A GRAVE CONCERN (Food Truck Mysteries Book 8) (12 page)

He handed it to me. I excused myself, went to the women’s room and opened it. The cashier’s check for 250,000 dollars was enclosed, along with an agreement that Carter had already signed. I quickly snapped the photos required of the app and deposited the check into my account. Carter would be able to get the money out of my account later, but for now, the deposit had been made, and the bank would not look kindly on any attempts to renege on its payment.

I put the envelope back in my purse and went back out to the services. Brianna Preston was there, and she pulled me aside. “I take it you know that my parents are bestowing a gift on your friend, right?” She looked worried and tired. I couldn’t imagine the stress of losing both brothers in such a short amount of time.

I nodded. “He just accepted it, and he also signed some papers at their request.”

She nodded. “I know. I heard about it last night. I can understand why your friend did it, but I’m not sure that’s wise.”

“You’re not one to let sleeping dogs lie?” I asked, thinking back to what I’d read in the document.

In essence, the document was a non-disclosure agreement. In return for the check, Carter Smith would relinquish all claims to the estate of Milton Preston, mostly in reference to the art gallery.

It also ensured that Carter would not discuss his father and any events involving the man under any circumstances or forfeit the funds he’d just received. While on the surface, the document appeared to keep Milton Preston’s name out of the press, I suspected a more nefarious motive. The estate strongly suspected that Milton had killed his brother, and then he’d succumbed to guilt under the guise of a weak heart.

Before Carter and I had come to the funeral of his father, he told me that entire story. While the document stated that Carter could not speak of the story following his signature and agreement, they hadn’t covered the circumstances prior to that.

I had strongly suspected that the estate wanted Carter’s loyalty and silence in the form of a document. It was the only explanation why they’d make up a story about the unpaid salary in the homeless man’s estate. Someone had wanted to pay Carter for some reason. The most likely reason to pay a stranger was silence.

So we’d spent a few hours talking prior to him signing the papers. He’d been keeping the information to himself, but Carter had been the figure who had been arguing with Hamilton Preston in the park the night I went running. He’d worn a jacket. When he saw me, he pulled up the collar to block my view of him. I’d suspected as much.

Hamilton’s son had been right. The politician was cheap enough to cancel the private detective, and he’d spent a few days dressed as a homeless person so that he could find his brother and keep him quiet.

Carter had been entirely too blasé about learning that his father was in town and that Hamilton had been killed. While it could have been because he didn’t know much about his father, the fact that he was aware of his father’s identity and knew of the relationship between his father and the rest of the family, I suspected that Carter had some inside information.

Carter had revealed that Hamilton had argued with him regarding the campaign and Milton Preston. The man who was running on a clean, wholesome platform did not want his homeless brother or the brother’s illegitimate children popping up in the days before the campaign. He thought the news would hinder his chances of winning the council seat.

Hamilton had told Carter that he was going to meet Milton after their discussion. Carter, who had not seen his father in years, had followed his uncle to the meeting place, which was not far from where the corpse was found. The two men had met, greeted each other warmly, and then began to argue vehemently within minutes. Carter’s father had shoved Hamilton, who had fallen down onto the ground.

Carter didn’t want to see any more. He’d left immediately, taking care not to be seen by his father. He didn’t want to have to be a police witness to the likely assault charges. That wasn’t the way he wanted to reenter the family.

While the family agreed with that assessment of the situation, they had no desire for the owners of a prestigious art gallery in the city to be tainted by such accusations. They had offered Carter a settlement for his silence. Since Carter knew even more than he had shared with the family, he was happy to take it.

The killing of Hamilton by his brother, who in turn passed away of natural causes, wrapped everything up in a neat package. The homicide could not be prosecuted since the killer was dead and about to be buried. No reason to delve further into the situation and dig up any more skeletons.

I happened to think that Milton Preston was being blamed for a crime that he had not committed. The package was just too neat with a dead man being blamed for the killing, now that no questions could be asked and no arrests would be made.

The crime had definitely come down to the family, and I had a strong hunch that I knew who was behind it. The way that the will had been set up was bound to create rivalries, and Hamilton had wanted more than his share.

I’d spoken with Carter at length about the matter. If, in fact, Brianna was the killer, the art gallery would come in part to him and his siblings. However, Carter had a need for the money now, and that was what he was focused on. He realized that the family was worth more, but given that he still wasn’t sure that he hadn’t seen his father kill his uncle, Carter wasn’t too much in favor of being a major player in the family.

