Chapter 30
Tori turned to Ben Logan after the door closed behind Scott, Drew, and her dad. The sheriff made an imposing figure as he stood behind the desk, his feet planted and his hand resting on his gun. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Tori asked.
Ben crossed his arms. “I just want to make sure you don’t get involved in Jenny Tremont’s case.”
“I’m not making any promises. My nephew’s reputation is at stake here, and I can’t have people whispering that maybe he killed her when we both know he didn’t.”
“Don’t make me arrest you for obstruction of justice.”
She held up her hands. “I promise, I’m not going to interfere with your investigation. I have one of my own I’m working on.”
“The Prescott case?” He sat in his chair and motioned for her to sit as well.
“That case is old news.” Tori sat as he indicated but on the edge of the chair.
She didn’t have much time before her appointment with Richard Livingston since she hadn’t been able to change it.
Plus, she hadn’t written out the questions she wanted to ask.
Thankfully the office was within a three-minute walk of Ben’s office.
She’d have to use that time to figure out her strategy.
“It’s actually the Walter Livingston case,” she said. “And since his murder happened in Memphis, it won’t affect you at all.”
Ben leveled a serious gaze at her “Make sure that’s the one you focus on.”
“Of course.” As long as he didn’t arrest Drew or her brother. Tori tilted her head. “But I do wonder if you have an opinion on who killed him?”
“Afraid I can’t help you there. I was just a kid when that happened. My dad was sheriff, but he’s been gone five years now.” He rubbed his jaw. “Although my mom might remember something about it. Stop by and see her—she’d love that.”
“I’ll try.” Tori had always liked his mother, Marissa, but as a kid, she’d been terrified of his dad. He always seemed so stern.
Ben cleared his throat. “You might want to be careful being out alone. Were you able to identify the vehicle that bumped you? Or who was driving?”
“Afraid not. Even with a moon, it was too dark, and if it was the guy who shot at us, the dark tint on his truck would’ve hidden him. I do believe it was a truck, though.”
“I’ll turn your question on you—do you have an opinion on who’s after you?”
She thought a minute then blew a breath through her lips. “I wish I had just one opinion.”
“Care to lay them out?”
She checked her watch and made a decision. “I’d rather ask you about Scott.”
“Scott?” The hint of a frown crossed his face. “What about him?”
She picked at a hangnail on her thumb. “I heard he got into some trouble with the law. Is that true?”
“Have you asked him?”
Tori blinked. He wasn’t going to tell her? “Not yet.”
“Then I suggest you do.”
“You’re saying I can trust him?”
“Depends on what you’re trusting him with.”
He was talking in riddles.
“I will say, Scott is very good at what he does. Now, back to my question. Who might be after you?”
“I’ll have to make it fast since I’m meeting Richard Livingston in”—she checked her watch—“ten minutes. At least two people—Calvin Russell, whoever killed Walter Livingston, and anyone else I might’ve ticked off.”
“Russell is the obvious choice. He’s in the area based on his credit card use, and from what the Knoxville detective said, he isn’t happy with you.”
“Yeah, but he has a sister in Memphis, so he could be in the area legitimately. And I don’t think he knows where I’m from. I’ve never talked about it, even when I discussed Huey Prescott’s case, and I don’t see him having the savvy to do the research.”
“I wouldn’t underestimate him—he’s avoided being questioned since the fire. As for the people you may have made mad, does any particular case come to mind?”
She made a whistling sound as she blew out a breath through her mouth.
“Two maybe . . . this past year I conducted an investigation into a drugstore selling outdated drugs, and there was a case involving a slumlord who refused to bring his apartment building up to code—there was a fire, but thankfully no one died. Both of them have their hands full right now dealing with prosecutors, so I don’t see them coming after me.
As for Walter Livingston’s case, we don’t know who we’re dealing with—”
“But if Walter’s killer lives in Logan Point, he or she knows you and what kind of car you drive.”
“Yeah.” She checked her watch again. It was something to think about. “I need to leave for my appointment.”
“How are you getting there?”
“I thought I’d walk—it’s just a couple of minutes away.” That way she could clear her mind.
“You’re kidding, right?” Ben shook his head and stood. “You’re not. Come on, I’ll drop you off, and I expect you to call when you’re finished.”
“I have my own car—I can drive myself.”
“I’ll feel better if I take you.”
She started to protest but then realized he was right—after all, they were just discussing who wanted her out of the picture. “Thanks. I’m not used to depending on others—I didn’t get that gene, and I’m not sure how long it’ll take me to adjust.”
Tori followed Ben to his SUV and climbed in the front seat. The driver’s side almost looked like the cockpit of an airplane. “Nice setup. Why did you use a paper notebook last night when you have that electronic one?”
He laughed. “You can teach an old dog new tricks but you can’t make him use them. I’m old school—a pen and paper are much easier to carry around. And I remember what I write with a pen more than what I type.”
“I outline my podcasts by hand,” Tori said. “Then put them into the computer while I can still read what I wrote.”
“I know exactly what you mean. I have to enter my notes into the computer ASAP.” He pulled into the Livingston parking lot.
A white Escalade was parked in the spot next to the door. Probably Richard’s, or it could be Stephanie’s. “Thanks for the ride, but really, I would’ve been fine walking.”
