The man had a quiet, kind voice, which did wonders to slow my racing heart.
I swallowed and pasted a polite smile on my face. “It’s fine. I was lost in thought. Am I in your way?” My gaze darted to the closed cooler door.
“No.” A pinched frown appeared on his weathered face. “You’re the lady who owns the coffeeshop, right? Next to the old antique store?”
“Yes.”
He studied me for several seconds, his brown eyes sad. “Do you know who I am?” he asked, finally, his voice even quieter than before.
I could only nod.
He studied me for another moment, searching my face. Looking for what, I couldn’t say. “I heard you bought that place.” His sad expression took on a hint of something more in the depths of his eyes. Something darker and angry. “And that you found—” He broke off, jaw clenched tight. Swallowing, he looked away. When his eyes met mine again, the sadness was gone, completely replaced by a simmering anger.
“Is it true?” he asked, his voice low.
“Yes.” The single word came out as a whisper.
His expression turned stony, but the anger still burned deep in his eyes. “I didn’t want to believe the rumors. I always held out hope she just ran away.”
It was my turn to frown. “Why would she run away? Was something going on?”
Guilt entered the mix in his brown-eyed stare.
Suspicion and a little dread mixed in my gut. Was I wrong about who murdered Moira?
I dashed that notion away. Why would he say he hoped she’d run away all those years ago if he murdered her?
“Not in the way you’re probably thinking,” Rich answered. “She wasn’t afraid of anyone.” His cheeks colored. “She was pregnant.”
I couldn’t hold back the gasp. “Oh my! Yours?”
He nodded, then offered me a sheepish smile. “I planned to ask her to marry me. I just needed a couple more jobs to save up enough money for a ring.”
“Did anyone else know you two were having a baby? Like a jealous ex or something?”
“No. We didn’t tell anyone. Not even our families. Her parents would have locked her away so I could never see her again. It wouldn’t have mattered that I loved her and wanted to marry her.”
That was interesting.
It was also motive. “Do you think they would have hurt her?”
Rich’s mouth tightened. “I’m not sure. Her dad would have been plenty angry, but murder?” He shook his head. “I can’t really see it. If he did kill her, though, how did she end up buried at the store?”
He had a point. I bit my lip, thinking. “If not them, then who?”
“I don’t know. She was tense a few days before she disappeared, but I didn’t think much of it. All she told me was there was an issue at work. I told the police this when she disappeared.”
“You did?” Ozzie hadn’t said anything about that. I couldn’t help but wonder if he knew. Maybe it didn’t make it into the detective’s notes back then.
He nodded.
“Have you talked to the detective on the case now?” I didn’t know how long he’d been back in town.
“No. But I will. I just got back from a trip.” Moisture gathered in his eyes. “Do you—” He stopped and swallowed hard, then tried again. “Do you know if she suffered?”
My heart lurched. I could not imagine what it was like to mourn your girlfriend all over again after thirty years. “They’re not sure. She… um, well, there wasn’t really much left for themto be able to tell how she died.” I was not about to tell him about the holes in Moira’s clothing. Ozzie could break that news.
“Oh. I suppose that’s true.” He pulled a breath in through his nose. “Thank you for speaking to me. I appreciate the information.”
