One Foot in the Grave

by Denise Grover Swank

  “I need five beers and a coke. And don’t provoke him,” I said, glancing around my section to see if anyone needed my attention. Shockingly, everyone seemed good. Which meant I didn’t have a reason to walk away.

  “It’s pretty damn obvious he came here to see you,” he said in a dark voice as he grabbed a mug and started to pull the draft. “He cleared a table of customers to sit in your section.”

  “Orrr,” I said, drawing out the word, “he really wanted to sit in a booth with the baby.”

  “There’s a booth open in Ruth’s section with a table in front of it.”

  “Calm down,” I said, slightly exasperated. “If he picked my section, it’s probably because of Lula. She and Ruth don’t exactly see eye to eye.”

  His lips pressed together, and his gaze seemed to turn more intense as he set the first beer on the counter.

  “Stop that,” I said as I grabbed a tray for the drinks. “You’re gonna piss him off.”

  “Good. I don’t want him thinkin’ he can mess with you.”

  That stupid blood price. It was making him crazy.

  A flood of anger washed through me, and I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “I can handle myself. Todd Bingham’s no threat to me. I’ve spent more time with him than you and I did when we were dating.”

  Jerry caught the corner of my eye as he walked through the door, far later than he usually came in. He sat at his usual perch at the end of the bar, but something about him seemed different. His posture maybe, or the way he was sitting.

  “I don’t need to be reminded of your relationship with a criminal,” Wyatt growled.

  My brow shot up, and I said in a deadly calm voice, “Be careful, Wyatt. Think very carefully what you say about him and my relationship with him from here on out, or I might not be so inclined to keep helping you.”

  Wyatt looked like he was about to choke on his own tongue, so I headed to Jerry, leaving Wyatt without a backward glance.

  “Hey, Jerry,” I said, trying to shake the weird feeling squeezing my chest after my encounter with Wyatt. “You’re coming in late tonight. Want me to get you a beer to start?”

  “I got me a temporary job,” he said, beaming.

  I couldn’t hide my surprise. “A job? That’s so exciting, Jerry. Where is it? What are you doin’?”

  “At the construction site. I’m just sort of a gofer, but they kept me busy this afternoon.” He jutted his head toward me. “The construction site opened back up today.”

  “Yeah, so I heard.” Something about his job offer made me feel unsettled. “How did this all come about?” I asked excitedly, because Jerry was beaming and I didn’t want to take that from him. He’d felt beneath everyone for so long, and while he’d been coming out of his shell over the last five months, I’d never seen him like this.

  “One of the construction foremen was here during lunch. He spotted me and asked if I wanted a job. He said it’s only temporary, but I don’t mind because it’s more money than I had before and it’s something to do.”

  The arrangement sounded fishy. I didn’t mention it because if I did, I’d sound crazy, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Bart had arranged this. But I sure hoped not. It would kill Jerry to know he’d been used, even more so if it was Bart Drummond doing the using.

  “This calls for a celebration,” I said with a huge grin.

  Jerry’s face glowed with pride.

  Max must have heard because he came down to the end of the bar. “What are we celebratin’?”

  “My new job,” Jerry said, looking pleased with himself. Then he started to tell Max about his duties for the day while Max listened, excited for him too.

  But an oily feeling took hold of me. The more I thought about it, the more certain I felt that Bart had somehow arranged this.

  He intended to hurt Jerry to get to me. And I was powerless to stop it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was after seven when Marco showed up, still in his uniform. His gaze found me instantly, as though his inner radar could detect my presence.

  I was at the bar, getting refills for Bingham’s goons. We locked eyes, and for a split second, a sensation of warmth washed over me.

  No. I couldn’t feel this way about him. I couldn’t risk losing him as my friend. The tug of yearning I felt was only because I wanted the comfort of being near him. Everyone needed to stop running their mouths about our friendship.

  Wyatt was pulling the drafts, and Marco’s eyes darkened at the sight of him.

