“I have to find out what happened at the party,” I said. “From what I’ve heard, she supposedly left the next day. I need to find out who saw her last.”

Tiny put two plates on the counter, and Ruth shot me a dark look before grabbing them. “I think he’s workin’ at a used car lot in Ewing.” She started to leave, then hesitated. “Carly, just remember that the very last person who saw her was also the person who killed her.”

A shiver of fear shot down my spine. She was right, and apparently Wyatt had also considered that little tidbit—likely why he was being so protective in his overbearing way.

Tiny handed me a couple of plates but held my gaze. “You lookin’ into Heather Stone’s murder?”

His curiosity caught me off guard. He rarely made small talk during the dinner rush. “I’m just askin’ people questions.”

“You know the Drummonds weren’t the only ones who wanted her gone. I hear she had a thing with Todd Bingham before she and Wyatt got back together the last time.”

“Todd Bingham?” Well, crap. That shouldn’t have surprised me, yet it did. But it added a new element to the case. She was buried on the disputed Bingham-Drummond land, after all, and Lula had called in sick after Heather’s body had been found. “Thanks.”

“You thinkin’ about goin’ out to talk to him?”

Was I? Dammit, I was.

“Maybe take the baby a gift to get in the door,” he suggested. “We’ve all seen Bingham has a soft spot for that baby.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Although I was pretty sure Bingham would see right through that approach. He was a shrewd man who’d taken his father’s bare-bones criminal enterprise and run with it. I knew he was capable of murder, but I didn’t for a minute think he’d killed and buried Heather Stone. If he were responsible, he would have dug those bones up and moved them before the ink was dry on the judge’s signature releasing the land to Bart. Or maybe Bart was the one who’d killed her, and he’d hoped to pin it on Bingham.

Still, I wouldn’t be surprised if Bingham knew something. It wasn’t a bad idea to pay him a visit tomorrow morning before I went to work at noon.

I took the plates out to my table, pleased that I now had three people to talk to—Bingham, Dick Stinnett, and May McMurphy. I’d talk to Bingham first and then figure out where to go next.

I grabbed glasses from one of my tables to get refills, and as soon as I set them on the counter in front of Max, he gave me a perturbed look.

“What?”

“Got any idea why Marco called a few minutes ago, frantic to make sure you were safe from Wyatt?” he asked with a raised brow.

I grimaced. “What did he say?”

Exasperation covered his face, and he sounded irritated when he said, “Like I said, he asked if you were safe from Wyatt.”

“And what did you say?” I asked.

“I told him you two were bickering like usual, but everything was fine other than that. Was I wrong?”

So Marco hadn’t told him I’d pepper sprayed Wyatt, and Wyatt hadn’t mentioned it himself. Once again, I was caught in a tangle of omitted information.

I was about to tell Max myself, but both of us were distracted by the sight of Bingham and Lula walking in with their baby. Four of Bingham’s men followed behind them.

Talk about lucky timing. I’d wanted to arrange a meetup, and here he was at the tavern.

“That’s a first,” Max said, his brow furrowed. “He’s dining with his family.”

Bingham had been a regular customer ever since I’d started at Max’s Tavern, but he’d never once come in with Lula, let alone the baby.

Tables were self-seating which Bingham and Lula were both well aware of, but apparently Bingham wanted his men close to their table, because he scanned the room, looking for two tables together. There were two in Ruth’s section, but he made a couple of younger men at a four-top table get up and move so there would be an empty table in front of an available booth in my section.

It was an obvious maneuver to get me to wait on them, and Max didn’t look happy about it. Neither did Wyatt, who was pulling a draft beer.

Ruth hurried over with a drink ticket and gave me a worried look. “It looks like Lula’s over whatever fake illness she had. You good with waiting on ’em?”

I’d had multiple encounters with Bingham, most of them here in the tavern. Ruth knew he was sometimes trouble for me, but I could handle him. “Yeah.”

I grabbed the refills that had brought me to the bar, and after I placed them on the table—they were for the two guys who had moved—I walked over to greet Bingham and Lula.

“Hey, Carly,” Lula said with a bright smile. She was holding her sleeping daughter in the crook of her arm.

I couldn’t help oohing over the baby. “Beatrice is getting so big already!”

“Like a weed,” Lula said, looking at her baby with so much love it took my breath away.

I wanted a baby someday. Multiple babies. I just didn’t see that happening. I couldn’t bring a baby into the mess of my life, and after everything I’d been through, I didn’t see me ever “settling down” with a man, let alone placing enough trust in him to have a baby with him.

“Oh, somebody’s gettin’ baby fever,” Lula cooed.

I snorted, shoving all my dreams back into the chest I kept them in. There was no room for children in my life. Thanks to my father. The irony was he likely needed a grandchild to carry on the legacy of the Hardshaw Group.

“Nah,” I said softly. “Just admirin’ yours. She’s so beautiful, Lula. You’ve truly been blessed.”

Lula’s gaze lifted and locked with Bingham’s. “Trust me, I know.”

I really didn’t want to stick around for their lovefest because, to my surprise, jealousy rose up in me again. Not of Bingham—I resisted a shudder—but of what Lula had. Of what I likely never would.

“Can I get you something to drink? Or I can go ahead and take your order if you know what you’d like,” I said, digging my order pad out of my apron pocket. Bingham was here enough to know what we had available, and Lula had worked here.

“Tryin’ to rush us out of here?” Bingham asked in a low growl.

I was about to respond, but Lula beat me to it. “You hush now, Todd. She means no disrespect.” She glanced up at me. “Ain’t that right, Carly?”

“Of course,” I said in shock. I wasn’t sure if I was more surprised that she’d spoken to him like that or that he’d clamped his mouth shut. “I was just thinking you might want me to get your food out quickly so you can eat in peace while Beatrice is sleeping.”

Lula beamed up at me. “You are just the sweetest.”

She proceeded to give me her order and Bingham’s. I expected him to contradict her, but he remained silent with his arms folded over his broad chest, his gaze on the baseball game on the TV in the back corner of the room.

I turned to the table of bodyguards, and Bingham told them to order their food with their drinks. They seemed taken by surprise and a couple of them had a hard time settling on what they wanted so quickly.