One Foot in the Grave: Carly Moore #3

by Denise Grover Swank

  “What are you thinkin’?” he asked in a careful voice, his face swathed in shadow.

  I swallowed the urge to tell him the truth, worried I was lying by omission, but I didn’t want to risk scaring him away. “I’m thinkin’ how grateful I am to have you as my friend. You have filled my life with happiness, Marco. Thank you.”

  He grinned. “Hey, you’re not so bad yourself.”

  Grabbing his mug, he ushered me inside. “Do you want to watch a movie before we go to sleep?”

  I was exhausted, but I wasn’t ready to let him go yet. “Yeah. I’ll even let you pick.”

  He must have had mercy on me because he picked a Sandra Bullock rom-com he seemed to like. We settled onto his large sofa with another blanket covering us, sitting side by side, his body heat soaking into me.

  You have to accept this, Carly. This has to be enough.

  But I was so very tired of settling.

  Chapter Nineteen

  We fell asleep on the sofa. I was pretty sure I’d only made it about fifteen minutes into the movie before I passed out. When I woke up, Marco had moved to his recliner and I was stretched out on the sofa, covered with a blanket.

  I got up and went to the bathroom, then checked the time—it was after seven. I considered trying to sleep longer, but my mind had already started thinking about everything I needed to do before I went into work at noon. I doubted I’d have time to see Dick Stinnett today, because in the light of day I remembered I still needed to pay a visit to Heather’s aunt—and also that I’d left the rest of the tulips in my car.

  Marco was still sleeping, so I started a pot of coffee, then slipped my feet into a pair of his slippers and walked out to my car to see if the tulips could be salvaged. I’d just reached the back door of the car when I noticed a pickup truck parked partially down Marco’s long, winding drive. I nearly ran back inside to tell Marco, but then I recognized the truck. It belonged to Wyatt.

  He was watching Marco’s house.

  I opened the car door and found the limp and wilted flowers on the floor behind the driver’s seat. I picked them up, hoping they might revive if I put them in water, and cast another glance down the drive. Wyatt was sitting behind the steering wheel, watching me.

  I decided to ignore him as I went inside to take care of the tulips. After I put them in a pitcher with water, I set them on the table. I’d been quiet, but Marco started to stir.

  “Do I smell coffee?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

  “Guilty as charged,” I said. “It’s almost ready.”

  “Where’d the flowers come from?”

  “I bought some from Emmaline yesterday, and then I forgot about them. I took a bunch to Emily when I went for my visit.”

  He laughed. “Emmaline Haskell? Did Emily know that?”

  I cringed. “Yeah. Is that a problem?”

  “I’m pretty sure they had a spat about flowers a few decades ago. Emily grows her own flowers in her backyard. She’s quite the gardener.”

  That might explain her housekeeper’s attitude, although I suspected the woman would have acted that way regardless. “She didn’t mention it.” I pushed out a sigh. “But I got some extra bouquets, one of them for Heather’s aunt, in case you didn’t have a chance to get to a florist.” I’d meant to take one home to Hank, but that was looking doubtful now.

  “Lucky for you, I got the daisies,” he said as he walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He pulled out a bouquet of cut daisies and handed them to me.

  “You put them in the fridge?”

  He shrugged as he pulled out my creamer and put it on the counter. “I don’t know what to do with flowers, and they were in a refrigerated cooler when I bought them. I remembered they were in the car after we started watching the movie, so I went out and brought them in.”

  The daisies were still wrapped in their plastic sleeve and looked about a hundred times better than the wilted tulips. “Thanks, Marco.”

  “Helpin’ you where I can.” I could hear the guilt in his voice. It was killing him that he couldn’t do more.

  “I’m trying to decide if I should go see Hilde before or after I see Bingham. I guess it depends on whether she’s an early riser.” I considered calling Ruth to see if she knew, but she was likely still sleeping herself.

  “I’ll call my mom,” Marco said as he grabbed two coffee mugs out of the cabinet and poured coffee into both.

