“It’s that easy?” Lil asked. “Whatever happened to the white pages?”
“These are the white pages, but better. They don’t have to be recycled.” With her normal lightning typing speed, Sera tapped away on the keyboard. As she continued, her forehead creased in a way Lil had rarely witnessed, which did not bode well. Sera looked up. “Are you sure this is the right information?”
Lil looked past Sera’s shoulder at the address she’d typed into the website. “Angelina wrote it down herself.”
“Could she have been mistaken about where he lived?”
“I don’t think so. She looked it up while we were standing right there.” Lil sat down. “Why? What did you find?”
“That’s just it,” Sera said. “I didn’t find a thing. And although his name isn’t as common as Smith, it isn’t uncommon either. I Googled him. Then I used my favorite people finder website, findpeoplenow.com. I typed in Charlie Millet and Minden, Louisiana. No results. Then I tried Charles Millet. Heck, I even tried Chaz. Nada. If this search engine says there isn’t a Charlie, Charles, or Chaz Millet in that town, it’s probably accurate.”
“What do you think that means?”
Maggie sighed. “It means your darling Charlie was a liar.”
Lil’s heart crumpled. “But he was so nice.”
“Lil, can you remember anything about Charlie that might help us run him down?”
“Just that I was a better cook than his momma, but that she makes a mean Brunswick stew.”
With her pointer finger, Maggie rubbed a circle in the center of her forehead. “George and I used to attend a hardware conference every year. Luckily, it moved from place to place. It was actually in Shreveport once.”
“If I remember my geography correctly, that’s not too far from Minden,” Lil said.
“Then we know he was either lying to you about the stew or where he’s from.”
“You should never lie about family recipes.”
“I think he was probably telling the truth about his momma’s cooking, but that means he’s not from Louisiana. We might think Brunswick stew goes with barbecue like jelly goes with peanut butter, but I never saw it on a menu anywhere in Louisiana.”
“Interesting,” Sera said. “This is one of those times when it would be helpful to have our resident Texan in the room.”
Lil cast a quick glance toward the kitchen doorway to make sure their resident Texan wasn’t listening in. “I think we all know that’s not a good idea. The last thing I want to do is set back her recovery. And she needs her strength for when they do the radiation.”
“She hasn’t decided on that yet,” Sera told Lil.
“Well, of course she’ll get the treatment.” Lil hadn’t even considered she might not. That frightened her.
“We don’t know what she’ll decide, but it’s up to her. And you’re right, no matter what she decides, she’s going to need her strength,” Sera agreed. “So it still looks like Charlie is our best bet. Problem is, we need to find the man.”
“Well, if he was telling the truth about his momma’s Brunswick stew, then we know it’s likely he’s from here in Georgia, North Carolina, or Virginia.”
“That’s not a lot to go on.”
Something occurred to Lil. “One of the evenings he was staying here, he ventured out for some dinner and entertainment.”
One side of Sera’s mouth lifted. “And we all know what entertainment is a code word for. I hear that Gary’s Gallery of Girls place just over the line in Pitts County does a pretty swift business.”
“Sera!” Lil scolded. “Charlie might be a thief, but he was respectful. I don’t know how things work out there in LA, but this is a small town and our nice gentlemen don’t go to…um…”
“Gentlemen’s clubs?” Maggie offered. “Maybe, because it’s not like there are a lot of evening entertainment options around here, Lil.”
Lil covered her face with her hands. Well, at least she hadn’t caught Harlan partaking in that particular vice.
Sera rolled the marker between her hands. “We definitely should talk to folks at the diner and Earlene’s Drinkery. They’ve been good sources of information before.” She turned and started another column, listing both places and the gentleman’s club, too.
“Why don’t we start at the diner and go from there?” Maggie said. “I bet Dottie could tell us if Charlie met anyone for dinner or happened to say anything helpful while he was there.”
“Sure wish I’d taken a picture of him.” But how was Lil to know she’d be hunting down her guest a few days later? “And I’ll talk to Angelina and confirm his contact information.”
