One Foot in the Grave: Carly Moore #3

by Denise Grover Swank

  “I’m not emotionally involved, Marco. Not like I was before.”

  He looked into my eyes for a moment, as if considering that, then gave a nod of acknowledgment. “You don’t have to be at the tavern until twelve, so we still have time to make some calls. I’ll follow you to my house.”

  “Okay.”

  I got out and walked back to my car. Then we drove to his place. After we went inside, he found a phone book for Ewing and started calling used car lots, asking for Dick Stinnett. It only took three calls to locate him, and Marco set up an appointment to meet with him at two.

  “Marco, are you sure about being involved in this?”

  “I’ve been thinkin’ about trading in my Explorer.”

  That was a bald-faced lie. His SUV was less than two years old and he loved it.

  “Okay,” he said. “Let’s move on to May McMurphy.”

  “Our best bet is to ask her sister,” I said. “She’s working the lunch shift.”

  He nodded. “Okay, but we still have about a half hour to kill before you need to be at work. Anything you want to do between now and then?”

  I found myself thinking of Emily Drummond, and of the look she’d given me when she talked about Max and his duty. Max. Why hadn’t we asked him about any of this?

  “I say we head into the tavern and ask Max what he knows,” I said.

  His eyes widened. “Shit. I didn’t even think about that.”

  “I know. Me neither. It just occurred to me.”

  “Of course, he wasn’t here when Wyatt was arrested,” Marco said, “but he was here when Heather left.”

  “Let’s head to town,” I said, getting up and grabbing my purse. “You’ll follow me again?”

  He gave me a pensive look. “Yeah, but after you get off work, maybe you should leave your car in the parking lot so we can ride together in the Explorer.”

  “Is that really a good idea?” I asked. “I mean, I’m glad you’re coming with me, but maybe we should take my car.”

  “I’ll think it over,” he said, moving for the door. “We can decide when you get off.”

  When we walked in the back door to the tavern, Tiny gave us a wave from the kitchen, where he and Sweetie Pie were prepping for the day, and we found Max in his office.

  Max looked up from his computer, startled, and turned his chair to face us. “What are you two doing here together?”

  Marco gestured his thumb behind him. “We’d like to ask you a few questions about Wyatt and Heather, but can we do it in the dining room?”

  “Are you serious, Marco?” His face hardened. “The ink’s barely dry on the warrant for Wyatt’s arrest.”

  “You know about that?” Marco asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “I had a friendly chat with some not-so-friendly deputies who dropped by to see if he was here or if I knew where they could find him.”

  Marco released a groan. “For God’s sake, I’m not here to arrest Wyatt.” When Max didn’t say anything, he added, “I’m helpin’ Carly with her investigation. We’re here to see if you can give us any leads.”

  Max inhaled deeply, then said, “I don’t know anything about any of it.”

  “You might know more than you think,” I said. “And if we’re asking questions, we might help you jog something loose.”

  Max’s gaze lifted to his friend.

  “He’s your brother, Max. I’m not out to arrest him,” Marco pleaded. “I know he didn’t kill her. I’m tryin’ to help him, even if he doesn’t seem to be doin’ much to help himself.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Max asked, his jaw clenching.

  “It means he hasn’t exactly been forthcoming,” I said. “He has information that could help me clear his name, yet he’s barely told me anything.” I held out my hand. “Max, I’m trying to figure this out before the sheriff catches up to him. Please. Anything you tell us will help.”

  He studied us for a moment before nodding. “Okay.” Then he closed out the spreadsheet he was working on and stood. “I’m gonna need more coffee for this.” He picked up his stained, nearly empty cup and followed us out of the office. He slid behind the bar and refreshed his cup. “I’d rather do this standin’ up, if you don’t mind. You two can sit at the bar if you’d like. Either of you want a cup of coffee?”

  “Sure,” Marco said as he pulled out a barstool.

