“Help us one bit,” Marco said. “And yeah. That’s exactly what I’m sayin’…unless he has evidence tying him and the deed to Bart.”

“How likely is that?”

“Not very.”

I pulled the cookie sheet with turkey bacon out of the oven, and Marco made another face. “I’m not eatin’ that, Carly.”

“Good. More for me and Hank.”

“Your reluctant prisoner.”

“Hey!” I protested, turning to face him with a pair of tongs in my hand. “I’m only trying to prolong his life. And he doesn’t protest. Much.”

He grinned. “I was teasing. But I’m still not eating turkey bacon.”

I dished up a plate for Hank and cut his pancake into pieces before pouring a small amount of maple syrup on them. Then I grabbed the coffee pot to give him a refill and carried it and the plate out to the porch. When I came back, Marco was patiently waiting, his forearms on the table, but he gave me a weird look.

“What?”

“Do you cut up his meat for him too?”

It took me a second to realize what he was saying, and it didn’t set right. “Are you serious?”

“I know your job is to help him in exchange for free rent, but he’s not feeble.”

“The man is eating on his front porch so we can have privacy,” I said in a low tone, internally acknowledging that Hank was on the front porch because that was where he chose to be, but even so. “He’s got a kitten in his lap. How’s he going to balance a plate and a kitten while he’s cutting up his pancakes?”

Marco held up his hands up in self-defense. “Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought of that.”

I stared down at him, my all-too-familiar fears bubbling up. “I don’t know whether to believe you or question if you said that just to shut me up.”

His eyes widened in surprise, but then he said, “Honestly? Maybe a little of both, and I’m sorry for that.” His mouth pulled into a pained grin. “You make me a more honest man.”

I knew he hadn’t meant anything malicious, yet the hairs on the back of my neck still stood on end.

“Sit down,” he said, gesturing to the chair on the other side of the table. “Let’s figure out a game plan.”

I put a plate of bacon and eggs on the table and sat down, watching him for a second while I nursed my coffee. I hated that doubts about him were swirling in my head. He thought I babied Hank too much. There wasn’t anything sinister in saying so. Yet my fragile psyche reminded me that I’d let men control me for most of my life, and that I’d always made excuses when I saw warning signs. I didn’t want that to happen with Marco too.

“Do you want to talk about Hank?” he asked evenly as he picked up his silverware.

“No. I do not want to talk about Hank,” I snapped.

“I was wrong to say that,” he said. “But he used to be a very powerful man. Just tread lightly.”

Squinting, I shook my head. “What exactly are you suggesting? That he’d hurt me if I make a wrong move?”

“No,” he said patiently. “Just the opposite. He cares about you enough to let you do things he’d normally do himself, just to make you happy. I’m sayin’ don’t take too much of his independence from him. That’s all.”

I didn’t think we were in danger of that happening, but it was something to consider, so I nodded. Then I picked up my fork, eager to change the subject. “So I need to track down Ted Butcher.”

“You’re gonna need an address. I can come up with that, but I don’t want you goin’ there alone. I’ll go with you. Who knows how dangerous he might be?” He frowned. “I’ll look up his priors while I’m at it.”

“Okay,” I said, slicing off a piece of pancake. “Sounds good. I’m also going to find Sandy Steadman and talk to her.”

He gave me a blank look.

“She’s one of the ladies lunch club members, and she seems the most likely to talk. Plus, she’s not dangerous. I’ll ask her about Pam’s son and see if I can get more information about his arrest. The personal stuff Pam went through, not the legal details.”

“That’s a good idea. I’d feel better if you stick to the people least likely to hurt you, but don’t take any chances. No one thought Pam was dangerous either. If you’re worried about your safety at all, walk away or find a way to contact me. I’ll come straight away.”

I nodded. “I thought I might talk to Pam’s daughter too. Take her a casserole and see what she says.”

He took another bite, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, that could be good. Try not to make it look like questioning. You’re just expressing your concern and checking on Pam’s well-being.” He looked up at me. “What time are you going into work today?”

“Five.”

“So you have all day.” His lips twisted. “Are you wanting to fill it with this stuff or do you have something else you need to do?”

“This is it.”

“Then let’s pick another old case to look into as well. If Bart catches wind we’re tryin’ to pin him to the wall, he’s gonna pull out all the stops. We need to make sure we’ve got enough evidence to arrest him…and keep him in custody.”

“Don’t you think he’s more likely to figure out what we’re up to if we poke into several of his favors?”

He was silent for a moment. “We don’t have to go balls to the walls with more than two cases. You stick to gatherin’ information about Pam, and I’ll see what I can dig up on Ted Butcher. Then we’ll meet later to discuss what we’ve learned.”

“I’m workin’ until midnight.”

“Tell Hank you’re stayin’ with me tonight. I have some interviews this morning, but I’ll come by the tavern to check on you after I get off my shift.”

I smiled at him. “Look at you. All grown up and doing big boy stuff.”

He laughed. “I could take great offense to that, but I’m so grateful to have the opportunity—” his grin spread “—I have to agree with you.”

I lifted my coffee mug. “To a successful investigation.”

He touched his mug to mine. “All of them.”

Chapter Nine

We came up with a short list of people for me to talk to before I went to work, deciding that I should stick to visits I could call social visits, so I didn’t attract the attention of the sheriff’s department or Bart Drummond himself…if he was involved.

“Why isn’t the Ewing police department handling the murder investigation?” I asked as I pushed my empty plate away. “It happened within the city limits.”

“Because the sheriff’s department would end up handling all the forensics anyway,” he said. “We usually claim jurisdiction over murder cases. In some cases, the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation comes in and takes it over from both of us.”

“Do you think the state will take over in this instance?”

“No. It’s pretty cut and dry. Pam Crimshaw shot Jim Palmer at close range with a handgun in front of three witnesses—two employees and a customer. There’s no doubt she did it and she confessed. Her motive doesn’t really matter in terms of the case.”