“What are you watchin’ for?” she asked. “Or should I ask who?”
Not much got past her. “Marco.”
“I heard he was guarding the construction site.”
I nodded. “He was until they gave it the all clear. The construction guys must still be out there.”
“Max says they got a late start, so they’ll probably be out there for a while yet. Bart’s gonna push them to get a full day’s work in to make up for the lost time.”
That stood to reason, but it also meant there’d likely be a late dinner rush.
“Say, Ruth, I know you and Heather weren’t friends, but do you happen to know who went to her going-away party?”
She looked uncomfortable. “That was a long time ago.”
“Not really. Not like decades. You were working here. Surely you heard rumors.”
“I was older than her and her friends,” she said, curling her upper lip. “And they were trouble with a capital T.”
“Abby and Mitzi?” I asked in surprise.
A grin stretched her mouth as she turned to face me. “Someone’s been doin’ her homework. Should I start calling you Veronica Mars or Nancy Drew?”
“Neither,” I said, rolling my eyes as I laughed. “But if you know anything, I’d really appreciate hearing it.”
She was silent for a moment, her gaze drifting to the dining room, and I realized she was watching Wyatt behind the bar, but this time without her usual animosity. “I didn’t know Heather well. I mostly just knew of her, but not until she came back after high school. She moved in with her aunt. My mom knew Hilde. Heather had given her grief in high school, and it didn’t sound like Hilde was too happy she was back. I don’t know much, because my mom and I weren’t seein’ eye to eye back then. She was hooking up with a particularly disgusting guy and hittin’ the bottle pretty hard.”
My face softened. “Ruth, I’m sorry.”
Her mouth was all smirk, but I could see the pain in her eyes. “What are you sayin’ sorry about? None of that is your fault.”
No, but she rarely talked about her mother. I knew she’d died from a drug overdose a few years ago, although she hadn’t been a drug addict all that long in the scheme of things. Based on what Ruth had told me before, her mother’s vices of choice had been alcohol and men who were bad for her.
“Do you remember anything else?”
Her mouth twisted to the side as she scanned the counter to see what was holding up her order. “I heard Dick Stinnett was at that party. He dated Molly’s sister, May, after Heather left. May was there too.”
“Do you know where Dick lives or where I might find him?”
Her brow lifted. “You want to talk to him?”
“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
