I stared at him in disbelief. Georgia hadn’t mentioned that. “Do you know if her husband worked for Hank?”
“I don’t know about him, but I know Michelle used to. Her and Barb mentioned it before.”
“I’m not sure if she’d talk to me,” I said. “She doesn’t know me from Adam.”
“I can tell her you want to talk to her about Barb and Seth,” he said.
I felt guilty asking him to do that, especially when Marco had given me her contact information, but she’d be more likely to talk with an introduction. Besides, this way I wouldn’t have to put Marco’s job at risk.
Ricky pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll send her a text and let you know what she says.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“No problem,” he said, already typing. His voice turned gruff. “You helped my brother.”
But not his mother. She was still in jail awaiting trial for the murder of his brother’s abuser.
“You know you can call me anytime you need help,” I said in a low tone. “For any reason.”
He finished tapping on his phone and looked up at me. “I know, Miss Carly. Trust me, I know.” His phone vibrated, and he glanced down at the screen. “She says she can meet you in fifteen minutes.”
“Really?”
“She says she’s at the Bluebird Café on the square. Does that work?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
He sent her a quick message, then smiled at me. “Done.”
“Thanks, Ricky. I owe you.”
He grinned. “I’ll collect sometime.”
As he headed back to his group, his friends teased him, asking if he’d gotten my number.
Back in my car, I sent Marco a couple of texts, telling him I’d talked to Georgia and Ricky, and was on my way to meet Michelle at the Bluebird Café. He didn’t respond, and I wondered if he was still tied up with the teen he was trying to help. I hoped he’d answer before I headed back to Drum, otherwise I’d never see his response. The service usually kicked out about five miles outside of the Ewing city limits.
The restaurant was on the town square, and I lucked into a parking space close by. I was a few minutes early, but there was a middle-aged woman in a blue shirt sitting at a table with a cup of coffee and two pieces of pie.
She glanced up when she heard me walking toward her. “You snooze, you lose.”
I stared at her in confusion. “Michelle?”
Lifting her fork, she said, “I got the last pieces of lemon meringue and peach cobbler.” She gestured to the chair in front of her. “Have a seat.”
Caught off guard, I sat down across from her as she flagged down the waitress, a young woman in her twenties.
“Coffee, hun?” she asked sweetly, lifting the pot she carried.
“Uh, yeah.” I’d already had enough caffeine to power the entire mountain, but I found myself flipping over the cup on the table anyway.
“Bring ’er a piece of pie,” Michelle said, jamming her fork into the lemon meringue to scoop off a big bite. “You like key lime?” she asked me. “They got good key lime here.”
“Yeah, sure.” I glanced up at the waitress. “That sounds great.”
“Coming right up!” The waitress bounded back to the kitchen, way too chipper for a Wednesday afternoon.
“So you want to know about Barb, huh?” Michelle asked through a mouthful of pie.
“I’d love to hear anything you’re willing to share.”
“How far back do you want me to go?” She picked up a spoon and scooped out some cobbler while still chewing her pie.
“As far back as you feel comfortable.”
“We met back in grade school. Drum Elementary wasn’t that big, and the classes were small.” She shoved the spoon into her mouth.
“So you were good friends from the start?”
She burst out laughing, and a few piecrust crumbs shot out of her mouth. “Oh, hell no.” She swallowed, then said, “She hung around with that prissy Cassie Carpenter—Cassie Nabors now. I became friends with Barb after Bruce started working for Hank.”
So Bruce had worked for Hank.
I wanted to press her on that, but I decided she might not be open to discussing her husband’s work history with a drug distributor. Especially not with a stranger. So I shifted to a topic I wasn’t sure was any better. “Did Louise Baker go to school with y’all?”
She sat back in her seat and pierced her lemon meringue. “Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.”
The look on her face suggested she wished the streak had continued. She had a suspicious glint in her eyes, which was understandable since I’d brought Louise up out of the blue.
Thinking fast, I lied and said, “I came across a notebook that I think belonged to Seth. He mentioned something about Cassie Carpenter having a falling-out with Louise.”
“They stopped being friends long before Seth was born. Why would he have written about that?”
Shit. “Good question. Maybe he heard about it from his mother. He wrote that in conjunction with something about his grandfather hating Louise.”
I hated lying but told myself it was for a good cause.
She snorted. “That’s an understatement. Him and half the town.”
“I’m not sure whether Ricky told you that I live with Hank,” I said. “I’m the person who found Seth.”
Tears filled her eyes. “That stupid boy. His mother would have skinned him alive for thinkin’ he could take on criminals like that.”
Her words were harsh, but her tone was full of affection and sorrow.
I wasn’t sure how to answer that.
She swiped angrily at a tear, giving herself over to indignation. “Hank had a certain code when he was in business. What happened to Barb or Seth would have never happened on his watch.”
And that was the opening I needed. “Did people like working for Hank?”
“He was a fair boss, but if you crossed him . . .” Her eyes darkened momentarily, then she shrugged it off. “Most of the people who worked for him were loyal, and not just because they feared him.”
“But Louise Baker wasn’t loyal.”
She made a face. “Louise Baker never worked for him. Not really. Mary hired her for odd jobs is all.”
“Like what kind of jobs?”
“Helping out with the house and some gardening stuff. Truth is, I think Mary mostly did it for Walter. The Bakers were always hard up for money, although I don’t know why because Hank paid decent wages. Bruce never complained, anyway.” Suddenly, she had a ferocious, almost feral look in her eyes, like she wanted to rip someone’s head off. Something about the mention of Louise’s financial hardships had set her off, though I couldn’t fathom why. But she seemed to catch herself, and tried to cover it up with a strained smile and a shrug.
“So Walter worked for Hank?” I asked cautiously.
“Sure. He was too dumb to work anywhere else.” She lowered her voice. “Rumor had it he got kicked in the head by a horse when he was a kid, and he wasn’t the same afterward. But everyone liked him. He was a good father.” She shook her head. “There’s no way he would have drowned that child. She was his whole life.”