Bingham would likely be furious at that, but maybe Lula could convince him that it was to save her brother. “Okay. But I want to keep my car too. You can follow me into town. I feel anxious not having it.”
We had a plan for the next few hours, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the last few grains of sand were drifting down in the hourglass.
Chapter Twenty-Six
We didn’t take long at his house, and Marco followed me into town. We walked in through the back door of the tavern at around four thirty. Marco headed to Max’s office to get started on his research, and I made my way into the dining room.
Max’s eyes widened when he saw me sliding behind the bar in my work shirt.
“I thought you were investigatin’,” he said in a lowered voice.
“We decided to take a moment to figure out our next move,” I said. “Plus, I need to talk to Bingham, and I was hoping you could call Lula and ask her to send him in.”
His eyes darkened. “Are you sure you really want to do that?”
“I need to talk to him, and this seems like the safest way.”
He scowled but didn’t respond.
“Have you heard from Wyatt?”
A worried look filled his eyes. “No.”
“Lula knows where he is—I’m certain of it. You can always ask her.” I took a beat, considering his call with Lula. “In fact, when you talk to her, can you tell her to have him call me again? I have more questions that might help move things along.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” His brow furrowed. “My mother called and left you a message.”
“Really? What did she say?”
“She said to tell you the check was cashed two weeks later in Tulsa.” His eyes narrowed. “Is she talkin’ about the check they gave to Heather?”
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s very helpful.”
“When did you talk to my mother?” he asked. He looked a little put out, but I saw some fear behind it. What was he afraid of?
I was about to answer him, but a customer was flagging him, and he reluctantly moved down to the other end of the bar to get the man a refill.
Ruth hadn’t shown up yet, but Ginger had left for the day. Molly was working the dining room. She didn’t seem as angry as earlier, but she ignored me as I scanned the dining room to gauge how busy we were.
Ruth came in a little before five, and I filled her in on how well Ginger had done, leaving out the part about Molly’s sass. A rush of construction workers came in soon afterward, and the three of us were busy for the next two hours. Marco even came out and helped Max behind the bar, giving me a small shake of his head as if to say he didn’t have anything yet. The men seemed to be in good moods and ordered plenty of beers to go with their dinners, then stayed after they finished to watch a Braves game on TV.
Business slowed down a bit, most of the families heading home, and Max sent Molly home at around seven thirty. Not long afterward, I noticed Marco talking on the phone behind the bar. A few minutes later, he headed me off as I was walking to the bar to get refills.
“I think I have a lead on someone who worked at the lodge,” he said. “David Binion. I’m going to head over and talk to him.”
“Do you think it’s a good idea to go alone?” I asked with a frown.
He smiled. “I’ll be fine. I’ll need to start my shift when I get done, so I’ll be in my sheriff’s uniform. It’s just a janitor for the lodge. Nothin’ to worry about.”
I nodded, still nervous. Marco had already been shot for me—I didn’t want him endangering himself. “Okay. Just be careful, okay?”
His mouth lifted into a small smile. “I will. Do you feel okay with me leavin’? Bingham hasn’t shown up yet.”
“I’m fine. Max and Tiny are both here. If he drops by, they’ll keep him in line. Don’t worry about me.”
I took the drinks back to the table, keeping an eye on Marco as he said something to Max and then left. I was going to be a nervous wreck until he came back.
About twenty minutes later, Bingham walked through the door with three of his friends. He searched me out, our gazes locking, and I knew he’d gotten the message.
His friends sat at a table, but he slid into an empty booth, still intent on me.
My stomach churned as I walked over to him with my chin lifted, then slid into the seat opposite him.
“So now you’re usin’ go-betweens to get me to do your biddin’ instead of comin’ to me outright.” He cocked his head and gave me a pensive look. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
“I didn’t think it would be wise to show up at your front door again. My questions are a lot blunter than usual.”
A mock smile cracked his lips, and he held out his hand. “Try me.”
I glanced around to see who might be close enough to overhear. His friends sat at the table next to us, and the booth behind me was empty. “Were you selling roofies nine years ago?”
His brow shot up. Then he looked amused. “You lookin’ to buy some?”
“I said nine years ago.”
“Maybe.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Let’s say nine years
