She jumped in the shower and thought about the rest of her day. She had a list of names and addresses with respective relationships to the case. First on the list was a visit to Value Rite Drug, where Carleen Dawson worked. Carleen had been a waitress at Hennessy’s at the same time as Maddie’s mother. She wanted to set up a time to interview the woman and asking in person had advantages over asking on the telephone.
After her shower, she rubbed almond-scented lotion into her skin and put on a black dress that wrapped around and tied at the side of her waist. She pulled her hair back from her face, applied a little mascara and a deep red lipstick. She wore red sandals and slid a notebook into her slim leather briefcase. Not that she planned to use anything in the briefcase, but it gave the right impression.
Value Rite Drug was located a few blocks off Main Street next to Helen’s Hair Hut. Potted geraniums and yellow awnings gave the outside of the store splashes of color. The inside was stuffed with everything from Band-Aids and aspirin to wooden statues of elk, moose, and bear carved by locals. She asked at the front register where she might find Carleen and was pointed to the snack food aisle.
“Are you Carleen Dawson?” she asked a short woman wearing a white blouse and blue and red apron, and who was bent over a cart of marshmallows and Pop Smart.
She straightened and looked at Maddie through a pair of bifocal lenses. “Yes.”
“Hello, my name is Madeline Dupree and I am a writer.” She handed Carleen a business card. “I am hoping that you’ll give me a few moments of your time.”
“I’m not on break.”
“I know.” Carleen’s hair was processed within an inch of its life, and Maddie wondered briefly what was up with some of the locals and bad hair. “I thought we could set up a time when you’re off work.”
Carleen looked down at the black and silver card, then back up. “True crime? You write true crime? Like Ann Rule?”
That hack. “Yes. Exactly.”
“I don’t know how I can help you. We don’t have serial killers in Truly. There was one in Boise a few years ago, a female one, of all things. If you can believe that.”
Actually Maddie could believe it, since her friend Lucy had been a suspect, and since Maddie planned to write about the murderous rampage in the future.
“Nothing ever happens around here,” Carleen added and stuffed a bag of marshmallows on the shelf.
“I’m not writing about a serial killer.”
“What, then?”
Maddie’s grasp on her briefcase tightened and she placed her other hand in the pocket of her dress. “Twenty-nine years ago you worked in Hennessy’s Bar when Rose Hennessy shot and killed her husband, a cocktail waitress named Alice Jones, then turned the handgun on herself.”
Carleen stilled. “I wasn’t there.”
“I know. You’d already gone home for the night.”
“That was a long time ago. Why do you want to write about that?”
Because it’s my life. “Because not all interesting true crime stories are about serial killers. Some times the best stories are about real people. Normal people who snap and commit horrible crimes.”
“I guess.”
“Did you know Alice Jones?”
“Yeah, I knew her. I knew Rose too, but I don’t think I should talk about that. It was a real sad situation and people have moved on.” She shoved the business card back at Maddie. “Sorry, I can’t help you.”
Maddie knew when to press and when to take a step back. For now. “Well, think about it.” She smiled and kept one hand in her pocket and the other wrapped around the handle of her briefcase. “And if you change your mind, give me a call.”
Carleen slid the card into the front pocket of her blue apron. “I won’t change my mind. Some things are better left buried in the past.”
Perhaps, but what Carleen didn’t know but would find out was that Maddie rarely took no for an answer.
“No. I can’t help you.”
Maddie stood on the pockmarked porch of Jewel Finley, a second cocktail waitress who had worked at Hennessy’s at the time of Alice’s death. “It’ll just take a few moments.”
“I’m busy.” Jewel’s hair was in pink rollers and Maddie thought she detected the aroma of Dippity-do. Lord, did they still sell Dippity-do? “Rose was my good friend and I’m not goin’ to talk against her,” Jewel said. “What happened to her was a tragedy. I’m not goin’ to exploit her misfortune.”
Her misfortune? “My purpose is not to exploit anyone, but to tell everyone’s side of the story.”
“Your purpose is to make money.”
“Believe me, there are easier ways to make money.” Maddie felt her temper rise, but she wisely held back. “Is there a better time for me to come back?”
“No.”
“Perhaps when you’re not quite so busy.”
“I’m not goin’ to talk to you about Rose, and I doubt anyone else will talk to you neither.” She stepped back into her house. “Good-bye,” she said and shut the door.
Maddie stuck a business card in the porch screen and walked toward her Mercedes parked at the curb. Not only did Maddie not take no for an answer, she was like the damn Terminator and she’d be back.
“Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“That depends on if the fish are biting. Tomorrow, if it’s bad. Who knows, if it’s good.” Levana Potter looked at Maddie’s business card and turned it over. “But I can tell you that he remembers everything about that night.” The wife of the retired sheriff looked up. “It still haunts him.” She’d found Levana digging in the flower bed in the front of her ranch-style home, and the good news was that the sheriff would more than likely be willing to talk to Maddie. The bad news was her interview would have to wait on the capricious lake trout. “Did you know the parties involved?”
“Sure.” Levana stuck the business card in the pocket of her shirt, then shoved her hand back inside her gardening glove. “The Hennessys have lived in this valley for generations. I didn’t know Alice much. Just chatted the few times she came into the little ice-cream and gift store I used to own off Third. Pretty thing and seemed kind of sweet. Looked like an angel. She had a little girl, I know that. After Alice died, her aunt came and took her. I don’t know whatever happened to her.”
Maddie smiled a little. “Do you remember her name?”
Levana shook her head and her white permed hair wafted a bit in the breeze. “Heavens, no. That was twenty-nine years ago and I only saw her a few times. Heck, I have a hard time remembering my own name sometimes.”
“Alice lived at the Roundup Trailer Court.”
“Heck, that was torn down years ago.”
“Yes, I know. But I can’t find any records of people who might have lived there at the same time as Alice and her daughter.” In her diaries, Alice had mentioned a few women by their first names. “Do you recall a woman named Trina who may have lived next door to Alice?”
“Hmm.” Levana shook her head. “That doesn’t ring any bells. Bill will know,” she said referring to her husband. “He remembers everyone who ever lived in this town. I’ll give him your card when he gets back from his fishing trip.”
“Thank you. I’m not going to be here in town tomorrow, but I’ll be back the day after.”
“I’ll tell him, but it might be next week.”
Fabulous. “Thank you for your time.”
On the way home from the Potters’, Maddie stopped off at the grocery store and bought a roasted deli chicken and some Excedrin. Carleen had been guarded and uncooperative and Jewel had been openly hostile. Her head pounded, she was frustrated by her lack of prog ress, and she had an urge to put someone in a headlock.