The Last of the Moon Girls(68)
“I don’t. But I’m sure you remember Lizzy coming to see you. She asked you to take another look at the Gilman case. When you shot her down, she decided to take matters into her own hands. She’s been asking questions. My guess is she’s making someone uncomfortable.”
“I warned her not to stir the pot.”
“That’s your response? You warned her?”
“Greyson, this is the first I’m hearing about this. You can’t expect me to act on something I didn’t know about.”
“No, but you know about it now. That’s why I called. To make sure you did know—so there aren’t any excuses down the road.”
There was a long pause. Andrew waited, imagining all the things Summers wanted to say, and wondering if he was stupid enough to go there. “I’ll send someone around to get a statement from her,” he grumbled finally. “That make you happy?”
“Happy? No, I’m not happy. She’ll have my head when she finds out I called you, but I’m less concerned with that than I am with someone getting hurt.”
Andrew stared at the phone after hanging up. He was going to have to go talk to Lizzy now—in person—and tell her what he’d done. And unless he missed his guess, it wasn’t going to go well. But it would go less well if the police managed to beat him to her door.
He was dropping his phone into his shirt pocket with one hand and digging in his pants pocket for his truck keys with the other, when he nearly fell over Dennis hovering outside his office door. Startled, he held up a hand. “Sorry, man, I didn’t expect you to be there. I need to take off for a while.”
Dennis acknowledged him with the barest of nods. He was studying the blade on his rotary saw, head bent so that the brim of his Red Sox cap hid most of his face. He’d always been a bit of a misfit, always watching but never having much to say. He was a decent enough worker, though. And it was hard to fault a guy who took a second job to help feed his dead brother’s kid.
“I shouldn’t be long,” he told Dennis. “I’m just running out to the Moon place. Lock up if I’m not back before you break for lunch.”
Dennis put down his saw and looked up. His face was covered with white dust, giving him an eerily skeletal appearance. “Hope to hell you’re bringing your cross.”
Andrew stiffened, already disliking where this was going. “My cross?”
“You know what folks say—that they’re . . . you know . . . spooks. Witches.”
Andrew silently counted to ten. “You’re a little old to be afraid of witches, Dennis.”
“You’re not? Not even a little?”
“If we’re talking cauldrons and black cats, then no, I’m not. What I am afraid of are people who believe silly rumors, and pass them off as truth.”
“Come on, man. Even their name’s weird. Moon? You gotta admit there’s something creepy about them. Especially the younger one. She’s been nothing but trouble since she came back. Slinking around town, talking about those dead girls, like folks don’t remember whose pond they came out of. Takes nerve, that’s for sure.”
Andrew stared at him, trying to keep a lid on his temper. “After what this town put her family through, it was coming back at all that took nerve.”
Dennis seemed to sense that he’d crossed the line. He pulled off his cap, smoothing his yellow hair repeatedly. “She’s wasting her time is all I’m saying. Everyone knows what happened to those girls, and dragging it all up again isn’t going to change anybody’s mind.”
Andrew was holding his keys so tightly he could feel them bite into his palm. Lizzy had warned him about repercussions if he came to her defense. He didn’t care then, and he didn’t care now. “No one knows who killed Heather and Darcy Gilman, Dennis. Not you. Not the police. Not even Lizzy. I’d appreciate you remembering that—and keeping your opinions to yourself.”
“I’m just saying—”
“Don’t,” Andrew said, in a tone that felt ominous even to him. “Don’t say anything. Not if you want to keep working for me.”
TWENTY-SIX
The pungent aroma of vinegar assaulted Lizzy as she walked into the kitchen. Evvie was at the window, cleaning the glass with a spray bottle and a rumpled sheet of the Chronicle.
“There’s a sandwich for you in the icebox. One for your mother too, if she’s still here. I haven’t seen her since this morning.”
“She’s been with me, in the shop. She showed up with two cups of coffee, and told me she’d been out to the orchard.”
Evvie put down her spray bottle. “What was she doing out in the orchard?”
“Getting a vibe, apparently. She knows the fire was set on purpose.”
“How much did you tell her?”
“I told her about the torches. She’d hear it sooner or later. But I don’t want her to know I’ve been asking around about the murders, or that the fire might be related. I don’t need her flipping out, and I can’t babysit her the whole time she’s here.” Lizzy paused, not sure how Evvie was going to take the next bit of news. “She’s going to be staying awhile. I don’t know how long. We’re going to play it by ear.”