Hank Stevenson. Ex-husband of Darla Kennedy, who was the onetime best friend of Eleanor Lavelle. Suddenly, Jessica wasn’t quite so desperate to get rid of him.

“Jessica Shaw. You probably know by now why I’m in town.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

Stevenson was still wearing the ball cap but had swapped his work gear for jeans and a short-sleeved plaid shirt. The jeans were sharply creased down the middle of each leg, and she noticed the left one had a double fold where it hadn’t been ironed properly. Jessica pegged him as someone who still lived alone after the breakdown of his marriage.

Her eyes instinctively moved to his left hand. No wedding ring. She couldn’t decide whether Hank Stevenson was trying to hit on her or was just a nosy old bastard trying to find out information about her investigation. She guessed a bit of both.

“Found out anything interesting yet?” he asked.

“Bits and pieces.”

“Yeah? Can’t see how digging up the past is going to help anyone now. Me? I prefer to focus on the here and now.”

He scratched three-day-old gray stubble on his chin with dirty fingernails and gave her a smile that made Jessica’s flesh crawl.

“Your wife was best friends with Eleanor?” she asked.

“Ex-wife. And yes, she was.”

“What about you? Did you know Eleanor well?”

“Well enough. Not as much as Darla seemed to think, though.”

“What do you mean?”

Stevenson picked up his whiskey, studied it for a moment, and then took a long, slow drink. He emptied the glass, and Jessica followed suit. She caught Razor’s eye and indicated she wanted two more drinks. Stevenson watched the bartender pour, then continued with his story.

“Darla worshipped the ground Eleanor walked on,” he said. “What you need to understand about Darla is she never had many girlfriends before Eleanor showed up in town. She was quiet and lacked confidence, and the other girls at school never showed much of an interest in her. If they did, it was to make fun of her. Me and Darla, we were childhood sweethearts and got married a week after graduation, so she didn’t really need anyone else.”

Jessica watched as Razor walked over to Mack McCool’s booth and began collecting the playing cards from the floor before leaving them in a neat little pile on the table. She hoped he wasn’t expecting the old man back in the bar tonight. She wasn’t in the mood for round two.

Jessica turned her attention back to Hank Stevenson.