“Do you still want me to work on your car and your roof?” Wyatt asked defensively.
“Yeah, but since you can’t find the self-control to leave Carly alone, only when she’s not here.”
Wyatt gave me a pleading look, but I returned to chopping my carrots. The whack of the knife striking the board filled the room as I put a little more effort into it than necessary.
I heard rather than saw Wyatt walk away. Hank followed him out the front door, and the truck engine started then faded.
I was spreading the carrots on the cookie sheet Wyatt had covered with foil when Hank returned.
“I knew he’d pull some kind of bullshit,” Hank said in disgust. “You should have stayed at Marco’s.”
“I promised, although I’m not sure I fully lived up to my end of the bargain.”
“Then I’ll pay him money, because you don’t owe that man a damn thing.” He heaved himself onto a chair and rested his crutch against the table. “I heard what he said about Marco.” He waited until he had my attention. “While there’s some truth to what he said about his friendship with Max, he’s changed, Carly.”
I gave him a reassuring smile. “I know he has, in more ways than one. I trust him, Hank. With my life and my heart.” I released a small laugh. “I told him I love him.”
Hank grinned from ear to ear. “About damn time.”
I laughed again. “Yeah, he thought you’d have that reaction.”
“Don’t you let Wyatt give you doubts or make you feel guilty. I love that boy like a son, and I confess, at one time, I thought you’d be good for him, but I came to realize he wouldn’t be good for you. He’s got too much Drummond in him.”
“What’s that mean?”
“The Drummonds are born and bred to keep secrets. He can’t help hidin’ things, even things that don’t need to be hidden. And while I believe he broke ties with his daddy, seems to me he’s still up to something.”
That didn’t surprise me, but was it something that complemented my intentions or went against them? I had plenty of questions about Wyatt that he never seemed interested in answering. For all his pretty talk about the two of us, he’d never opened up to me.
“How do you feel about him workin’ on the roof?” he asked.
I gave him a reassuring smile. “If he can do a better job, then I’m all for it.”
“You don’t have to pay to fix my house, girlie.”
“I live here too, so it’s only right.”
“Did you make any progress on connectin’ Bart to the murder?”
“Maybe?” I drizzled the carrots with olive oil, then sprinkled them with salt and pepper and put the tray in the oven. Hank might currently be cut off from the world, but he knew about Drum and the people in it. His opinion could prove invaluable.
I sat down at the end of the table. “So far, Selena Martin has been my best source.”
Hank’s face paled. “The high school math teacher?”
“Yeah. She said she had Seth for two classes.”
He nodded. “The boy liked her.”
“She liked him too.” I hesitated, then said, “Pam Crimshaw’s son Ricky was supposedly Seth’s best friend.”
He rubbed his chin. “Yeah, I suppose he was.”
“But you didn’t mention it when I was talking about the Crimshaws yesterday.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, well, I guess it didn’t seem important.”
“I was trying to find out more about Pam, and you had information all along,” I said, a hint of accusation leaking into my tone.
“I don’t have much information on her. Nothing that will help you out.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
His gaze flicked to me, and I was fairly sure I saw a flash of pride. “I barely know the woman.”
“What do you know about her?”
“She’s a mousy thing. Scared of her own shadow but devoted to her kids. Seth didn’t like goin’ over to their house, but Ricky’s daddy didn’t approve of Ricky comin’ over here. She let him come anyway, but she always seemed scared of me whenever she brought him over.”
“Did you ever meet Rob, her husband?”
“No.”
I studied him closely. He’d expanded on every other answer…why not this one? The first rule of lying is to never share more than necessary. Was Hank lying to me? If Seth and Ricky had been as close as everyone said, what was the likelihood his path had never crossed with Rob?
“What do you think of Ricky?”
His lips quivered with a smile. “He’s a good kid. He was a good friend to Seth, especially after Barb died, but I hadn’t seen him for at least a month or two before Seth’s death.”
“When Seth started plotting with Bingham?” I asked.
“Probably.”
“Do you know anything about Ricky’s brother’s accident a little over a year ago?”
“Not much. Ricky’s sister took care of him while his brother was in the hospital, but I don’t know any details about the accident.”
“You don’t remember anything about the other driver?”
“I only know that Thad and his friend were in the hospital for several weeks.”
“The friend’s name is Spencer Gensler. Do you know anything about him?”
“Nothin’.”
“What about his family? His parents are Donald and Kay Gensler.”
He shook his head. “They’re probably from Ewing.”
I made a mental note to check. “Why’d you keep this from me, Hank?”
His eyes turned glassy. “It’s hard to think about anything to do with Seth.”
“Hank…” I reached out and took his hand. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, then pulled his hand away. “Save your sympathy for someone who needs it. I should have told you, but like I said, I don’t know much and I didn’t want to dredge up old memories.”
Was he telling the truth? I hated that I was questioning him, but the doubt wasn’t so easily dismissed.
“Do you know much about the goings-on in Ewing?”
He shook his head. “Mary had some friends in Ewing, but I’ve lost track.”
“Do you know anything about an insurance agent named Jim Palmer?”
His brow rose. “The man who was killed?”
“His father.”
He got a pensive look, and he was quiet for so long I didn’t think he was going to answer, but then he said, “I remember hearing something, but its only coming in bits and pieces. Something to do with his wife.”
“You mean Jim, Jr.’s wife, Melinda?”
“No, his daddy’s wife. Naomi.”
“You don’t remember anything else?”
He pursed his lips and shook his head. “No. But I remember Mary yappin’ on…something to do with church, I think.”
Well, crap. If it was flat-out gossip, I wouldn’t find it in a paper or a police report. But Thelma might know something.
“That’s good,” I said. “It’s something.”