“I told my mother that we were having breakfast in town,” Hank said when Frankie came out of the bedroom fully dressed and showered the next morning. He had his jacket on and smelled of the outdoors, which she figured meant he’d walked down to the main house to talk to his mother.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he said now. “If you want to talk to Naomi’s mother, we need to catch her before she goes to work.” With that, he turned and went back into his bedroom.
Frankie smiled after him. He was still angry but he hadn’t fired her. Yet.
She went into the kitchen and made herself toast. Hank didn’t take long in the shower. He appeared minutes later, dressed in jeans and a Western shirt, his dark, unruly hair still damp at his collar as he stuffed on his Stetson and headed for the door. She followed, smiling to herself. It could be a long day, but she was glad she was still employed for numerous reasons, number one among them, she wanted to know now more than ever what had happened to Naomi Hill.
Lillian Brandt lived in a large condo complex set back against a mountainside overlooking Meadow Village. She’d married a real-estate agent after being a single mother for years, from what Hank had told her. Big Sky was booming and had been for years, so Lillian had apparently risen in economic stature after her marriage compared to the way she’d lived before Naomi died.
From her research, Frankie knew that Big Sky, Montana, once a ranching area, had been nothing more than a sagebrush-filled meadow below Lone Mountain. Then Chet Huntley and some developers had started the resort. Since then, the sagebrush had been plowed up to make a town as the ski resort on the mountain had grown.
But every resort needed workers, and while million-dollar houses had been built, there were few places for moderate-income workers to live that they could afford. The majority commuted from Gallatin Gateway, Four Corners, Belgrade and Bozeman—all towns forty miles or more to the north.
Lillian was younger than Frankie had expected. Naomi had been four years younger than Hank. Frankie estimated that Lillian must have had her daughter while in her late teens.
“Hank?” The woman’s pale green eyes widened in surprise. “Are you back?”
“For a while,” he said and introduced Frankie. “Do you have a minute? We won’t take much of your time.”
Lillian looked from him to Frankie and back before she stepped aside to let them enter the condo. It was bright and spacious with no clutter. It could have been one of the models that real-estate agents showed prospective clients. “I was just about to leave to go to the office.” She worked for her husband as a secretary.
“I just need to ask you a few questions,” he said as she motioned for them to take a seat.
“Questions?” she asked as she moved some of the pillows on the couch to make room for them.
“About Naomi’s death.”
The woman stopped what she was doing to stare at him. “Hank, it’s been three years. Why would you dig all of it back up again?”
“Because he doesn’t believe she killed herself,” Frankie said and supplied her business card. “I didn’t know your daughter, but I’ve heard a lot about her. I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am.” Then she asked if it would be okay if Mrs. Brandt would answer a few questions about her daughter. “She was twenty-six, right? Hank said she was ready to get married.”
Lillian slumped into one of the chairs that she’d freed of designer pillows and motioned them onto the couch. “It’s all she wanted. Marriage, a family.”
“Where was she working at the time of her death?” Frankie asked.
“At the grocery store, but I can’t see what that—”
She could feel Hank’s gaze on her. “Is that where she met her friend Carrie?”
Lillian nodded. Her gaze went to Hank. “Why are you—”
“I’m curious,” Frankie said, drawing the woman’s attention back again. “Was there anyone else in her life?”
“You mean friends?”
“Yes, possibly a male friend,” Frankie said.
The woman blinked before shooting a look at Hank. “She was in love with Hank.”
“But she had to have other friends.”
Lillian fiddled with the piping along the edge of the chair arm. “Of course she had other friends. She made friends easily.”
“I’m sure she did. She was so beautiful,” Frankie said.
The woman nodded, her eyes shiny. “She got asked out a lot all through school.”
“Do you remember their names?”
Lillian looked at Hank. “She was faithful to you. If that’s what this is about—”
“It’s not,” Hank assured her.
“We just thought they might be able to fill in some of the blanks so Hank can better understand what happened to Naomi. He’s having a very hard time moving on,” Frankie said.
The woman looked at Hank, sympathy in her gaze. “Of course. I just remember her mentioning one in particular. His name was—” she seemed to think for a moment “—River.” She waved her hand wistfully. “Blame it on Montana, these odd names.”
“You probably don’t remember River’s last name,” Frankie said.
“No, but Carrie might. She knew him too.” Lillian looked at her watch. “I really have to go. I’m sorry.”
“No,” Frankie said, getting to her feet. “You’ve been a great help.”
“Yes,” Hank agreed with much less enthusiasm. “Thank you for taking the time.”
“It’s good to see you,” the woman said to him and patted his cheek. “I hope you can find some peace.”
“Me too,” he said as he shared a last hug with Mrs. Brandt before leaving.
* * *
HANK CLIMBED BEHIND the wheel, his heart hammering in his chest. “You aren’t going to give up on your other man theory, are you?”
“No, and you shouldn’t either,” Frankie said from the passenger seat.
He finally turned his head to look at her. Gritting his teeth, he said, “You think she was cheating on me? Wouldn’t that give me a motive for murder?”
“I don’t think she was cheating. I said she had someone waiting in the wings. Big Sky is a small town. I suspect that if she’d been cheating on you, you would have heard.”
“Thanks. You just keep making me feel better all the time.”
“I didn’t realize that my job was to make you feel better. I thought it was to find a killer.”
He let out a bark of a laugh. “You are something, you know that?”
“It’s been mentioned to me. I’m hungry. Are you going to feed me before or after we visit Naomi’s best friend, Carrie?”
“I’m not sure I can do this on an empty stomach, so I guess it’s going to be before,” he said as he started the pickup’s engine.
“Over breakfast, you can tell me about Carrie,” she said as she buckled up.
“I don’t know what you want me to tell you about her,” he grumbled, wishing he’d gone with his instincts last night and stormed into her bedroom and fired her. Even if he’d had to kick down the door.
“Start by telling me