“Guess Earl informed his superiors,” Creed said.
“He didn’t exactly rush to do it, but it’s done now and they’re planning to send an investigator down here to help me ‘resolve the issue.’” Virgil rubbed his head some more. “All they’ll do is slow me down. That’s why I sent for you. I need someone who can actually help.” He glared at Creed. “Which I thought you were going to do before you ran back up the mountain without a word to me.”
Creed held his hands up. “Figured you were done with me once we found that slug. I’ve got work to do.”
Virgil shook his head. “Why somebody with a good-lookin’ wife and a boy at home wants to be up on that mountain is beyond me.”
Creed hardened his jaw. “Maybe it’s not for you to understand. Maybe I’ll just go back up there so I don’t have to deal with people like you sticking their noses into my business.”
Now it was Virgil’s turn to hold up his hands. “You’re right. I crossed the line. Your family’s your business.” He braced his hands on his belt. “But I sure could use someone with brains and common sense, not to mention experience, if you’re willing to stick around awhile.”
Creed felt like a dog letting its hackles fall. He shook out his neck and took a breath. “You said Earl didn’t hurry to report his partner’s death. You got any idea why he might’ve waited?”
Virgil perked up. “No, but I did think it was almighty strange. You got any ideas?”
“Well, he came up the mountain to see me the other day. Said he’d reported the murder and seemed plenty anxious for you to solve the case before anybody else showed up. Seemed to think I could hurry you along.”
Virgil narrowed his eyes. “You probably could. That fellow’s been turning up here twice a day to ask if there’s been any progress. Have I found any new clues? Who’s my prime suspect? Finally told him if he didn’t leave me alone, I’d never get anything done.”
“Guess he’s upset about his friend,” Creed said.
“That’s just it. I’ve dealt with more than one killing over the years, and nobody’s ever acted like this one. Shoot, if Maxine over at the motel hadn’t sworn Earl was there when Eddie must’ve been killed, I’d say he’d make a fine suspect.” Virgil drummed his fingers on the desktop. “He’s just too . . . anxious. Nervous.”
Creed nodded his head. “I noticed that, too. Like he can’t make up his mind how to feel about his buddy getting killed. One minute he talks like he didn’t think much of you, and the next he’s worried about your looking bad. Double-minded that way.”
Virgil snapped his fingers. “That’s the word for it. Makes me wonder what his angle is.”
“What about Eddie?” Creed asked. “What’s his story?”
“A gal in the office he works out of gave me the particulars from his employee file. He doesn’t have any family that they know of. Been contracting with them for almost a year, doing this land-acquisition work. Gal kept saying his work was marked ‘satisfactory.’ Guess that means he wasn’t great, but he wasn’t terrible either.” Virgil had been ticking the facts off on his fingers. “And that’s about it. Listed an address in Pennsylvania.”
Creed chuckled. “Well, not to sound like Earl, but do you have any suspects?”
Virgil frowned. “Hadden Westfall’s the only one so far.”
“And he’s got an alibi. Guess that checked out?”
“Talked to the secretary over there at the engineer’s office. She said Hadden was there sure enough. She saw him arrive around eleven in the morning and leave after four. Takes a good hour to drive up there, so unless we’re way off on when Eddie was killed . . .”
“What about the engineer? What’d he say?” Creed asked.
A slow smile crept over Virgil’s face. “You trying to catch me out on not being thorough? I left a message for Gordon Shiloh to call me—he’s the one in charge. I expect he’ll confirm what the secretary said, but you can’t be too careful.”
“Sounds like you’ve got everything covered. What was it you needed me for again?”
Virgil laughed and slapped his hat on his head. “We’re going to talk to the Hacker boys.”
Creed groaned. He didn’t have anything against the Hackers, but he didn’t seek them out either. Rough as cobs, every one of them. “Alright then. What you gonna take ’em so they don’t run us off?”
Virgil reached under his desk and pulled out a paper sack. He winked. “Got me some conversation starter right here.”
When Delphy heard voices out front, she headed for the door to peek outside. Loyal must have company, though she couldn’t think who . . . Ah-ha. The Westfall kids. She saw the older boy—she couldn’t remember his name—sauntering off as Loyal and . . . Rebecca—that was her name—engaged in conversation. She watched for a moment, reveling in the sight of her son and a young lady communicating with each other. It made her heart swell. She gave them a few moments before pushing open the door.
Rebecca turned toward her, cuing Loyal to do the same. She smiled so big it almost hurt. “Rebecca, what a treat! Won’t you join us for luncheon?” As she used the more formal word for the noon meal, she saw Loyal roll his eyes. She stifled a laugh. Boys. He and Rebecca exchanged a look that did her mother’s heart good.
She ushered them inside and fed them from the garden—buttery corn on the cob, slices of deep-red tomatoes, green beans with streak o’ lean, and golden biscuits with the strawberry jam she’d made earlier in the season.
Humming to herself, she pulled out cloth napkins and adjusted the jar of black-eyed Susans she’d set in the middle of the table that morning for no reason. She wanted to laugh at her son, who was clearly confused by all the fuss. Much as his father would be. That last thought sobered her. When they married, she’d assumed they’d have lots of children. She’d even thought she was pregnant about a year before Loyal lost his hearing, but it had been a false alarm. And then, when Creed brought their boy home so sick and the fever left him deaf . . . well, suffice it to say they hadn’t tried for another child after that. Thinking back on those dark days, she wasn’t sure whose choice it had been—hers or Creed’s?
Watching the children there at her table, she felt a pang of regret. Maybe it wasn’t too late . . . No. She would not torture herself that way. If Creed wanted to put his family back together, he’d have to do a great deal more than spend a few nights and learn a few signs.
Forcing a smile, she set a plate of cookies on the table and tried to be satisfied with the blessings in front of her.
Once they’d eaten and Rebecca helped with the dishes, Mother suggested they go for a walk. Loyal squinted at her. Just that morning she’d acted like she wasn’t going to let him leave the house except to go to church. And now she was practically pushing him out the door. He shook his head. People were complicated.
The house sat on the outskirts of town just beyond the Beverly cemetery. He and Rebecca strolled along past Cemetery Lane and onto Main Street. Loyal was gawking at the display in the window of the Beverly Market when Rebecca bumped his arm and tilted her head toward the old courthouse catty-corner to where they stood. Although the county seat had moved to Elkins before Loyal was born, the sheriff still kept an office in Beverly in the brick building with its double doors flanked by windows.