Buried in Secrets (Carly Moore #4) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,9

the tuna melt she’d originally wanted.) They were talking about Pam’s kids—two high schoolers and a daughter who was married with a baby—and the support they were going to need since their father was worthless.

I set the plates on the table and asked if they needed anything else, but Diane sent me on my way. She made it obvious they wanted privacy, so I stayed away until they’d finished eating, then came back and asked if anyone wanted dessert. Sandy ordered strawberry pie, and Martha looked like she wanted something, but Diane’s look of admonishment stopped her.

“We’ll take our checks,” Diane said flatly, giving Sandy a look that didn’t seem to faze her one bit.

The lunch crowd had thinned, and Ginger was busing a table, so I went over to help her. “What do you know about the ladies club?”

Her gaze shifted to the group of women, then back to me. “You mean Diane’s clique?”

I picked up a couple of empty sugar packets off the table and put them on a plate. “Is that what they are?”

She shrugged as she grabbed a handful of dirty silverware and placed it on top of a plate with a half-eaten sandwich that reeked of fish. “They’ve been meeting for over twenty years, and they never invite anyone else.”

“I thought they were just a group of friends who met for lunch every couple of weeks.”

“They are, but it started back in high school. They sat together at lunch every day and kept meeting after they graduated.”

My brow furrowed. “How do you know so much about them?”

She shot a glare in their direction. “My mom went to school with them.”

Their kids were several years younger than Ginger, so her statement caught me by surprise. A quick bit of mental math suggested her mother had had her as a teenager. Judging by Ginger’s contempt for the ladies club, I suspected they had not treated her mother kindly. “What do you know about Pam?”

We carried the plates and glasses to the tub Tiny kept outside the kitchen.

“Pam Crimshaw? There’s not much to tell.”

“I know she’s married and has three kids. Does she have a job?”

“Nope. Her husband works at a hardware store in Ewing, but she stays home. Used to run a daycare out of her house when her kids were small, but I don’t think she’s done that for a while.” She propped a hand on her hip. “Why are you suddenly so interested in her?”

“She was arrested for murder yesterday.”

Shock washed over her face. “Murder? Are you sure it was Pam?”

“That’s why the women are meeting today. To discuss her arrest. They say there were witnesses.”

“Did she kill her husband?”

“I don’t think so. They’re organizing meals for him and the kids.”

She shook her head. “I don’t believe it. She’s the last person I’d expect to do something like that. Do you know who she supposedly killed?”

“No, but why did you ask if it was her husband?”

“Rob Crimshaw is not a nice man. I figured she’d probably had enough.”

If she hadn’t killed her allegedly mean husband, who had she killed? I needed to get my hands on that paper.

Pursing her lips, Ginger said, “You never suspect the quiet ones.”

There was probably some truth to that.

I came back to the ladies’ table to bring Sandy her pie and deliver their checks, but all conversation ceased as I approached them. I considered asking Sandy if I could contact her with more questions later, but Diane had made it clear no further questions would be welcome.

With a thin window of opportunity between the end of lunch and the start of Tutoring Club at three-thirty, I asked Ginger if she could cover for me while I made a quick run to the library. Everyone was used to me hanging out over there by now, and she agreed without asking any follow-up questions. Max had gone back to his office, but I decided not to bother him. I knew he wouldn’t care if I left, and Ginger could call him out to help if she needed it. Before I headed out, I went behind the bar and used the phone under the counter to try calling Marco’s cell phone. With the limited cell coverage in the county, the chances of reaching him were slim, but he always checked his phone when he was within range of a cell tower, and if I left him a message, he’d call me back as soon as he got a chance.

Sure enough, the call went

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