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  Nicole laughed. “No complaints here.”

  That’s me. Longly, Jake Longly. Super lover.

  “But you’re right,” Nicole said. “Too much real thinking does give him a headache. But he’s cute.”

  “So, what’s your big idea?” Ray asked, bringing everyone back to reality.

  “I think there must have been more than one killer,” I said.

  “Based on?”

  “One person would’ve had a hard time controlling two people.”

  “That’s what guns are for,” Ray said.

  “Yeah, but transporting and keeping an eye on them wouldn’t be easy. Warren said that according to the ME there was no evidence they had been restrained in any way. No bruises or tape residue.”

  “Trunk,” Pancake said. “Or he sat in the back with his weapon on them.”

  “That’s what I said,” Nicole added.

  “Great minds.” Pancake unwrapped his third burrito, took a bite. “But I agree with Jake. Two guys would make more sense.”

  “He came up with that on his own,” Nicole said. She ruffled my hair. “He’s such a clever child.”

  Good Lord.

  “If that’s the case, it changes things,” Ray said. “Executed. By two hitters. Very pro. The question now is who? And why?”

  “Jake has some thoughts on that, too,” Nicole said.

  “You’re on a roll,” Pancake said. He finished the burrito and wadded the wrapper.

  “This sounds like it could be a drug thing,” I said. I told them what Warren had said. Jason had a pair of small bags of meth in his back pocket.

  Ray stared at me. “Didn’t expect that.”

  “Both Allison and Sean said Emily would never be involved in drugs,” I said. “And they knew her better than anyone, I suspect. Jason, no one really knows for sure. But secrets are secrets. Maybe Emily or Jason or both used on the sly. Got themselves into a bad situation.”

  “Maybe they owed money,” Nicole said.

  Pancake’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t want to hear that, to think that. He said, “Warren have any evidence of that?”

  I shook my head. “None. But drugs found on Jason, execution-style murders. It’s an interesting combination.”

  “And one we have to consider,” Ray said. “Something we should chat with Warren about. She would know the players in her domain.”

  “We’re on it,” Nicole said.

  On it? I was really beginning to dread those words. But she was now in full P.I. mode.

  “But, let’s say it isn’t that,” Ray said. “Where are we?”

  “Besides drug dealers and gangs, who else does this kind of thing?” I asked.

  “Maybe they were hired,” Nicole said. “By Sean. Or someone with issues with Jason.”

  “I dug into Sean’s finances,” Pancake said. “While this was still a divorce.”

  “I didn’t think he ever signed off on that,” I said.

  Pancake gave me a look. One that said permission wasn’t needed. That he could access whatever he needed. Which was true.

  “His bank accounts aren’t exactly flush,” Pancake said. “A few weeks ago, he took out fifteen hundred in cash, but other than that, I didn’t see any large amounts moved around.”

  “Fifteen hundred?” Nicole asked. “Would that be enough?” She scanned each of our faces. “What would it cost to have two people killed?”

  “More than a six-pack,” Pancake said. “Probably a few thousand.”

  “Or fifteen hundred?” I asked.

  Pancake shrugged. “You never know. I suspect they’re some guys who’ll do it for the price of the ammo.” He scribbled on the notepad that lay before him.

  “Sean said he had some car trouble,” I said. “A gasket or something. Maybe that money was to pay for the repairs?”

  “Could be,” Pancake said. “I’ll also take a peek at Jason’s situation. See if his finances were in order.”

  “If you’re thinking he might be dealing, or something like that, I don’t think he’d drop any proceeds into his bank,” Ray said.

  “But, if he got in over his head, he might’ve had to raid his bank accounts to pay off any debts.” Pancake shrugged. “Worth a look.”

  “Or he has a stash of cash,” Ray said. “Most dealers do.”

  “That’ll be harder to track,” Pancake said. “Not impossible though.”

  “Okay,” Ray said. “Let’s build a list of the people we need to talk with. Then you three head that way and begin your interviews.”

  “What about you?” I asked.

  “Got to run over to Biloxi for a couple of days. Another case.” He nodded toward Pancake. “We were both going, but he won’t now.”