  “You never talk about your mom,” I said, taking one of the mugs and pouring creamer into the coffee. I knew his parents had moved away after they got divorced twelve years ago. His mother had moved to North Carolina, and his father was in Knoxville.

  “We talk now and again, and I know Mom was friendly with her.”

  “Then did you know Heather?”

  “Not really. Max and I were several years younger than Wyatt and Heather, and I really didn’t give her any thought. I was in college when she came back and she and Wyatt were together,” he said as he grabbed the creamer and put it back in the fridge, “and she was gone by the time I came back from school. I’ll call Mom in a bit.” He motioned to the door. “Do you want to sit outside while we drink our coffee?” He knew about my morning ritual with Hank.

  “Um…before we decide on that, I need to mention something I noticed while I was outside.” I made a face. “Wyatt’s truck is parked at the end of your driveway.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” he said with a look of resignation.

  “You’re not angry?”

  “Why would I be angry? I’m not gonna invite him in and serve him breakfast, but if he wants to provide an extra layer of protection for you, I’m not gonna fight it.”

  “I don’t need protecting,” I said. “I’ve hardly talked to anyone yet.”

  “But if the real killer finds out you’re lookin’, they might try to stop you.”

  I still didn’t think I had much to be worried about, but I wasn’t about to argue with a sheriff’s deputy.

  “I think we should go sit outside,” Marco said with a mischievous grin. “It looks like a beautiful morning.”

  “You’re terrible.” I shook my head. “Call your mom, and I’ll go take a shower. Then we can sit outside.”

  I tossed my clothes into the dryer before I went into Marco’s bathroom. My shampoo and conditioner were still in the shower from the last time I’d stayed over. When I got out, I blow-dried my hair, then put on a clean pair of his sweatpants and one of his T-shirts.

  Marco was talking on the phone when I came out, and he cracked a smile, pointing to the phone and mouthing Mom as he flapped his hand to pantomime that she wouldn’t stop talking.

  Grinning, I refilled my coffee, while Marco said, “I’ve got to go, Mom…yes, I’ll come see you soon… love you.” He hung up and lifted his brow. “And that is why I don’t call her very often.”

  I leaned closer and said in a conspiratorial tone, “Perhaps she wouldn’t spend so much time talking to you if you called her more often.”

  He refilled his own cup and took a sip. “Ah, the age-old chicken and the egg mystery.”

  “You’re lucky to have a mother, Marco. Don’t take her for granted.”

  He placed a kiss on my forehead. “Touché. Thanks for the reminder.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Mom says that Hilde’s a very early riser. Like five-in-the-morning early. You can go anytime.”

  “Okay.”

  “But I’m going with you.”

  “Marco… we discussed this last night.”

  “No, I agreed it would be best if you talked to Bingham and other people on your own, but Hilde’s different. Mom wants me to give her condolences on her behalf.” When I gave him a dubious look, he said, “Carly, I’m going. My mother will kill me if I don’t.”

  “Okay,” I said, trying not to read too much into the relief washing over me. I had to admit that I’d felt awkward about dropping by Heather’s grieving aunt’s house unannounced to pepper her with questions about her niece�
��s death.

  “But I have to take a quick shower, so give me fifteen minutes.”

  I laughed. “My clothes are still in the dryer, so unless I go in your clothes, I need to wait anyway.”

  He gave me a playful grin. “They look way better on you than they ever have on me.”

  Then he headed around the corner to the bathroom.

  I was tempted to let Molly and Ginger handle the lunch rush on their own so I could go to Ewing to talk to Dick and May—I suspected Max wouldn’t give me a hard time for trying to clear his brother’s name—but Molly had just started and it was Ginger’s first day. I didn’t want to toss them to the wolves. I’d figure out what to do after I talked to Marco.

  I peered out the window and saw Wyatt’s truck still parked at the end of the drive. Giving in to a moment of weakness, I found a travel mug and filled it with coffee, then headed out the door toward the truck.

