Buried in Secrets (Carly Moore #4) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,29

to regret asking why?”

“Probably,” I said with a small smile. “Pam Crimshaw shot a man in cold blood in his insurance office, then drove to Sonic and waited for the police to come arrest her.”

His startled look slipped into a frown. “Why’d she do that?”

“She didn’t give a reason. She said she just felt like it.”

“She just felt like shooting a man in his office?” he asked in disbelief.

“Pretty unbelievable, right? Marco doesn’t think the detectives on the case will dig any deeper, but it sounds awfully fishy to me. To both of us.”

He was silent for a couple of seconds. “You think it’s a Bart Drummond favor.”

“Yes.” When he didn’t say anything, I asked, “Do you know anything about Pam? Her husband’s name is Rob.”

He frowned again, then shook his head. “Not much, but I knew a Stewie Crimshaw. He had a couple of sons. They’d be in their forties about now.”

“That would fit. Anything you remember about him that might help?”

“Just that he was a mean son of a bitch. He beat his wife and kids.”

“I hear Rob’s not so nice himself.”

“The apple doesn’t usually fall far from the tree,” he said.

That wasn’t something I could ask Pam’s daughter, Ashlynn. Did your father beat you? wasn’t exactly a good conversation opener. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if I should talk to her at all, but I decided to take her the casserole anyway. I lived in Drum. I was part of the community, and I needed to act like it. I’d take it from Hank and me.

“You could be gettin’ yourself into trouble with this one,” he said gruffly. “While I suspect a lot of the things that have been blamed on Drummond over the years had nothin’ to do with the man, the favors are real, and he holds people accountable.” He gave me a look that reminded me that Bart Drummond considered keeping my real name quiet a favor, and he would expect to call on that someday too.

“Why would people put themselves in that position?” I asked. “He asks for horrible things in return.”

“Not always. Sometimes the favors are as simple as deliverin’ an envelope to Knoxville.” He turned his head to face me. “Like you said, if they were all bad, no one would ask. There aren’t enough people in town desperate enough to go to him, knowing they’ll be asked to commit murder in exchange, but it’s a lot like playin’ Russian roulette. You just never know what you’ll get.”

“And no one’s defied him?” I asked.

“I’m sure some have tried, but he retaliates by getting another person who owes him a favor to take care of them.” He paused. “Or he got his right-hand man, Purdy, to do it.”

Carson Purdy, who’d tried to kill me and Marco and Wyatt. Who’d supplied the tainted drugs that had killed Hank’s daughter and been an accessory to his grandson’s murder.

Exhaustion crept into Hank’s voice. “Like you, I suspect Purdy wasn’t acting on his own. Once I retired, Drummond saw Bingham as his biggest threat, and maybe he thought he could move into his market. Money’s been tight for Drummond, and runnin’ his land ain’t cheap. His ‘spa’ in Ewing ain’t bringin’ in money, and neither is the Alpine Inn in town. It stands to reason that he’d try to find a new source of income, and he let Purdy be the face of it.”

“Do you think he’d ask his new manager to pick up where Purdy left off?”

He turned to me in surprise. “Has he hired someone?”

I swallowed, my small hairs standing on end. “Jerry Nelson.”

His eyes widened. “You’re kiddin’.”

A lump formed in my throat. “I wish I were.”

He was silent for several seconds as he studied the bird feeder. “Jerry wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“He killed Carson Purdy,” I countered.

“That was different,” Hank scoffed. “He was protectin’ you and Marco.”

“What if Bart convinces him he’s protectin’ someone?” Sure, Marco thought Jerry knew what he was doing—that he might even be playing Bart—but I couldn’t see that man as anything but an innocent. I took a breath. “Maybe this makes me sound like a narcissist, but I can’t help thinking Bart hired him because of me. He was hired at the tavern, of all places, and they kept giving him more and more responsibility. Drummond told him he was promoted to the overseer position as a reward, both for his hard work and for protecting Wyatt, but what if he