One Foot in the Grave: Carly Moore #3

by Denise Grover Swank

  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.

  “How are you really, Carly? Because you’re not the type of woman to just pepper spray somebody because they pissed you off.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. Not yet. Give me a minute.”

  “Okay,” he said, holding me close.

  We stood like that for a long time—me clinging to him, Marco holding me up as the silence surrounded us.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know,” he finally said.

  “Are you talking about trying to figure out who killed Heather or staying in Drum?”

  “All of it. What happened when you went to see Emily?”

  The night was chilly, but I liked being out under the stars. “Can we sit outside for a bit?”

  “Yeah,” he said, pulling away and rubbing my arms. “Do you have a jacket?”

  “No, but—”

  “Come inside and change into something warmer,” he said. “Then we can sit out on the porch.”

  “Okay.”

  I headed to his room and helped myself to a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt from one of his drawers, then tossed my jeans, shirt, and undergarments into his washing machine and turned it on. When I emerged from the bedroom, I found Marco in the kitchen making two cups of tea. He handed one to me.

  Balancing his own tea, he grabbed a blanket from the sofa and headed out the door to sit on the two chairs on his front porch.

  I settled in my usual chair, and he dragged his seat closer to mine and threw the blanket over both of our legs. I took a sip of tea. “Teatime with Emily wasn’t what I expected.”

  “So you mentioned.”

  “Bart wasn’t there, so small blessings, but Emily didn’t know they’d found Heather’s remains.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I think Bart assumed I’d tell her, but I didn’t. I’m still not sure that was the right call, but Bart was using me and I didn’t want to play by his rules.”

  “Sounds like a Bart move.”

  “Emily was more open than I expected and shared things I didn’t even ask about. She confessed that Bart was a terrible father, even told me she’d considered leaving him at some point but she’d stayed for fear he’d maneuver to get full custody.”

  “Yeah, that was a good call,” he said, lifting his foot to rest it on the porch railing.

  “I asked her about Heather, and she seemed willing to answer my questions. She didn’t approve of her either. In fact, she was the one who suggested they pay her off. She even wrote the check. According to her, Bart was surprised she left town for so little money. He’d expected to pay more, and she sounded like an opportunist. Which makes me wonder why she took so little.”

  “The way you said that makes me think you have a theory,” he said, then took a sip of tea.

  “What if she was working with someone else, with the hope of making more money?”

  “And who would that be? To what purpose?”

  “I don’t know, but I do know that she left for a shockingly low amount.”

  “Only she didn’t leave. She was killed.”

  “True,” I acknowledged.

  “What if she agreed to leave but changed her mind?” he suggested. “And the person who killed her didn’t like that she’d decided to stay. Who would have wanted her gone?”

  “Likely a lot of people. Emily and Bart.” Then I added, “Probably Wyatt.”

  “Did he say he wanted her gone?”

  I gave it some thought. “When he talked about it this morning, he didn’t give an opinion about it one way or another. Just stated that she’d left. Or so he thought. They’d broken up by then. He said it happened sometime after he was arrested.” I took a sip of my tea and turned to him. “In the nursing home parking lot, he told me he was engaged to her when he went to his parents to ask for the tavern.”

  He frowned. “I don’t think Max knew that.”

  “I don’t think anyone knew,” I said. “Abby didn’t mention it, and Ruth sure hasn’t. I think maybe she changed her mind after Wyatt came back empty-handed.”

  “She really was a gold digger,” Marco said.

  “Which is why it doesn’t make sense for her to leave for so little money.” Then I added, “If she even cashed the check. Supposedly she was waving it around at her going-away party. I asked Emily to look into it. When she has an answer, she’s going to call Max’s and leave a message for me to come to tea. Even if I still don’t want Max or Wyatt to know I went to see her, not yet. But it was better than asking her to call Hank’s house. I can only imagine what Bart would do if he found out.”

  He nodded. “And you got her to talk about all of that without mentioning Heather’s body? She didn’t find that suspicious?”

  “No.” I turned in my seat to face him. “The first two times I met Emily, she seemed like such a sweet woman, and I couldn’t understand why she was with Bart.”

  “You say that like you changed your mind.”

  I twisted my mouth to the side as I thought it over. “She still seemed sweet, but much more calculating than I expected.”

  “I’m still surprised she admitted that she wanted to leave him, but like I said, she made a good call,” Max said. “He saw those boys as possessions, and he never would have stood for her taking them from him. Hell, I can’t even see him letting her go.”

  “Like Floyd Bingham?”

  He was quiet for a moment. “No, I don’t think he would have killed her. People were afraid of him and his power, but Emily had a way of softening his edge, just enough so people didn’t think he was a monster. He needed her.”

  “He was really that evil?”

  “Not evil, per se. There were just so many secrets and rumors about the favors. And of course, the murders and the strange, unexplained things goin’ on that people attributed to him, even if the sheriff’s department claimed they never found a link.”

  “Thelma Tureen told me that her husband’s cousin went to Bart for a favor.” I told him about the whole episode, starting with the man’s DUI and ending with the way he’d burned the house down and then ultimately killed himself.

