“I think it might have something to do with what’s going on now.”

He chuckled. “You’re reachin’.”

“Maybe,” I conceded. “But I’m checking it out nonetheless.”

“Rumor has it her mother shot her father.”

“That’s what’s floating around, but I suspect you know more.”

He winked. “Lula’s father’s murder wasn’t exactly pillow talk when we were together, if you know what I mean.”

“I highly doubt Lula would want to chat it up with you about her father’s murder…considering your involvement.” This was another reach. I didn’t know that he was involved, but I figured this was a possible way to find out.

His eyes darkened, and I involuntarily shrunk back in my seat. “What are you talkin’ about?”

Not an admission, but definitely not a denial. “Your father was dead. You were trying to build your kingdom, brick by brick. Hank and Bart were the big men in town. The guns to go after.”

“And your point?”

“I suspect Louise Baker had a reason for telling Lula to stay away from you, and it had nothing to do with your reputation now.”

He glared at me for several seconds. “The past is in the past. Where it belongs.”

“Why would Walter Baker drown his daughter? Did he have a history of abuse?”

“How the hell would I know?” he snapped.

“When I mentioned the whole thing to Hank a few days ago, he said there was more to the story of a mother protecting her daughter. And Emily Drummond said Louise came by looking for Bart the day she shot her husband.” I decided to leave any mention of Hank out for now. “What do you think she wanted?”

“Why don’t you ask Louise Baker herself?” he sneered.

I paused. Why hadn’t I thought of that? But that would mean going to Nashville, and that wasn’t happening in the near future.

He clasped his hands on the tabletop. “Chalmers is right. There’s more to the Baker murder. Someone must have had it out for Louise, because they made damn sure she was put away for a long time.”

“Like they wanted to get her out of the way?” I asked.

His brow furrowed in thought. “I always thought it was a vendetta. Louise Baker pissed off some people, and as corrupt as the whole justice system is… it’s not outside the realm of possibility someone paid someone else to make sure the sentence was a stiff one.”

I decided to go for broke. “What if it was something else? What if Louise killed Walter for Bart Drummond?”

Shock covered his face, and then a knowing look filled his eyes, as though I’d just given him a long-lost piece to an unfinished puzzle. “One of his famous favors.”

“You never suspected?” I asked.

He grinned. “Turns out you’re pretty helpful, Ms. Moore. Perhaps havin’ you around isn’t such a bad thing after all.”

I hadn’t realized that he considered me troublesome. “Then you can repay me by giving me four thousand dollars for my car.”

He burst out laughing again. “That piece of shit isn’t worth more than two grand.”

“I just gave you a useful piece of information, so perhaps that deserves compensation, but back to Louise… why would Bart Drummond want Walter dead? Someone told me Walter used to work for Hank, but when I asked him about it, he told me Walter was too stupid to do anything for him.”

So why had Louise brought up Hank’s name when she’d gone to the Drummonds’ house?

Shit. “Oh…Louise was working for Hank.”

“I suspected but didn’t know for certain,” Bingham said. “Even so, Hank didn’t have a reason to want Walter dead…that I know of, anyway, and I can’t think of a single reason Bart would. It’s an intriguin’ story, but that’s all it is. A story.”

“What did Louise look like?”

He snorted. “You think I’m carryin’ a photo of her around in my pocket?”

“Lula’s a pretty girl. Was her mother pretty? Did she get a lot of male attention?”

“Is that your delicate way of asking if she was a slut? No. She slept with her share of men, but she did so one at a time. Everybody was shocked as hell when she married Walter Baker. He was dumb as a stump and worthless to boot. Louise was the brains of the two, so if anyone was doin’ a job for Hank, it was her.”

I wasn’t sure what to do with this information, so I added it to the growing pile of clues and facts in my head, hoping to sort it out later.

“I didn’t have anything to do with either of them disappearin’,” he said, more earnest than I’d ever seen him, “and I definitely didn’t know about the packages Lula was deliverin’, but something’s obviously goin’ on under my nose.” He paused. “If you come across information that you think I’ll find useful, I’d be happy to pay for it.” For a brief moment, I could see concern in his eyes, and I realized he still cared about her. Then he added, “Lest you think I’m planning to retaliate against the girl, I assure you that I won’t touch a hair on her head. Someone was usin’ her, and I know who.”

“Her mother?”

“She’s a master manipulator, and I can guarantee you that Lula wasn’t doin’ shit without Louise’s say-so.”

Which meant I really needed to talk to Louise. I just didn’t know how to make that happen.

The look on Bingham’s face suggested he was done, and the customers were getting restless.

“This has been very helpful, Mr. Bingham. Thank you. Now if we could reach an agreement on my car, it would be a very fruitful evening.”

“Thirty-five hundred,” he said. “Not a penny more.”

“Thirty-seven fifty,” I countered. “And we keep the lines of communication open.”

His brow shot up. “You want to exchange information again?”

I had two choices when it came to Bart Drummond—I could run or I could stay and fight. Despite his initial promise, Wyatt clearly wasn’t inclined to include me in his plan, which meant I had to make a plan of my own. But fighting Bart Drummond would mean sinking to his level, and if I had to fight dirty, I’d need temporary allies like Bingham. Maybe I was being naïve, but I didn’t have a lot of time to second-guess myself.

“I’m going to bring Bart Drummond down,” I said, “and I might need more information from you to help me make that happen.”

“Why are you goin’ after Drummond?” he asked, all pretense gone.

Obviously I wasn’t going to tell Bingham the real reason—the last thing I needed was yet another dangerous man knowing who I was—so I hoped my explanation would convince him. “Because he reminds me of a bigger asshole I know, and I’m considering takin’ Bart Drummond down for practice before I take on the other.”

True enough.

He grinned. “That, Ms. Moore, is an agenda we can both agree upon.” He extended his hand. “Four thousand for your car, and we have a deal.”

I shook his hand, knowing full well what I was getting into.

Hank was right. It was better to deal with the devil you know.