  I hurried over to him, grabbing his arm. “I suppose we have a lot to talk about after my message this afternoon.”

  “And your tea appointment,” he said, his gaze still on Wyatt.

  “Yeah, that didn’t turn out as I’d expected.”

  He eyes jerked to mine, filled with worry.

  I shook my head. “Nothing to worry about… at least I don’t think so. You can help me decide when I tell you all about it later, but I don’t think we should discuss it here. Do you want to come over to Hank’s after work?”

  He hesitated, then said, “I was thinkin’ you could come to my place for a sleepover. I have the day off tomorrow. I don’t go in until the evening. I can help.”

  I gave it a thought. “I’d have to go by Hank’s for some things.”

  “You already have a toothbrush at my place. And shampoo and conditioner too.”

  Marco had gotten me those things when I’d spent days recuperating at his place after I was drugged, but I’d stayed at his house several times since for what we called sleepovers—which usually consisted of us sleeping on the sofa after watching movies. He’d introduced me to Star Wars and Star Trek—both of which I’d enjoyed, to my surprise.

  When I hesitated, he added, “We can throw your clothes in the washer and dryer, and you can wear one of my T-shirts and sweatpants to sleep in.” His smile spread. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  I had to admit that hanging out with Marco tonight and tomorrow morning was exactly what I needed. And I could really use his insight into everything.

  “Well, when you put it that way,” I said, “I could use a little fun.”

  Wyatt’s scowl deepened as Marco grinned at me and headed to the back to change. Ignoring Wyatt, I picked up the drinks he’d finished pouring, dropped them off, then checked on Lula and Bingham.

  Beatrice was awake, and Lula was cooing to her. Bingham’s gaze was on both of them, his guard up.

  “Bingham,” I said in a low tone as I took their dirty plates. “I’d like to make an appointment to see you tomorrow morning.”

  A smirk spread across his face. “Is this about Heather Stone? Are you playin’ Nancy Drew again?”

  “I need a little insight into some Drum history, and I figured you might be able to help.”

  His brow shot up. “You gonna accuse me of burying her body?”

  “I know you didn’t bury her,” I scoffed. “You’re smarter than that. Her body wouldn’t have still been there if you’d put it in the ground.”

  His smile stretched. “You think Old Man Drummond did it?”

  “Unfortunately, no. But again, I’d like to pick your brain, if you’ll let me.”

  “Figuratively, I hope,” he said with a wink.

  “You hush now, Todd,” Lula said, then turned to me. “Of course you can drop by and talk to him. How about ten?”

  I turned to Bingham and waited for him to confirm his agreement. He gave a slight nod, his gaze pinned on me.

  “Well, all righty then,” I said, my attention fully on the baby. “Before I take these plates back, can I get you anything else?”

  “I think we’re good,” Lula said, then smiled. “Do you want to hold her?”

  I sucked in a lungful of air. “Me?”

  I glanced around to see if anyone needed me.

  “They’ll be fine,” Lula said, turning toward me. “She needs her godmother to hold her.”

  “What?”

  “I want you to b
e her second godmother. Greta’s one, of course, but you were the only one in this town to go lookin’ for me. If you’d help me like that after just meetin’ me, I can only imagine what you’d do to help Bea.”

  “I…I don’t know what to say.”

  “That’s why we came in tonight. I should have told you sooner…” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “But Todd and me couldn’t see eye to eye on some of the people we picked. Beatrice is being baptized this Sunday at church.”

  “Oh,” I said, still in shock. Being a godmother came with responsibilities, but they were usually ceremonial. I knew of very few godparents who ever did anything beyond giving their godchild a birthday gift every year and bragging about being a godparent. Which, thankfully, made it feel less morally reprehensible to accept and then turn around and leave Drum… because if I didn’t accept, I’d have a whole lot of explaining to do to Bingham. “I’m honored. Do I need to do anything? I’ve never been a godmother before.”