“I have an idea.” Maggie hopped up and hurried to the kitchen. A few minutes later, she returned with a large russet potato and an armful of kitchen gadgets.
“What in heaven’s name?”
“Give me a minute.” She laid out all her cooking supplies. “Now, what can we remember about Charlie?”
“He had dark hair and a mustache.”
“Perfect.” Maggie grabbed the potato and speared it with a basting brush so the bristles drooped down over the potato. Then she unwrapped a chocolate cupcake Lil hadn’t been aware was in the house. With a sad look, Maggie contemplated it for a few seconds and muttered something that sounded like, “Sometimes sacrifices must be made.” With a definitive movement, she shoved the cupcake onto the top of the potato.
Sera hooted with laughter. “I loved this as a kid. I had the set—Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head. My favorite was attaching Mr. Potato Head’s lips to Mrs. Potato Head’s butt.”
Lord, that sounded more likely to be right up Abby Ruth’s wicked alley. “Mags, why are we playing some warped version of a cooking show?”
She frowned at her creation. “I know it won’t actually look like Charlie.” She glanced at Lil. “But it will get us thinking about the specifics of his features.”
“With a potato?” Lil asked. “Besides, he looks less like Charlie and more like Adolf Hitler if you ask me. We need something a little more realistic. Sera, you painted all those backdrops for the July Fourth parade a while back. Can’t you do something?”
Still chuckling, Sera grabbed Maggie in a one-armed hug. “Have I told you lately how much I love you? But if you’ll both hang on a minute, I think Lil’s right. We can do better.”
She went upstairs and came back carrying an iPad. “Check this out.” She sat down next to Lil and waved Maggie over.
Maggie cast another glance at her Charlie lookalike creation, then gave a small shrug. She brought it with her to the table and used her finger to scoop off bits of chocolate frosting and pop them in her mouth. When she caught Lil looking at her, she said around a mouthful of cupcake, “If a gal can’t indulge herself now and again, there’s really no reason to keep on living.”
True enough.
Sera did a little chair dance and tap-tapped on her screen to bring up what Lil now knew was called an app. “This is the coolest thing. I found it while I was in California, and I hoped we’d get the opportunity to use it.”
The screen opened up with a big blank spot in the middle and a row of what looked like shrunken heads in an assortment of shapes and sizes. “Would you say he had a square head, a round head, or something else?”
“Maybe more oval.”
With her index finger, Sera selected a head that looked a bit like Bert from Sesame Street and dragged it to the middle of the screen. She clicked again and outfitted the head with dark hair and a bushy mustache.
“Much better. Less like Hitler and more like Groucho Marx,” Lil told her.
Little by little, Sera added what they could remember about their guest—tiny earlobes, a nose that crooked slightly to the left, and a softish chin—until after a series of clicks and resizing features, the picture in front of them looked enough like Charlie that Lil said, “That’s him.”
“It is,” Maggie agreed. “It looks just like him.”
“Great,” Sera said
. “I’ll send a copy of this to each of our phones.” She paused and looked at Lil. “Since you don’t have a cell phone, I’ll print one out for you.”
For the first time, Lil regretted that she’d stubbornly refused to get one of those newfangled smart phones.
Before, she’d never understood why someone would want to listen to music from her pocket or type short messages to a friend. Seemed like one more way the modern world was intruding on the good ol’ days when calling on someone meant traveling to their house and paying them a civilized visit. But it could also mean she’d have a phone-a-friend option if she ever needed it.
But today, that was neither here nor there. They needed to get out in the community and do what they could to track down the man who had most likely stolen their friend’s beloved guns.
* * *
Lil and Maggie flashed the picture of Charlie around town most of the afternoon and got absolutely nowhere. When they spoke with Dottie at the Atlanta Highway Diner, even she had no insider info for them. Nothing much ever got past the longtime waitress, so that was disappointing. Wherever Charlie ate when he was in Summer Shoals, apparently it wasn’t at the diner.
This investigation was not going well at all.
