Murder in the Smokies - By Paula Graves Page 0,56
she was willing to commit to. For all she knew, her visit to Bramlett Nurseries would prove to be a complete bust, and she’d have nothing to tell him at all.
Antoine was game when she suggested they head to Bramlett Nurseries first thing in order to be there when the place opened. “Catch them without any warning, and maybe we’ll learn something useful.”
Antoine drove while Ivy used her cell phone to look up Bramlett Nurseries on the internet. The company had a small, low-rent website, little more than a placeholder page with its address, phone number and hours of business. The nursery opened at eight, which meant they’d arrive right around the start of business.
The nursery was nestled in a pretty, tree-lined valley about five miles outside the Bitterwood city limits but still within the police department’s jurisdiction. Behind the building, the Smoky Mountains slumbered like blue velvet giants, their softly rounded peaks shrouded by the pale morning mists that gave the mountain range its name.
The main building was boxy and rectangular, its utilitarian shape tempered by the quirky choice of colorful river stones as the primary building material. Behind the main building, three large greenhouses reflected the blue mountains and pearl-gray sky above them.
Inside the main building, Ivy and Antoine found a lone man behind the counter, his head down as he organized what looked like seed packets on the polished glass countertop. He didn’t look up until he’d finished the task, his gray eyes calm and his expression neutral as he offered them a polite smile.
“Sorry for making you wait. But if I’d lost count, I’d have had to start over again.” He swept the packets of seeds into a display box marked Bramlett Savoy Spinach and set them on the counter. “Can I help you?”
“I’d like to speak to whoever’s in charge of your truck fleet.”
The man at the counter smiled. “Fleet? We have a single truck for deliveries and landscaping jobs.”
Ivy showed the man her shield. “I’m Detective Hawkins of the Bitterwood Police Department. This is Detective Parsons. Are you the manager?”
“Owner-operator,” the man answered with a smile. “Mark Bramlett. Nice to meet you, Detectives. How can I help you?”
He did look like a nice guy, Ivy had to admit. Mid-thirties, sandy brown hair, tall and slim with friendly gray eyes. She’d probably buy a potted plant from him, she conceded, even though she had a notoriously brown thumb.
“Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Bramlett. We’d like to ask you some questions about the truck you rent from Davenport Trucking in Maryville.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Did you get through to your pretty little cop?”
Sutton opened his eyes to find Seth Hammond sitting in the waiting room chair directly across from him. He looked tired and disheveled, but his green eyes were as sharp as ever. “I thought you were going home.”
“I stopped in to check on Cleve and ended up staying until his pain pill kicked in and let him get back to sleep.”
Once again, Sutton felt a twinge of guilt that it was Seth who was able to give his father comfort in his time of distress. All Sutton seemed to do when he visited his father was stress him out. “Is he any better at all?”
“He’s resting a little easier.” Seth shrugged. “Not sure if it’s because he’s actually in less pain or if he’s just getting acclimated to it.”
“He hates me, doesn’t he?”
“I always figured it was the other way around.”
“I don’t hate him.” At Seth’s dubious look, Sutton added, “I just don’t want to follow in his footsteps.”
“He doesn’t expect that. Hell, he doesn’t even expect me to anymore.”
“You’ve turned over a new leaf?” It was Sutton’s turn to be skeptical.
Seth shrugged. “Call it what you want.”
“Why?”
“Why’d I get out of the con game?” Seth rubbed his jaw, his palm making a swishing noise against his beard stubble. “I didn’t like how people looked at me when they realized they’d been had. See, your daddy always treated it like a game. He’s not actively trying to hurt people. He just wants to see what he can convince them to do to his benefit. He tried to teach me how to see it that way, but in the end, I couldn’t. People got hurt, some real bad. Some might have deserved it for being greedy and stupid themselves, but a lot of them didn’t. I just couldn’t live with it.”
“But you still watch out for Cleve.”
“Somebody’s got to.”
“Are you trying to watch out for me, too?”
Seth’s