Angie was refilling water glasses around the room, and she came to our table last. She didn’t waste any time getting down to business.

“Greta told me that a man was in here asking for Lula,” she said in a hushed tone. “But Lula was still gone, and Greta told him so. The bastard didn’t like her answer, so he left and stuck her with the bill for his pie and coffee. Watson’s pretty strict with that stuff, so the guy’s bill came out of her tips.”

A reminder that Max was a great boss…when he wasn’t drunk and pissed at me.

“Did she know who he was?” I asked.

“She said she didn’t recognize him.”

“Did you believe her?” I asked.

She hesitated. “I don’t know. I’m not sure why she would lie, but something was off.”

“Did you see him?” Marco asked.

She gave him a long look. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” he grunted.

“I mean, you didn’t look so great when you came in, but now you look like shit.”

“Thanks,” he repeated, his tone even surlier.

“And no,” she said. “I didn’t see him. I wasn’t here. She told me about it the next day. He came in right before closing.”

“Did she tell you what he said?” I asked. “Specifically?”

“He told her he was lookin’ for Lula. That her boyfriend was willin’ to pay big money for info about where she might be. Greta didn’t know, but she wouldn’t have told him anyway.”

“Did Greta tell you who the guy was workin’ for?” Marco asked.

She shifted her attention to him. “No. But she was worried, and we speculated who Lula’s guy could be. There were some rumors that it might have been Todd Bingham, but the messenger wasn’t one of Bingham’s guys. She said she was certain she’d seen him in Ewing but couldn’t remember where.”

“How often does she go to Ewing?”

“Once or twice a week.”

“Does she go to the same places when she’s there?” Marco asked. “Knowin’ that might help us narrow down who he is and who sent him.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Angie said. “She visits her nana at the old folks’ home.”

I shot a glance at Marco, then looked back at her. “Do you know the name of it?”

“It’s the only one in town,” Angie said. “Greener Pastures, or something like that.”

“Does she go anywhere else while she’s there?” Marco asked.

“I don’t think so. Maybe the grocery store. The drugstore. That kind of thing. But she mostly goes to see her nana.”

Maybe the messenger visited someone at the nursing home, but we had no name or photo to help ID him. It would be a shot in the dark. But what if someone had sent him there to watch Greta? We needed to go to the old folks’ home and ask around.

“Oh,” she said, “she did describe him. She wanted me to be on the lookout for him, but it was so generic I’m not sure it’ll help.”

“Anything would help,” I said.

Angie nodded. “She said he had dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a pale complexion. He was medium height and had stubble on his face, no beard. When he left, he tried to tower over her, but she said he wasn’t much taller than her, so likely about five-seven, five-eight.” Then she added, “Oh! And he wore a gold chain around his neck.”

“That’s great, Angie,” Marco said. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Anything to help.”

“We appreciate it,” I said, then shifted the angle of our questioning. “Say, Melody told us a bit about Greta’s ex, Tim Hines. Did she talk about him much?”

“I know he beat her from time to time and was physically and verbally abusive, but I didn’t find out until after she left him. She did a good job of hiding it.”

“Is there a chance they got back together?” Marco asked.

She started to answer, then stopped. “I’d like to say no, but she acts like she’s been keeping a secret the last few weeks, so maybe. But when they were together before, he came in fairly regularly to eat. I thought it was sweet at the time, but now I’m pretty sure he was keepin’ tabs on her. You know how those controlling assholes are. But if they’re back together, he hasn’t been in to watch her.”

“And no one else has been in to watch her either?” Marco asked.

“I don’t think so. I remember the regulars.” She flashed Marco a grin. “Like you. And I ain’t seen anyone new hangin’ around, let alone someone who’s been watching her.”

“What if she didn’t want to go home to Melody?” I said. “Like maybe she’d had enough and needed a break. Where would she go?”

“She ain’t got many friends around here anymore. A lot of girls she and Lula went to school with moved away. But if she wanted to hide out somewhere, she might have stayed with her cousin Ginger.”

And we knew she wasn’t there.

The customers a couple of tables over were making subtle signs that they were ready to leave. Angie noticed and started to head over.

“One more thing,” Marco said. “Is Mr. Watson here? I’d like to ask him a few questions.”

“He took off until Tuesday. He and his wife went down to Atlanta to visit their kids.”

Leaning forward, he said, “Then I need to ask you a huge favor. Melody won’t report her sister missing, and the call needs to come from someone who knows Greta’s schedule.”

“But you’re a deputy,” Angie said in shock. “I thought you were already investigating.”

“We are,” Marco admitted. “But it’s not official. Someone needs to officially report her missing and see if they’ll start lookin’ for her. They’ll likely make you wait for forty-eight hours, but at least she’ll be on their radar.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Sure.” She glanced over at the table of customers. “I’ve gotta take care of ’em.”

“Of course,” I said.

Sheila brought our food over, and Marco and I quizzed her about Greta. But Sheila seemed to keep her nose out of everybody’s business, so I wasn’t surprised she didn’t know much.

Marco left business cards for both of them and asked them to call him if they remembered anything else. He also asked Angie to let him know what the sheriff said after she called to report Greta missing.

I laid enough cash on the table to cover the bill and tip, then helped Marco out of the booth and into the SUV. He fell asleep again and didn’t wake up until I pulled up in front of his cabin. It was on the cute side for being a bachelor pad. He had a porch that ran along the front of the house—which was only about twenty to twenty-five feet wide. The front door was on the left, and a large window on the right had two Adirondack chairs centered in front of it. The front of the house had a narrow view of the valley toward Greeneville, and I suspected he’d paid good money for the two-bedroom house and the view…good money for Balder Mountain, anyway. There was no telling how much that was.

“Marco,” I said, touching his arm lightly.