  “Emily takes priority,” Pancake said. “I want the guy, or guys, that did this.”

  “It would be good to see them in cuffs,” Nicole said.

  “They won’t be needing any cuffs,” Pancake said. “Maybe a neurosurgeon.”

  CHAPTER 17

  WE DECIDED BOUNCING back and forth between Gulf Shores and Fairhope wasn’t the shrewdest strategy. The thirty miles could be slam, bang, done or, depending on the time of day, day of the week, and luck, the brutal traffic could quadruple the time and wear you out. Ray booked us rooms at the Grand Hotel in Point Clear, just a few miles south of Fairhope. Nicole and I packed up a few things and headed north. We made good time so by eleven thirty we were settled in our room and met Pancake in the lobby.

  The plan: Nicole and I would track down Charlie Martin, the other guy Emily was seeing, while Pancake sniffed around Jason’s world. Of course, we had to stop by Mullins Bakery to feed Pancake. Me, too. We sat with Allison while Pancake demolished three ham and cheese croissants. Nicole had a plain one, me a cinnamon roll. Lots of coffee.

  “Anything new?” Allison asked.

  Was there ever. A couple of little baggies in Jason’s pocket changed the flavor of everything. But Chief Warren had revealed that fact only because, on some level, she trusted us. And, we had promised to keep it under wraps. Anything we did to fracture what seemed to be a collaborative relationship with her would have serious blowback and could gum up our investigation. Yet, Allison and Emily had been very close and she might have some useful insights. I knew we had to tread carefully. Like tightrope walking on a windy day. But we had to cross that bridge, so to speak, sooner or later, and sooner seemed best. I put on my best casual face.

  “Not really,” I said. “But let me ask you something. Did anyone here, Emily, Jason, or Sean, use drugs of any kind?”

  The question surprised her. She actually recoiled slightly. Shoulders straight, eyes wider. I guess my casual face wasn’t casual enough. Pancake gave me a glance.

  “No,” Allison said. “For sure, Emily didn’t. Why are you asking that?”

  Pancake jumped in. “When two people are murdered the way Emily and Jason were, it often points to some underlying criminal activity. Drugs are sometimes involved.”

  “Not for Emily. No way. Jason, I don’t know all that well, but every time I was around him, he seemed—normal. Not stoned or hyped up or anything like that.”

  “Sean?” I asked.

  “No.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Emily told me that back when she and Sean started dating, he smoked a little from time to time. At first, she ignored it, but when things got serious between them, she put her foot down. No weed or she would break it off.”

  “Did he?” Nicole asked. “Stop?”

  “He did. Emily said he didn’t even protest.” Allison’s eyes glistened with moisture. “I hate this. All of this.” She dabbed her eyes with a wadded napkin. “I haven’t slept much lately. I keep replaying every conversation Emily and I ever had. Trying to make some sense of it.”

  “Some things don’t make sense,” Pancake said. “That’s the truth of it.”

  Nicole gave Allison a comforting hug, and we left her to her work. Pancake headed toward his truck. Nicole and I to Copeland’s Nursery for a c
hat with Charlie Martin.

  The young lady behind the counter, her name tag revealing she was Megan, told us that Martin was out on a delivery. When we asked about Mr. Copeland, she pointed toward the rear of the store, saying, “He’s out back helping a customer.”

  Out back was an explosion of greenery. Rows of trees and shrubs to the left, long raised bins of potted flowers and plants to the right, some shaded by a ten-foot-high mesh canopy that filtered the sun.

  I saw Carl Copeland near the far end of the shaded flower bins. I recognized him from the photos Pancake had gathered. He stood with a woman who wore jeans and a dirt-stained, aqua-blue shirt. She held a pair of six-inch pots that sported red pepper plants.

  While we waited for him to spring free, we roamed through the foliage. Nicole seemed to know the names of everything. Many I couldn’t pronounce, and spelling them was out of the question.

  “How do you know all this?” I asked.

  “I had a summer job during high school at a place very much like this.”

  She constantly amazed.

  Copeland helped his customer ferry a pair of plant trays inside and then came back out, walking toward us. “Megan said you wanted to see me,” he said.

