Chapter Seven
Piggly Wiggly
Charly wasn’t a big fan of shopping. She would much rather be back home working at the retreat, weeding the flowerbeds her mother had put in decades ago or some other hands-on maintenance.
Thank God the plants were the sort that came back every year.
Peonies and what her mother had called cone flowers.
The other varieties Charly wasn’t sure about, but those two had been her mother’s favorites. She remembered those well.
She didn’t even mind the cleaning of the cabins.
It made her happy. Probably best not to tell anyone else about her love of cleaning.
The task wasn’t usually something folks liked to do.
Laundry was another mundane activity that made her happy.
Relaxed her. Maybe it was because she was in control of the results and the results rarely let her down.
More of the snack bars that seemed to go over so well with her guests went into her cart.
The paper goods aisle was next. Paper towels and toilet paper.
She was low on both. She used cloth napkins because she hated using so much paper.
One of these days she intended to attempt moving to reusable paper towels as well. Just not today.
Lastly, she needed to make her way to the produce department.
First, she took her full cart up front and left it next to the line of cash registers.
She waved to Wanda Briggs, a longtime head cashier at the Pig, as everyone called it.
Wanda gave Charly a nod, letting her know it was okay to leave the cart until she was finished.
“How many cases of water you need?” Wanda asked. “I’ll have someone ready to load it for you.”
“Four, please. Thanks.” Charly gave her a thumbs-up.
Once she had snagged another cart, Charly headed to produce. Another favorite of her guests was the fruit baskets she prepared. So far, she hadn’t heard the first complaint and she’d been doing it for years. Maybe the secret was the small box of chocolates she tucked in every basket.
As for the fruit, the bananas were the trickiest. But over the years she had refined her ability to select the best level of ripeness to ensure they lasted through the weekend.
“Charly, how are you doing?”
Charly looked up to find Laney Rogers and her cart nose to nose with her own.
The tilt of her lips upward was automatic, no matter that she could have gone the rest of her life without bumping into the other woman.
Laney was thirty or so years older than Charly and operated the Lost in the Woods Getaway.
She claimed to have come up with the idea of cabins combined with a salon that offered a host of spa services.
She was probably right about that. Most folks who came for fishing and hiking in the woods weren’t exactly the right customer base for spas in Charly’s opinion.
Then again, what did she know? Laney had been in business for thirty-odd years.
Had won business of the year two or three times. She had to be doing something right.
“I’m good. And you?” Keeping the smile in place was particularly hard this morning.
“Lord,” she said, putting a hand to her chest, “if we get any busier I don’t know what we’ll do.
” Her expression shifted to a pout. “I was so sorry to hear about what happened to that couple staying at your place. I hope it doesn’t hurt business for the rest of the summer.
You know we had that young woman, Francesca Andrews, who went missing all those years ago. It was a mess until they found her.”
For whatever reason, Charly hadn’t realized the woman who’d gone missing had been staying at the Lost in the Woods Getaway. She’d likely known it at the time, but sixteen years was a long time and she had been found—at least the first time.
“We’re hoping for the best,” Charly replied.
Laney looked confused and Charly realized her mistake. There was only her, no we. She was alone. Lived alone. Ran the retreat alone for the most part. She glanced at her cart. Shopped for her guests alone.
“I mean—” she shifted her attention back to Laney “—me and the…the family of the missing couple, of course.”
Laney adopted a knowing look. “I hear the missing bride’s brother is some big-time private investigator. Has he given you any trouble? I imagine he’s pushing you and the sheriff to find his sister. Is it true there are still no leads?”
Some folks loved gossip. Thrived on it. Laney was one of them.
She didn’t mean any harm really, Charly’s mother had always said.
But Charly wasn’t so sure. In recent years, Charly had noticed an uptick of gossip about all the other lodging operations around town.
Shelly insisted it was coming from Laney since her bookings were down.
Whatever the case, Charly didn’t want to give the woman any additional fodder about her troubles.