  “No, thanks,” I said, taking a seat next to him, and pulled my notebook and recorder out of my purse. I felt no need to hide the fact that I was taking notes, given they knew exactly what I was up to, plus it occurred to me that I probably didn’t have much time left on the tape.

  Max stared at me like I’d grown two heads.

  “What?” I said, clicking the recorder on. “I want to be able to go back and listen in case I missed something.”

  Max shot a glance at Marco, then shrugged.

  Opening the notebook to the next available page, I said, “Wyatt and Heather dated while you and Marco were in eighth and ninth grade. What did you think of her?”

  Max’s mouth curved into a derisive grin as he poured some coffee for Marco. “What I really thought of her or the watered-down version?”

  His answer took me by surprise. “The truth.”

  “I thought she was gorgeous and had big tits. You can only imagine what a boy that age would do with an image like that.”

  I cringed. “Gross. Maybe not that honest.”

  Max laughed and Marco covered his mouth to hide a grin.

  “Okay,” I said, “besides inspiring you to perfect your masturbation technique, what kind of impression did she make?”

  Max laughed. “I was a stupid, barely pubescent boy. At the time, I was envious of my brother. It wasn’t until college that I realized she was a first-class manipulator. She knew I was attracted to her, and she played me like a fiddle when Wyatt wasn’t around. She tried to play our parents too, but my father seemed especially immune. After finding out that he had so many girlfriends spread out over the area, part of me is surprised he wasn’t more taken with her. She definitely knew how to play Wyatt, homing in on his need to prove himself to dear old Dad. She encouraged it so that it became an unhealthy obsession for both of them. I think part of Wyatt was glad to see her go to college. He was relieved to not have pressure from both sides anymore.”

  “So do you think she was interested in Wyatt for his money, even in high school?” I asked.

  “I never really thought about it at the time, or even much later,” Max said, leaning his forearm on the counter. “I always thought she was interested in Wyatt because he was tall and good-looking. He was on the football team, he lifted weights, and he was popular. I’m sure every girl in high school wanted to date him on that basis alone. But for Heather, in hindsight, yeah, she was probably interested in the money from the start.”

  “So you knew her to be manipulative?” I asked.

  “Again,” Max said, shifting his weight, “I didn’t put any of this together at the time, and if I’m being honest, I didn’t make the connection until I started dating a few girls who were just like her.” He turned to Marco. “What do you remember about her?”

  Marco cast me a sidelong glance and cringed. “I’ll admit that her looks were…distracting, but I never spent any time around her. Wyatt didn’t hang out with us much, and Max’s interactions with her were all from family dinners and hanging out at their house.”

  “You didn’t see her when you were over?” I asked.

  Marco and Max were both silent for a moment. Then Max said, “Marco wasn’t over much. I tended to go to his house.”

  “Was that your choice or your father’s?” I asked.

  Max’s face reddened.

  “It’s okay, Max,” Marco said. “I always knew your father didn’t care for me.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “We were a lot poorer than most of the families in town,” Marco said. “My father was a dreamer, always working on some cockama
mie project or another that he was sure was going to be a huge success. The gadget to finally make us rich. Bart Drummond considered him a joke and a blight on the town. I was guilty by association.”

  Max looked embarrassed. “By middle school, my father decided I needed a new friend group, so Marco and I would hang out at the ball fields or his house, which was a few blocks away. Other kids hung out there, so it was a good cover. I’m sure my mother knew what we were doin’, and my father was pleased as punch that I was takin’ up an all-American sport and was hopefully becoming more like my brother. So I joined the team and my father came to one game. I sat on the bench for most of it and struck out once. On the drive home, he told me to let him know when I was actually worth watchin’.”

  “Max.” My heart broke for him.

  He shrugged. “Life with dear old Dad.”

  I found myself thinking again of what Emily had said, about his family obligations. Why had he felt any if his father had treated him so poorly? Had he gone home just for Emily?

