Buried in Secrets (Carly Moore #4) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,101
There was a lot of divisiveness, and even though a good portion of the people in town had nothing to do with anything underhanded, they could still feel the tension. Drummond ran the town, so he started the dances and proposed they be Switzerland. Mary convinced me it was a good idea.” He shot me a wink. “I teased her she wanted it to work for selfish reasons. I’ll never forget the look in her eyes when she lifted her chin and said defiantly, ‘Suppose I do. You know I’m not the only one.’ And she was right, so I swallowed a lump of pride and accepted the terms, but the deal was he provided the moonshine and I provided the bands.”
“And what did Floyd Bingham provide?”
Releasing a snort, he said, “Not a damn thing. He didn’t come most of the time, but eventually his son did.”
“Say, Hank,” I said, feeling awkward about what I was about to ask. But I’d feel unsettled until I said something. “Is there bad blood between you and Jerry Nelson?”
His brow shot up. “What makes you ask?”
“I told Jerry to let me know if things turn sour out at the Drummonds’. I said I’d help him get resettled, and he told me that he doubted you’d want him stayin’ with us for any length of time.”
He snorted. “Two old men livin’ with a young woman? Sounds like one of them sitcoms. That’s what he probably meant.”
Only I didn’t think that was what he meant at all. Had Hank just lied to me, or had he forgotten some grievance that Jerry remembered? I was having too much fun to put a pall over it.
“So they used to have dances?” I said. “How many years did they go on?”
He pushed out a sigh. “I don’t recall. Ten years? Maybe twelve? They stopped when the lumber mill went under. People didn’t feel much like celebratin’ when they’d just lost their jobs and the man hostin’ the parties was the one who’d ruined ’em.” He motioned to the dancers. “Max did a good thing. The town needed this.”
“Speaking of Max…” I got to my feet. “I’m supposed to ask him about changing the keg. Save me a spot on your dance card, Hank. You’re gonna dance with me.”
He snorted again. “The hell I am.”
I pointed a finger at him. “Just like your Mary, I know when to dig in my feet. I will get my way, and you know it, so you might as well accept it.”
He shot me a dark glare. It might have scared someone else, but I just grinned and waited with a hand propped on my hip.
“Fine. Go.” He made a shooing motion, and I laughed as I turned around and headed for the back door.
There was still no sign of Bart or Emily. I hoped that meant they’d gotten bored and left.
The back hall was illuminated with an overhead light. One of the generators was hooked up to the tavern to keep the refrigerators and freezer running, and Max had left the hall light on so people could see when they went in to use the bathroom. Since the tavern only had two restrooms with one toilet each, there’d been a line most of the night, so I was fortunate that there was only one person ahead of me. I got to the restroom quicker than I’d expected—the woman in front me had gone in to reapply some makeup—and when I got out, the hall was empty.
I walked around the table Max and Tiny had turned on its side to block the end of the hall and the entrance to the dining room, and headed to Max’s office. It was locked.
Where was he?
I started to head back outside when I heard a loud thud on the ceiling above my head, coming from Max’s apartment.
He’d seemed eager to enjoy the night, but maybe he’d gone up there for a break. Or to use his own bathroom. I considered finding Ruth and making an executive decision about the keg, but I decided Max would want some input. I headed up the dark stairwell and stood in front of the doorway, surprised to hear a couple of voices on the other side. They were too muffled for me to make out who they belonged to, but one of them was definitely female.
Well, crap. Had Max found a woman and brought her upstairs? I definitely didn’t want to interrupt.