Without seeing any of the Pearly Girls on her way out, she hiked back to the van and kicked off the shoes pinching her toes. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her it was lunchtime. She detoured into town and found a parking spot on a side street next to Feeling Saucy. Pizza was what was needed to celebrate the little victory today. Cancellation of the concerts would have blown a crater in her bottom line. She was counting on that money to finance some improvements to the property this fall. I’m glad we dodged that bullet.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, she opened the restaurant’s glass door.

  “Hey, Cassidy. Great work. And thanks for all you do. What can I get you?” Sal motioned for her to choose a table. “I appreciate all of the businesses in town who supported me and make this a great place to live.”

  She settled in a red vinyl booth in the corner. “I think I’ll have two slices of sausage and a Coke. You make the best pizza.” Her phone pinged, alerting her that perfect weather for the next three days was on its way.

  “It’ll be there in a flash.” The meatball of a man with the white apron disappeared into the kitchen. Cassidy skimmed her email, filled with several thank-you notes from local business folks. A dark shadow crossed her table, causing her to look up.

  Deputy Turner stood next to the table. “Hello. You got some good news at the meeting. Mind if I join you?”

  She nodded and he slid into the seat across from her, setting his uniform hat on the bench next to him.

  Cassidy hoped she didn’t look surprised at his attempt at friendliness. Usually, he was prodding for information or making some surly comment instead of starting a conversation. “How are things going?”

  “I’m sure you heard the sheriff’s update. We’ve been working round the clock on the Johnny Storm murder. The sheriff is putting a lot of resources on this.”

  When Sal approached with Cassidy’s order, he greeted the deputy. “Hi. Good to see you, sir. What can I get for you?”

  “Thought I’d get a jump on lunch before the crowd rolled in. I’ll have a small pie with everything and a root beer.”

  “One junk pizza coming up. Be back in a sec.” Sal pressed the round tray against his side and disappeared in the back.

  The deputy encouraged Cassidy to eat her pizza before it grew cold.

  Cassidy stared into the deputy’s deep green eyes, not knowing what to think of this kinder, friendlier side of the man. Who is this guy and what does he want? I usually only get ’tude from Deputy Zac. He must be looking for something. We’ve never had a friendly convo before. Or lunch for that matter. Maybe we’re turning over a new leaf.

  Taking a bite and chewing slowly, she formulated what she wanted to say. Perhaps, if he was in a chatty mood, this could be a great opportunity to get some information. She lowered her voice even though no one was near enough to hear their conversation. “So is it true you’re focusing on the people in Johnny Storm’s life and not someone from town or a random serial killer running around on the loose?”

  “It was only one murder, so no, no serial killer.” His tone shifted slightly. “And yes, we’re focusing on his past personal and business relationships. There are several suspects with motives. It takes a while to sift through all the interviews and calls we’ve had. The tipline has been on fire.”

  Cassidy took a bite of her pizza. Peeking through her eyelashes, she caught him staring at her. She grabbed her napkin and wiped her lips, hoping there was no sauce on her face.

  He looked away and a slight flush reddened his cheeks. “We have to take everything seriously until we can discount it. A murder investigation is not like what you see on TV. It is a long and methodical process.”

  “I feel better knowing there’s not a murderer out there stalking his next victim, especially since I live so close to where it happened. I feel like I’m always looking over my shoulder.”

  “The killer’s still running around out there. Everyone needs to be vigilant.” His words dampened her sense of relief.

  Cassidy pursed her lips. “I know, but it’s kinda nice to know it probably isn’t a neighbor or a friend. I couldn’t think of any reasons why a townie would want him dead. Most who are old enough to remember the band were starstruck they were here in Ivy Springs.”

  Sal edged to the table and put the deputy’s pizza and drink in front of him. “Here you go. Youse guys let me know if you need anything else. I’ll be in the back prepping for the lunchtime rush. Enjoy your food.” Sal winked then hustled toward the kitchen.

