“And that brings us to the new branch,” she said, clapping her hands together and snapping me out of my thoughts. “What questions do you have for me?”
“Huh?” I blinked at my notebook, on which I’d written, When and then just a bunch of scribbles and designs. Stellar reporting, Hollis. Once again. Did you learn it in Um class? How would I put together a story from that? I hadn’t even written down any good filler quotes. “Are you excited?”
“Yes. As I said a few moments ago.” She put on a rehearsed voice. “We here at Parkwood Community Funds are very excited for the future of our bank with this new opportunity.”
I jotted some notes, but my brain was still fumbling to place where I’d seen her before. “Uh, I guess, er…um…Tell me again about the special amenities this new branch will feature? I fell a little behind in my note-taking.”
She cocked her head to one side. “Are you okay, dear? You seem a little spacey.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just…Do I know you from somewhere?”
She fiddled with her phone, as if she was hoping it would ring. “I don’t think so. You’ve probably seen me at the Hibiscus. That’s where everyone sees everyone around here.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s it.” That was definitely not it. “Sorry, I think I’ve just been a little preoccupied since the homecoming game.”
I could practically feel her stiffen from across the room. It was like the air molecules themselves stiffened. It only lasted a beat before she regained her composure—so quick I half-wondered if I’d imagined it. I had murder on the brain, and I was apparently suspicious of everyone.
I willed myself back into professional reporter mode. “You were saying about the amenities?”
“Have they said what happened to that poor coach?” she asked instead, pulling herself to standing, yanking on the hem of her suit coat to straighten it.
“The police are saying there was no foul play.”
She brightened. “Really? Is that so?” Why did she seem so happy about that? Was it happiness that there wasn’t a murderer in Parkwood, or was it something else?
“Did you know him?”
“No, I sure didn’t. I couldn’t have pointed him out in a crowd of two. But I understand he had enemies. Everybody dislikes a cheater, you know.”
“So I’ve heard.”
She took a few steps toward me. “Just between you and me,” she whispered, “do you think there was foul play?”
I thought about it, then decided I might as well come clean and see where this was going. “I do.”
She leaned toward me, serious and eager. “Who do you think did it? Did they see the car?”
I began to have a bad feeling about Francine Oglethorpe. Maybe she was a true crime devotee like Daisy and I, but she seemed to be really, really interested in the case. Too interested. Until I could figure out where I’d seen her before and what her angle was, I thought it best to keep my mouth shut.
I held up my notebook. “I think I’ve got plenty for the story.”
She frowned. “You’re sure?”
“I think so. You’ve given me a lot of information.”
She checked her watch. “I still have a few minutes. We can go over the floorplan.”
“I would love to, but I’ve got to get over to Vacuumulate.”
“I understand completely,” she said, but she said it in a way that was not at all understanding. She sounded more suspicious—and suddenly I was acutely aware that neither of us trusted the other. Which was weird. Parkwood was a trusting town. The kind of town where you spilled your business to the person behind you in the grocery line. But I wasn’t imagining these alarm bells. There was something off. “You do what you have to do. I’m hoping you’ll also report on the grand opening event?”
“Absolutely. I’ll be in touch,” I said.
“We’re even having Esther over at the Hibiscus whip us up a little buffet for it,” she called after me. “Just some light snacks. Between you and me, her giblets are murder on a gut.” Maybe I was crazy, but I could have sworn she put a little extra emphasis on the word murder. Was she trying to give me some sort of hint? A warning? I glanced back at her. She had her hands clasped in front of her and was standing still and straight as a statue. “Just deadly,” she said.
The Vacuumulate interview went long. For three years during the 1990s, Tamara, the owner, had lived in Buffalo Grove, a community just 30 miles outside of Chicago. She brought out two cups of tea and we chatted about places and experiences we had in common. We didn’t even start the store tour until the tea was gone. They had a nice selection of toasters, I couldn’t help noticing.
Needless to say, my lunch hour was late. Which was actually fortuitous, as I found myself with idle time right at the same time that school let out.
Instead of eating lunch, I sat in my car in the pharmacy parking lot eating a bag of Twizzlers like it was my job. What I was really doing was biding my time, watching Paulie Henderson in my rearview mirror. He and his buddies had decided to go for an after-school burger at FastNHotz across the street from the pharmacy and just happened to have selected a window seat right on the other side of the Jeep, forcing me to keep a distance. My plan was to wait them out, then try to catch him for some questions on his way to his car. I’d learned the hard
