Page 42 of Risk of a Lifetime
JB stood also. He still didn’t have his answer. “If you’re gonna be in town for a while, maybe we can get together for a beer sometime.”
Cain grinned. “A beer sounds good. But don’t waste your money if you just want to know why I’m in town.”
“Which is?” the sheriff asked.
“The old man signed over the house and cabin to me. Figure I’ll remodel the house and make a few bucks when spring comes. That is if I can pick up a job for the winter.” Cain opened the front door. “Hope you guys find your man.”
Sheriff Davis, JB, Kennett, and Joanie headed to the kitchen.
“Hey, JB.” Cain stood in the half-closed doorway, motioning him over. “I asked some questions of my own when I got to town. I know you were FBI, but right now I figure you’ll do what you gotta do to protect your ex-wife. Let me know if I can help.”
“Thanks, I appreciate the offer.” JB wasn’t quite sure what the man could do to help though. “What line of work are you in nowadays?”
Cain set his jaw, then slid his hand in his pocket returning with a small leather case. He made sure to keep it concealed between the two of them as he showed his DEA badge. “A little of this. A little that.”
Suddenly the idea of him as an ally sat real good in JB’s gut. “You just may be hearing from me.”
“Hey, that woman I pulled out of the car okay?” Cain slid the badge back in his jacket.
“Hairline fracture in her arm.”
“Not that it matters, but who is she?”
JB laughed. “Talk about wanting to know something. That’s Marcy’s older sister. Betsy.”
“Betsy? From tenth grade history class? Umm, might need to give her a call.” Cain stepped to the side as customers piled through the door. “She still appeared to be one feisty, little hellcat.” He stepped outside and pulled the door closed.
Sheriff Davis looked on from the kitchen doorway. “I ain’t telling Betsy what he said.”
“Me, neither. She barely tolerates me as it is.” JB led the charge into the kitchen. Time to move on to the next interrogation.
Thirty minutes later, the workers were clocking out, and Joanie looked as deflated as JB felt. Evans had been right—there wasn’t anything of value to be learned. Didn’t make sense. The note hadn’t magically appeared in Marcy’s sandwich box, but no one had seen anything.
Burt the cook punched his card and patted JB on the arm as he passed by, heading out the back door. “Maybe the new guy Joanie just hired’ll be able to shed some light.”
Joanie straightened. “What new guy?”
Chapter Fourteen
JB’s gut tightened. Icy prickles crawled beneath his skin as he felt his muscles tighten. The missing link hovered in the air.
“You know. The new waiter who started this afternoon.” Burt walked back to the group.
“I didn’t hire anyone,” Joanie said.
The men tightened their semi-circle around the cook as Joanie stepped out of the way.
JB realized his place in this questioning was nil unless the sheriff gave him leeway to ask. On the other hand, he could listen, make his own notes. He focused like his life depended on the words. No—like Marcy’s life depended on the words.
Sheriff Davis hung his hat on a pot hook in the corner before he took a seat at the small table. He motioned to Burt. “Take your time, and tell us what happened.”
The aging cook emitted a nervous squeak, his eyes slumped like his tired shoulders, and his hands brushed against his pants legs. He’d been a fixture in the restaurant for over twenty years. Today would be one of the man’s most important days at work.
“Don’t be nervous.” Joanie handed him a glass of water. “Take your time.”
JB sensed the unease wrestling its way through the cook. “Would you like to sit down?”
“No.” Burt wrung his hands. “I mean I’d rather not sit, sir. But, I will if I have to. Whatever you want.”
