Johnson got up, said, “Again, it was great meeting you, Alex.”
“Likewise,” I said, getting to my feet and shaking his hand.
“See you in the morning, Sarge.”
“Bright and early,” Drummond grumbled.
Our coffee and pudding came. I didn’t know sweet potato pudding could be decadent, but it was.
The sergeant took a sip of coffee, said, “So all we’ve been doing is talking about our case. What is someone like you working on these days?”
I hesitated, then started telling him about my cousin Stefan, and Starksville, and all the strange twists the case had taken in the few days we’d been there. Through it all, Drummond listened intently and quietly, sipping his coffee and eating pudding.
It took me the better part of an hour to tell it all, and with the beers in me, I probably said more than I should have. But Drummond was a good listener, and it just seemed natural.
“And that’s where we are,” I said.
After several beats, the sergeant said, “You like this guy Marvin Bell for killing that kid, but I don’t hear anything that says you got him involved.”
“Because we don’t have him involved,” I said. “Like everyone in Starksville says, he’s a slippery guy.”
Drummond shifted his jaw left and nodded, lost in thought. Then he said, “I’ve known my share of slippery guys. Trick is to let them get so slippery they get overconfident and they—”
His cell phone rang. He looked at it, shook his head, said, “Sorry again.”
The sergeant got up and walked away, and I finished my coffee, thinking that I’d better find a place to stay the evening. Althea brought the check, which was incredibly reasonable considering the quality of the meal.
“I’ll handle the tip,” I said when Drummond returned.
The sergeant smiled. “I think you’re going to want to handle the whole bill once I tell you about those last two phone calls.”
“How’s that?” I said.
“The first call was from the Belchers’ funeral home,” he said. “They handled your Paul Brown’s embalming and delivered his body in a pauper’s casket to a church that isn’t in Pahokee anymore. Closed fifteen years back.”
I frowned. “And the second call?”
“From the minister who used to run that church,” Drummond said. “The Belchers called her. She evidently knew Paul Brown and says she’s willing to meet you out in Pahokee tomorrow around six p.m. to tell you about him.”
I grinned and snatched the check off the table.
Chapter
59
Starksville, North Carolina
Bree flipped off the headlights and coasted the Taurus to a stop diagonally across the town square from Bell Beverages. The Bronco was parked in front. Finn Davis had gone inside. She was beginning to doubt her instincts.
When she’d seen Finn Davis leave Marvin Bell’s place in the slouchy clothes driving the beater four-by-four, she figured it as some kind of disguise, or at least a way of moving under the radar. She and Pinkie had made it to the rental car two minutes before Finn drove out of the compound.
Finn Davis had never seen Bree, to her knowledge. While Pinkie slouched down, she faked a cell phone conversation until Davis had driven by her, heading south toward town. She’d U-turned once he’d rounded a curve and had been following him at a distance ever since.
“Just looks like a man tending business, probably collecting the daily take, which explains the workman’s getup,” Pinkie said. “He doesn’t want attention.”
It did look a lot like that. Finn had stopped at the pawnshop, the dry cleaners, and both car washes before heading to the liquor store. Maybe her instincts had been wrong.
Bree checked her watch. Eight thirty. She’d texted Alex to see how his day had gone almost an hour ago but heard nothing back so far. And she was starting to get hungry. Nana Mama said she’d hold dinner for—