  Wyatt sat up straight when he saw me, rolling down his window. “Now, Carly, before you say anything…”

  “Here,” I said, handing him the mug. “You probably need this.”

  His eyes widened in surprise as he took the coffee.

  “I know why you’re here. And I know I led you to believe I hit a dead end, but I’m planning to do more digging today. I’m visiting Hilde Browning first. Then I have an appointment with Bingham at ten. I’ll see if I have time to do anything else before I go to work.”

  His eyes darkened at the mention of Bingham’s name. “Why the hell are you visiting Bingham?”

  “Look, you asked me to do this, so that means you have to trust me.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “I didn’t have to tell you anything, Wyatt, but I felt guilty that you spent the night out here.” I paused, and when he didn’t say anything, I added, “Marco’s a deputy sheriff. If I need protecting, he’s perfectly capable of doing the job.”

  “I’m sure he’s protectin’ you,” he murmured in a deep voice.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re standing in front of me, wearin’ his clothes.”

  Rolling my eyes, I spun around and started back to the house, but then I turned back to face him. “I don’t want you anywhere near Bingham’s while I’m there.”

  His anger flared. “Are you crazy?”

  “He’s not going to do anything to me, and it might screw things up if he knows you’re there. I mean it, Wyatt. If you feel the need to follow me, then stay off Bingham’s property.”

  “What the hell kind of arrangement do you and Bingham have?” he shouted after me. “Why would he make you his baby’s godmother?”

  Ignoring him, I headed back to the house. The dryer was done, so I changed into my clean jeans and a shirt I’d left at Marco’s a few weeks ago before seeing to breakfast.

  Marco was done soon after that, coming into the kitchen wearing a navy blue thermal shirt that clung to the muscles of his arms and chest underneath. I forced myself to avert my gaze.

  “Something smells good,” he said.

  “I made breakfast.” I placed two plates of scrambled eggs with salsa and toast on the table.

  “I’m tempted to ask you to move in with me,” he said as he sat down.

  “Ha!” I said as I grabbed some silverware and placed it next to him. “I think Hank might have a thing or two to say about that.” With the thought of Hank, I said, “You go ahead and start while it’s hot. I’m going to check in with Hank and let him know I’m okay.”

  I grabbed the cordless phone and placed the call, but when I started to leave the room, Marco motioned me over to the table. “Carly, eat while you talk. Don’t worry about being rude.”

  Hank answered right away, which surprised me since it usually took him several rings to get to the phone.

  “Chalmers,” he answered in a gruff tone.

  “Hank, it’s me,” I said, caught off guard because he hadn’t answered with his typical hello. “What’s going on?”

  “I was just about to call you at Marco’s,” he said. “There’s a warrant out for Wyatt’s arrest, and a couple of deputies just came here lookin’ for him.”

  My eyes widened, and I turned to Marco as I asked Hank, “What did you tell them?”

  “The truth. I don’t know where he is, and I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning. I didn’t tell them he asked you to look into the murder, but they might find out.”

  “Okay,” I said, my heart racing. I knew I couldn’t let them arrest him. I had to find the real murderer, with evidence to back it up, because something told me that if Wyatt got locked up, he wasn’t coming out anytime soon. If ever. I’d already cycled through the possibility that Bart had set up Bingham (or vice versa), but I hadn’t stopped to consider that one of them might have intentionally set up Wyatt. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  “Will you warn him if you see him? I know the two of you aren’t seein’ eye to eye, and I’ve been givin’ him a hard time for months, but there’s no way he killed that girl. Not Wyatt.”

  “Yeah,” I said, trying not to freak out. “I know he didn’t do it. I’ll warn him.”

  “You stay safe, girl.” Then he hung up.

  I placed the phone on the table and stood. I had to talk to Wyatt.

  “What’s goin’ on, Carly?” Marco asked with concern in his eyes.