“Maybe. Be sure to call when you’re ready to go back for your car.”
She made a face at him. “Okay.”
After Tori got out of the vehicle and approached the door, she waved at Ben, who still idled in the parking lot. He nodded, and the SUV rolled toward the exit. It surprised her how comforting his concern was.
After taking a minute to compose herself, she stepped into the role of interviewer.
Most of the time she had a list of questions in her head or on her phone, but so much had been going on, she hadn’t had time to put anything together.
Plus, she wanted information on two fronts—the recent Jenny Tremont murder and Walter Livingston’s from years ago.
Tori squared her shoulders and entered the building through the glass double doors.
She’d worked here as a file clerk the last two summers of high school, and if she remembered correctly, Richard’s office was down the hallway on the right.
She rounded the corner and smiled when a middle-aged woman looked up.
“May I help you?”
“Mrs. Curtis?”
“Yes?” She peered over a pair of black-rimmed glasses.
Tori couldn’t believe Donna Curtis was still here as Richard’s office manager. She’d seemed ancient when she trained Tori, which made her want to chuckle—the woman was probably early fifties, which was no longer ancient to Tori.
“I have an appointment with Mr. Livingston.” It didn’t occur to Tori to refer to him as Richard, not in talking to Mrs. Curtis.
“And you are?” The secretary removed the glasses, pulling a strand of salt-and-pepper hair from her low bun. It was the style she’d worn ever since Tori had known her. She finger-combed the strand back in place while she waited for Tori to answer.
“Victoria Mitchell.”
Mrs. Curtis slipped the glasses back on and squinted, then her eyes widened. “Tori! I hardly recognize you. And you say you have an appointment with Richard?”
“At ten thirty.” She didn’t know if she was more shocked that Mrs. Curtis had called him Richard or that she didn’t know about the appointment.
“That poses a problem—he just left to meet the mayor for a cup of coffee.” The secretary frowned. “You’re sure he knows you’re coming?”
At this point Tori wasn’t sure of anything. “We talked last night at my sister’s house.”
Donna tapped her cheek. “Could Valerie Livingston help you? She’s part owner of the company.”
Tori had no intention of speaking to Valerie. “My appointment is with Richard.”
“Hold on.” She took out her cell and sent a text. Seconds later there was a return message and she looked up. “Oh, I’m sorry. He forgot and will return immediately.”
“No, tell him to take his time. I’ll wait—I have something I can work on until he returns.”
“Have a seat and let me text him your message—I think he had a matter he wanted to discuss with the mayor.” A minute later, the secretary turned to her, beaming. “He asked if you were all right with waiting thirty minutes?”
“Of course.” There were a lot of things she’d rather do with the next thirty minutes than to cool her heels in the waiting area.
However, she really did want to find out what he could tell her about Jenny .
. . and maybe about his brother. If she could pin him down today, it would go a long way with her research.
Tori took out her phone to check her email, but before she could open the account, Mrs. Curtis cleared her throat.
“How did you know Huey Prescott wasn’t guilty of killing Walter?”
Tori thought a minute. “There were several reasons. Have you listened to my podcast, Mrs. Curtis?”
“Some of them.” She smiled. “A lot of folks around Logan Point listen in—you’re quite the celebrity here. I caught Saturday’s podcast, and please, call me Donna.”
Wow. She never thought Mrs. Curtis would ever ask her to call her by her given name or that she listened to her podcasts. “You should check out some of the older podcasts. You can tell by the titles what the subject is.”
“I’ll do that.”
Tori hesitated. “Maybe you can help me . . . if you listened to last week’s podcast, then you know I’m digging into Walter Livingston’s death. How well did you know him?”
She leaned away from Tori. “Walter was my boss, but he was also my friend. Such a good man. Terrible thing that happened to him.” Donna pulled a tissue from a box and dabbed her eyes.
Tori let the silence stretch while the secretary composed herself. “Were you romantically—”
“Good heavens, no,” she said, her eyes wide. “I was already married to Mr. Curtis, and Walter was a gentleman. He wouldn’t have gotten involved with a married woman.”
“I gather he never married.”
“No. He . . .” She checked the hallway before she leaned toward Tori and lowered her voice. “The woman he loved married someone else.”
“Really?” Her research had never uncovered that little gem. “Was she someone local?”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Donna’s face flushed. She shook her head. “Forget I said that—I shouldn’t have . . .”
Tori turned as Richard Livingston approached the desk.
“You made it back sooner than you thought.” Donna smiled brightly. She handed him a Post-it note. “That’s the only message you have except one from Stephanie, cancelling your lunch date again.”
Tori caught the note of . . . satisfaction . . . or was it I-told-you-so in the secretary’s voice.
Richard frowned. “Did she say why?”
“No.”
He gave a brusque nod and motioned for Tori to follow him. At the door, he turned back to his secretary. “What time is your lunch break?”
“I, ah, haven’t decided. Eleven thirty, probably.”
“Well, let me know so I can get someone to cover the desk.”
“Oh, sure.”
Tori wondered if Richard caught the disappointment in his secretary’s voice. She glanced at him. No. He was totally obtuse to the fact Donna, married or not, was in love with her boss.
Maybe Donna could use a sympathetic ear.