A cold sense of dread chilled her in the early evening gloom. How had Ryan ended up in that trunk? He hadn’t fallen in and suffered a heart attack. The man had been fit, active and too young for clogged arteries. Which indicated someone had offed him and shoved him into the trunk.
Guilt tore at Phoebe. She was upset at her fiancé’s demise. But not heartbroken. Sure, she felt awful that he was dead. But her sense of relief that she didn’t have to marry him was just as strong. Still, she hadn’t wished him dead. Just unavailable to marry her. God, was she becoming a cold-hearted bitch like her mother could be? Leaving that world behind had been the best decision she could have made. But with no money, no identification and no prospects of a job, she was navigating uncharted waters and afraid she would be swept under.
She walked two blocks to Main Street, passing by quaint little mom-and-pop stores, finally coming across Bob’s Diner. The undeniable scent of food wafting out of the establishment almost brought Phoebe to her knees. With the last bit of her waning strength, she pushed open the door and entered, her mouthwatering.
“Sit where you like,” a female voice called out.
Phoebe glanced around at the black-and-white checkered floor, shiny red booth seats and chrome bar and managed to stagger to an empty booth in the far right corner. She reached for the laminated menu wedged between the napkin holder and the salt and pepper shakers and stared at the array of potential entrees, her stomach aching with the need for nourishment.
“Honey, what can I getcha?” A middle-aged waitress, dressed in a fifties-style, pink skirt and top, bobby socks, saddle shoes and a ribbon holding her hair back, stopped next to her table. “The meatloaf is fresh out of the oven and one of Bob’s best.”
“Sounds wonderful.” With only twenty-five dollars to last until she landed a job, she had to be sparing with her money, something completely new to her lifestyle. “But I’d rather have the grilled cheese sandwich and a glass of tap water.” She set the menu back where she’d found it and smiled up at the waitress. If she was very careful, she might make the little bit of money last until the end of the week, at which time she’d better have a plan in place to get more, or she’d starve.
“Are you the young woman who moved into Lola’s garage?”
Her cheeks heating, Phoebe nodded.
“Word gets around in small towns.” The waitress grinned, wiped her hand on the white apron covering her pink skirt and held it out. “Judy Johnson.”
Phoebe took the other woman’s hand. “Phoebe Smith. Nice to meet you.”
“Let me know if you need anything. Most everyone knows everyone else, and we help each other out. ‘Specially when they’re down and out.”
Phoebe couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. She’d never had to worry about money, and she’d never had to ask for help. She glanced around the diner. “You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who might be hiring, would you? I need a job.”
“What kind of experience do you have?” Judy asked.
Experience? Hell, she’d never held a job. With a degree in home economics, she wasn’t sure how her coursework would translate to anything there in Hellfire. She shook her head. “I don’t have any experience.”
The waitress frowned and touched her chin. “I’d say apply here, but Bob’s got all the wait staff he needs.” She tilted her head and stared at the far left corner of the building, tapping her chin. Finally, she straightened, her eyes widening. “How about the Ugly Stick Saloon?”
“Ugly Stick Saloon?” What kind of place had a name like that?
“Sure! Audrey Anderson owns it. Only thing is it’s out on the county line. You got a car?”
Phoebe almost answered yes, until she remembered the car she had was a rental she didn’t own, and a dead man occupied the trunk. Her shoulders slumped, along with her hopes. “No.”
Judy tapped the end of her pen to her chin. “Hmm. There’s always the chance one of the other waitresses could give you a ride if your shifts match.” She wrote a number on her order pad and ripped off a page. “Here’s her phone number. It’s worth giving her a call. Audrey always needs waitresses and the tips are good. A lot better than here.” She winked. “I’d work there myself, but I’m getting too old for the late nights.”
Phoebe folded the paper and slipped it into her jeans pocket. She’d give this Audrey person a call when she found a phone she could use for free.
Judy had turned and walked a few steps when she spun back around. “In case you don’t have a phone, you can use the one on the counter.” She walked away, pointing at the phone as she passed it on her way to the kitchen with Phoebe’s order.