“He’s concerned and asking lots of questions,” Charly said. “That’s to be expected. He’s a very nice man. As for leads, you would have to ask the sheriff about that.”
Laney’s expression remained doubtful, but she nodded. “Good to know about the brother. As for talking to the sheriff, you know Tully. He’s always too busy to talk to anyone not on his radar at any given moment.”
“Well…” Charly smiled as brightly as possible. “I should get this shopping finished. I have to prepare for the next group of guests. Good to see you, Laney.”
Not.
Charly finished selecting the fruits she needed and hurried to the front of the store. By the time she had paid the total, a young man appeared to help her get the purchases to her vehicle. Thankfully, he took care of the cases of bottled water.
Outside, the sun felt scorching already and it was barely ten o’clock. This was going to be a hot one. If she didn’t have a million things to do she would take a dip in the lake. Maybe later tonight, if there was time.
Once she had put away her load and prepared all the fruit baskets, she would help Billie with whatever steps he wanted to take next. Or he might require her help before she did the fruit baskets. Whatever he needed. Helping to find Briana and Martin was priority one.
He hadn’t called her this morning. He’d mentioned a conference call with his agency and then a trip to see the sheriff again.
He hadn’t invited her to join so she hadn’t asked if he needed her.
There were aspects of this situation in which she could be no assistance to him, but she still wanted to help.
She really, really did. If for nothing other than to serve as a buffer when he spoke to any of the locals or the sheriff.
She had known Tully Malone most of her life.
She pretty much had him figured out. The possibility that maybe Billie didn’t exactly like the way she took over the conversation when she felt compelled wasn’t lost on her.
It was a bad habit, she supposed. He likely wasn’t accustomed to having someone else intrude into whatever he was doing on a case.
Particularly one as personal as this.
She thanked the man who had helped her load up with a nice tip and then climbed behind the steering wheel.
If Billie received the list of places where the couple’s credit cards had been used, they could check the businesses for cameras.
Maybe determine if someone had been following them if there was video footage.
Wasn’t that what kidnappers did? They watched and followed their prey until they found the right opportunity to pounce?
Then again, she may have watched far too many true-crime shows.
And there she went, acting like she knew what their next step should be.
Charly had just started to back out of her slot when banging on her vehicle had her slamming on the brakes. She stared at the rearview mirror, hoping she hadn’t nearly run over someone. Clear. Then another knock on the glass right next to her face made her jump.
Deputy Cohen Lathan stood outside her door, grinning like a jackass.
Slumping with a combination of relief and frustration, she shoved the gearshift into Park and then powered the window down.
She might have ignored him and continued backing up if not for the possibility that he might have an update on the case.
“Hey, Cohen.” She tried her best to prevent the anger that tinged her voice, but it just wasn’t possible.
Hands on hips, head cocked with sunglasses shielding his eyes, he studied her a moment. She barely resisted rolling her eyes.
“What have you been telling that guy from Chicago?” he demanded.
Charly drew back at the accusatory tone. “What are you talking about?”
“He showed up in the sheriff’s office this morning making all kinds of accusations about missing women and unsolved cases from the past.” He tore his sunglasses off.
“So, I ask again, what have you been telling him? Obviously, you’ve got him all fired up about old cases that aren’t even relevant anymore much less related to his missing sister.
Geez Louise, where’s your sense of community? Your loyalty?”
As much as Charly wanted to tell him exactly what she thought about his accusations and him, she recognized that it was better to go at this from a different angle.
“I didn’t tell him anything about any cases,” she said firmly.
“Everything he learned was from the internet and…” She shouldn’t do this; she really shouldn’t.
“From the FBI. He has major connections, and he intends to do whatever necessary to find his sister.”
The fact that every ounce of blood seemed to drain out of the cocky deputy’s face was almost enough to make her smile.
But Charly wasn’t finished yet. Too late to turn back now.
“You know he works for the Colby Agency. I looked up that agency and it’s a really big deal.
” She widened her eyes as large as possible.
“Seriously, I’m talking huge. They’re looking into the case as well.
Two more investigators may be showing up. ”