  “Just show up at the church,” Lula said. “And promise to look after my baby should anything happen to Todd or me. And Greta. She’s first in line.”

  Bingham and Lula were a whole lot more likely to come to harm than Greta, so at least I’d have her as a buffer. Plus, Max and Wyatt would surely be first in line, given they were Lula’s half-brothers.

  “Do Max and Wyatt know about the baptism?” I asked, and Bingham released a grunt.

  “Not yet,” Lula said, lowering her voice. “We’re asking them both to be godfathers, but we haven’t talked to them yet.”

  “Your secret is safe with me.” I’d wondered if I was the person she and Bingham had argued over including, but now I suspected the dispute had been about Lula’s half-brothers. Bingham and Max tolerated each other with a live-and-let-live philosophy, but he and Wyatt couldn’t stand each other.

  “Here,” she said, “you need to hold her.” Then she lifted the swaddled baby toward me and placed her in my arms.

  She weighed next to nothing and looked so fragile I was afraid I’d hurt her, but she stared up into my face as I cradled her to my chest, and my heart melted.

  “She likes you,” Lula said.

  “She likes everyone,” Bingham grunted.

  “She’s so beautiful, Lula,” I said, falling in love with her already.

  “She’s a good baby,” Lula said with obvious pride.

  Bingham kept quiet, but his guarded gaze was firmly on me and Beatrice.

  Ruth was a few tables down, and I motioned her over to meet the baby since she’d asked Lula to bring her around. She stepped over cautiously, staring at the baby as though she were a space alien.

  “Do you want to hold her?” Lula asked Ruth.

  “Me?” Ruth asked, taking a step back.

  “Yeah, of course you.” She got out of the booth and took the baby from me. “Carly, can you ask Max and Wyatt to come over?” She shot me a wink.

  “Yeah,” I said, reluctant to give up the baby. At the same time, I didn’t want to be anywhere near them when Lula popped her question.

  Max was watching me as I slid behind the bar. “You got to hold the baby, huh?”

  “She’s so sweet. It’s a wonder we got Lula to come work at all. I’d probably just sit around holding her all day.”

  He gave me an inquisitive look. “You got baby fever, Carly?”

  “Someday,” I said, working to keep my voice level. I suspected that “someday” would never come, and the reminder stung. “Say, Lula wants to talk to you and Wyatt.”

  “In the back room?”

  “No, over at her table.”

  “Wyatt too?”

  “Yep. The both of you. I’ll cover the bar while you go over.” I laughed at his perplexed expression. “But you have to be the one to tell Wyatt.”

  He snorted. “Fine. I’m not workin’ on any orders, so nothin’ for you to do at the moment.”

  He sidled over to Wyatt to relay the message. Wyatt gave me a questioning look, then steeled his back and followed his brother.

  Marco had changed clothes and was sitting at the end of the bar next to Jerry, so I wandered over to check on them. Marco had a basket of wings and fries, and a glass of iced tea, which suggested that Max had put in the order for him.

  “How’re you boys doin’ over here?” I asked.

  “Lula’s baby is cute,” Jerry said.

  “She’s precious.” Even I heard the wistful tone in my voice.

  Marco gave me a concerned look, and I smiled.

  He smiled back, the smile that lit up his face and made his eyes dance like he was the happiest man in the world, only right now his eyes were more subdued. Deeper than happy.

  Content.

  Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, catching me off guard. Foolish butterflies. Marco and I couldn’t be anything more to each other than we already were. But it was hard to remember that when he was looking at me that way, especially in the wake of holding Lula’s baby and thinking about all that I’d planned for and lost.

  “How are you doin’?” he asked quietly. “Really?”

  “I’m okay. Eager to go home with you, though.”

  Jerry glanced back and forth between us. “Tell me again why you two aren’t datin’?”

  I laughed and took a step back. “Because we’re just friends. Sleeping together would only screw everything up.”

  Jerry shook his head, muttering something about not understanding the youth of today.