  The deputy nodded and dug into his meal. The conversation faded as they ate. Between bites, Cassidy stole glances at the attractive deputy.

  Not able to let go of the notion of pumping the deputy for information, Cassidy tried another angle. “Any idea on the murder weapon? I heard the investigators talking about a garrote. And I saw the wire around his neck that awful morning.” She wrinkled her nose and took a sip of her drink.

  “We found a drumstick in your flower bed with some indentations in it and another in the pond with the body.”

  “Indentations?”

  He picked up a fork and held it in front of him, pretending to wrap something around it. Then he picked up a spoon and held it in the opposite hand. “There’s a handle on each end.” He wiggled the spoon and fork. “When they used it for leverage to choke someone, the wire or the string cut into the wood of the drumstick. Hence the indentations.” He pretended to pull tightly on his imaginary weapon and made a scrunched-up face.

  “The wire was a guitar string, right?” When he nodded, she pressed further. “Do you think the materials used were chosen on purpose?”

  “Could be,” he mumbled around a mouthful of pizza. “They may belong to the killer, or they could have been used to frame someone.” He shrugged his shoulders, swallowed, and then took another bite of his overloaded pizza.

  Cassidy’s eyes widened. “Sounds awful either way. Do you think it was planned like the setup you mentioned? Or do you think it was random like someone grabbed things that were handy in the heat of the moment to make a weapon?”

  Realizing he may suspect she was still investigating on her own she avoided mentioning she had researched the history of the garrote, if for no other reason than to stave off another lecture.

  He furrowed his brows. “It probably took some time to make the device, so I don’t think it was something that happened on a whim. It also takes a bit of strength to wrap and bend a thick guitar string.”

  “So, it was probably someone with the band who had access to wires and drumsticks,” she whispered, leaning forward. That should let Roxie off the hook.

  Deputy Turner stared intently at her for a few seconds. “By the angle, it probably was someone taller than him. They’d have to be able to subdue the victim and choke them with a guitar string, even using a garrote. There was no indication the body was dragged to your garden. The medical examiner is pretty certain it happened there. And there were no signs on the body that he had been bound or tied. It looks like the killer attacked him in your garden. We’ll know more when the autopsy’s completed. And it makes sense the victim probably knew his killer.”

  A tingle shot through Cassidy. Dirk had drumsticks. Jack, Karl, and even Johnny had access to guitar strings. I guess anyone with the band could get hold of equipment easily. They are looking at his acquaintances. On the one hand, she was relieved it wasn’t someone she knew and trusted, but now she would constantly be looking over her shoulder while the band was on her property. “Drumsticks and guitar strings.”

  “Or a wire,” he corrected.

  Too late. You slipped. You already said it was a guitar string. Beau mentioned it, too.

  Cassidy decided silence was the best policy before she dug a deeper hole for herself with the observant deputy.

  He didn’t press for more from her or accuse her of doing what he had repeatedly told her not to do—investigate on her own. “Keep an eye out and call us if anything looks weird or you have any more dustups.”

  “The band members definitely do lead more hectic lives than I’m used to.” Cassidy glanced across the table. She racked her brain for something to keep the conversation going without making it look like she was prying for information. “So, what do you do for fun when you’re not chasing the bad guys?”

  He returned her stare.

  I hope I didn’t just cross a line. This is awkward. With my luck, I just killed the gabby thing we had going.

  He recovered quickly from his surprised look. “I run, and I referee lacrosse and football when I can. My work schedule doesn’t leave a lot of free time.” He took a swig of his drink and set the plastic cup down with a thud. “What do you do for fun?”

  “Me?” A flush rushed to her cheeks. “I grew up here, but I moved away for college and my first job. A lot has changed, and some things never do. My grandma died, and I took over her business, so I haven’t had a lot of free time either. I like hiking and kayaking. And I love hanging out with Elvis. And music. I love all kinds of music.”

  “You stay busy. Your family owned the legendary saloon everyone talks about.” He pushed his plate away.

