Page 16 of 44.1644° North
“Everyone I’ve talked to says no one knows the area better than you.”
Simon grimaced. “I wouldn’t say that. Maybe I know the history of the region better. There are plenty of people who know the geography better. Including George.”
George was the bartender who had referred me to Simon.
I smiled. “I’m starting to get the feeling nobody wants to take me up there.”
“Why would we? There’s nothing up there. It’s not a particularly scenic hike. And you’re not here for the scenery anyway.”
“True.”
Simon gave me a long look. “You know, people around here feel terrible about what happened to Deirdre. But she wasn’t a local kid. She wasn’t one of ours. And having our town turned into a permanent shrine for lookie-loos and wannabe detectives isn’t fun. Having outsiders wandering around suggesting one of us committed a heinous murder isn’t fun.”
“I imagine not.”
“You don’t have to imagine. I’m telling you. You know they’re going to cut down that oak tree.”
“The ribbon tree? Deirdre’s tree?”
“See, it’s notDeirdre’stree. And the property owner is fed up after nineteen years of tourists wandering around, digging up his land because they believe Deirdre’s buried there somewhere.”
“I’m sorry about the tree. Sorry that people are assholes. But I can’t help pointing out that you’re also the guy conducting tours of the crash site.”
He said grimly, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
“Ouch.”
Simon relented. “I’m not saying we regard all of you as enemies. There’s no question the vigil brings in a lot of business we wouldn’t have this time of year.”
George—short and muscular with dark, curly hair—appeared with our drinks, making his way through a crowd that had begun to thin as people retired to their motels and B&Bs to grab some sleep or edit videos and blog posts.
“Shandy for you.” He placed my ginger ale and beer in front of me. “Simon, another Double Clip.” He stepped back and studied us. “Everything set?”
I took a swallow from my mug, shook my head. “I’m going to have to find another guide.”
George looked at Simon, and Simon protested, “I didn’t say no. I just…didn’t say yes.”
“You know that hill like the back of your hand.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
George grinned. “I would!”
Simon looked a little irritated, but said to me, “I’ll take you up there on Sunday. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
George chuckled. “Don’t worry. His bark is worse than his bite.”
I paid for the drinks and left them bickering amiably as I excused myself to have another try at the much-in-demand sole restroom.
I was in luck.
When I exited a minute or two later, Rory was stationed at the pay phone again, fuming.
“It only takes cash,” he informed me. “It’s a fucking relic.”
“It’s a useful relic up here. Half the time I can’t get a signal.”
“Same.” He eyed me with a kind of frustrated indecision. “Have you had dinner?”
