Floyd darted his gaze to the left and then right before turning back to me. “He goes by Sting Ray.”
I bit my tongue from saying, are you kidding me? “Okay. And do you think Sting Ray might have been involved in Earl’s death?”
“He don’t have a reason to want him dead. As far as I know, Earl never screwed up on his drops.”
“But it’s possible?”
Floyd shrugged his shoulders again.
“How would I get in touch with Sting Ray?”
Floyd’s eyes rounded. “You don’t.”
“Well, I think it would be helpful if I talked with him. He might know something. Don’t you want to know who killed your brother?” I pressed again.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “Most nights he’s at The Black Oyster.”
“Thank you.” The Black Oyster was a seedy bar on the edge of town. I figured they would have been shut down by now. Rumor back in the day was they never passed inspection and operated without a liquor license. Then again, it was probably a suitable hangout or place of business for a drug dealer, smuggler, or whatever he was.
“I really appreciate your help, Floyd, but I’d like to ask you one more question.”
He nodded. “But make it quick. I gotta get back to work.”
“Where were you the night Earl was killed?” I asked quickly, retreating another step. I figured if I asked that first, Floyd wouldn’t have talked to me, but I needed to know.
He scowled. “I was working.”
“Making a delivery?”
“Yeah.” With a shake of his head, he turned and went back inside.
I waved for no reason. “Well, thanks, Floyd,” I muttered. Like everyone I’d talked to, his alibi was worthless.
And despite his silent threat to have me whacked if I said anything to the cops, I don’t think he killed his brother. Returning the way I’d come, I made my way along the side of the building. Just as I reached the sidewalk, I heard someone call my name.
“Charlee!”
Well, this was just swell. I continued walking. I was going to pretend I didn’t hear Kenny calling my name.
“Charlee, please.” His voice was closer now.
I stopped and spun around, and Kenny nearly ran into me. “Hi,” I blurted awkwardly, trying to think of a way out of this situation.
“Hey, I didn’t know you were still in town.” His brown eyes searched mine. “What are you doing here?”
I couldn’t see how he didn’t know I was in town, especially after yesterday’s lunch with Preston and the standoff with Ashley.
But then, they were divorced, and I wasn’t sure how much they communicated. Still, he must have heard. But as to what I was doing there, well, I needed to think of something. Fast.
“Um, I was just browsing some shops with Fern.” I gave him my best fake smile, even though I knew he saw right through it. “We got fudge.” I opened my purse and pulled out the small paper bag. “Would you like some?”
Oh boy, how embarrassing. Was this really the best I could come up with?
He chuckled and I noticed his eyes crinkled at the corners. He’d aged in ten years, but in a good way. He was still lean, toned, and handsome. His face was a little less round, more chiseled. This wasn’t helping.
“You and your sweets. No thanks, I’m good.”
Whew, I don’t think he saw me come from behind the cannery, or I know he would have asked about it. I shoved the candy back in my purse.
Then we just stood there staring at each other, and I could tell from his expression that he had something on his mind but wasn’t sure if he should say it.
Part of me hoped he wouldn’t. That he would say goodbye, turn around, and leave. And the other part of me wanted him to spit it out, and then I could say my piece and we could be done with it. And move on. Because that’s what I needed: closure.
“It’s really good to see you, Charlee.” His mouth curved up slightly. It was his sad smile.
I wasn’t sure I reciprocated that feeling, so I didn’t respond.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to talk with you last week at your dad’s party. To be honest I was so surprised to see you, and then Ashley interrupted, and well, you know.” He shoved his hands in his jean pockets.
“Yes, I know.”
He sighed. “Can we talk?”
“Now?” I swallowed.
“Yeah, or do you have somewhere you need to be?” His eyes told me that he hoped I didn’t.
“No, I don’t,” I answered honestly.
“Do you want to walk?” he asked. Like we used to, is what he implied.
With me working at the cannery and Kenny fishing on their charter boats, we’d walked along the harbor every chance we got. To get away from everyone else. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I ignored that thought.
“Sure,” I nodded.
He fell in beside me, our strides very similar as he was only two inches taller than me. “I’ve been wanting to say I’m sorry. And I know I’ve said it before, but I’ve been carrying around this guilt for the last ten years, and I want you to know how truly, deeply sorry I am.”
I kept walking. I was glad he was sorry. He should be sorry. But I couldn’t say either of those things. Well, I could, but that wouldn’t be polite. Fern’s admonishment slipped into my mind. I needed to be honest.
“I feel like I’m the reason you’ve stayed away all these years, and I feel terrible about that.”
I stopped and looked at him. “You’re right. But you’re only part of the reason. Ashley is the other part. And your daughter. I know she’s not to blame for any of this, but she’s still here, and reminds me of what I thought I would have had with you.” My voice barely wavered, and it felt good to say it. Like a weight was lifted, and it only took finding the courage to be honest.
Sorrow masked Kenny’s features. “I am so sorry.”
“I know you