  “Yep,” he said with a grim face. “That all fits with Bart and his favors.”

  “When did the favors stop?” I asked and shivered a little from a chill.

  “They never really stopped, I don’t think,” he said, leaning over to tuck the blanket around my legs. “But he lost most of his money and, along with it, his power. Plus, he got old. He just seemed to lose the things that lent him his air of intimidation. But I think he still grants and calls in favors, just not as often as in the past.”

  “Emily said she was worried about what Bart was doing to Wyatt and Max while they were growing up. I think she was worried he’d break their spirit or make them into monsters too.”

  “Definitely a valid concern,” he said slowly. “I’m just surprised she was so free with that information. Max always suspected she wanted to leave and take them with her, but he never knew for certain.”

  “I wasn’t sure why she was telling me any of it. Maybe because she still thinks Wyatt and I are together?”

  “You’re kiddin’,” he said in a flat voice.

  “Wyatt never told her we broke up. She told me she’s been beggin’ him to bring me to lunch. Wyatt always tells her I’m too busy, and she said that Max backs him up.”

  “Why would they both lie about that?” he asked, sitting up straighter.

  “I don’t know,” I said, “but she told Bart and Wyatt that she likes me. She thinks I’m good for Wyatt, and she told Bart she’d leave him if he ran me off. Do you think that Wyatt or Max know that and are lying to protect me?”

  He sat back in his chair. “Wow…maybe.”

  “But none of that makes sense because Bart knows we aren’t together.
He thinks I’m sleeping with you. He told me so today at the construction site.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Was he threatening you?”

  “No, I don’t think so. More like he was trying to get me to admit it.” I paused, then added, “It surprised me to realize Emily’s manipulative too.”

  He was slow to respond. “It stands to reason she would need to develop that trait to survive.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “They all would, the boys included.”

  He frowned. “I guess, although I’ve never thought Max was manipulative. He’s mostly ‘you get what you see.’”

  “Mostly?”

  “I suppose you can’t grow up in that house without being damaged somehow.”

  “His drinking,” I said softly.

  “Yeah.”

  “It sounds like Wyatt was his mini-me until their falling-out,” I said. “He wanted to please his father. Which means he would have learned the art of manipulation at the knee of the master.”

  “You think he’s been manipulating you?” he asked, but without the heat I would have expected.

  “Yeah, I think he’s been manipulating me ever since he discovered my secret.”

  He reached over and placed a hand on my lower thigh in support.

  “He’s definitely been yanking me around all day. He wasn’t forthcoming with information. And when I confronted him with it, he claimed he didn’t want to tell me everything because he wanted me to form my own opinion.”

  “That sounds like a bullshit answer.”

  “No kidding.”

  “He still cares about you, Carly.”

  “Does he?” I asked, seeing him in a whole new light now. “Or does he see me as someone new to play with?”

  “I think he sees you as someone new, someone who didn’t know him before or during his legal mess. You saw him with fresh eyes, and obviously liked what you saw.”

  I started to contradict him, but I suspected he was right.

  “I know he promised to tell you his secrets, but I would have been surprised if he’d actually followed through. He was raised with the mindset that knowledge is power, and giving you information would have leveled the power structure. At the moment, he holds the power. He ultimately decided not to pull you up to his level.”

  I gasped. He was right, because even now, Wyatt was doling out his information like they were precious gold nuggets. I closed my eyes. “My father played games. I refuse to do it with anyone important in my life. I need honesty. I need trust. Wyatt gives me neither of those things.” He didn’t answer. “Why am I still trying to figure him out, Marco? Why do I care what happens to him?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because you saw something in him and you’re trying to save him. Maybe that’s why you’re helping him.”

  “Yet you haven’t tried to stop me.”

  “I’ll never tell you what to do. I might ask you to explain your reasoning, but I’ll ultimately support whatever you decide to do.” He dropped his foot to the floor. “What happened in the nursing home parking lot?”

  I wasn’t proud at my outburst of temper, but I didn’t want to flinch from the truth. “He was upset I wasn’t being agreeable. I brought up the fact that he’d reneged on our deal. I asked him to move several times, and he refused.”

  “There’s more to it,” he said quietly.

  I took a drink of my now-cool tea. “I told him that he knew my history with men, yet he still lied and withheld information from me. That he broke me.” My voice cracked and I took another sip. “That I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to fully trust again. When he still refused to move, I sprayed him.” I paused. “I’m not proud of it, but I’m not sorry either.”

  We sat in silence for a bit, and I was relieved he didn’t try to smooth it over or convince me that I’d be okay. Instead, he left me to my feelings, which was exactly what I needed, further proof he knew me well.

  Finally, I asked, “Do you remember going to a summer camp with Max?”

  “Survival camp?” He released a short laugh. “Emily mentioned that?”

  “She told me that Bart sent Max to the camp after Rodney Bingham disappeared. He thought that Emily was hovering over the boys too much and it was making Max into a sissy. He thought the camp would toughen him up.”

