Pall in the Family

She laughed and nodded. The phone rang and she held up a finger while she answered it.

 

I wondered why I hadn’t heard of this from my mother and aunt. They must have known that Sara and Gary had been fighting over the land. That would have only strengthened the argument that Gary had killed her. I’d heard about the developers wanting to put in a strip mall out along the coast highway. The town was very much divided on that score. Some were excited about the new stores and services it might bring in. Others were mourning the loss of the forest and the natural beauty of that area just outside town. And there was the give-them-an-inch camp that saw the strip mall taking over the whole town within months of its completion.

 

Lisa hung up the phone and offered to leave a message for Andrews.

 

“No, that’s okay. I’ll try to reach him later. Hey, do you have any news on Gary Landess?” I knew I was pushing my luck, but I had to try.

 

“No, he’s still back in holding. They’re waiting to transfer him to Grand Rapids. His lawyer has been in and out all day demanding this, that, and the other.” Her hair didn’t move when she shook her head.

 

“Nothing new, then?”

 

“Well, you know they don’t tell me much.” She frowned. “But, I’m pretty sure they’re treating it like it’s all wrapped up.”

 

 

 

 

 

12

 

 

 

 

I left the police station lost in thought and found myself a few minutes later in front of Stark’s place. How convenient. It concerned me that I was practically haunting the Grill—I didn’t want to be lumped in with the “regulars” who sat in the back booth and gossiped all afternoon—but these were desperate times. I needed to talk to Alex now.

 

It was after the lunchtime rush, so the dining room was mostly empty. I stepped inside. A young man with hair in his eyes was bussing tables in the slow and distracted fashion of the truly bored. He didn’t notice me weave through the dining area and up to the kitchen door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY.

 

Just as I was about to push it open, it swung toward me and would have given me a black eye if I hadn’t jumped back in time.

 

“Oh, sorry,” said the Baxter-petting, Tish-arguing man.

 

“No problem. I was standing too close to the door,” I said. My mind raced through every person I had ever known trying to figure out how I knew this guy. It was the eyes that got me.

 

“If you’re looking for Alex, he’s in the back.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder, smiled, and headed out the front door.

 

The busboy gave him a “Later, dude” which didn’t help me at all.

 

I blinked and squinted at the bright lights of the kitchen. After the dim dining room, I was surprised the waitstaff didn’t routinely run into each other through temporary blindness.

 

I found Alex in the walk-in fridge, taking inventory of his produce. He dictated his list to a young man with a buzz cut and tattooed arms.

 

“Clyde, hi. Did anyone see you come back here?” He looked past me over my shoulder.

 

Not the warmest welcome, but I understood. Joe Stark had a strict policy on visitors to the kitchen.

 

“I don’t think so. The busboy is in some alternate universe and the dining room is empty.”

 

“Stark just left, Alex,” the assistant said.

 

“Oh, good.” Alex took the top pages and handed the clipboard to his assistant. “Come on back to the office,” Alex said to me.

 

“Hey, did you see a guy back here just before I came in? Shaved head? A little taller than me?”

 

“Yeah, that’s Milo.”

 

“Milo?”

 

“Milo Jones.” Alex said the name slowly, as if he was speaking to a recalcitrant busboy. “He’s the land developer in charge of the strip mall project out by the highway. He’s also Joe’s son, which apparently gives him the right to muck around in my kitchen.”

 

“That’s Milo Stark?” I could feel that my mouth was hanging open in an unattractive way, but I couldn’t help it. No wonder he’d looked familiar. But, he’d changed a lot since I’d seen him last. For one thing, he used to have gorgeous dark curly hair.

 

“Milo Jones. I don’t know why they have different last names. Joe introduced him as his son.” Alex shrugged and sat at his desk, unbothered by the reappearance of Milo Stark.

 

“Don’t you remember the Milo Stark scandal?” I said, and sat in the only other chair. “I was still in junior high when it happened. I guess it had all died down by the time you moved here in high school.” I was mostly mumbling to myself—a habit Alex adored.

 

“What are you talking about?” He sighed, glowered at me, and set down his papers.

 

“Milo has been gone for a long time. I heard he joined the army. Then I heard he was dead. No one knew what happened to him.” I was talking fast, feeling edgy as I remembered those days after Julia Wyatt went missing.

 

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