Part 19 (1/2)
Not being one to let a little thing like that stop me, I followed her outside. ”So he didn't tell you why he was here?”
She lit a cigarette and inhaled until her cheeks caved in. ”If you leave now, I won't call the cops on you.”
”If I leave now, I won't find out what I want to know. Come on, Corelle. What's the harm in answering a few questions-unless you have something to hide?”
She glared at me, her eyes hard and pebbly. ”You don't give up, do you?”
”Afraid not.”
”Who did you say you were again?”
”My name's Abby Shaw. I own a candy shop downtown.”
”Yeah? I knew a lady owned a candy shop once. Name of Grace Something.”
”Grace was my great-aunt.” I'm not above name dropping when it might do me some good.
Corelle looked interested. ”No kidding? You Tuck and Elaine's girl?” I nodded, and she exhaled a thick plume of smoke. ”Well, I'll be. Why didn't you just say so? What do you want to know?”
Who could have guessed it would be so simple? ”Did Lou Hobbs tell you why he was in Paradise?”
”He told me he was here on business, but I don't think he was telling the truth.”
”Oh? Why not?”
”Because he mentioned a couple of places that haven't been around here in a while, like the roller rink over on Fairmont and Ray's Drive-In. If you want my opinion, he's been here before, but not for ten, fifteen years.”
That set me back a couple of paces. The places she'd mentioned had been popular teen hangouts for years, but they'd both gone out of business while I was living in California. Did that mean that Hobbs was from Paradise? That might explain his connections to Ingersol and Hendrix, but if he'd lived here, why hadn't anyone else come forward to say that they recognized him?
”Did he tell you what kind of business he had here in town?”
Corelle watched the smoke drifting up from the end of her cigarette. ”If he did, I've forgotten. He was a quiet one, I can tell you that. Didn't talk much at all. I tried making friendly conversation when he first moved in, but I guess he wasn't interested in talking to an old lady.”
”What about visitors? Did he ever have any?”
”None that I ever saw, except the first day he came to look at the place. Had a friend with him that day.”
Interesting. I wondered why she hadn't mentioned that to the police. ”Do you know who it was?”
She shook her head. ”Don't know his name, but I've seen him around. Big fella, kind of balding. Blond hair.”
Quentin Ingersol? He was tall and blond, and looking more suspicious by the minute. Or-Marshall? The thought made me almost sick. Or could it have been Dwayne? ”And Hobbs? Did you run a background check on him before you rented the room to him?”
Corelle gave a sharp laugh. ”Now, how would I go about doing that? I don't have that kind of money. Most of the time, I barely get from one end of the month to the other.” She took her last drag and crushed out the cigarette beneath her foot. ”Besides, he seemed all right.”
”Why do you say that?”
”I asked for a deposit, but he said he didn't have enough money. He'd been down on his luck, and he was here to get back on his feet. That's when his friend popped up and guaranteed that the rent would be paid.”
”The blond man.”
Corelle nodded.
”And you believed him.”
”I didn't have any reason not to.”
I could think of a few, but I kept them to myself. ”Did you happen to notice what kind of car they were in that day?”
”Sure. I may not know the driver, but I'd know that car anywhere.” Corelle turned toward the door and grinned at me over her shoulder. ”They were driving Marion Escott's Cadillac.”
Chapter 31.
”Abby! You remembered!” Beaming with delight, Marion Escott pushed open her screen door and ushered me into the cool, dark interior of her house. I held out the box of caramels I'd gone back to the shop to pick up, and glanced around to see if Dwayne was lurking nearby. I couldn't see him, but I hadn't noticed him immediately last time I was here either.
”I put in all your favorites, plus a couple of new varieties,” I told Marion as I sat on the sofa. ”I hope you like them.”
”I know I will.” Marion set the box aside and looked at me expectantly. ”You look worried, dear. Is something wrong?”
”I'm not sure,” I said, trying to ease into the conversation. ”Is Dwayne around today?”
”Dwayne?” Marion scowled in confusion. ”Do you need to talk to him?”
”I'm not sure,” I said again. The fact that she hadn't actually answered my question wasn't lost on me, but Marion has always been notoriously protective of her babies. ”Maybe I misunderstood what he said last time I was here, but I thought he told me he hadn't seen a man with a limp around town.”
Marion's spine straightened almost imperceptibly, but I knew she sensed a threat. ”If you're talking about the man who was murdered in town, I'm sure that's what he said. Dwayne wouldn't know anyone like that.”
Yeah. He was obviously too cla.s.sy to know any murdered people. ”Has he been driving your car while he's here?”
”Sometimes, why?”
”I'm afraid somebody saw him in town with Lou Hobbs, the murder victim, a couple of weeks before the murder.”
”That's ridiculous. Whoever told you that is lying.”
I didn't want to put Corelle in the hot seat, so I left her name out of it. ”The person I talked to said that Dwayne was driving your car.”
Marion shook her head firmly. ”Impossible. Dwayne told you he didn't know that man. If he says he didn't, then he didn't.”
I wondered what kind of mother and grandmother I would have made. Would I have been able to look at my offspring honestly, or would I have put blinders on and refused to see them as they really were? ”Has he ever mentioned the name Lou Hobbs to you before?”
”Was that the murdered man? Of course not.”
”What about Kerry Hendrix or Quentin Ingersol? Are either of them friends of his?”
Clearly angry, Marion got to her feet and shoved the box of caramels at me. ”I don't know why you're asking all of these ridiculous questions, Abby, but I don't like it. Dwayne is a good boy. He hasn't done anything wrong, and he doesn't know the man who was murdered. Now, I'll thank you to leave.”