  “Hank said the sheriff’s department was at his house this morning, looking for Wyatt.”

  His face paled. “Shit.”

  “Hypothetically speaking, if you knew there was a warrant out for someone’s arrest and you happened to know that person’s whereabouts, would you be obligated to detain them?”

  He put down his fork, his face grim. “Perhaps you should take a walk and make sure we don’t have any visitors before I step outside and get in my car to go to Hilde’s.”

  I nodded, then hurried out the door, my mind frantic with worry. Where could Wyatt hide that the sheriff’s department would never think to look for him? I was almost to his truck when I figured it out.

  He got out and shut the door, standing next to his truck with a blank expression. “What happened?”

  “I just spoke to Hank—”

  “Is he okay?” he asked, sounding more worried than I’d expected.

  “He’s fine. Just concerned. The sheriff’s department just paid him a visit. They’re looking for you, Wyatt. They have a warrant for your arrest.”

  He showed no reaction whatsoever.

  “You have to hide.”

  His gaze shifted to the house. “Is Marco on his way out here to arrest me?”

  “No! But you have to leave now. If he sees you, he’ll be obligated to take you into custody.”

  He gave a hard shake of his head. “I’m not leavin’ you.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Wyatt!” I shouted. “Forget the damn blood price!”

  He took a step toward me, his hands clenched at his sides. “You think I’m sittin’ out here because of the blood price?”

  I shook my head. “No, but don’t you dare go there. You need to get out of here. Now. Marco’s off today. He’s going with me to visit Hilde, and I’ll make sure he follows me to Bingham’s. You have to go somewhere the sheriff’s deputies won’t find you. If you don’t know where to go, I have a suggestion.”

  “I’m not hidin’, Carly!”

  “Do you think you can protect me, or anyone, if you’re stuck in a jail cell? For once in your life, stop being a stubborn ass and listen to reason.”

  He started to say something, then stopped, some of his anger fading. “Where?”

  I held up my hands. “Now, hear me out before you tell me no.”

  “That bad, huh?” he grunted, shoving his hands into his pockets.

  “It’s somewhere they’ll never think to look…Bingham’s.”

  He jerked his hands out of his pockets. “What?”

  “You took Lula in when y’all thought your father was looking for her. She’ll be more than happy to p
rotect you now.”

  “Bingham won’t.”

  “He will if Lula tells him to. How else do you think you and Max ended up being Beatrice’s godfathers?”

  He was silent for a moment. “I’m not a coward.”

  “No one said you were, but I also thought you weren’t stupid. Now go.”

  He hesitated and cast a glance back at the house. “Does he love you?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” I shouted, throwing my hands out to my sides. “Why won’t anyone believe we’re just friends?”

  Pain filled his eyes. “Because I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Carly.”

  “We’re just friends.”

  Which was true, even if it wasn’t the whole story. But I needed him to leave, to get to safety quickly. He didn’t say anything for several seconds. Then he got into his truck and turned around to head back to the county road.

  Marco was waiting for me when I went back inside. “Is it clear for me to come out?”

  I nodded. “Thanks for giving me a chance to warn him.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Max would kill me if I arrested his brother.”

  “Would you do it if you thought he might be guilty?”

  He hesitated. “He isn’t. Wyatt isn’t perfect, but I know he didn’t kill Heather Stone.”

  He hadn’t exactly answered my question, but I let it go. “Since the sheriff’s department wants to arrest Wyatt, I’m thinking about calling Max and telling him I won’t be in today. Or,” I added, “I might go in for the busy lunch rush, then do more investigating before the dinner shift.”

  “Why don’t you talk to Hilde and Bingham, then we’ll decide?” he asked as he picked up the bouquet of daisies from the table.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Good idea.” I grabbed my bag and headed outside.

  “You follow me,” Marco said as he locked his front door.

  “Okay,” I said, “then you can follow me to Bingham’s and wait on the side of the road. We’ll figure out where to go from there.”