to share anythin’?”
“Why didn’t we do this at the department?”
“I told you, informal appeals to me, particularly when I have pretty much nothing to go on. I thought we’d be more relaxed here.”
Max didn’t feel relaxed. Anything he said had a chance of being overheard. “You’ve been checking me out, haven’t you?” He heard a car door slam. Annie, her hands crammed with bag handles, came toward Hungry Eyes.
“Yes.” Spike’s blue eyes stared steadily into Max’s. “You understand why I’m real worried here? Either you’re a serial killer, or you’ve made a serial killer real mad.”
He wasn’t being funny.
Max had never felt more serious.
“We have to find Michele,” he said, the start of panic curling in his belly. He looked directly into Spike’s eyes. “This hell has been going on since I was in college. I don’t want the folks around here to find out about the accusations that were made against me. One of the reasons I decided to stay here was because after months, no one had ever mentioned my history. And they would have if they’d known about it. Michele comes first, of course, but I have to stick here, Spike. If I run again, I’m…Hell, I’m scared sick someone else will die. I’m scared Michele’s already dead.”
“Uh-huh,” Spike said. “Can’t blame you for that.”
“You think the same thing, don’t you?” Max said.
Spike pursed his mouth a moment then said, “I’m not into guessing. Until we’ve got a body, dead or alive, I won’t be givin’ a definite opinion. The longer the woman’s missing, the worse our chances of finding her get.”
Suddenly he was convinced of what he must do about Annie. He had to see her and make sure she was okay, then he would find a way to tell her both how he felt about her, and why he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
“Michele wasn’t on her plane today—not that I thought she would be,” Spike said.
“Damn. I didn’t expect her to be either, but I hoped.” He felt as if he’d been kicked, again.
“She had a purse with her when you picked her up?” Spike asked.
Max pinched the bridge of his nose. “She must have. She did. Kelly and Roche were there. They’ll back me up.” He thought about the four of them sitting around a table in the glass-walled restaurant at Rosebank. Michele laughed a lot and looked pretty when she did.
He didn’t see Annie come into the shop, but he knew she had.
“You picked her up, spent the afternoon with her and your brothers and took her to dinner, where?”
Max wanted to turn and look at Annie. He listened for her voice and heard her respond to Wazoo’s enthusiastic greeting. She sounded cheerful, too cheerful.
“We had dinner in the restaurant at Rosebank,” Max told Spike. “They do a great job there.”
Spike was too focused to acknowledge the weak joke. “When did you first know Michele was missing?”
“At Pappy’s, yesterday lunchtime. Gator and Doll Hibbs came by and told me.”
Spike stared at him for a long time. “From what was said by the people in New York, they knew she was coming here. I’ve waited as long as I can to call them and confirm she’s missing.”
Max buried his face in his hands. “When you do, it’ll be all over,” he said. The people Michele knew, knew Max, had known him a long time. They were only human and they were bound to get scared for Michele.
“I kinda thought you’d say that,” Spike said. He extended a hand, palm up. “My time has run out. Can you give me anythin’, Max? Anythin’ at all? My gut tells me an intelligent guy like you isn’t goin’ to risk everythin’ by…I don’t think you’re a killer but I don’t have a whole lot of choice but to proceed as if you might be.”
“And do what?” Max pushed aside his coffee. “Arrest me?”
“Keep it down,” Spike said. “I’m not goin’ to arrest you. I can’t. You’re an innocent man, remember. I can’t hold past criminal investigations against you. But give me a way to tie you to foul play here and you’re in the slammer.”
Max felt sweat along his hairline. “What are you trying to get out of me? I didn’t do anything to Michele. And I want her found, dammit. D’you understand me?”
“You’re not in a position to play it heavy with me,” Spike said.
“Why not?” Max curled his lip in a sneer. “I’m an innocent man, remember.”
“I came here for one reason,” Spike said, any trace of humor long gone. “You’re the only suspect I’ve got. Thought I ought to tell you that.”
Max swallowed and it hurt. “You haven’t started to look.”
“Sure, I have. And those telephone numbers are bein’ followed up on right now. Why don’t you cut the crap and save us both a lot of time. Where is she?”
A steady drumming pain set up in Max’s temples. The horror had started all over again. “I don’t know. She’s a friend of mine and I like her. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. I want to help with the search. My brothers have already asked why we haven’t been called out.”
“I don’t think it would be a good idea, that’s why. You wouldn’t be the first murderer to help look for the victim. You think we’re hicks here, don’t you? That’s why you never thought I’d get around to looking at you.”
Max rubbed his palms together. “I’ve got enemies, I tell you. Enemies who want to ruin me. And they don’t care what they do to people along the way.”
“So you say,” Spike said. “We’re takin’ the area apart. And we expect to find a dead body.”
Chapter Eight
Spike stood up and threw down some bills. He nodded at Max, stepped away from the table and stopped. “Hey, Homer,” he said, but he frowned at his father. “Didn’t see you come in. What’s up?”
The drone of his heart and the pulse in his ears flattened sounds and movement around Max. He glanced up at Homer Devol and was grateful the older man didn’t look in his direction.
Rolling the brim of his straw Stetson in gnarled hands, Homer stared at his son. “We gotta talk,” he said. “No use puttin’ it off any longer.”
Max had learned the hard way that people didn’t seem to bother much about privacy around here. Homer looked about ready to spill his guts and whatever he had to say might not be pleasant.
The tables had cleared out, all but for the man on his own sitting near the counter. He continued to read his newspaper.
“You gotta be wonderin’,” Homer said to Spike.
“I