  “In any case,” he said, sounding weary, “he stopped paying attention to me after that, and I’d just hang out at Marco’s house. Mom knew, of course—she loved Marco—but it was our secret from Dad. Long story short, that’s why Marco wasn’t over much.”

  But I had to wonder if it was really a secret. Hadn’t Marco himself told me they’d never once pulled the wool over Bart’s eyes? Were there many secrets in Drum he didn’t know?

  I had a million more questions for them both, but none pertained to Heather. Molly and Ginger would be here soon, which meant I needed to stay on topic. “Did you come home from college while Wyatt and Heather were back together?”

  Max was silent for a moment. “I came home for Christmas and summer. Wyatt and Heather weren’t around much, and I spent a lot of time working on the land with Carson, but she was around some. Mom and Dad couldn’t stand her, and it was obvious to everyone except my brother that she wasn’t with Wyatt for love.”

  “How could you tell?” I asked.

  Max was silent for a moment. “She wasn’t very affectionate. You know how you can tell when a couple is really into each other? I never got that vibe from either of them. Wyatt seemed to be in it because…maybe he didn’t see a better option? She was a habit? She was with us when we opened presents on the last Christmas Day she was in town, and when she realized there was no ring-sized box in her present pile, she looked furious. She claimed she had a migraine and made Wyatt drive her home before Christmas lunch. As you can imagine, Dad was furious. Mom disapproved, but in her typical private way. Of course, Heather convinced Wyatt to propose shortly after. And then it all snowballed from there.”

  “You knew they were engaged?” I asked.

  “Mom told me. As far as I know, not many people knew, and the information didn’t spread like wildfire.”

  Part of me was dying to ask Max how his mother had convinced him to come home, but I suspected that was a surefire way to shut down our conversation. “When you came back to run the tavern, did Heather ever show up?”

  “Not at all in the beginning, but then she came in a few times with a group of friends. One time she was drunk off her ass, and she cornered me in the back and tried to come on to me, telling me that she’d always thought I was hot back when she and Wyatt were together in high school. Of course, she had given me little attention back then, and I reminded her that if she’d really had those thoughts, it might have been considered pedophilia. As you can imagine, she didn’t appreciate that much.”

  Marco sat up straighter. “You never told me that.”

  Max’s lips pursed and he shook his head. “You were still at college, and it was disgusting. I turned her down, of course. I figured it was best to pretend it had never happened. I didn’t feel like joking around about it.”

  “I would have taken it seriously,” Marco said, then shrugged. “But I might have laughed a little later.”

  Max nodded.

  “Did she ever mention it again?” I asked. “From what I’ve learned about her, I suspect she wouldn’t take rejection well.”

  “The next time I saw her she pretended like it had never happened,” Max said with a faraway look. “Now that I think about it, that was a week or so before she left town.” He grimaced. “Or was murdered, as the case may be.”

  “Who did she come to the tavern with that last time?” I asked.

  His mouth twisted to one side. “Dick Stinnett and Molly’s sister, May. A guy named Kyle and a few more I can’t remember.”

  “Were Heather and Dick seeing each other?” I asked. “I keep hearing his name in connection with hers.”

  He snorted. “No, Dick had it bad for May, only she didn’t seem to notice him until after Heather left. There was a guy who’d occasionally come in with them, and Heather would be hangin’ on his every word, but I don’t know who he was.”

  “Could he have been from Ewing?” Marco asked.

  “Yeah,” Max said. “Likely not from Drum.”

  Marco shot me a glance, confirming he also thought it could be our guy.

  The back door banged shut, and Molly called out cheerfully, “Hey, everybody! Good morning!”

  “Thanks, Max,” I said as I stopped the recorder and closed my notebook. “This was actually helpful.”

  He nodded. “Glad to help. I hope you find the bastard who killed her.”

  “Yeah,” I said as I glanced over at Molly in the doorway. “Me too.”

  Marco leaned closer and whispered, “Do you want to talk to her alone or with me?”