Maybe Lil was messing up the girls’ mojo.
Maybe she wasn’t meant to be part of the team.
She and Maggie came back to Summer Haven no closer to the truth than when they left. Lil bristled at the thought that she might not fit in, and she dropped her purse on a chair in the parlor as Sera and Marcus came downstairs.
Sera rushed into the room ahead of Marcus. “I’m going to run over to Angelina’s with Marcus.” She lowered her voice. “He’s still mad, insisting if I plan to talk with Brad that he’s going with me. I’m hoping I can investigate and soothe Marcus all at the same time. Maybe you girls can get a good lead at Earlene’s Drinkery. We were lucky there before, remember?” she said. “But wait until Abby Ruth goes out or somehow keep it from her. We don’t want to upset her again.”
She shot Lil an okay symbol, then draped her poncho over her arm and left with Marcus.
No. Lil didn’t remember, because she hadn’t helped them crack that case. And danged if she didn’t sometimes feel like the last one picked for the kickball team, and she didn’t like that feeling one bit. But she wasn’t about to be left out this time.
So Lil followed Maggie outside and climbed into her little red pickup. At least she could get herself up into this truck, unlike Abby Ruth’s beast.
“Earlene’s it is,” Maggie said.
No surprise the parking lot was full. Dollar draft night always brought a crowd to Earlene’s. Harlan had cozied up to the bar regularly when he was alive, but Earlene’s wasn’t a place Lil normally frequented. Especially now that she knew the bar had sold Harlan plenty of lottery tickets over the years. On principle she’d waged a personal boycott on the joint.
Maggie slid out of the truck and headed for the door. “Someone in here has to have seen Charlie.”
“Just because a man drinks doesn’t make him a thief,” Lil said, hearing the sulk in her own voice.
Maggie slowly turned to Lil. “After all we’ve all been through over the past couple of years, you’re the last person who should believe all people who seem good are good.” She placed her hands on Lil’s shoulders. “Repeat after me. Bad Charlie.”
“Bad Charlie?”
“Yes. That’s right. Say it again.”
“Bad Charlie?”
“Charlie isn’t a good guy.”
“He was nice.”
“He lied. Lying is bad. He’s Bad. Bad, bad Charlie.”
“Oh stop it. Besides, we aren’t all that much better. We were keeping the truth from Abby Ruth about her guns and now we’re investigating without her.”
Maggie swung open the bar’s front door and walked inside. “Well, we had good intentions, and we can manage this perfectly well without her now that you’re back.”
Oh, that certainly made her feel like a first-string kickball pick. In fact, being as good as Abby Ruth was better than being a simple team member. That woman was fearless, so if Maggie thought Lil was just as good, she was like the team captain.
“Crud.” Maggie said, throwing a hand out in front of Lil, nearly clotheslining her.
“Ouch. What was that for?”
“Look who’s at the bar.”
Sure enough, at the far end of the bar sat a tall, slender woman rocking a pair of skinny jeans stuffed into boots the color of a Hawaiian sunset and a white blouse starched as sharp as that wit of hers. Unmistakable even from the back. Abby Ruth Cady.
“Well, let’s circle around to this end of the bar. She won’t see us. We’ll flash the picture of Bad Charlie then get out of here.”
“Do we have to call him that?”
Maggie’s mouth thinned to a stubborn line. “Yes, we do.”
Lil nodded and tucked herself behind Maggie. “And what’s Abby Ruth doing here anyway? She shouldn’t be drinking.”
“She could just be watching the game.”
“She has a short glass filled with something dark-colored. Drinking whiskey in her condition is idiotic.”
Maggie snickered. “Are you planning to tell Abby Ruth that she’s an idiot? Lil, you have a lot to learn about communicating with that woman. Let’s take care of our business and get out of here.”
True. Taking Abby Ruth head-on was probably not a good plan. No sense ruining the détente they’d established recently. “Right behind you.”