  “We’re actually looking for Charlie Martin, but we hear he’s out on a delivery.”

  “He is. Should be back in a few minutes.” He gave a quick nod. “Anything I can help with?”

  “We’re private investigators,” Nicole said. “Looking into the murders of Emily Patterson and Jason Collins.”

  He stiffened slightly. “I see.”

  “Emily’s brother, Daniel, hired us,” I said.

  “Chief Warren onboard with this?”

  “She is,” Nicole said.

  “I grew up with Emily,” I said. “Daniel, too. Down in Gulf Shores. Before their family moved up this way.”

  Copeland nodded, shoulders relaxing. “So this is more than a professional inquiry?”

  “It is. My friend Tommy Jeffers and Emily were sixth-grade sweethearts.”

  “Pancake—that’s what folks call Tommy—is part of our firm,” Nicole said. “Longly Investigations.”

  Copeland gave a half smile. “Heard of them.” He looked at me. “You’re the baseball player?”

  “I was.”

  “Can we ask you a few questions?” Nicole said.

  “Sure.”

  “Charlie Martin? What kind of guy is he?”

  Copeland’s brow furrowed. “He’s not a suspect, is he?”

  “Not likely,” I said. “Truth is, we, Chief Warren, too, for that matter, are dead in the water. No real suspects. No leads at all. We’re trying to get a handle on all the folks in Emily’s life. See if anyone can point us in the right direction.”

  “That would definitely include Charlie,” Copeland said. “I suspect you know they were dating.”

  “We do,” Nicole said. “She was seeing Jason, too. How did Charlie feel about that?”

  “Not good. He was in love with Emily. No doubt about that. What happened to her really tore him up.” He sighed. “He’s been more or less a zombie since then. Not able to concentrate on his work, or anything else it seems.”

  “Is that a problem?” I asked.

  Copeland shook his head. “Charlie’s a good man. Good worker. Been with me awhile. I guess I can cut him some slack. Given the circumstances.”

  I liked Copeland. His sun-tanned, creased face, lean muscular build, and rough hands revealed a man who worked for a living. One of those guys with a kind, soft-spoken demeanor. I suspected he was a good boss.

  “I hear they were basically executed,” he said.

  “Where’d you hear that?” I asked.

  “From several people. Over at the coffee shop I stop by every morning for breakfast.”

  Small-town news never sits still. Spreads like a bad flu. I knew Warren wanted to keep that detail under wraps. I wondered who leaked it. And what Warren would do if she found out. I suspected it wouldn’t be pretty.

  I decided to neither confirm nor deny that fact. Instead, I asked, “Any idea who might’ve done something like that?”

  “Not Charlie, for sure. No way. Ain’t in his nature.”

  “That’s what we hear.”

  “Bet on it. Look, Charlie’s a quiet guy. Shy even. The boy ain’t got a mean bone in his body.” He looked at his feet. “He loved Emily. He’d never bring her any harm.”

  “From what we know so far, we agree,” Nicole said. “We’re hoping Charlie might give us some insight into Emily. Maybe Jason, too.”

  The sound of tires on gravel drew my attention. A white van, “Copeland’s Nursery” printed in black script on the side, crunched to a stop near a group of shrubs.

  “There he is now,” Copeland said.

  CHAPTER 18

  PANCAKE’S RESEARCH INTO Ira Sharp Jr. revealed he was forty-four and had worked at Sharp’s Used Cars since graduating from high school. He had taken over the operation eight years earlier on the death of his father, who had created the business on an expansive plot of land near the north end of town. Sharp’s had pumped out used cars for over thee decades. Financials showed the enterprise was profitable and stable. It enjoyed ninety-percent positive posts on the various online rating sites. For a used car dealer, that seemed amazing. Sure, there was the occasional “crooked,” “dishonest,” and “liars” sprinkled through the evaluations, but those were the outliers.

  Pancake parked next to a clean-looking, white Toyota 4-Runner with “$2499 As Is” in red paint on the windshield. Thirty other similarly decorated vehicles filled the lot. Overhead, alternating red, yellow, and blue triangular flags hung from sagging lines that stretched between light standards and flapped in the onshore breeze.