  The rest of the evening flew by, especially since a bunch of the construction workers came in for late dinners but didn’t linger to keep drinking. I called Hank when things settled down around nine to tell him I was spending the night with Marco and wouldn’t be coming home.

  “There’s some breakfast casserole in the freezer,” I said. “Wrapped in foil. Just set it in the fridge tonight, then put the whole thing in the oven for a half hour at 300 degrees.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of feedin’ myself,” he grumped. “Did Wyatt stick close to you today?”

  “Closer than I liked. Why on earth did you force that man to agree to a blood price?”

  “Because I needed him to know how much you mean to me, and if he’s puttin’ you in danger, then he better do everything in his power to keep you safe.”

  Of course, I’d been thwarting him at every turn.

  “Well, I don’t need him tonight. Can you call him off?”

  “He made a vow and he’s bound to it until I release him. Did you run into any trouble today?”

  “None, other than Wyatt himself—and don’t worry, he’s just being his usual overbearing, withholding self.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “You don’t need to do this, girl. Makin’ Bart pay won’t bring Seth back.”

  A lump filled my throat. “No, it won’t, but justice still needs to be meted out.”

  “Just be careful what you wish for.” Then he hung up.

  What was he talking about? Did he think he deserved some sort of punishment for the things he’d done?

  I got busy after that and didn’t have time to dwell on it. Max sent Ruth home at ten, but first he told us that Ginger had agreed to help with the lunch shift. Molly would be there too, so Ruth wouldn’t have to come in until five.

  By 11:30, the tavern was mostly empty, so Max decided to shut down early.

  Marco was mopping the floor and Max was cleaning behind the bar, and I sat at a table to finish tallying my tips. Thankfully, I’d already done most of them before we closed.

  Wyatt sat down in front of me. “I need to talk to you.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” I said in a breezy tone as I kept my attention on my tickets.

  “You plan to just ignore the fact that you pepper sprayed me?” he asked, incredulous.

  Lifting my face, I said, “I gave you fair warning, then followed through.”

  “You pepper sprayed him?” Max called out from across the room.

  Marco stopped mopping to watch us.<
br />
  Wyatt ignored his brother. “Where did you go after you left me in the parking lot gettin’ beat up by two old ladies?”

  “If I wanted you to know, I would have told you.”

  “Don’t you think I have a right to know given that you’re lookin’ into something that directly affects me?”

  “You’re presuming I did something pertaining to Heather’s murder.”

  “Well, didn’t you?”

  “Again,” I said, “if I wanted you to know, I would have told you.”

  “You heard her, Wyatt,” Marco said, walking over from across the room, still holding the mop. “Let it go.”

  Wyatt spun in his seat to face him. “This is none of your business, Roland.”

  “And as Carly herself told you, it’s none of yours either,” Marco countered, resting the mop on the floor and leaning against it.

  “Marco,” I said, “thank for your intercession, but Wyatt was just leaving.”

  “I’m not leavin’ until you tell me where you went,” Wyatt said, his hand clenching into fists on the table.

  “Wyatt,” Max said in a low tone. “Enough.”

  Wyatt stood, his face red. “Don’t let your pride get you killed.”

  Then he stormed out the back door.

  We all stood in silence for a few moments before Max said, “Will someone please tell me what’s goin’ on?”

  Marco glanced at me, waiting for my cue.

  “Wyatt came by Hank’s this morning,” I said, pushing the tickets toward the center of the table. “He asked me to look into who killed Heather, but he expected to chauffeur me around. So he’s pissed that I didn’t allow that to happen.”

  But it was more than that, and I knew it. I just didn’t like it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Marco insisted on following me to his house in his sheriff’s SUV, just in case someone decided to run me off the road. I thought he was overreacting. I hadn’t poked any bears yet. Or at least I didn’t think so.

  I pulled into the driveway behind his Explorer. Marco pulled in next to me, and we met in front of the steps to his front porch. He stretched his arms wide as I got close, and I went to him, letting him engulf me in a hug.