Page 125 of Long Gone

My stomach growled, and I realized it was past noon. Bringing the laptop with me, I headed down the hall to the dining area, bypassing the doorway leading behind the bar, and took a seat at the counter in front of Misti.

She gave me a huge smile. “I heard you might come up front.”

I set the laptop down. “What are you doin’ here? You usually work nights.”

“I’m pullin’ a double.” She gestured to Malcolm, who was working at the opposite end of the bar. “He wasn’t sure he’d be in for the lunch shift.” She leaned in closer. “What are you two workin’ on anyway?”

“What did Malcolm tell you?” I asked cautiously.

“Not much. Just that you’re a P.I. now and he’s helpin’ with a case.”

All true, but I still wasn’t sure I was comfortable with the world associating us as a package deal. I almost gave her some vague blow-off answer, but Misti seemed to know a lot about a lot of people. Maybe she could help. “We’re looking into a missing man. Hugo Burton. He disappeared about five years go. Ever heard of him?”

She laughed. “Everyone who’s lived here longer than a decade knows about Hugo Burton disappearing.” Her nose wrinkled. “When was it? About three years ago?”

“Five.”

She shook her head. “Time sure flies.”

“Do you know anything about him?”

“I know people are torn about whether he ran off or was murdered.”

“What are your thoughts on it?”

“I didn’t know him very well.”

“You actually knew him?” I asked in surprise.

“Sure. Before James opened the tavern, I used to waitress at a diner out on the highway, about halfway between Jackson Creek and Wolford. Hugo used to have business lunches there sometimes.”

My eyes widened. “Really? Do you happen to know who he met there?”

“Some of ’em, sure, but others.” She shook her head. “I have no idea.”

“Do you remember what they talked about?”

She released a short laugh. “That’s easy. It’s all Hugo ever talked about—his property. Sunnyside or something or other.”

“Sunny Point.”

“Yeah,” she said, her face brightening. “That’s it.”

“Do you remember what they were saying?”

“Not really. That was ages ago.”

I pulled out my phone and Googled Brett Colter and held up the photo. “Could this man have been one of them?”

She took my phone and studied the image. “Maybe,” she said as she handed it back to me.

It didn’t matter. I already knew Brett Colter had been an investor. On a whim, I looked up J.R. Simmons and showed her a photo. “What about him?”

She looked at the photo and shook her head. “I don’t recognize him.”

I wasn’t surprised. J.R. Simmons didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would conduct business in a diner…

Except maybe he was.

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