“Too busy, really, but that’s the way it is, I guess.”
They walked in unison along the cobbled walkway toward the downtown, stopping at the entrance to Missy’s Bar and Grill. “And of course you’re getting ready to be a groomsman at Neill’s wedding. That’s going to be quite a party.”
“I’m looking forward to it. It’s about time those two got married, if you ask me.”
Bill shook his head slowly as they climbed onto bar stools and ordered two locally brewed draft beers. They talked sports, weather and the state of the fishing industry, and all during their conversation Neill sensed that Bill was working up to something.
Bill toyed with the napkin placed in front of him by the waiter. “Mind if I ask you a question?”
His tentative tone aroused Nate’s curiosity. “Sure.”
“How far would you go to find love?”
“What?”
Bill hunched forward. “What I mean is this. Look at Neill and Sherri. They were so in love and planned to be married when they were in high school. Then suddenly it was all over. And if Neill hadn’t come back here they would never have known how much they still loved each other.”
“I guess I haven’t really thought about it.” Nate was feeling a little embarrassed at the turn the conversation had taken. He’d never have expected Bill Cassidy to bring up such a topic. But he had to admit he didn’t really know Bill except on a professional level.
“Take you, for instance. You must have loved someone in high school—Natasha Burnham, if I remember. Would you want to have a second chance at love like Neill and Sherri? What would you do if you got the chance?”
The subject of his ex-fiancée was nobody’s business, and he was becoming very uncomfortable with the direction this conversation seemed to be going. “Unfortunately, it’s not something I’ve given much thought to recently. I guess you could say I had my chance.”
“You think we only get one chance at love?”
What was Bill getting at? The man had to be close to retirement, but he had been a fantastic basketball player, valedictorian of the first class to graduate from the newly built high school on the edge of town thirty years ago. He’d dated Ellen Donnelly in high school. He could have played pro basketball, but had refused the opportunity, choosing instead to go to the University of Maine. When he had come back to Eden Harbor with a degree in physical education, the town had welcomed him back.
Nate had no idea where Ellen had ended up, and she’d never been back to Eden Harbor. Some people believed Bill had a long-standing relationship with a professor of psychology who vacationed in Eden Harbor each summer.
He had also heard that Bill was coaching a volleyball team made up of women who worked in the town. And he was quite certain Sherri had mentioned that Peggy Anderson, the phlebotomist at the medical center, was on the team. In fact, she was the only one among Sherri’s friends who made the team, which had sparked rumors about her and the coach. But Nate knew only too well how easily rumors could get started with little or no basis in fact.
Regardless, Nate was pretty sure that Bill was talking about his love life. Maybe he was involved with Peggy but worried about the age difference. But Nate would never ask Bill something that personal. He wanted people to respect his privacy, and that meant he respected theirs.
“Can I ask you something?” Bill wiped the dew off the full glass sitting in front of him.
What now? “Sure.”
“If someone was looking for a good private investigator, who would you recommend?”
Surprised by yet another sudden change in topic, Nate studied the older man, seeking a clue as to what was going on. Bill’s gaze was fixed on the glass in front of him.
Nate took a long swallow of his beer as he considered his answer. “Is this about one of your students?”
“No. Nothing of the kind. I have a friend who’s in need of a little help locating someone, that’s all.”
Nate sighed. “I have no idea. But I’ll ask around and see what I can find out. It may mean that the private detective will come from Portland or farther south. Would that be a problem?”
“You’re wondering what I’m up to, aren’t you?” Bill asked.
“No.” Yet in truth he was. The cop in him couldn’t help digging for details. “It’s none of my business. I’ll ask around and see what I can come up with.”
Bill’s gaze was steady as he assessed Nate. “Thanks for helping me. I appreciate it. Being asked for advice about a private investigator can’t be an everyday occurrence for you.”
Nate shook his head.
Bill leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bar. “But you aren’t here having a beer because I need something. If I remember correctly, it was you who came to my office.” He raised his eyebrows in question.
Relieved to focus on something other than Bill’s odd behavior, Nate pushed his glass aside and turned to him. “I’m mentoring Adam Sawyer, and he tells me he didn’t make the basketball team this year. I’m wondering if you could tell me why?”
Bill took a long drink of his beer, wiping his lips with the napkin before putting the glass back on the shiny bar. “Adam is a good player, but not a team player. Despite my coaching him to do so, he seldom shared the ball, making the most routine plays pretty well impossible. I talked to him about it, and he promised to do better. But the minute he got his hands on the ball, he’d bolt for the end of the court. He cost us a lot of fouls in practice, not to mention loss of a concerted team play or a good offensive strategy. In the end, he wouldn’t listen to me or make the changes I needed. I already had too many boys trying out for the team.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry, because I really like him. I have to admit that when he got that ball in his hands, there were few players on the team that could stop him.”
“I’m sorry he didn’t work out.” Nate stared at the mirror behind the bar in silence for a few minutes. He’d hoped to be able to help Adam, to make him feel more a part of the community by getting Bill to reconsider. “Is there any chance you’d change your mind?”
“No, unfortunately. Not a chance. I had to cut two other players who were more seasoned than Adam. That doesn’t mean that with a change in approach he won’t make the team next year. Why are you so concerned?”
“He’s been in a bit of trouble, picked up by the police, being rude to his mother, not keeping curfew, that sort of thing. I’d like to intervene and get him away from a group of older teenagers who are already on the road to trouble.”
“I see what you’re getting at. Does his homeroom teacher know about your concerns?”
“Not yet.”
“Does he have good support at home? His dad died, trawler accident, I believe. What about his mom?”
“She’s very concerned, and she seems willing to do whatever it takes to keep her son out of trouble.”
“Are there days you wish you had an easier job?” Bill asked sympathetically.
Nate nodded, thankful to have someone who understood how difficult it could be working with vulnerable kids.
They finished their beer in companionable silence.
“Would you like another?” the bartender asked.
“Not for me,” Bill said, grinning at the bartender. “I need to get home. I’m coaching the women’s volleyball team tonight.” He slapped Nate on the back. “If there’s anything I can do to help, you’ve only got to ask.”
“Thanks.” Nate