Buried in Secrets (Carly Moore #4) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,81
were sorry to hear about Mr. Jim,” a girl called out.
Melinda looked up as though realizing for the first time that they were there. “Oh. Thank you.” But she didn’t say any more, just got into her car and took off.
“Jim was too good for her,” the same girl said in a snide tone.
“Y’all don’t like her?” I called out.
They looked at me like I’d grown horns.
“Nobody likes her,” Ricky said. “She thinks she’s too good for this place.”
A man walked out of the church and scanned the group. “Seems to me there’s a whole lot of chattin’ goin’ on, and not much weedin’.”
“Sorry, Pastor Bill,” they all called out in weak unison.
His attention turned my way, and a smile spread across his face. “Well, hello. I’m Pastor Bill Atkins. I don’t believe I’ve seen your face around here.”
Crap.
I walked over and extended my hand. “Hi, I’m a friend of Pam’s. I saw Ricky working out here and decided to stop by and check on him.”
His lips pressed into a thin line. “That poor family’s been through the wringer with Thad and Ashlynn. And then this mess with Jim.” He shook his head, his bottom lip pushed out. “They’ll need lots of prayers.”
“Pastor Bill,” one of the girls called out while kneeling next to a bush. “Is this a weed?”
“Let me have a look,” he said and started over. After taking a couple of steps, he turned back to me. “It was nice to meet you…?” His voice rose at the end, hinting that I should give him my name.
I waved back. “Nice to meet you too.” Then I got in my car and pulled out of the parking lot.
It was time to talk to Chuck.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Farmer’s Tack and Feed Store was busier than I’d expected, mostly because I didn’t know of any farmers in these parts. There were horses and cows, and one of the families who came in to the diner a lot had a pond full of ducks, but no one was planting crops.
I parked in the lot and stared at the building, trying to figure out how best to find Chuck. There was a gardening section to the left of the building, and two employees were handling customers. A woman ran the cash register and a younger man was loading several bags of potting soil into the trunk of a car parked next to the curb. He loaded the last bag, then shut the trunk and gave it a couple of pats, and the car—driven by an older woman—drove away.
I supposed I could start there and work my way inside. I could grab a cart and pick up a couple of bags of cat litter.
Feeling more confident, I got out of the car and headed toward the garden section just as an older man came out of side entrance and called out, “Hey, Chuck! Move those bags of mulch to the front.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Soto,” Chuck responded, giving him a friendly wave, but as soon as the man went back inside, Chuck kept his hand up and lowered all of his fingers except the middle one.
I rolled my eyes. What a charmer.
The woman at the cash register must have thought the same thing because she shot him a disapproving glare.
While finding him had proven easier than expected, I didn’t have high expectations for our conversation.
Chuck had walked to the back of the garden area and was hefting a large bag of mulch onto his shoulder. I could see why Ashlynn was interested in him despite his crappy personality. He had muscular arms and a pretty boy look. She was thinking with the brain of a teenager, not a woman. Then again, I knew plenty of women who’d fallen for a man’s looks rather than his substance.
“Chuck?” I asked as I approached him.
As he walked toward me, his gaze swept up my legs, lingered on my breasts, and then took in my face. A smile lit up his blue eyes. “That’s me. How can I help you, pretty lady?”
Pretty lady? I felt like I’d jumped in a pond full of slime, but I forced a smile. I could play this coy, or I could be blunt. I wasn’t in the mood for games. “I wanted to ask you some questions about Ashlynn.”
His eyes darkened, and he walked past me toward the front of the building. “No thanks.”
“Did you see her yesterday?” I asked, hurrying behind him.