“And if you look a little furtive and watchful—doesn’t that kind of game skirt a little close to Virginia’s gambling laws?”
They both chuckled.
“By the way,” the merely tall one said. “Randall said if we saw you to make sure you remembered about the Steering Committee meeting later tonight.”
I nodded. Since the meeting was taking place at our house, the only way I could possibly miss it was if I deliberately malingered here at the tent until it was over. I’d already begun racking my brain for some task that would keep me here in town for another hour, so the fact that Randall felt the need to remind me argued that he was a keen observer of human nature or possibly a mind reader.
“I’m heading home in a few minutes,” I said. “As soon as I make sure the trapdoor is shut for the night. But thanks for the reminder.”
The merely tall one looked around for eavesdroppers.
“We’re going to be working in there for a while,” he said. “Quietly,” he added. “And we brought our sleeping bags, so when we finish, we’re going to bed down in the crawl space. In fact, here.”
He reached into his pocket and handed me a set of keys.
“Just in case anyone finds us, we’ll say you caught us drinking after the poker game ended, and took away our keys, so we decided to sleep it off here.”
I took the keys—wondering, not for the first time, how many of the small subterfuges townspeople had resorted to in the last year and a half were necessary and how much they merely satisfied some collective thirst for intrigue and drama.
Not a problem I could resolve tonight. I checked to make sure all my stuff was secure and that there was water for the pigeons. Then I grabbed my purse and headed for home.
Chapter 18
All around the town square, tour buses were loading their tired but happily chattering cargo. The sidewalks swarmed with people heading for one of the two big lots that the college had opened up for tourist parking. Luckily I was heading the other way, toward the smaller lot that Michael’s faculty parking sticker let me use.
I passed Muriel picking up the daily special sign that normally graced the sidewalk in front of her diner. We greeted each other and I yawned while doing it.
“Hope you’re heading for bed,” she said.
“No,” I said. “Steering Committee meeting.”
She peered at me and frowned.
“I was about to throw out the last of the coffee,” she said. “Why don’t I throw it in a cup for you. Might help you get home safely.”
I could see the wisdom in that, so I held the door for her to carry in her sign and perched on a stool while she rustled up a cardboard carryout cup for the coffee.
“I see your friend’s gone,” she said over her shoulder.
“My friend?” I wondered for a moment if she thought I knew Colleen Brown. Was this her gruff but kindly attempt at offering condolences?
“That PI fellow.” She handed me a cardboard travel cup full of coffee. “Didn’t show up for his dinner. In fact, I haven’t seen him since lunchtime. Just before the murder,” she added, looking over her glasses at me to make sure I understood the significance.
“He hasn’t disappeared,” I said. “I saw him not an hour ago.”
Although from Deacon Washington’s description, he did exit the poker game rather abruptly.
“See? Right across the street, and didn’t drop by for his pie,” Muriel said. “Suspicious.”
Was she suspicious of him, or insulted that he’d spurned her pie?
“It’s still not what I’d call a suspicious disappearance.” I took several big gulps of coffee and tried to visualize the little molecules of caffeine leaping into my bloodstream. “Maybe he found some other place where the management’s less picky about who they serve. Or maybe having one of their staff murdered while he was here convinced the lender that he’s not doing his job, and they fired him.”
“Maybe.” Clearly Muriel wasn’t buying either of these explanations.
“Are you suggesting that he committed the murder and fled town?” I asked. “Or are you afraid that the killer has struck again, and Mr. Denton is also the victim of foul play?”
“Well, I hadn’t thought of that last idea,” Muriel said. From her expression, I gathered it was not an entirely unwelcome one. “Do you really think someone might have bumped him off?”
“Not unless they did it in the last hour,” I replied. “And I have no idea why anyone would want to.”
“Well, maybe if you find him, you’ll figure it out,” Muriel said. “Here’s a lid for that. You want me to top it off?”