There was a cluster of fading houses that marked the beginning of town. A few were decorated for Christmas, but many looked like they’d been abandoned over the past few years. Rural America was struggling to recover from the recession.
Slowing his pace to a leisurely crawl, Ash turned on to First Street. It looked to be the main thoroughfare through town. He drove past a bank, an old movie theater with a sagging marquee, an auto shop, a hair salon, and an insurance office.
“There,” Remi said, pointing toward the corner building.
Not hesitating, Ash angled the car along the curb, ignoring the small parking lot across the street that was almost full. Turning off the engine, he read the gold lettering in the window of the brick building.
Blue Moon Restaurant and Pool Hall.
Hmm. It seemed a little late in the morning for the breakfast crowd, but it was clearly the hot spot in town.
Crawling out of the car, he was joined by Remi, who never waited for him to open her door. She was a woman who enjoyed her independence, and if she needed help, she would ask for it. Together, they walked the short distance to enter the restaurant.
Ash grimaced. The heat hit him first. After being in the chilled breeze, it felt like it was a hundred degrees inside the dining room. Next, he was hit by the smell. There was a strange combination of coffee, deep-fried potatoes, and the sawdust that was spread over the floor.
Not particularly appetizing.
He allowed his gaze to roam over the dining room that was nothing more than a few booths along one wall. Down the center of the floor was a row of wooden columns that separated the space from the five pool tables on the other side.
There was one middle-aged man seated in a booth with an empty plate in front of him, but the majority of the customers were sitting or standing next to one of the pool tables where a game was in progress.
At a glance, he guessed them to be in their midtwenties, although they were roughhousing and telling the sort of crude jokes that were more appropriate for teenagers than young adults.
A middle-aged woman in a white shirt and tight slacks appeared from the back. She had a mound of suspiciously blond hair that was pulled into a knot on top of her head and bright red lipstick. She waved a hand toward empty tables.
“Take your pick,” she told them.
“Thanks,” Remi murmured, crossing the worn plank floor to take a seat at the nearest booth.
Ash followed closely behind her, sliding onto the bench seat across the table from her.
The waitress, who had the name “Joy” pinned on her ample breast, pulled out an order pad.
“Just two black coffees, please,” he said with a smile.
The older woman swallowed a sigh, no doubt assuming any hope of a tip was lost. Still, she turned to head toward the counter, where she grabbed a silver coffeepot and returned to fill the cups already on the wooden table. Then, with a shake of her head at a shrill laugh from the crowd on the other side of the room, she headed back to the kitchen.
Ash barely noticed. His attention had been captured by a young man who had moved to gaze out the window. He looked younger than the others—maybe eighteen—and was dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt with a Cubs baseball cap covering his head.
After a few minutes, he turned to glance toward Ash. “Hey, man, is that your ride?”
“Yep.”
A hint of envy darkened the younger man’s eyes. “It’s sweet.”
Ash slid out of his seat and leaned casually against the edge of the table. “What’s your name?”
As Ash had hoped, the boy took a couple of steps in his direction. “Mason Curry.”
“Do you want to take a look at the car, Mason?”
Mason remained wary even as he shuffled closer to the table. His gaze flicked toward Remi before returning to Ash.
“Depends.”
“On what?” Ash demanded.
“What you expect in return.”
“Information.”
The younger man released a sharp laugh. “Then you’re shit out of luck. I ain’t got none. I live in the middle of nowhere and work at the local window factory. Do you need any information about those things?”
“You’d be surprised.” Ash deliberately paused, as if trying to decide whether to share a secret or not. At last he spoke. “I’m here to learn more about Angel Conway.”
“You’re a cop,” Mason said in disgust, revealing that the gossip of Angel’s death had already made the rounds through town.
“Not guilty,” Ash instantly denied.
“Then why are you interested in Angel?”
Ash waved a hand toward Remi, who sipped her coffee in silence. “We think her story might make a good documentary.”
“Documentary?” Mason tested the word, his brow furrowed. “That’s one of those short movies?”
“Exactly.”
He looked skeptical. “You know she was murdered in Chicago, not here in Bailey?”
“I do,” Ash assured him. “That’s what first intrigued me. The death of a small-town beauty in the big city.”
He watched as Mason’s suspicion was forgotten as the younger man suddenly realized he might benefit from Angel’s death. “Are you going to interview me on camera?” he demanded. “Do you pay people for stuff like that?”
Ash heard Remi make a low sound of disgust, but his attention remained on the younger man.
“Right now we’re just trying to get a feel for her story. I need to find out if she might interest the public.”
“Gotcha.” Mason nodded in what he no doubt hoped was a sage manner. “Angel was older than me, but Dana was friends with her.”
Ash arched a brow. “Dana?”
“My sister.” Mason turned his head to bellow across the room. “Hey, Dana.”
A woman in her midtwenties turned to glare at Mason. She had the prettiness that came with youth, but her features were too sharp, her eyes set too close together for true beauty. Her hair was a light brown shade that hung limply down her back and her skinny body was covered by a pair of faded jeans and a furry sweater.
“What the hell do you want?” she yelled back.
“Come here.”
She stepped closer to a man who was older than the others and drinking a beer despite the early hour.
“No . . .” Her words trailed away as her gaze moved from her brother to Ash. Her eyes widened, her annoyance fading as she forgot the local bad boy. With a sway in her hips, she sauntered across the floor, halting next to her brother while she kept her attention locked on Ash. “What’s going on?”
“They’re here to make a movie about Angel,” Mason explained.
“Angel?” Dana frowned. “She’s dead.”
“They know that, stupid.” Mason rolled his eyes. “That’s why they want to make the movie.”
Dana elbowed her brother in the side even as she pasted a smile to her lips.
“Really?” she asked Ash.
Ash shrugged. “We’re just gathering information right now.”
“She was my best friend.”
Mason snorted, but no one paid him any attention.
“Can you tell me about Angel?” Ash asked in soft tones.
“Sure.” Dana stepped toward him, any grief at the loss of her best friend hidden beneath the excitement that simmered in her blue eyes. “What’d you want to know?”