Sure enough, the call went straight to voicemail. I tried to squelch my disappointment. I really wanted to hear his voice. I needed to know that we were okay. “Hey, Marco. I have a question about a murder arrest yesterday. Call me back at the tavern when you get a chance.” Then, because I hadn’t seen him in several days, I added, “I miss you.”

Since I figured he wouldn’t call me back immediately, I hurried to the library to check out the Ewing Gazette.

Carnita greeted me with a warm smile, but then she frowned and cast a glance at the occupied computers. “I had no idea you were coming in today,” she said. “I don’t have you down for one of the screens.”

“I’m not here to use a computer,” I said. “I need to see this morning’s newspaper.”

She gestured to a table in the book section. “I think Mr. Blimey left it on the table.” She shook her head and clucked. “I keep tellin’ him to put it away when he finishes readin’ it, but he never does.”

“Makes it easier to find,” I said, hurrying over to the table and picking up the paper. There on the front page was the headline “Drum Woman Allegedly Murders Ewing Man.” Underneath the headline was a photo of an Ewing police car in a parking lot surrounded by crime scene tape. A small photo of Pam’s mug shot was embedded in the lower right corner.

I sat down in the chair, letting out a little gasp. Somehow I’d hoped her friends were wrong.

I started reading the article, my stomach churning. It said Pam had pulled into the parking lot of Jim Palmer Insurance, walked into his office and, without saying a word, shot him in the chest multiple times in front of two staff members and a customer. The police had found her sitting in her parked car at the Sonic restaurant down the street. She’d provided no reason for shooting him, and Palmer had died on the way to the hospital. Pam was currently being held without bail at the Hensen County jail.

I put the paper down and sat back in my chair. This wasn’t necessarily a Bart favor. Maybe she’d been pissed about her insurance rates, or maybe she and Jim Palmer had carried on a secret affair and he’d tried to end things. Just because a seemingly innocuous woman had walked into someone’s office and shot him in cold blood didn’t mean Bart Drummond had sent her there.

“You readin’ about Pam Crimshaw?” Carnita asked.

It took me a second to register that she was talking to me. “Yeah,” I said shaking off my stupor. “Her friends came into the tavern today, and they told me a little about what happened. I guess I had to see it for myself.”

“Talk about the shock of the century.” Carnita shook her head slightly. “No one could have seen that one comin’.”

I got up and walked over to her. “Did you know her?”

“Of course,” Carnita said. “I know most everyone around these parts. They might not be readers, but they like to watch movies.” She gestured to the rows of DVDs. “Pam used to get a lot of kid movies when she was running her daycare, but she stopped once her boys got older. Now she gets copies of Hallmark movies and such.”

“She seemed really nice,” I said, unable to shake my shock. “I just can’t believe she’d do something like that.” Pam had always been kind to me. One afternoon back in April, Molly had been stirring up even more nonsense than usual, and Pam had pulled me aside and encouraged me to continue being my sweet, kind self and not get caught up in her drama. In that moment she’d reminded me of my mother, who’d given me that same advice after I came home from school one day, upset that a girl in my class hadn’t invited me to her birthday party. I struggled to see that kind-hearted woman as a cold-blooded murderer.

“I can’t either,” Carnita said. “Makes you wonder if she started doin’ drugs.”

It definitely wasn’t unprecedented. Ruth’s mother had started using when Ruth was in her late twenties, and Hank’s adult daughter had died from an overdose from a bad batch of drugs nearly two years ago.

“Where would she have gotten them?” I asked.

Carnita held up her hands. “I’m not part of any of that.”

“Yeah, sorry,” I said absently. If I wanted to know whether Pam was a user, the person to ask was Todd Bingham, the local drug lord.

“I feel bad for her kids, though,” Carnita said. “Ashlynn’s got a baby due in a few months, and Ricky’ll be startin’ his senior year in August. Poor Thad just finished his freshman year and got into a bit of trouble at school last year. He really needs his mother, and Rob isn’t the nurturing type.”

“Do you know much about her husband?”

“He’s stoic and on the gruff side. Not very affectionate, and as far as I can tell, he’s never really been part of those kids’ lives.”

“Do you know if Pam knew Jim Palmer?”

Carnita shook her head. “I have no idea.”

“Is the copy machine working?” I asked. “I’d like to make a copy of the article.”

“What on earth for?” Carnita asked.

What excuse could I give that wouldn’t sound suspicious? “History,” I said a little too quickly. “To add to my notes.”

“I can’t wait to read this book of yours.”

“I’m not writing a book, Carnita.”

“Whatever you say,” she said with a wink, then waved. “Just take it, you and Mr. Blimey are the only ones who read it, and he’s finished with it.”

I grabbed it off the table and folded it in half. “You’re the best.”

“I can beta read your book for you,” she said, her eyes shining brightly.

“Carnita,” I said, “even if I were writing a book, I’m still in the note-collecting stage. I’m not sure it will ever make it past that. I’m just learning about the town.”

She gave me a knowing look that suggested she didn’t believe me for a minute.

“I’ve got to head back to the tavern,” I said, tucking the paper under my arm. “Thanks again, Carnita.”

Her forehead furrowed. “We really should do something for Pam’s kids.”

“Her lunch friends are starting a meal drive,” I said. “You could call one of them and sign up for a night. Diane Lassiter seemed to be in charge of it.”

“I was hoping to do something more helpful, but for the life of me, I don’t know what.”

“Me too,” I said, then walked to the door. What Pam needed was a good lawyer, and I knew they didn’t come cheap.

Chapter Five

When I got back to the tavern, I stuffed the newspaper in my purse in the locker, locked my padlock, then headed out to the dining room. Max was back behind the bar, and Ginger was busing a dirty table while a couple of older men lingered with cups of coffee.

I slid behind the bar and leaned against the counter. “Did Marco call while I was gone?”

“No,” he said, glancing up at me. “I haven’t seen him in nearly a week. Is everything okay with you two?”

“Of course,” I said, straightening my back. “Why wouldn’t everything be okay?” It came out too quickly, my tone a bit brittle.