“Oh no he didn’t,” another man argued, jumping into the conversation without invitation. “He didn’t respect anybody but himself.”
I took a moment to study the newcomer. I recognized his face — it was older, boasting more lines than almost anybody else milling about next to the real estate office — but I couldn’t remember the name.
“Really?” Sandy wasn’t buying what the interloper was trying to sell. “I seem to remember you getting bonuses five years in a row even though you sold less than me, Melvin.”
Things slid into place. Melvin Montgomery. My mother had briefly worked in an office he ran when I was in middle school. She hated him, said he was a jerk of first-class proportions, and was excited when she made enough money to finally leave that office and start one of her own. How did Melvin end up working for Roy if he was his own boss?
Melvin balked at the statement. “How do you know that?”
“I make it a point to keep tabs on my co-workers,” Sandy replied, blowing a long string of smoke into Melvin’s face. The more I watched her, the more I wondered if she wasn’t a constant problem in the office. I liked her attitude — she had no intention of taking crap from anyone — but she was aggressive. That couldn’t go over well with her co-workers. “I know darned well you got five-figure bonuses each year for the past five years. I got nothing, even though I brought a lot more money into the office.”
Melvin turned an accusatory glare on Erin. “Did you tell her?”
Erin’s already pale face blanched even whiter. “Why would you think that? I’m a secretary ... or was.”
“Yeah, but Roy made you do all the grunt work, including delivering bonus checks. You’re the only one besides him who knew.”
“That’s not true.” Erin blew a raspberry, something I expected from a teenager, not a working adult. “He never told me anything. He just barked orders while calling me ‘honey’ and commenting on my skirts.”
I arched an eyebrow. “And despite that you think he was a good boss?”
“He paid me well,” Erin said stubbornly. “I was socking money away to get my own place so I didn’t have to live with my parents. Now that’s over.”
“You still live with your parents?” I was horrified at the thought, though I was almost at that point when I finally agreed to return home and work in the family restaurant. Thankfully the apartment above the restaurant was part of the deal. Otherwise I might’ve actually considered living in my car.
“Hey, you don’t understand.” She jabbed a finger in my direction. “Not all of us had a chance to leave this place and go to college. Most of us had no choice but to stay. That’s why nobody understands why you’re back. I mean ... you made it. You were out of here. Why would you throw all that away to come back here?”
Now it was my turn to be defensive. “It’s not as if I had it easy.”
“You were on television.” Erin jutted out her lower lip. “We all saw you with those mean women on The View. They spent six whole minutes asking you about your book. You didn’t need to come back.”
Ah, if only that were true. I slid my eyes to Sandy, who watched me speculatively. “It’s not that easy,” I insisted after a beat. “Everyone thinks I got rich off that book, but I didn’t.”
“Hey, I’m not casting aspersions.” Sandy held up her hands. “I understand why you’re back. I understand about the book industry.”
“You do?” That was refreshing.
She bobbed her head. “After you got that big book deal I researched it. I’ve always wanted to write a book.”
I had to bite back a sigh. The number of times I’d heard that statement was staggering. The number of people who made that claim without putting in the work to write a book was astronomical. False dreams about how easy writers have it deluded so many people.
“I get that you didn’t get rich,” she continued. “Then that second book of yours didn’t sell at all and they tossed your contract before you could write a third.”
This conversation was getting more and more uncomfortable. “Yeah, well ... it wasn’t what I thought it would be.” There was no sense in lying. No one would believe I was back working at the family restaurant out of the goodness of my heart. On top of that, lying made me feel icky — unless it was for a good cause, like getting my mother off my back. “I didn’t have a choice but to come back.”
“Nobody doubts that,” Sandy reassured me, her eyes drifting to an incredulous Erin. “Well, at least nobody with a brain.”
I had to get this conversation back on track. “So, about Roy. Can you guys think of anyone who’d want to hurt him?”
“Hurt him?” Sandy screwed up her face. “There are a lot of people who wanted to hurt him. He was a gross old man who said disgusting things. He was also cutthroat when it came to business.”
“Fair enough. What about killing him? Would any of those people want him dead?”
“I’m sure many would. Wishing someone dead and making it happen are vastly different, though.”
She wasn’t wrong. “Were you aware of any arguments he had recently?”
“I don’t think you understand. The man had nothing but arguments,” Sandy replied. “I can’t think of one person in this town who liked him. Not one.”
I pursed my lips. “What about his wife?”
Sandy snorted. “That woman had more reason to hate him than anyone. But she put up with him for, like, forty years or so. Why snap now?”
I didn’t have an answer. “Well, thanks for your time.” I stood, debating what to do. “Where does everybody hang out these days? Do they go to the coffee shop after hours or anything?”
Sandy’s eyes lit with amusement. “Are you asking if there’s a hangout for twenty-somethings in this town?”
Was that what I was asking? “Maybe. Is there?”
“Not really. It’s the same town you remember. Now that we’re adults, there’s even less to do — unless you want to start bowling.”
I’d rather cut off my own toes with the lid from a tin can. “Thanks again for your time. If you think of anyone who might’ve wanted to kill Roy, I’ll be working at the diner for the foreseeable future. Don’t hesitate to stop by.”
7
Seven
I returned to the apartment long enough to realize that the town was already making me feel penned in. I lasted a full two hours before I took off again. I needed air.
In the city — any city — there is always somewhere to go. That’s what I liked about it. As an only child, I was accustomed to entertaining myself. That didn’t mean I liked being alone. In the city I could go to a coffee shop or movie theater and sit with a group of strangers without interacting with them and never feel alone. I didn’t have that option in Shadow Hills.
For lack of anything better to do, I put on my hiking boots — they were one of only three pairs of shoes I owned these days — and headed to the river. It was one of my favorite haunts when I was a teenager. Hunter and I spent hours walking the banks. He liked looking for fishing spots and I was perfectly content dangling my feet in the water and listening to him talk for hours about the future.