  She nodded. A light went on for Cassidy. He knew more about her than she realized. “That’s before my time, but yes, the remnants of the old place are still there. I hike back there sometimes. It’s near the cave on the property.”

  “Sounds like it was a popular place during its day. Asa has a lot of tall tales from his honky-tonk days.”

  “Where did you grow up?”

  “Waynesboro. After college, I joined the Marines. The War on Terror was in high gear, and I did three tours in Afghanistan and Iraq as an MP. When I got out, I took a job with the Charlottesville PD.”

  “How did you end up here?” she asked.

  “There was an opening. Not much was happening careerwise in C-ville. All the next-level promotions were filled by guys who weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.” He stared at Cassidy for a beat. “When I interviewed with Sheriff Howell, he kept telling me it was a much smaller department, but I could do lots of different things. I was kinda pigeonholed in the other job. And here there’s a path to moving into a detective slot.”

  “That’s good. It’s a nice area. Do you live here? I mean, I never see you around town.” Heat rose in her face the longer he stared at her. I hope he doesn’t think I’m stalking him. It was just an observation. It’s a small town. And I’m curious.

  “Outside of town on Route 156. I rent an apartment over a lady’s garage. She’s widowed and retired and doesn’t mind having a police car in the driveway.”

  Cassidy grinned. Having a cop cruiser in your front driveway could definitely be considered a good thing to ward off criminals. “The people are friendly here, and there’re lots of things to do. It’s mountain country.”

  “Your cave sounds cool. You’ll have to give me a tour of it sometime.”

  The butterflies inside her awakened and bounced around.

  She nodded, but before she could comment, he pulled out his wallet as Sal approached.

  “No charge. We’re celebrating the music festival.” Sal waved off his attempt to pay.

  “I can’t let you do that,” Cassidy and the deputy said in unison.

  “Then leave a tip. A big tip. A giant tip. I’m celebrating today and looking forward to more concerts and events. See, I have the poster in the window.” He cracked a smile and shuffled toward the back.

  “Thanks for lunch.” Zac stood, grabbing his hat off the bench. “It was nice to sit at a table for a change. I usually eat in the cruiser or at my desk.” He dropped money on the table to cover his meal. “See you around.”

  She stared at the back of his tall frame in his black uniform. The polyester shirt stretched across his back and arms. He had the physique of a weight lifter—broad shoulders and a cinched waist. She shook off the weird feeling and added more money to the pile on the table.

  “Thanks, Sal,” she called as she hurried out the door. The deputy’s cruiser pulled away from the curb. When he passed, he saluted with two fingers. She returned a quick wave and hurried to the van. She needed to get back and do some more research now that she had a new focus.

  TUESDAY EVENING

  Cassidy spent the afternoon searching the internet for anything remotely related to Johnny Storm’s death. However, she did get a bit distracted for a few minutes on the Ivy Springs Sheriff’s Office web page, which led to some poking around. According to the staff page, Deputy Turner ran track and played football, soccer, and lacrosse in high school and college. He had a whole list of professional commendations and certifications in law enforcement. Not learning anything new about the deputy, she searched for him on social media. Figures. He’s flying under the radar with no social media presence except LinkedIn, and he hasn’t posted anything there in a year.

  After a couple more Google searches, she found several online articles about his high school accomplishments and sports awards and one about his Marine Corps promotion. She smiled at the younger pictures of him in a football jersey and his dress blues. Lately, he’d made attempts at being friendlier, but he always reverted back to his all-business, scowling self. Sometimes, he was hard to read.

  Chiding herself for spending so much time checking out the deputy, she did another search for the Weathermen. “Now that’s interesting.” Elvis lifted his head. When he didn’t see any snacks, he rolled over in his bed. “Well, I think it’s worth noting.” It seemed at the beginning, there was another bandmate, Phillip Peters. He had multiple stints in rehab, and the rest of the band voted him out in 1975. He spent most of his time bad-mouthing the rest of the guys. “Maybe that could be a motive? And he kinda looks familiar. Have I seen him recently?” Her brain replayed memories of the recent concerts and people she talked to.

