Part 11 (2/2)

Joyce giggled and muttered a soft, ”Sorry.”

Annalisa dug around in a drawer and pulled out a handful of pastel hair clips. ”Yes, I did see the man you're talking about. He was out here in our parking lot a couple of times and standing around on the corner once or twice. Why?”

”The police haven't been able to make a positive ID,” I said. ”I'm trying to help them figure out where to look next.” Which was true. In a roundabout way. Anything I learned, I'd eventually share with Jawarski.

Paisley glanced over her shoulder and said, ”I heard he had a thousand dollars in his pocket when they found him. Is that true?”

I shook my head. ”I don't know. If he did, I haven't been told about it.”

”I have no idea who that poor man was,” Annalisa said, continuing our conversation as if Paisley hadn't spoken. ”But I know who might be able to tell you. I saw the man get into a car one day.”

”Is it true that he was a drug dealer?” Joyce asked, turning her head again and causing Annalisa to lose her grip on another strand of hair. ”I heard that he was.”

Rumors and gossip always spread fast in a town like Paradise, and obviously this time was no exception to that rule. I was itching to hear what Annalisa had to say, but I felt an obligation to nip rumors in the bud. ”Where did you hear that?”

”I don't remember,” Joyce admitted. ”I think somebody at the school told me. Or maybe it was the clerk at King Soopers.”

”I wouldn't believe anything you hear unless it comes in a statement from the police. Now, Annalisa, the car he got into . . . was it a dark-colored SUV?”

”An SUV?” Annalisa shook her head firmly. ”No. I saw him getting into a light-colored sedan. I don't know anything about an SUV.”

”How did he die?” Joyce asked. ”Is it true that he was stabbed to death?” She met Annalisa's eyes in the mirror and confided, ”Thomas says that he was stabbed, but you know how he is.” She smiled at me and dropped her voice to a confidential whisper. ”My husband's a bit of a know-it-all.”

I knew the answer, but I hadn't seen an official statement about cause of death from the police, so I shook my head. ”I'm afraid I can't say for sure,” I told her, and turned to Annalisa once more. ”Are you sure it was a sedan?”

”Of course I'm sure,” Annalisa said with a laugh. ”I know the difference between a sedan and an SUV.”

I sat back in the chair and tried to take in what she'd just told me. I'd been so focused on the SUV and Coach Hendrix, it had never occurred to me that John Doe might have had contact with other people in Paradise. ”Do you have any idea whose car it was?”

Joyce sat up straight in her chair. ”Ooh, do you, Annalisa?”

Pleased by the attention, Annalisa pinned up another section of hair and shrugged casually. ”Sure. I saw the man driving it clear enough.” She gestured toward the street and said, ”They met right out here on the corner.”

That made me sit up a little straighter, too. ”Who was it?”

Annalisa looked at me over her shoulder. ”It was Quentin Ingersol.”

”Quentin Ingersol?” I said, making no effort to hide my surprise. ”Are you talking about the real estate agent? The one whose picture is on the billboards and benches all over town?”

Paisley led her customer to the register and punched a couple of b.u.t.tons. ”One and the same.”

”What was the dead guy doing with him?”

”I'm sure I don't know,” Annalisa chided gently. ”I only saw the dead man getting into Quentin's car. I didn't hear what they said.”

”Of course not.” I smiled an apology. ”I'm just a little surprised, that's all.”

Annalisa picked up a pair of shears and steadied Joyce's head again. ”If some new guy came to town and wanted to buy property, this Quentin guy is probably the first one he'd go see. He's got his name everywhere.”

The man I'd seen out at Hammond Junction hadn't looked like your typical property owner, but what did I know? So Kerry Hendrix wasn't the only person in town with a connection to John Doe. It would be interesting to find out just what Quentin Ingersol knew about the dead man.

Chapter 20.

I would have liked to track Quentin Ingersol down right then and there, but a quick check of my watch told me that I'd already been away from Divinity for nearly an hour. Max and I hurried back, but I had trouble concentrating for the rest of the day.

Between customers, I spent the afternoon making more centerpieces for Richie and Dylan's dinner party and listening to Karen training Liberty. I had to admit that Liberty seemed bright and eager. She picked up everything Karen threw at her easily, and the questions she asked convinced me that she had processed the information.

The never-ending stream of chatter about everything from Rutger's favorite restaurant to Rutger's favorite television show to Rutger's lucky socks grated on my nerves after a while, but Karen didn't seem to mind, so I did my best to tune it out.

At seven, I tucked the bank bag under my arm and crossed the street to make the day's deposit, leaving Karen and Liberty to lock up behind me. The bank had long since closed its doors, but its after-hours window was still open when I got there, and two other people were already in line. I moved behind them and settled in to wait.

At the head of the line, a bulky man wearing a too-tight T-s.h.i.+rt and jeans that sagged from his hips argued mildly with a young teller named Chloe about a problem cas.h.i.+ng the check he'd given her. I didn't intend to eavesdrop, but we were stuck in a ten-by-ten foyer together. There really wasn't any way to avoid listening.

”I'm sorry,” Chloe said for the third time since I came through the door, ”there's nothing I can do.”

”Sure there is,” the man argued. ”Cash the check. I guarantee it's good.”

Chloe shook her head firmly. ”I can't cash a check of this size. Not from an out-of-state bank. You can deposit it into your account if you want, but I have to put a five-day hold on it because of the amount. It's the best I can do.”

”That's bulls.h.i.+t. I've been a customer of this bank for most of my life. Just cash the d.a.m.n thing, and let me be on my way.” Torn between natural curiosity and a reluctance to gawp at someone else's misfortune, I took another look at the man at the window, and this time I felt a shock of recognition.

Dwayne Escott. He just kept growing more charming every time I saw him.

Chloe's cheeks flushed pink, but she held her ground. ”I can't cash the check, sir, I'm sorry.”

”Then get your manager.”

The woman in front of me s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably at Dwayne's tone, and an uneasy feeling traced my spine. What was it with this guy? When had he become such a jerk?

”You're more than welcome to talk to the bank manager,” Chloe said, ”but you'll have to come back tomorrow. He's gone home for the day.”

”Well isn't that terrific. Okay, there must be someone around here who knows what they're doing,” Dwayne insisted. ”Find them. I'll wait.”

Irritation began as a low tickle at the base of my stomach and slowly worked outward. I tried to ignore it. I had enough trouble on my plate, I didn't need to ask for more. But I couldn't ignore the look on Chloe's face or the tone of Dwayne's voice as he chewed her out.

”I know what I'm doing,” Chloe said, but by this time her face had grown beet red. ”I can't cash the check for you, sir. I'm sorry.” She lowered her voice, but it still carried through the small bank lobby. ”I'm afraid your account is overdrawn and has been for several weeks. This isn't the first time, either. I can't give you cash, but if you'd like to make a deposit-”

”h.e.l.l no, I don't want to make a deposit,” Dwayne thundered. ”How many times do I have to tell you that? I want the d.a.m.n cash. I need the cash.”

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