Page 95 of Long Gone

“No one I’d ever seen before.”

I grabbed my phone and pulled up a photo of Brett Colter. “Was this him?”

She studied my phone and shook her head. “Nope. That’s Brett Colter. He didn’t eat here all that frequently, but I’d seen him enough to know it wasn’t him.”

“Do you remember what the man Hugo met with looked like?”

She tapped her temple. “All stored right in here. He was an older man. Distinguished lookin’. Pretty damn snooty though. He didn’t seem pleased to be here.”

“Do you happen to know what they were discussing?”

“They stopped talking whenever I got close, which was totally unlike Hugo. He seemed intimidated by the man. The guy just had this presence about him.” She made a face.

I looked up James Malcolm from a newspaper article from three years ago and turned my phone to show her. I wouldn’t call Malcolm an older, distinguished man, but we all had different perceptions of the world, and it would have been foolish not to ask. “Could it have been him?”

She burst out laughing. “Oh, my no. That’s James Malcolm. He’s never stepped foot in the place, not to mention he doesn’t fit the description at all.” She looked down her nose at me with an amused smile. “I thought you were good at that detectiving stuff.”

“That’s fair,” I said, picking up my cup and taking a sip. “I’m surprised you know who James Malcolm is.”

“I make it my business to know the business of this town. Especially with Todd Peterman struttin’ around like he owns the whole damn place. I know he tried to put Malcolm’s tavern out of business for no good reason. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to institute some kind of tax on the downtown businesses and call it a beautification tax or some such nonsense. He already tried to tell the businesses downtown that we need to have the same fabric on our awnings.”

“So I heard.”

“That man is trouble, mark my words.”

A couple with a family walked in and Betty flashed them a smile before turning back to me. “Now that you’ve been in and know I won’t tar and feather you like half the town wants to, be sure to come back and have some lunch or dinner.”

I pulled out my wallet and grabbed a twenty-dollar bill.

She waved a hand toward me. “Put that away. This is on the house. Can’t stand to see someone look so upset.” She grinned. “What I’d tell you about the pie? You look a whole lot better.”

I could have taken that as an insult, but she genuinely seemed to care, although for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why.

“Now, don’t be a stranger,” she said as she slid out of the booth and headed to the table with the family.

I finished my pie and coffee, racking my brain as I tried to figure out who the older, distinguished gentleman could have been. One of the people behind Larkspur Limited? Had he met Hugo for pie and then murdered him?

Chapter 22

I’d sobered up enough to drive by the time I left the café but I made sure to cross the street so I didn’t have to pass the windows of Nate’s bookstore. My car was still parked behind the office building, and when I opened the door, I found the keys tucked under the mat.

I had to meet my father in a little over an hour, which didn’t give me time to do much of anything, so I drove up to Wolford to buy more whiskey. I drove past Sunny Point on the way to Scooter’s Tavern. It was dark, wet, and drizzly, but I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

My father’s car was in the parking lot when I pulled up a few minutes before seven. The last thing I wanted to do was see James Malcolm right now, but now that I knew my father had more involvement with Hugo than I’d suspected, having our conversation in a bustling restaurant seemed like a better idea than having it in the quiet, dignified Roots.

While Malcolm wasn’t at the bar when I walked in, I knew better than to be relieved. For all I knew, he was in the back, waiting to crash my private family dinner.

Dad was sitting in the booth I usually occupied with Louise and Nate. He stood and gave me an apprehensive smile as I approached. He wrapped his arms around me, and I hugged him back. I was wary of what he might have done, but the lonely, desperate-for-love little girl in me relaxed into him.

My eyes burned as we broke apart, and worry filled his gaze as he cupped my cheek and studied my face.

“Is everything all right, Harper?”

A lump filled my throat and I struggled with what to tell him. That I was so needy for his love that I would lap it up like a dog at a water fountain? Or that I knew he’d kept secrets and I was worried he was guilty of things I probably couldn’t forgive?

Instead, I gave him a weak smile and said, “It’s just been a long day.”

His worry deepened. “We could have postponed dinner.”

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