  “Probably not.” Roxie blew in, dropping a shopping bag and her green Michael Kors purse onto the other desk.

  “Hey, I didn’t even hear you come in. How are you?”

  “Good. And I’m stealthy. Just looking for a couple of things. I’m having drinks with my book club in town in a bit.” Roxie’s smile almost resembled the Grinch’s in the cartoon classic.

  “Why don’t you think I could’ve seen Phillip Peters recently? He looks a little familiar, but I can’t place him.”

  “Keep researching. He died in the early eighties from a drug overdose. Rumor has it he was blackmailing someone in the record industry. He had been blackballed and was sponging off anyone who would take him in. He fell hard. Ruthanne liked him, and she was disappointed about how it all turned out. Another sad rock-and-roll tale.”

  “Tragic. Rats. I thought I might have a lead to check if he was skulking around town. Another guy affiliated with the band also overdosed…” Cassidy skimmed through her notes. “One Eddie Merritt.” She skimmed her notes.

  “Yep,” Roxie said. “He took Phillip Peters’s place. It was short-lived. And it was an interesting time in the seventies and eighties. There were a lot of drugs, and AIDS had arrived on the scene. Kind of scary. Anyway, the band decided to stick with Johnny, Jack, Karl, and Dirk after that. Hey, a foursome worked for the Beatles and the Monkees. Sorry to burst your bubble. You’ll have to find some new leads.” Roxie pulled out a sketchbook from a pile on her desk. “I wanted to work on some designs tonight. TTFN. See you tomorrow.” She breezed out the front with a wave over her shoulder.

  “Well, Elvis. I guess it’s back to the old drawing board.”

  The front door opened. Elvis yipped and tore into the front room.

  “You back already? Did you forget something?” Cassidy followed the dog’s path.

  “Uh, no.” In the foyer stood the concert promoter, Steve Owens, with his trusty sidekick, Bianca, behind him, engrossed in whatever was on her phone.

  “So sorry, I thought you were my colleague. She left seconds ago. How can I help you?”

  “Didn’t see her.” Bianca didn’t even lift her head. Steve rolled his eyes at his young assistant.

  “Just wanted to touch base. I’m glad the town decided not to shut us down. I brought you the updated schedule.” He turned toward Bianca.

  She finally glanced up and shifted around for something in her messenger bag. She pulled out several loose sheets of paper and handed them to Cassidy. “Here you go. Hot off the printer. Well, sort of.”

  “Thanks.” Cassidy flipped through the pages. “It doesn’t look like there were too many changes.”

  “Nope. We had to switch days for two of the bands. One of them had some bus trouble in Ohio. Glad it’s nothing major. Everything good on your end?” Steve checked his watch.

  Cassidy nodded. “We’re ready to go and glad we get to stick to the plan. Sometimes, the traditional factions in town like to flex their muscle and lodge protests about any kind of progress. I’m grateful they were outvoted this time.”

  “Well, keep up what you’re doing. You have a lovely place here. Even with the, uh, unpleasantness. I’d like to talk to you about doing something else next summer if you’re interested. I’ll call you in a couple of weeks to talk about another tour. Your ticket sales were good.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” A jolt of excitement bounced around inside, turning into butterflies in the pit of Cassidy’s stomach. Yes! Just what I need to boost revenues. And it keeps the music connection to the past alive and well. My grandfather would have liked that. See, I can do traditions with a modern twist!

  As the promoter plunked a pair of aviator glasses on his nose, Cassidy decided to probe for some information. “Any word from the sheriff or the medical examiner about Johnny Storm?”

  “Nope.” He shook his head and strode toward the door with Bianca following along in his wake. “But I doubt I’d get any updates. Nothing other than that he was strangled in your garden. I heard his ex-wives and family members are all bugging Beau about the will. Mr. Storm seems to have socked away a pretty nice nest egg. And the creditors are calling, too. Even after Johnny’s death, Beau still has his hands full cleaning up all Johnny’s dirty work.”