The waitress’s smile was so warm and friendly Phoebe’s throat thickened and her eyes stung.
So far, the people she’d met in Hellfire had bent over backward to help her. Would they be as open and friendly if they knew what was in the trunk of the rental car?
Phoebe pushed back her shoulders and stood. She’d just have to make sure they didn’t find out. And if she could get a job at the Ugly Stick Saloon, she might not have to get in touch with her father to have him or her mother send her wallet with her identification. She could request it from the DMV and avoid letting her family know where she was until she was good and ready to reveal her location. Hopefully, after she proved she could live on her own, without her father’s money or connections.
With her newfound freedom and independence stiffening her backbone, she marched to the counter, lifted the phone and entered the phone number for Audrey Anderson.
After only one ring, a female voice answered. “This is Audrey.”
Never having interviewed for a job, much less over the phone, Phoebe’s brain froze, and she struggled to come up with an introduction. Finally, she said, “Hi, I’m Phoebe.”
Audrey chuckled, the sound warm and friendly. “Well, Phoebe, what can I do for you?”
She glanced around the diner, her gaze meeting Judy’s.
The waitress smiled again and nodded.
Those gestures gave Phoebe the courage to forge on. “I’m new in town, and I was wondering if you needed any help at the…” what was the name of the place?
“At the Ugly Stick?” Audrey assisted. “As a matter of fact, I’m short two waitresses tonight. I’m filling in for one of them, but I could use another. Talk about great timing. Do you own a pair of denim cut-offs?”
Frayed cut-offs had been one of the items Peg had insisted she select. Phoebe answered, “Yes.”
“Can you be here in an hour?”
Audrey didn’t waste time. “I could, if I could get a ride from Hellfire.”
“No problem. My husband is headed this way about then, he can give you a lift, and I can bring you back to town after we close.”
“That would be wonderful.” Phoebe hugged the phone to her ear, tears welling in her eyes. “Thank you so much.”
“No,” Audrey said. “Thank you! We’ll be swamped tonight with the tri-county rodeo going on. This will be a big help to me.”
Phoebe provided the address of her garage apartment. Audrey stated her husband, Jackson, had business in Hellfire anyway, and would be there in forty-five minutes. After she hung up, Phoebe returned to her table where Judy had set a glass of water.
Minutes later, the waitress brought her food.
The golden toasted grilled cheese sandwich looked better than any of the high-dollar chef-prepared dinners she’d eaten in the past. So hungry she could barely see straight, she wolfed down the sandwich and the potato chips that accompanied it, paid for her meal and hugged Judy on her way out the door.
Going from homeless and broke, with nothing more than the wedding dress on her back, she now had an apartment, a job and a full stomach. Life was looking up. As she left Bob’s Diner, she looked both ways on Main Street, wondering which way she should go to get to Rider Grayson’s auto repair shop. With thirty minutes to spare before Jackson arrived at her apartment to drive her to the Ugly Stick Saloon, she had time to find the auto shop and maybe buy a few groceries. Removing the body would have to wait until after the town of Hellfire went to sleep. Then she’d have to start her life of crime by breaking and entering into the auto shop and figuring out how to move the body of a one-hundred-eighty-pound man.
Phoebe wondered if her personal trainer had a program for heavy lifting for the criminally inclined. Though she found nothing humorous in her situation, she couldn’t help a bark of laughter as she wandered through the streets of Hellfire.
Finally, she came to a building with Grayson’s Auto Repairs written in bold lettering on a sign positioned over the door. The only light inside came from a single bulb shining in the back of the building.
A dark sedan drove by on the street behind her, slowing as it approached where Phoebe stood.
She hunched her shoulders and continued down the sidewalk. In a small town, everyone knew or wanted to know everyone else’s business. If she stood too long in front of a building, she’d draw attention. Oh, hell, who was she kidding? The new girl in town would draw attention no matter what. Phoebe walked on.