Buried in Secrets (Carly Moore #4) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,64
when I woke up his computer, there was a password box. I entered the code—Max1$King—and laughed. He’d come up with that to irk Ruth every time she signed in to help with the books.
I did a search for Jim Palmer on the local paper’s website, and it pulled up page after page about his community involvement. Too much to spend time on, so I searched for his kids next. Pete—Peter—had played T-ball and baseball, as well as soccer and basketball. He’d made the seventh grade B honor roll last year, and there was a photo of him at the high school homecoming parade. The float for his baseball team had been sponsored by Jim Palmer Insurance.
Laurie brought up more, but not by much. She’d been in dance recitals at Miss Nancy’s Dance school since she was three. She’d also played sports when she was younger, but there was no mention of it once she hit middle school. She’d made the A honor roll all through middle school and her freshman year, and the single photo of her in the paper, from a high school student council, showed a fresh-faced girl who looked happy. Pete’s photo had struck me the same way.
Next I looked up Melinda, realizing that I only had about ten minutes before I had to get out to work. Melinda’s search brought up Jim’s murder first, and I realized the kids’ names had been left out of the news reports about Jim’s death. I silently complimented the news editor who had made that decision. But after the stories about Jim’s death—which had all the information I did, rehashed in multiple ways—were the articles about her store, Hometown Charm. There was a photo of Melinda standing next to the front window. With her short, wavy blond hair and her sweet, light-blue dress, she looked a bit like Reese Witherspoon. There were several other articles about the store, followed by some pieces about events she had attended with Jim. There were a few photos of the two together. Jim always had a big smile, his arm around his wife, but her smile looked fake in a couple of them.
Melinda didn’t want to live in Ewing, Tennessee, but had she loved her husband? Was she the one who’d approached Bart Drummond and asked for a favor?
I glanced up at the time on the top corner of the computer and groaned. My time had run out.
Chapter Eighteen
We were busier than usual through the dinner rush, and then people showed up to watch the Braves’ baseball game on Max’s big screen TV.
Marco showed up after the dinner crowd left and headed toward the bar to hang out with Max. Ruth must have noticed, because she immediately sidled up to me.
“Why don’t you take off early?” she said with a grin. “I’ll close tonight.”
“You’ve been here since noon,” I protested. And because I didn’t want to get into yet another conversation about Marco—just last week she’d accused me of giving him chronic blue balls—I changed the subject. “Hey, what’s the word on your friend taking over Molly’s position?”
“She’s coming in tomorrow morning for an interview, so you don’t need to come in until your tutoring club starts.”
“Are you sure?” I was relieved that I’d have more time to investigate, but I didn’t want to pile onto Ruth’s workload.
“I’m going to be here anyway, and if it works out, I’ll have her stay for her first shift.” She pulled a face. “Besides, I can use the extra cash. Franklin’s truck broke down, and some of the parts are expensive.”
“Okay, if you’re sure…”
“Good,” she said. “That’s settled. Now, you get on out of here. We’re slow enough that Max and I have it covered.”
It was only eight-thirty, but if she needed the money, I didn’t feel inclined to say no. I’d prefer to talk to Marco sooner rather than later. “I guess I’ll go check with Max.”
“Check? Just tell him.”
I hesitated, if only because Marco and Max looked deep in conversation, but they’d seen each other the night before, and I really, really wanted to know what Marco had learned. So I went over anyway.
“Hey,” I said as I scooted up to Marco. “Ruth wants to close tonight. She said she needs the money for parts for Franklin’s truck. In fact, she told me to take off now.”
I expected Max to protest, but instead he nodded. “Sounds good.” He shot a grin to Marco. “I suspect that means you’ll be takin’ off too?”