“I’m a steel trap, Shirley. I’ll never tell.”
It’s something she always asks, and my reply is always the same, except this time, it’s not playful banter on her part. It’s desperation.
“Well... glad to hear you guys caught that murdering hitchhiker. The people were on edge. This place was a ghost town.”
“Wasn’t my case, but I’ll pass on the thanks.”
She blows out a breath. “Now if you could only figure out what happened to Jenna.”
My eyes avoid the five-foot-nothing woman because she’s got a seasoned bullshit meter. “You think the hitchhiker had something to do with it?”
She nods and with that simple move, tingles work their way down my spine. The last thing I wanted when I entered this shithole tonight was to get bombarded with questions about Jenna. I should’ve known, but it’s not why I’m here.
“Did something happen? Anything that would lead you to believe it’s more than her simply wanting to get out of here?” I ask, hoping to put a list of suspects together.
“Nothing concrete.” She shakes her head, looking sullen. “Shewas actin’ strange a couple days leading up to the night she didn’t show for her shift, but I couldn’t get her to talk to me. You know Jenna. She listens to everyone else’s problems but refuses to talk about her own.” She glances down at her feet, wringing her hands together. “She wouldn’t have just not shown up. She knew how much I depended on her. She was like family, Nicky.”
I nod, knowing she speaks the truth. There isn’t much that makes sense about Jenna’s death. She was well liked among the patrons of Clementine’s.
“Keep your chin up.”
It’s such a stupid thing to say, knowing what she’s about to learn any minute now. It will rock her world. It’ll change the dynamics of Clementine’s for sure.
She smiles up at me with her crooked, yellowed teeth.
“I actually came in here tonight to see you,” I admit. “Need your confidentiality about what I’m about to share with you.”
Her face lights up. This is the first—and only—time I’ve ever spoken to Shirley about a case. Even in my drunken stupor, I knew better.
“I’m looking into the death of Billy Garet. Remember him?”
She bobs her head, puckering her chapped lips. “Sure. I’m in a book club with his momma. She’s still torn up about it. Wants answers, like all of us would.”
My eyes narrow in on the diminutive woman, thinking back on my conversation with Captain. Her words contradict the mayor’s. Not that I can share that information with her.
“What was that look for?”
“What look?” I say, trying to deflect.
She places both hands on her hips, leveling me with a closed-mouth frown. “Nick West, I might have thick glasses, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see.”
Doesn’t it, though?
“I was just thinking about the case. Wasn’t Billy here that night?”
Her face turns grim. “He was. Jenna and Amanda said he didn’t leave the pool table all night.”
I consider what I know about his case and this note that implied he took his own life.
“Did either of them mention if he acted strange?”
She shakes her head. “Not that I can recall, but you can ask Amanda.” She waves a wrinkled hand in the air. “I’m outta here. Good to see ya, Nicky.”
“Wait.” My hand snaps out, landing on Shirley’s frail shoulder. “Before you go, I have a huge favor to ask.” Her head tilts to the side, waiting for the ask. “Could you pull the footage from the night of Billy Garet’s death and also the night of Jackson Moore’s? I’ll call tomorrow with the exact dates.”
“Now, why would you need that, Nicky?”
“You’re just gonna have to take my word that it’s important and you’d be helping out the families of both men.”
