Page 27 of A Song for the Dead

Leaning back in his chair, Kane acted nonchalantly. He didn’t particularly like this guy. “Do you take the postal truck home with you?”

“Yeah, I do some days because I work a fifteen-hour shift.” Stark shrugged. “I often wait here for my truck to be loaded, grab a slice, and then leave. We have a schedule. I only get time to go home and sleep.”

Kane smiled. “That’s good you have a schedule. You’ll know where you were last night between the hours of six and twelve.”

“Last night, I arrived home about eight from a Blackwater delivery.” Stark shrugged. “I had a few local deliveries this morning, is all. Now I’m eating and waiting for my truck to be loaded, and then I’m heading for Louan.”

Writing notes, Kane nodded. “And what about last Saturday night?”

“I was here.” Stark shrugged. “I like the Saturday night crowd. There’s people to chat to.”

Looking up from his notes, Kane glanced across the street and indicated the beauty parlor with his chin. “You recall seeing Freya Richardson working in the beauty parlor?”

“Yeah, I do. She works her butt off.” Stark shrugged. “So?”

Seeing the man squirm in his seat, Kane wanted to slap the cuffs on him and drag him away for more questioning. His gut was screaming at him to do something. What could he do? Stark had cooperated, validated what the manager of the restaurant had told him. He twirled the pen in his fingers. “Oh, it’s just that I have a witness who saw you leave just after Freya left the beauty parlor and walked home. Another witness mentioned a white vehicle went speeding by maybe an hour or so later. Heading in the direction of the forest. Why did you follow her?”

“I didn’t follow her.” Stark shrugged. “I walked to the depot to see if they’d finished unpacking my truck. They hadn’t, so I hung around until it was ready and then I went home. My next shift wasn’t until Monday. It wasn’t me speeding along Main.”

Noticing Jenna leaving the beauty parlor, Kane folded his notebook. “Just one more thing, what truck do you drive? A regular postal courier van with the writing on the side or something else?”

“Something else.” Stark smiled. “I have a variety of jobs in the postal service because of the shortage of workers. I have a magnetized sign I place on the side when needs be, but it’s a plain white van. Some days I carry mailbags, sometimes parcels that are home delivered, and I need a sign. On the road, between depots, it’s not necessary.”

Standing, Kane pushed back his Stetson and frowned. “Ah, before I go. Did you know Daisy drops by here with Tara on Saturday nights? They like to hang out here. Did you see them last Saturday night?”

“I’ve seen them around, maybe.” Stark shrugged. “There’s a steady stream of people through here on Saturday nights.”

Pushing his notebook and pen back into his pocket, he pulled out a card and handed it to Stark. “If you think of anything else, like the names of anyone you know who spoke to these women, call me.” He turned and headed for the door.

Meeting Jenna as she crossed the road, he gave her a rundown of the interview. “My gut tells me he is more than capable of murder. He was around town at the time both women went missing. He cooperated but he also has a truck and carries mailbags around. No one would question a mail worker or think twice about seeing one around town.”

“The beauty parlor never gets deliveries outside of hours.” Jenna pulled open the door to the Beast and climbed inside. “The only thing that gets collected near the beginning of Freya’s shift is the towels. A laundry service drops by twice a week to drop off clean towels and pick up soiled ones, but the manager said she is always there when they arrive.”

Kane slid behind the wheel. “So, Stark knew both women as acquaintances.”

“I doubt, as you asked about both women, he’d deny speaking to them. He’d know someone would have seen him. He sounds confident because he’s giving you the information he probably knows you already have on him. He has a truck that carries bulky bags around. He’s shaping up as the prime suspect, but we haven’t gotten anything to detain him for questioning. He’ll be a watch and see.” Jenna clicked in her seatbelt. “It’s too early for lunch. I’ll call Jo and see where they’re at with finding Cummings.” She made the call and listened. “We’re done here. If you’re still hunting down Cummings, we’ll take the Triple Z Roadhouse.” She paused a beat. “Okay, see you soon.”

Wishing for a hot meal at Aunt Betty’s Café, Kane drove past the big spider over the entrance with his window down and inhaled the aroma of everything that was Aunt Betty’s. The diner had been tricking him lately by moving the specials around, but he could make out the delicious smell of apple pie baking and chili just as he liked it, red hot. His stomach growled and behind him Duke sniffed the air and whined. He smiled to himself. A man and his dog, huh? Now they were thinking the same thing. He glanced at Jenna. “The problem with working at the Triple Z Roadhouse is that people are in and out all the time. If she’d worked at the Triple Z Bar, it would have been easier to pin down someone chatting to her. There being two or three bartenders on busy nights, they’d notice if someone at the bar was chatting to her more than usual. At the roadhouse, there’s women at the counter. They take orders—no time to chat—and clean tables when people have left.”

“Well, I guess if we don’t cast the net, we won’t catch any fish.” Jenna smiled at him. “I can hear your stomach demanding food again. I’ll buy you a donut when we get there to help you make it through to lunch.” She rolled her eyes. “On the proviso you eat it inside the truck. You know what they say about cops and donuts.”

Kane grinned at her. “Yeah, but they don’t have an Aunt Betty’s in their lives.” He turned the Beast around and headed for the Triple Z Roadhouse.

THIRTY-FOUR

Jenna grinned at the hideous smiling pumpkins hanging in garlands outside the Triple Z Roadhouse. In the window, a poster listed the upcoming attractions in town, and at the entrance, a witch on a broomstick sailed back and forth, cackling each time someone opened the door. Inside hummed with noise, and the smell of cooking and roadhouse coffee wafted toward her. Truckers and people passing by made up the majority of the customers sitting around the tables. Although dilapidated, the roadhouse was always busy, and maybe they didn’t have time to replace the worn seats and cigarette-burned tabletops. There’d been no smoking inside establishments all over for years now. The old décor had remained the same for the last sixty years, from the pictures of staff hanging on the walls. Heavens above, they still had a jukebox in one corner banging out country music.

She went to the counter and selected a donut with powdered sugar and smiled at the young woman behind the counter withlinda hocutton a name badge pinned to her shirt. “Two large coffees to go, thanks.”

As the woman filled the to-go cups and placed the donut into a bag, Jenna placed bills on the counter. “Do you know Daisy Lyon? I’m told she works here.”

“Yeah, she didn’t show for work today and isn’t answering her phone.” Linda frowned. “She’s never missed a day since starting. I’m working alone until the boss gets someone to come in and help out.”

Jenna nodded. “Yeah, we’re aware she’s missing. What time does she usually finish for the night?”

“Seven.” Linda served another customer and then went back to Jenna. “She left here right as rain last night. She mentioned stopping by to look at the Halloween displays in town and buy candy. The kids always drop by their house because it’s so spooky along Pine.”

Good, a timeline was forming. Jenna handed the donut and one coffee to Kane. She smiled as he headed out to the Beast, grinning. She turned back to Linda. “Ah… do you recall anyone chatting with her, or did she ever mention a guy asking her out or becoming a problem?”

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