church.”
I blinked in surprise. “You want to go to church?”
He’d never once mentioned it.
“What? You think I’m gonna catch on fire if I cross the threshold?” he grumped, his gaze firmly on Marco.
“Of course not, but I could have taken you. It’s part of my job. And I’ll be getting my own car soon enough,” I said, handing him the fresh cup of coffee. “I sold my old one to Todd Bingham last night for four thousand dollars. We’re going to Ewing today. Maybe I’ll look for a new car while I’m there.” Although I had no idea how Hank would go about driving without a right leg. I’d call the doctor’s office tomorrow.
Hank gave me a frown. Did he think I was more likely to leave if I had my own car? I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for caring, Hank. I haven’t had someone who cared for me like this for a very long time.”
Not since my mother.
He gave me a warm smile. “Be safe today. I have a feelin’ you’re pokin’ some big hornets’ nests with sticks.”
That was twice I’d been told this very thing, and boy was it true.
“You know it,” I said with a grin, then bounded down the steps and got into Marco’s Explorer.
When I got inside, Marco said, “Did I hear you say you sold your car to Bingham last night?” He shot me a dark look. “Did you go out to his property alone?”
“No. Ruth opened the tavern around six and called me into work. He came by to see me. And he was all alone.”
He backed up the SUV and headed to the road. “That’s not like him.”
“Yep. I asked him about Shane Jones and showed him my photo, but he claims Shane doesn’t work for him. However, I showed the photo to Ruth and she does remember him. He came in a few months back with Dwight Henderson.”
“The guy who worked at Mobley Funeral Home?”
“That’s the one, but Ruth knew the friend as Charlie. We know that Dwight was having drugs smuggled into the area in caskets delivered from Atlanta. We need to ask Pete Mobley, the funeral home director, if he recognizes Charlie.” I turned to him. “Did your friend at the sheriff’s department find anything?”
“No, but if his real name’s not Shane Jones, then I’m not surprised.” He turned onto the road. “If we don’t find out much from Mobley, then we can stop by the nursing home and ask for more information about Charlie from his boss.”
“Sounds good.” I said, my mind whirring on to the next concern. “Have you talked to Max since yesterday morning?”
“No.”
“After Wyatt took me home, he left to check on Max. Tiny said Max left with him, and he hadn’t returned by the time we closed up.”
“Did you call Wyatt to check on him?”
“No. With the way we ended things after he dropped me off, it doesn’t seem like a good idea. I think we need to take a break from each other.” After what I’d learned from Ruth, I felt even less optimistic about our prospects. But I’d come to the conclusion that my feelings were much too complicated to sort out while we were looking for Lula and Greta.
When Marco didn’t say anything, I said, “No comment?”
“What’s there to say? You two seem to fight more than you get along. Maybe it’s for the best.”
“Maybe.” I needed to change the subject. “I’m still trying to figure out the dynamic between the Bakers, Bart, and Hank. Turns out Louise worked for Hank for a short time, processing his pot, but he fired her after he figured out she was spyin’ for Bart. He fired her the day before she shot Walter.”
“So she probably went over to the Drummonds’ to tell Bart she’d been fired.”
“I’m presuming, but what did he do for her? And why was Walter drowning his daughter? I still have so many questions. Bingham suggested I talk to Louise herself.”
“Go to Nashville?” he asked in surprise. “That’s probably a good idea. I’ll get her attorney’s information. See if maybe we can get her to call you and save a trip.” Then he grinned. “I’m starvin’. Let’s get some breakfast at Watson’s, then head to the funeral home.”
I wasn’t looking forward to going back there, but I was hoping Mobley would have some much needed answers.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
There was nothing appealing about the Mobley Funeral Home. It was a one-story brick building in the nondescript style typical of architecture