  I gave it a moment’s thought. “I think alone might work better. I’ll introduce it with small talk.”

  He nodded. “In that case, I figure I’ll work behind the bar with Max.”

  Which reminded me I wasn’t done talking to my boss. “Max, I’m going to need to take off for a few hours this afternoon. I’d like to leave around one thirty, and I’ll try to be back at five for the dinner shift.”

  He simply nodded, not that I’d expected anything different. He knew what I was doing with my time.

  “One more thing,” I said, holding his gaze. “I might get an important phone call this afternoon, and if it comes in, I’m going to need to drop everything and take it. No one can know anything about it.”

  “Okay.” I knew he wanted to ask questions, but I wanted him to maintain plausible deniability. The less he knew, the better.

  I got up and headed toward Molly.

  “Molly, I hear you did really well yesterday.”

  She beamed. “Thanks. Even Ruth didn’t seem to mind me so much.” But she said her name like it had a bad taste.

  “Did Max tell you that we have a new waitress starting today? She’ll only be working the lunch shift with us.”

  “No, but that’s great. We could sure use the help.”

  We only had ten minutes left before the tavern opened, so we got busy refilling salt and pepper shakers.

  “Say,” I said, trying to appear nonchalant. “Where does your sister May work?”

  She gave me a cautious look. “She doesn’t. She stays at home with her two kids.”

  “How long has she been married?”

  “About five years.”

  I was hoping she’d volunteer more information, but it was obvious I was going to need to be more direct.

  “Did she marry someone local?”

  “He’s from Ewing. She and her husband live in Piedmont.”

  Piedmont was about ten miles northeast of Ewing.

  “I know why you’re askin’,” she said with a hint of attitude. “This is about Heather Stone.”

  “I’m curious,” I admitted. “I’d like to talk to her, if she’s willing.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I know she was friendly with Heather. I’m trying to find out what happened.”

  “Why don’t you ask Wyatt Drummond? I suspect he had something to do with it.”

  “I don’t believe he did,” I said. “Which
is why I’d like to talk to May.”

  She shook her head. “May won’t want nothin’ to do with it. She was only too happy to leave Drum and all the shit that went down here behind her, especially after what happened with Ruth.”

  “What happened?” I asked, scared to hear her answer.

  “Ruth’s not who you think she is, you know,” she said, her eyes flashing. “She’s no angel.”

  “I have no doubt about that,” I countered. “I have no idea what she’s done in the past. But we’ve worked together practically every day since I started five months ago, and she’s a great coworker and a good friend.”

  “That might be the person you know now, but it’s not the person my sister knew.”

  “And I have no idea what she did to your sister, so unless you give me specifics, I can’t let that cloud my judgment.”

  “How about the fact she slept with May’s first husband while they were married?”

  Molly had alluded to this a couple of days ago, but I still had trouble accepting that Ruth would sleep with a married man. Especially since she’d held an almost decade-long grudge against Wyatt for kissing Heather while he was still dating Ruth.

  “Is there a problem over here?” Max asked, walking over to us.

  “Nope,” Molly said in a snippy tone. “We’re hunky-dory.”

  Max gave her a dubious glance, then turned to me. “Ginger’s in the back changin’ into a work shirt. I don’t want her to think we’re anything but one big happy family.”

  I set the saltshaker I’d just filled on the table. “I’ll go say hi and show her the ropes. Max, can I talk to you for a moment? I forgot to tell you about an incident last night.”

  That wasn’t entirely truthful, but I didn’t want Molly to know I intended to grill him about her sister.

  “Yeah, sure.” He glanced back and forth between us, as if trying to understand the nature of the problem he had on his hands, and we headed to the back.

  “What was that about?” he asked under his breath.

  “Molly’s sister. I need to talk to her, but Molly’s resistant to the idea. Plus, she claims Ruth slept with May’s first husband.”

  “Ruth did sleep with May’s first husband.”