Alex parked in front of Peterson’s Grocery. Nathan was meeting her at Pete’s Diner for lunch in half an hour, which gave her time to interview Kyle Peterson. And she didn’t look forward to it.
As a kid, she’d been scared of Kyle. He’d been close to thirty when he came back to Pearl Springs to help his grandfather in the store, and he was always so grumpy, talking mean to the kids who came into the store—never when a parent was around, though. Kyle no longer frightened her, but she still didn’t like to shop at the grocery when he was there.
She liked his grandfather, though, even if he had tattled to Gramps that she’d pranked him. Alex climbed out of her SUV and entered the store, smiling at the jingle of the bell over the door that had been there as long as she could remember. Mr. Peterson was behind the counter in his usual place, and the store appeared not to have any customers at the moment.
Or any sign of Kyle. If he wasn’t here, she could talk to Mr. Peterson. The older man’s memory was sharp, and he might’ve heard something around the time of the Bennett murders. “Good morning, Mr. Peterson. Do you still keep Prince Albert in a can?”
He laughed. “Actually, I do. Can’t tell you how long I’ve had it, though. Not many people roll their cigarettes these days.”
“Do you still get calls telling you to let him out?”
“Been years since that happened. Can’t say as I’m sorry either,” he said with another chuckle. “But it’s good to see you looking as lovely as ever.”
She grinned. “And you need new glasses.”
He leaned on his cane as he shuffled to the cash register. “Bah! You know you’re the vision of loveliness.”
She wished. Now Dani, on the other hand . . . “You might not be Irish, but you certainly have the gift of gab.”
He laughed. “Oh, but I am—on my mother’s side. Now what can I do for you?”
Alex looked around the small store. “Is Kyle here?”
“Gone to the bank, but he’ll be back soon to help with the lunch rush—a lot of people drop in around noon to get a sandwich—I make a mean ham and cheese.”
Looked like it would just be Mr. Peterson. Alex propped a foot on the railing at the bottom of the counter. “I know Mark told you we’ve reopened the investigation into the Bennett murders. I’m looking for any information that someone might have that would help crack the case.”
“Thought that might be why you’re here. I’ve been searching my memory ever since Danielle and your nice K-9 officer left.” His face grew somber. “Such a sad thing to happen.”
“I know. I was too young to know much about it, but I’ve been getting familiar with the case through my grandfather’s files.”
He perched on the stool beside the counter. “Then you know, of course, that my grandson lost his job over that robbery?”
“I do,” she replied. “Did Kyle have anything to do with the burglaries?”
Mr. Peterson didn’t answer right away. “I don’t rightly know how to answer your question. I asked him after the Bennett girl left, and Kyle said he didn’t. Can I prove he didn’t? Other than he’s never lied to me before, no.”
“Did you ask him about the Bennett murders?”
The older man shook his head. “No need to. My grandson did not kill the Bennetts. And his girlfriend at the time said he was at her apartment the night the murders took place.” His mouth turned down. “Not that I approved of him staying the night with her.”
“Do they still stay in contact?” Alex knew they hadn’t married because Kyle was single, or at least they weren’t married now. And from the gossip she’d heard since she’d returned to Pearl Springs, he didn’t have a very active dating life.
“You’d have to ask Kyle that. I don’t even remember her name.”
“I’ll do that.” She glanced down at her notes. Chattanooga PD had included an address in the file, but Alex didn’t know if it was current. “Do you know if she’s moved?”
Mr. Peterson lifted an eyebrow and peered at Alex over his round glasses. “It’s been twenty-five years. If I don’t remember her name, I dare say I won’t remember where she lived.”
“Her name is Crystal Davis,” Alex said. Mr. Peterson was touchy about his grandson, which surprised her. They never seemed that close the few times she’d shopped in the store, always snapping at each other. Alex made a note to check with Chattanooga PD for a current address. “Do you mind telling me what you remember about the murders?”
He stared at the floor. “The Bennett murders . . . sad thing. I’ll grant you, the brothers made bad choices, but that was a terrible price to pay. The whole thing was a bad affair. First to find out they were involved with those burglaries—Bobby, yeah, but I never figured Keith to get involved in anything like that. Then Bobby and Neva getting killed, especially since Neva had nothing to do with the burglaries. I worried that Mae Richmond wouldn’t get over her daughter dying like that and then her granddaughter disappearing.”
The bell over the door rang, and a customer hurried in. Alex waited while she picked up a loaf of bread and lunch meat and paid the grocer.
“Any thoughts on who might’ve killed them?” Alex asked when the customer left.
“Not a one . . . except it wasn’t Kyle. He had an alibi.”
“The girlfriend.”
“Not just the girlfriend—he’d had his car serviced the day before and had a record of his odometer reading. The day of the murders he’d only put fifteen miles on his car. Should be in your grandfather’s files—Sheriff Stone questioned him.”
Alex made a note to check the files. “Any other thoughts?”
Mr. Peterson shifted on his stool. “I figure whoever headed up that ring was mighty upset when Bobby Bennett took off with those diamonds.”
“How did Kyle feel about losing his job the very next day?”
“Like he was tried and convicted without a jury. It’s eaten at him like battery acid, and I don’t blame him for being bitter.”
“I can see how he would feel that way,” Alex replied.
“I do recall thinking it a little strange when Ralph Tennyson pulled his family out and relocated to Texas right after it happened. There’s no law against that . . . but Ben was pretty wild back then. I’ve always wondered if he got involved in that mess someway.”
Her grandmother had mentioned the same thing. “Anything else?”
Mr. Peterson glanced toward the ceiling. “I heard about somebody buying stolen goods around here not long before it happened. Never found out who it was, though. I imagine that’s all in your grandfather’s files.”
“What can you tell me about Toby Mitchell?”
“I told your K-9 officer what I know.”
“Where does he go when he doesn’t want to be found?”
“He likes to hunt and fish when he’s not at the pool hall or bar.”
“Where does he do that?”
“Pearl Lake for fishing, and any place around here that doesn’t have a ‘No Hunting’ sign.”
“And when he’s not at any of those places?”
“Sometimes he hangs out at the county airport.”
“Why would he hang out there?”
“You’d have to ask him.”
Her cell phone dinged with a text. Nathan. He was leaving his office for the diner, and Peterson was stonewalling her. Her time would be better spent brainstorming with the police chief. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Peterson. I’ll come back later and talk to Kyle.”
“Anytime, Chief Deputy,” the grocer said.
She nodded and walked to the door. Mr. Peterson was hiding something or protecting someone. Alex didn’t know if it was Toby or Kyle. Or both.