to Max. “What can I help you with, Dwight?”
He placed a hand on the table and leaned forward with pure evil in his eyes. “You cost me my job, and I aim to take yours.”
“Sorry,” Max said. He sounded lighthearted, but his body was humming with tension. “But I’m not currently hiring.”
“Well, there you have it,” I said, thankful my tension hadn’t leaked into my voice. “Max isn’t hiring.”
Dwight started to lunge over the table, but Max whipped out a ten-inch hunting knife from the sheath on the side of his leg and slammed it into the top of the wooden table between two of Dwight’s fingers.
“What the fuck!” Dwight shouted, jerking backward. “You could have cut my fingers off!”
“Only if I’d intended to,” Max said. “Trust me, I know what I’m doin’. Now state your business. Then you and your crew get the hell out of my bar.”
“Her!” Dwight shouted, pointing a finger at me. “I want her! She got me fired! I need that job or I’ll have hell to pay! I’m gonna let her pay it for me!”
What did that mean? Did he plan to hurt me? Kill me?
I swallowed my fear and said, “Seems to me your less-than-charming disposition got you fired. Mobley told Hank that today was just a long list of problems he’s had with you.”
His brow arched. “Hank? He had something to do with this too?”
Tiny was now standing behind me and Max, but Dwight didn’t seem to care.
“Seems to me,” Max said in his slow drawl, “that mortuary work is better suited for the meek and mild, Henderson. Perhaps it wasn’t a good fit for you.”
“It was a perfect fit for me, and now it’s gone.” His crazed eyes swung between the two of us. I wondered if I’d been wrong about him being drunk. Now I suspected he was high. “But I’ll tell you what’s not a good fit,” Dwight shouted. “That bitch isn’t a good fit for this town, and she needs to go! Everyone knows she got Seth Chalmers killed, and now she’s using her siren ways to rob Hank blind, only he’s too grief-stricken to realize it. It’s up to us to protect ’im.”
Tiny brushed me to the side and grabbed Dwight’s arm, then began dragging him to the door. “Rule number one in Max’s Tavern is you treat the help with respect, and I’ve listened to your nonsense long enough. You are no longer welcome here.”
He opened the front door and gave Dwight a hard shove.
Dwight, the fool, tried to shove his way back in. Tiny pulled back his arm and punched him in the nose with one smooth movement.
Dwight let out a howl and covered his face. “You broke my fucking nose!”
“You were warned,” Tiny said, then turned his hard gaze on Dwight’s two friends. “Gentlemen.”
They hurried past Tiny like rats scurrying from a fire, and Tiny slammed the door on their protesting faces.
Max called out, “A round of beers on the house!”
A cheer broke out and several men complimented Max and Tiny on their intimidation tactics. Another told Max he hadn’t seen his knife skills on display since a bar brawl a couple of years prior. Max promised to give another demonstration soon, and not on a belligerent customer.
Tiny stopped next to me on his way back to the kitchen. “You okay?” he asked in a quiet voice.
I nodded, unable to speak.
“Chin up, Little Bit,” he said. “You could have taken ’em.”
I laughed, still in shock. “Thank you.”
“You bet. I haven’t had to break anyone’s nose in a few months.” He grinned from ear to ear. “Felt good. Thanks.”
I followed Max behind the bar. He turned his back to the customers. His face was red, and he was shaking.
“Max, I’m so sorry,” I said, scared to death he was going to fire me on the spot.
He swung his gaze to face me, his eyes wide with surprise. “What the hell are you sayin’ you’re sorry about?”
“It’s my fault he came in here. I should have gone in the back with Tiny, but I figured if he didn’t say his piece now, he’d find me later, and then I might be alone.”
Concern filled his eyes and he put his hands on my shoulders. “Carly. I’m not mad at you. God, no. This wasn’t your fault. Do you hear me?”
I nodded.
He dropped his arms and pressed his back into the counter again, fisting his hands in front of him. “I hate fuckers like him. You have no idea how much I wanted to stab that knife into his hand.”
His anger caught me by surprise. I started to say I would have cleaned up the mess, but Ruth came rushing through the back door, Franklin with her.
“What the hell just happened?” she asked as she approached us. “I saw Dwight Henderson storming to his truck, covering his face and dripping blood all over the parking lot. He was cursing Tiny and Carly up a blue streak.”
Max took off toward the back, so I gave them a quick recap of events.
“Why do I always miss the good stuff?” she asked in a huff.
“It’s likely for the best,” Franklin said with a chuckle. “You tend to stir up enough trouble on your own.” He leaned over and gave her a peck on the lips. “If you feel unsafe when you get off, call me at the house and I’ll pick you up.” He gave me a warm smile. “You too, Carly.”
“Thanks, Franklin,” I said.
He gave us both a wave as he walked out the back door.
“You’ve got a good man there, Ruth,” I said as I followed her behind the counter.
“Don’t I know it,” she said. “We better start handing out those free beers Max promised.”
“Why don’t you fill the mugs, and I’ll pass them out?” I suggested. It would give me a chance to make the rounds through her section and maybe pick up on some loose talk about Seth’s murder. I hadn’t heard anything in my section, and I was wondering if I should start asking questions because eavesdropping wasn’t cutting it.
“Okay,” she said with a bright smile, then grabbed a mug and started filling it. We worked sile
ntly for a few moments before she said, “We’re in good shape now, but Franklin and I have had our share of rough patches.”
“Everyone does,” I said, taking the beer from her and putting it on a tray. “It’s all about how you handle those patches, and if you’re in a better place when you get to the other side of them.”
“True. I’ve been through my share of men, but unlike my momma, I never let ’em beat me. They minute they laid a hand on me, they were out of my life. But Franklin, he ain’t never laid a hand on me.” She leaned closer and winked. “Not that I didn’t want, anyway.”
I chuckled.
“What about you? I take it you don’t have a man in your life right now.”
“No,” I said softly. “I haven’t had much luck with men.”
“It’s the way of the world, honey,” she said, handing me another mug. “Did they beat you?”
“No,” I said. “I’ve been lucky in that regard, but there are plenty of other ways for a man to hurt a woman.”
“Did a man send you runnin’?”
I studied her out of the corner of my eye. She was obviously fishing for information, but was it friendly questioning or something else?
I hated that I distrusted nearly everyone, even Ruth, who’d been nothing but kind to me.
“No,” I said truthfully. “I had that nasty breakup a few months ago, and I decided it was time to shake things up. Hence my decision to go on an extended vacation and look for somewhere else to live.”
“Have you ever lived in a house?” she asked wistfully. When I gave her a curious look, she said, “Can you keep a secret?”
“I’m a vault with secrets.”
She gave me a strange look, but it quickly faded, and a smile lit up her face. “Last weekend Franklin told me that he’s been savin’ up money. He nearly has enough for a down payment on a house.”
I gave her a huge grin. “That’s great!”
A Cry in the Dark: Carly Moore Series Page 21
