One Foot in the Grave (Carly Moore #3) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,65
Max at school after Wyatt’s arrest, what did you tell him that convinced him to come home?”
Her smile wobbled, and although it quickly righted itself, it no longer looked genuine. “I reminded him of his obligations to his family. Of course.”
Her answer shook me, so I gave her a wave and hurried out of the house and to my car, holding my breath until I was off the Drummond property.
Emily had reminded Max of his family obligations, which had sent him on a multiday bender that had ultimately brought him back to Drum.
What were his family obligations? One thing was certain—nothing good.
Chapter Sixteen
Ruth was watching for me when I walked in the back door close to four, and she followed me into the back room.
“Where the hell have you been?” she snapped.
“I had a lot of errands to run,” I said as I shoved my purse into a small locker, then unzipped my duffel bag to retrieve my Max’s Tavern T-shirt. I paused, considering, and asked, “How hot is the dining room today?”
Her forehead wrinkled. “What?…Oh. Warm.”
I nodded, then quickly stripped off my long-sleeved tee and pulled my work shirt over my head.
“Damn, girl,” Ruth said in an appreciative tone. “Just strip that shirt right off.”
“It’s the same as hanging out at the pool in a bikini. Besides, we’re friends and I’m late.” I sat down and jerked off my shoes and made quick work of putting on my athletic shoes with the cushioned insoles that helped keep my feet comfortable—or at least more comfortable—during a long shift. “Is Molly still here?”
“She took off an hour ago.”
“How’d she do?” I asked with some hesitation.
“Better than I would have expected, but she’s not up to speed.”
“Well,” I said, lacing my shoes. “Let’s give her a few days.”
Ruth made a face like she’d consider it. “There’s a family out in the dining room askin’ about you. They ordered drinks and fries and nothin’ else. The mother said you offered to help her kid with his homework?”
Oh crap. I’d forgotten about Annette and her son.
“Yeah. I’ll take care of them. Have they been here long?” I finished tying my shoes and jumped to my feet, starting to push past her.
She grabbed my shoulders and held me in place. “Whoa. Slow down.” She cocked her head to study me. “Something’s not right with you. You seem a bit unhinged, and you’re never unhinged.”
I wasn’t about to admit that I’d had tea with Emily Drummond, especially since our conversation had given me some worries about Max. Like the timing of when he’d been summoned home and what, exactly, he’d been asked to do. “This whole Heather thing has got me spooked.”
“You think the Drummonds are gonna come after you next?” she asked, half serious, half derisive.
“You think they killed her?” I asked. “Not Wyatt?”
She snorted. “Why would Wyatt kill her? At that point, he was probably happy she was leaving.”
“Did you know she had a going-away party the night before she supposedly left town?” I asked.
Her eyes flew wide and she pointed a finger in my face as she took a step back. “I knew it! You are investigatin’!”
“Shh!” I practically shouted. “It’s an active investigation. If the sheriff department thinks I’m looking into it, I could get arrested.”
“I get why they’re lookin’. The question is, why are you lookin’?” she asked.
“I just want to know what happened,” I said, then for good measure added, “And I’m nosy.”
“No,” she said thoughtfully. “You’re not nosy…not unless you’re tryin’ to get to the bottom of something. Are you doin’ this to try to save Wyatt? Did he ask you to do this?”
That was the reason I’d started looking into it, but if he told me to stop, I’d keep right on pushing. Especially after my conversation with his mother. I sensed there was more to this—that I could truly find something that implicated Bart. Still, I wasn’t ready to admit any of that. I had questions for Ruth, but I’d ask them later.
“I’ve got to get to work.” I hurried past her and came to an abrupt halt at the entrance to the dining room—Wyatt was sitting at the end of the bar closest to the back room, his dark gaze aimed at me. He’d changed shirts since I’d last seen him hunched over in the nursing home parking lot. His eyes didn’t look very bloodshot, which confirmed I hadn’t reached his face with the pepper spray.
“I meant to tell you,” Ruth said in an amused voice