Relief filled her eyes. “I’d appreciate it.”
“Can I ask you a question?” It was a long shot, but I figured she might be agreeable since she wanted me to talk to Hank for her.
“Shoot.”
“How do you know Bart Drummond?”
Her eyes widened and her face paled.
Crap. She did. I tried to rein in my disappointment. “Is this all for him?”
“What?” she gasped. “No.”
“Then what kind of relationship do you have with him?”
“It was a long time ago,” she said. “Somehow it had gotten back to Bart that Bruce had taken something from Hank, and Bart wanted to know what it was.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I didn’t know—which was true. Bruce claimed to have stolen his fortune, but I didn’t know what it was.”
“And Bart accepted that?”
“He wasn’t happy, but what could he do?”
A lot. The man was capable of a lot. “Was this before or after Bruce was arrested for his fight with Todd Bingham?”
Fear filled her eyes. “Before.”
“So you didn’t tell Bart about the toolbox?”
“No.”
“Do you think Bart tried to get the information from Bruce in jail and had him killed?”
Tears filled her eyes. “I dunno.”
“Are you working with him now?”
Her head jerked violently side to side. “No. I hate the man. I’d sooner eat a cockroach before I help him again.”
But according to what she’d told me, she hadn’t helped him before, that she hadn’t told him anything about Hank’s money or the toolbox. Was that a slip of the tongue, or had she done something else for him?
“Don’t you want to keep the money for yourself?” I asked. “Why bring me and Hank into this at all?”
“I’ve struck out tryin’ to find it on my own.”
“I’ll talk to Hank tonight.” A talk about his past was long overdue, and I was going to insist on answers this time. “You know, if we don’t find the money, he’s not going to give you anything.”
“I know.” Hope filled her eyes, but I wasn’t so certain it was warranted. That toolbox was gone, which meant someone had taken it. I doubted she’d be able to tell us anything useful. “You’re sure you didn’t tell anyone else about the toolbox?”
“Yeah.”
I pushed out a sigh. “Okay. Leave me your number, and I’ll get in touch with you after I talk to Hank.”
I wasn’t sure how he’d react to Michelle keeping this to herself all this time.
I gave her a ticket from my order pad, and she wrote her number on the back. I slipped it into my pocket and then left the booth, leaving Michelle to finish her beer.
As I walked over to check on a table of customers, I spotted a guy I recognized sitting at the bar. He was in his thirties and kind of rough around the edges. Short beard and dark brown hair in need of a cut. I didn’t know his name, but I knew who he usually came in with—Bingham.
Our eyes locked, and he gave me a deadpan stare, leading to a five-second game of chicken. As much as I wanted to wait him out, the customer calling my name behind me forced me to end the match and take their drink order.
What was Bingham’s guy doing here? From the looks of it, he was keeping tabs on me. Had he seen me talking to Michelle? I looked over at the booth, and she was gone.
Marco came in around eight thirty, walking with a slight limp. He sat down at the bar with Max, several stools away from Bingham’s guy. Max glanced over at me, and I gave him a warm smile. He looked exhausted.
Bingham’s guy peered at Marco over his shoulder and reached for his wallet. After he placed several bills on the bar top, he headed out the door.
I wasn’t sure what to make of it—had he been watching me, or was it a coincidence?— but another table grabbed my attention before I could give the matter any more thought. After I walked their wing order over to Tiny, I sidled up to Marco at the bar and kissed him hello. Several people broke into cheers, and I turned around to face them with a smile.
“Let’s give them a real show,” Marco said in an undertone, grinning. He pulled me back into his arms and kissed me again, dipping me slightly backward this time.
More cheered erupted. When he pulled back, we were both grinning. Things in my life were crap right now, but at least I had this man with me.
“Take her home, Marco,” Ruth said from behind me.
Marco gave her a surprised look.
Max laughed. “Ruth wants more hours to help replace Tater’s truck, and I suspect she’s worried Carly’s gonna get more tips after that show.”
“I am not,” Ruth teased, “but I can see you two need to go home.”
Marco eyed me hopefully.
“It’s only eight thirty,” I protested. Ruth and Max would be handling the place alone.
“Go home already,” Ruth said. “There’s not a big crowd tonight. I can handle it.” She leaned closer. “We both know I need the tips.”
I could have argued with her, but I was eager to tell Marco about everything I’d learned. “Okay. You don’t have to tell me twice.” Turning to Marco, I said, “I need to go in the back to get my things.”
“I’m parked back there, so I’ll walk with you.”
He hopped off his stool and put his arm around my back, ushering me to the storeroom.
“Carly,” Ruth called after me. “Call me.”
I glanced back at her and nodded. I couldn’t put off talking to her forever. I just needed to figure out how much to tell her.
As soon as we got into the Explorer, I said, “Don’t go yet. I need to tell you about my visitors tonight.”
I told him what Michelle had said about Louise and Bruce working together with a third person who likely had access to Hank’s schedule.
“Who do you think it was?” Marco asked.
“I figure two strong possibilities are Barb or Big Joe.”
“Hank won’t take it well if either of them betrayed him. Especially Barb.”
“We have to tell him,” I said. “It’s time to make Hank talk to me.”
“I don’t think he’s gonna be thrilled Michelle’s been sittin’ on this information either.”
Talk about an understatement.
“You know,” he said, his eyes lighting up, “there’ve been reports of vandalism on several properties over the last week. I hadn’t put it together until now, but people are reporting that multiple big holes have been dug on their properties.”
“Like someone’s looking for a buried treasure?”
“Yep.”
Michelle had seemed certain the fortune was buried.
“Do you think they buried a bunch of cash?”
“Stands to reason,” he said with a small shrug.
I drew in a breath and sat back in my seat. “I’ve seen Ozark, Marco. I’ve seen how much space ten million dollars takes.” I turned to look at him. “I presume we’re talking about that much money.”
His mouth twisted to the side. “I haven’t seen Ozark, but I do know it would take more space than people realize. And I think we’re looking for at least ten million, maybe more. Hank was king back in the day, and he hardly spent any of it.”