  As soon as he stepped from his truck, a salesman appeared. Young, looked high-school-age, short-sleeved, blue-checked shirt, clip-on navy tie, and a pleasant smile.

  “How you doing today?” he asked.

  “Fine. You?”

  “Good. Good. Can I show you anything? We have some very clean vehicles in stock.”

  Pancake scanned the lot. “Looks that way.” He turned back to the young man. The name tag on his shirt indicated he was Gregory. “I’m here to see Mr. Sharp.”

  “Oh.” He looked disappointed. “He’s in his office.” He pointed toward the building.

  Pancake entered a small showroom. Three cars sat at angles in the main, glass-enclosed space. To the left, a middle-aged woman looked up from behind a counter. She smiled.

  “I’m looking for Mr. Sharp,” Pancake said.

  “And you are?”

  “Tommy Jeffers. From Longly Investigations.”

  “Oh?”

  “I need to chat with him about Jason Collins.”

  “I see.”

  Ira Sharp Jr. came through the door behind her. He looked a little older, and a couple of biscuits heavier, than his photo on the website. “Did I hear you mention Jason?” he asked.

  “I did,” Pancake said. He repeated his name and affiliation.

  Sharp hesitated, then said, “Come on in my office.”

  “Thanks for seeing me,” Pancake said, taking the seat that faced Sharp’s desk.

  “Mr. Jeffers? Right?”

  “Folks call me Pancake.”

  Sharp smiled. “I like it. What can I do for you?”

  Pancake went through who he was, yet again, and that they had been hired by Emily’s brother, and that, yes, Chief Warren had given her blessing, and that they were looking into the murders of Jason and Emily.

  Sharp leaned back in his swivel chair. It creaked under his weight. “I’m here to tell you that Jason’s murder shocked everyone here. It don’t make much sense.”

  “Murder often doesn’t,” Pancake said. “You have any thoughts on it?”

  “You mean like who might’ve done it?”

  Pancake nodded.

  “None. Jason was a good kid. Been with us a couple of years. Hard worker. Good s
alesman. Never had no problems.”

  “I take it you knew he and Emily were dating?”

  “Sure. She’d drop by from time to time. And, of course, I’d see her over at the bakery.” He patted his belly. “Maybe too often. Very nice young lady as far as I could see.”

  “Any thoughts on their relationship? Emily and Jason?”

  Sharp slid aside a stack of papers and folded his hands on his desk. “Jason was smitten. I can tell you that. My impression is she was, too.”

  “She was seeing someone else though.”

  “You mean Charlie Martin?”

  “I do. Any issues there as far as you know?”

  “Jason wasn’t happy about it. I mean, who would be?” He shrugged. “But Jason told me once, recently, in fact, that Charlie and Emily were just friends.”

  “Do you think he really believed that?”

  A sigh. “Not really. I could tell it hurt him.”

  “He ever say anything that led you to believe Charlie could be a threat?”

  “Charlie?” He actually laughed. “Do you know him?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You plan on paying him a visit?”

  “We do.”

  “Then you’ll see for yourself. He’s a bit of a wimp.” Now he tapped a finger on the desktop. “I guess that wasn’t very nice. What I mean is that he’s very quiet and very passive as far as I know. He works over for Gene Copeland. At the nursery. Gene says he’s a good boy and a hard worker.”

  “That’s what we’ve heard.”

  Sharp glanced down toward his hands, then back up. “Look, I watch all those cop shows on TV. I know these love triangles can lead to some bad behavior. And I know the quiet ones are sometimes the worst ones. But, truly? Charlie Martin? I’m afraid I don’t see it.”

  “What about Emily’s ex? Sean Patterson?”

  “I don’t know him all that well. He dropped by a few weeks ago now. Something like that. Looked at some trucks. I think he had some issues with his car. Maybe a gasket thing. Don’t remember. So he was maybe interested in buying something. I think in the end he got his car fixed and that was that.”

  “Did Jason ever express any opinions on Sean?”

  “Just that he was Emily’s ex. Well, almost ex. I guess legally they were still married.”