Maggie led the way, taking a wide sweep to the outside of the dark bar. Black leather couches and chairs made up small conversation pits. On this side of the room management still allowed smoking, and Lil waved a hand in front of her face to clear the smog. TVs broadcast sporting events at ear-bleeding levels from competing stations, creating a chaotic atmosphere. Couple that with the occasional crash of billiard balls, and Lil thought she probably knew how criminals felt when the cops dropped one of those noisy flash things.
Maggie approached the nearest bartender, and he called out, “Maggie Rawls, haven’t seen you in a while!”
She put a finger to her lips and shifted her back to Abby Ruth. “Shhhh.”
The bartender’s forehead creased in confusion.
“I don’t want Abby Ruth to know we’re here.”
He looked over his shoulder. “She hasn’t said much tonight. Not like her. Of course, the Astros lost again, so a calm Abby Ruth is better than the one that breaks a pool stick over the jukebox when her team loses.”
Maggie flashed Lil a see-you-don’t-want-to-mess-with-her look.
“Point taken,” Lil said. She pulled the printed copy of the Charlie sketch from her purse and handed it to the bartender. “Have you seen this man in here?”
He glanced at the picture. “Don’t have my glasses, but ask Sasha. She knows the customers better than anyone.”
“Thanks.” Maggie worked her way to a corner booth and took a seat. “Abby Ruth won’t be able to see us over here.”
Sasha weaved through the crowd with precision, never dribbling a drop from her full tray of drinks. Anywhere else, three waitresses would be working a bar this size, but Sasha handled the capacity with ease and a smile. “Hey, ladies. What can I get ya?”
“We don’t need a drink, but keep this as a tip, dear.” Lil slid a twenty across the table along with the sketch. “Have you seen this young man in here?”
Sasha studied the picture. “It’s a little dark in here, but he does kind of look familiar.”
Maggie whipped out her iPhone and handed it to Sasha. “This better?”
“Oh yeah!” The waitress tapped the phone with a polish-chipped fingernail.
Lil cringed at the sight. Didn’t take much time for a woman to keep her manicure in check, or at the very least remove the polish when it began to chip. Seriously, didn’t these young girls take any pride in themselves?
“That’s Charlie,” Sasha said. “Strong
, silent type.”
That surprised Lil, because the Charlie she’d met seemed very outgoing and likable.
“Been coming here a long time. About every three weeks or so.”
“Bingo.” Satisfaction streaming through her, Lil winked at Maggie. “Recently?”
“A few days ago. He always seems to just be passing through on his way somewhere. Business, I guess. Important business probably, because he’s one big tipper.”
Maggie asked, “He ever say what business he’s in?”
“Transportation and logistics.”
Lil pondered that for a moment. “What does that mean? He could be anything from a truck driver to an air traffic controller.”
Sasha shrugged. “As long as he tips me in fifty and hundred dollar bills he can be whatever he wants.”
“Do you know how to get in touch with him?”
“No. Never asked.”
“Has he ever had company here at the bar?”
“Yes. But his friends were quiet, like him, only not big tippers.”
“Did he ever say anything about guns?” Maggie asked.
The waitress paled. “Never. Why would he talk about guns?”
A woman came sauntering up behind Sasha, and Lil’s heart clenched. She swept the composite sketch off the table and into her lap, and she tried to kick Maggie, but she couldn’t reach. Lil gave a hearty over-the-top laugh. “Oh, Maggie is just joking with you.”
The waitress shot Lil an are-you-crazy look. “I got tables to wait on,” Sasha said. “You need anything else over here, flag me down, okay?”
“They don’t need a damn thing,” Abby Ruth said, waving her off.
The waitress took the escape route.
Eyes squinty and chin in the air, Abby Ruth asked, “What are y’all doing here?”
“Chatting with Sasha about drink choices.”
“What did you scoop into your lap?”
“Nothing.” Lil had never been a good liar, but she tried by saying, “We were talking about some repairs at Summer Haven.”
“With the waitress? You want me to believe that Sasha does construction work on the side?” Abby Ruth’s fist found its favorite spot on her cocked hip.
Under the Gun Page 14
