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talk.”

“Wow, when?”

“This afternoon. So, yeah, you better have your Chucks on because you may have to run to catch the new flight.”

They hung up, and Kendra did have to run. The good news is she never checked a bag. She was always the queen of carry-on luggage.

She was one of the last to board, but she’d made it. If all went to plan, she’d be interviewing Margo Kasinski’s boyfriend by late afternoon.

Craig Boxner had chosen the location. According to the sign, the Smokey View Diner had been in operation since 1948.

Boxner had told Shoop that he was the owner and manager of the diner. The outside of the Smokey View was covered in stainless steel paneling. The windows took up most of the walls, and red striped trim raced along the bottom of the entire building.

An oval sign with a yellow starburst accent was mounted atop a tall pole. Travelers could see it from the highway. Hungry travelers and locals alike, looking for good coffee and a great waffle, were welcome.

Kendra walked in, and it was like walking back in time. Red vinyl covered the booths that lined the restaurant walls. An l-shaped counter ran the length of the interior. With Prudence’s mention of Happy Days fresh in her mind, Kendra observed that Richie Cunningham and The Fonz could grab a seat, and they wouldn’t look out of place.

The smell of bacon and maple syrup brought back memories of long ago family road trips, with Big Don at the wheel and Stephanie reading the map.

Craig Boxner spotted her right away and introduced himself. He wore his white hair closely cropped; a white dress shirt was neatly tucked into black dress pants. He offered Kendra a seat at a booth at the end.

“Coffee, or maybe a soft drink? Are you hungry?

“Ah, coffee would be great.”

Kendra wanted to do the interview undistracted by the fluffy waffles she eyed at a nearby table.

Craig returned with the pot. Kendra flipped the white coffee cup over onto the saucer, and he poured. She noticed a creamer on the table and added a dash.

Before the fluffy cream clouds stopped swirling in her cup, she had her recorder set up.

Kendra decided to dive right in. Craig Boxner had been quiet for decades. That was his default. She didn’t want to give him the chance to return to it.

“How did you know Margo?”

“We dated, a little, six months on and off. We went to the same high school. She was younger but sweet, cute. We started dating at the end of my senior year, her junior year, then on into the summer.”

“Was it serious?”

“Desperately serious as teenagers can be, and then not if you can understand that.” Kendra nodded.

“Can you tell me what she was like, give me a sense of who she was?”

“She was a damaged person. Before that was a phrase. I think at first, I was attracted to that. My family was about as normal as a family could be. I mean, we had a lot of fun and excitement running this place—I’m the third generation owner here, by the way—but it was other people’s drama that came in and out. Margo, she was like a Jellico Holly Golightly. Kind of wild and always up for a party but also very vulnerable.”

“It sounds like she was kind of glamorous.”

“Yes, in my eyes, I think so. It was the 1970s, but we weren’t exactly cutting edge out here. She had drawstring short shorts, this Farrah Fawcett hairdo, and platform sandals.”

Craig slid a yellowing photo across the table. There she was: Margo Kasinski. Kendra had only seen a school portrait and the tiny group shot from the yearbook. But in this photo, she stood outside the restaurant, flashed a peace sign, and smiled for the camera.

“What did she want to do after high school?”

“She wanted to move out of Jellico, maybe go to California and see the ocean. She didn’t have dreams to be a movie star or anything, but she could type. She thought maybe she’d be an executive secretary, maybe even at a movie studio. That was the plan, as plans went.”

“What kind of things did you two do together?”

“When I had extra cash, we went to the movies. When I was strapped, we’d just drive around. Hang out. I was not the most creative of boyfriends, nor husband, I suppose, if you ask my wife.”

“What movies, do you remember?”

“She loved Smokey and the Bandit and, of course, Saturday Night Fever. She was kind of like Sally Field in that Smokey and the Bandit movie if I had to categorize her looks.”

“She sounds lovely, truly.”

“She was, she was.”

“Why haven’t you spoken about her, other than back then? There was only one interview?”

“Our attorney for this place, he didn’t get to me quite quick enough. I was a suspect. They dragged me into the station. They questioned me aggressively before Harvey, our lawyer at the time, got me out of there. Anyway, I made the mistake of answering a phone call from the paper when I got home, and Harvey blew a gasket.”

“Why?”

“Well, keep in mind, she’d gone off. Or that was what we thought. Margo didn’t have a close family. She was a wild child in a lot of ways. I thought I was dumped or left behind or something for her big idea to move to California. I didn’t know the truth, that she was murdered. None of us did until they found that body in the culver, her body.” Craig’s voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “Like I said, in those early days, it was a horror movie. Or felt like one. Her body was nearly unrecognizable, but she’d clearly been murdered, put in a garbage bag. It was awful. Then I shoot my mouth off and answer questions. Harvey had a heck of a time untangling me from that investigation.”

“Why were you so entangled if you’d broken up and all?”

“Ha, well, we were fighting. And it was in public, and

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