  He grimaced. “Sounds like Bart.”

  “Emily said she went to your mother and offered to pay for your tuition if she’d send you too.”

  He nodded. “I knew, and Max suspected. He’s always been pretty intuitive. Even back then. It wasn’t Max’s kind of thing. He’d much rather have had his nose in a book, but he tried for his father.”

  “Did you like it?”

  A smile spread across his face. “Loved it. The outdoors. Physical activity… I was in my element, and Max even liked it some.”

  “You two are more different than I first thought.”

  He gave me a pensive look. “I suppose, but we always had each other’s backs.”

  “Until I got between you two when I was looking for Lula.”

  “No,” he said, gazing out toward the thin view of the valley. “The crack started when he came home from college. He would never tell me why. Before that he told me everything.”

  “When I was leaving, I asked Emily what she told Max to convince him to come home.”

  His eyes widened. “She told you?”

  “Kind of.” I took a breath. “She said she reminded him of his family obligations.” I leaned closer. “Do you have any idea what those could be?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Do you think it could have anything to do with Heather?”

  He turned to look at me. “Are you suggestin’ that Emily asked him to come home and murder Heather?”

  Was I? The thought had occurred to me, but only in a fleeting way, and it refused to stick. Ultimately, I just couldn’t imagine Max doing such a thing. “No, but she requested something he couldn’t refuse.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Bart gave Jerry a job,” I said, the new worry popping to the surface.

  Marco sat up straighter. “He what?”

  “It didn’t come directly from Bart—Jerry said a foreman asked him if he’d be interested in a job—but it sure sounds fishy. With all the guys who need work around here, the foreman just happens to ask a seventy-year-old man if he wants a job as a gofer?”

  He frowned. “You’re right. It does sound fishy. What did you say when he told you?”

  “That I was happy for him, of course. I’ve never seen him so excited and proud, and I hope it’s on the up an up…”

  “But?”

  “I turned to face him. “What if Bart plans to hurt him to get to me? What if he knows I’m fond of him?”

  “How would he know that?” he asked.

  “How did Abby Donahey know I gave Jerry a coat?” When he started to say something, I added, “Yeah, she brought it up as evidence that I was a good person.”

  He laughed. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “It’s not that. It’s just weird to know strangers are gossiping about me. But if Abby knew, you can bet your boots Bart knew.”

  He was silent for a moment. “We’ll keep tabs on the situation, okay? We won’t let anything happen to Jerry.” Then he added, “He had our backs with Carson Purdy. We’ll certainly have his.”

  “Thanks, Marco.” It took everything in me not to reach out and snag his hand.

  After a few seconds, he set his mug on the porch railing and asked, “Do you have anything to look into tomorrow before you go into work?”

  I yawned. “I have an appointment with Bingham tomorrow at ten.”

  “Bingham?”

  “Tiny told me that Heather went out with him before she got back with Wyatt the last time. I doubt he killed her, or he would have moved the body. Same with Bart.”

  “So why go talk to him?”

  “Because he’s an observer, and I suspect he’s alway
s been hungry for power. Which means he likely watched everything going on in Drum, especially anything that had to do with a Drummond.”

  “You think he might have information other people won’t?”

  “I know you probably think it’s dangerous…”

  “Maybe for someone else, but Lula just asked you to be one of her baby’s godmothers, and she’d be furious if he hurt you. Not to mention Bingham seems to treat you differently since the whole Lula and Greta mess. Make no mistake, he has no loyalty to you, but he has a new respect for you. If anyone can talk to him, it’s you.”

  I stifled a yawn. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  He grinned. “Just don’t expect him to tell you much. He might be open to a trade, though.”

  “A trade of information?”

  “Who knows with him. Just keep it in mind. You can expect a whole lot more game playin’ with him.”

  “I suspected.” The people in this town were good at it. “I have two other leads to follow after that. Dick Stinnett. Ruth thinks he was at the going-away party. The second person is May McMurphy.”

  “Molly’s sister?”

  “She was at the party too, and she dated Dick after Heather left. I’ll approach her after I talk to him.”

  “Do you know where to find Dick?”

  “Ruth said she thinks he works at a used car lot in Ewing.”

  He nodded. “We’ll figure out which one tomorrow.”

  “You can’t openly help me with this, Marco,” I said gently. “You yourself said if I get caught doing this, I could be charged with interfering with an investigation.”

  He was silent for a moment. “I know.”

  And I could tell it was killing him, not only because he was worried about me, but because he loved investigating. The department never gave him much of a chance. They underestimated him, or maybe they knew he was good and they only sidelined him because half the department was in someone’s pocket.

  I stood and reached my hand out to him. “Let’s go inside.”

  He took my hand and stood, clutching the blanket with his free hand as he looked down at me.

  Heat rose up in me as I stared into his eyes. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to kiss me back. I wanted to take him to his bed and do more than sleep next to him. But I couldn’t do any of that for a whole host of reasons. Most of all, because every romantic relationship I’d ever been in had been poisoned, and I couldn’t bear to lose Marco.