“He’s a good man,” she said with an imploring look in her eyes. “He’s always gone above and beyond for Junior and me, and he’s so good to Hank too. I know he misses you.”

“I agree that he’s a good man in many ways, but I deserve more than he’s willing to give me.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted revealing so much, but I also needed her to understand. “I don’t have to tolerate a man who is only willing to meet me part of the way. I deserve a man who’s all in.”

“Like Marco?” she asked, her gaze drifting over to him. He was bussing another table and chatting with customers. “He’s a good man, Carly, but he’s not Wyatt.”

“Maybe that’s what I like about him.” This conversation was beyond inappropriate, especially on the dining room floor. I handed her my ticket book. “I’m going to give my cash to Max. He’ll help you cash out for the both of us before you go.” I started to walk away but turned back. “Oh, and you did great, Ginger. Thanks for helpin’ out.”

Nodding, she grinned, although there was a slightly uneasy edge to it—like she knew she’d overstepped. But the next moment, she turned to ask one of my customers if they needed a refill. She was a natural.

Untying my apron, I walked behind the bar and handed my money to Max, telling him that Ginger was taking over. “I’m not sure if I’ll be back by five,” I admitted. “I feel like I’m racing a ticking time bomb.”

He gave me a serious look. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll deal with things here. Just clear Wyatt’s name.”

“I’ll do what I can,” I said.

I found Marco dumping off another batch of dirty dishes in the kitchen. We parted ways so he could wash his hands and I could change my shirt in Max’s office. Then we met at the back door.

He held up a large paper bag. “Lunch.”

“Good idea,” I said, following him out the back door to the parking lot. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

“Who said I got some for you too?” he asked, looking back at me with a sparkle in his eyes. I gave him a fake shove, and he grinned, but it quickly slipped away. “You’re right about taking your car,” he said. “We’re more likely to get noticed in mine.”

“Okay.”

I got into the driver’s seat and Marco got in beside me. He handed me a turkey sandwich, while he opened a cheeseburger.

“When I told Tiny we needed lunches to go, he said he’d handle yours.”

Tiny definitely knew what I liked.

While we ate, I told Marco everything I’d learned from Wyatt and Abby, saving the information about Mitzi’s husband for last.

“Mitzi’s husband is a sheriff’s deputy. Paul Conrad. He works the night shift.”

“Paul Conrad?” he asked in disbelief.

“So you know him?”

His face hardened. “He’s an asshole.”

“How long has he been in the sheriff’s department?”

“Longer than I have.”

“So it’s possible he was on the force when Wyatt was arrested?”

He turned to glance at me. “You think he was Heather’s mystery boyfriend?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “He ticks some boxes.”

Marco was silent for a moment. “Let’s talk to Dick first, then figure out where to go from there.”

“Agreed,” I said. “I’m glad you’re helping me, but we can’t let anyone know. It has to look like you’re only with me for support. If you don’t ask questions, then maybe they can’t nail you for investigating.” It was a thin argument, but at least it was something.

“We’ll give it a try,” he said.

When we reached Ewing, Marco gave me directions to the used car lot. I pulled into a parking space about five minutes after two. We got out of the car, and a man in his mid-thirties walked out. He was several inches shorter than Marco, and the front of his button-down shirt stretched across his belly. He had light brown hair and a tan.

“Marco?” he called out as he headed toward us.

“That’s me,” Marco said, reaching out his hand as the man came to a stop in front of us. “And this is Carly.”

The man shook Marco’s hand. “Dick Stinnett. Thanks for reachin’ out. What are you and your wife looking for? A family car? We got a real nice minivan in last week.”

Marco frowned, and I wasn’t sure if it was because Dick had ignored me or suggested we get a minivan. Maybe both.

“Actually, Dick,” Marco said in a congenial voice, “we’re here about Heather Stone.” Then he added, “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

The smile on Dick’s face froze in place, and he glanced between us. “Are you with the Ewing Police?”

“No,” I said, deciding this was a good place for me to take over. “We’re friends of Hilde Browning, and we’re trying to figure out what happened to Heather.” It wasn’t the full truth, but she had told us that she wanted to know what we discovered.

His face paled. “I thought the police were lookin’ into it.”

“The sheriff,” I corrected. “But Hilde doesn’t quite trust them to conduct a fair and impartial investigation, so we’re talking to people who knew Heather, trying to get an idea of what happened.”

He swallowed. “And you want to talk to me?”

“Hilde said you were one of her friends.”

He rocked his weight from the balls of his feet to his heels and back. “I wouldn’t say we were friends.”

“The current owner of Max’s Tavern says he remembers you coming in with Heather.”

“We were always with a group, but that doesn’t mean she was my friend.”

“So then how would you describe your relationship?” Marco asked.

I cast a warning glance at Marco. He wasn’t doing a great job of staying silent, and I wasn’t so sure it had been a good idea to take a direct approach.

“I knew her through Mitzi. I didn’t really like her,” he said. “No offense to the dead, but she was kind of a bitch. Bitter as the day is long. Couldn’t stop talkin’ about how the Drummonds screwed her over.”

“Did she give details about how they’d screwed her over?” I asked.

“She would whine about wasting her time on Wyatt, even when she was with him. After his arrest, she shifted to whining about his parents not payin’ her money to say she hadn’t seen him steal the baseball and that she was the one who’d driven the car. Then they finally agreed to pay her on the condition she left town, and she coerced Mitzi into throwing a going-away party for her.”

“So Mitzi didn’t want to host the party?”

“Hell, no. Mitzi knew she’d be stuck providing all the food and alcohol, and she’d just lost her job at the Mountain View Lodge and hadn’t found a new one. She couldn’t afford to host a party, but Heather always had a way of getting what she wanted.”

“Who else was at the going-away party?” I asked.

“Mitzi, Heather of course. Anna Faith Kennedy, Kyle Timmer, and May McMurphy.” His face flushed.