Since I’d gotten all of this out of Carter, I had only to ask a few questions today in order to solve the case. The first was the whereabouts of each member of the family at about the same time that I’d gone running that night. Carter had followed his uncle and had seen him shoved. It was unlikely that Hamilton had gone home after that. He’d likely met the other member of the family and commiserated over his inability to get his brother’s cooperation. That would put the time of death just after Carter’s exit.

I worried about the fact that Land had not arrived yet. I couldn’t imagine what was taking him so long. He was usually the model of punctuality, complaining about his sister’s tardiness. Now he was the one who was late.

I also noticed that no member of the police force was here. Even though Milton had died of natural causes, he was being accused of killing his brother, which would make him a person of interest in the case. I wondered why they hadn’t shown. Had Danvers just closed the case, or was he being deferential to an important family in Capital City?

After going over our strategy in the lobby of the funeral home, Carter and I went back to the visitation. He walked around and admitted to more than a few people that he was the deceased’s son. “After coming out, telling people that you were born out of wedlock is a piece of cake,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “What do you need me to do now?”

“Let’s find Barton first and then Brianna. After that we’ll hit the grandparents,” I suggested. I thought that the first two suspects would be more approachable and would be more likely to answer the questions put to them.

I spotted Barton first, and we made our way over to where he stood. “We just said our good-byes to Milton,” Carter said. “I’m just sorry that I didn’t get to do it while he was alive. I hadn’t seen him in years.”

Barton nodded. Up close, I noticed that the cousins had the same build, the same hair color, and the same eye color. The family connection was very present.

“When was the last time you saw him? I mean, I know your dad found him before he was killed, but did you get to see him before he passed away?” Carter asked. He was upfront, yet tactful about the questions. I thought that the family should have been proud to have him as a member.

“Nah, not me. I was just a kid when he left. In my teens. I barely remember him. I think that my aunt saw him before he passed away,” Barton offered. “At least she told me that she had. I don’t know the details of it, though.”

“Is your sister here?” Carter asked, looking around. He’d switched the topic of conversation even though he knew that the sister had been at college over the past few weeks. She’d been too far away to drive back and commit any crimes, and the police had checked bus and plane reservations to make sure that she hadn’t come back by a different mode of transportation. Several of her classmates had also vouched for her appearance during classes.

“No, my parents suggested that she stay at school. She remembers Milton even less than I do. She’ll have to come back for Dad’s services, so that’s enough trips for the present.”

It seemed reasonable, and it also ruled her out for the murder. Barton, who had no alibi, was still a possibility, though he seemed not to have known about Carter and the rest of his cousins. Either he was a very good actor, or he had really not been included in the conspiracy to keep this quiet. In either case, I wasn’t sure that he would be much more help, and he was unlikely to give himself away.

I saw Brianna across the room, and Carter and I made our way across to her. She greeted Carter again, who tried to look less nervous than he felt. I hoped that the tension of trying to determine who had killed his uncle would be mistaken for grief in the wake of two funerals in two days. I wasn’t sure how well I would have handled it.

Brianna motioned to a couple of people, and her parents stepped over to talk to us. I looked around the room for Land, but I still hadn’t found him. I was worried that something had happened to him. I’d formulated a rather detailed plan last night and texted it to him. It all depended on him being here—now.

Brianna made some reassuring remarks about the funeral and his father to Carter. He accepted the comments gracefully and tried to listen to what his recently found grandparents were saying. I had divided my focus the entire time, watching for Land and casually listening to the couple.

Even though they were accepting Carter’s presence here and in the family, apparently Mr. Preston was still discussing the idea of burying Milton somewhere other than the family plot. He was still worried what other people might think, even though I doubted that anyone knew the truth or many remembered the accusations against him six years ago.

Carter tried to ignore the comments, which were coming louder and more continuous now. Apparently Mr. Preston wasn’t too worried that Carter would be upset by the comments. I was guessing that in his world, money soothed all hurts.

Carter looked like he might cry at any moment. The emotions of the past two days, combined with the comments being made, were apparently getting to him. I moved away from the family and found Carter a seat in the first row of the funeral home, where the family sits. Carter didn’t protest, and I made my way back to where the Preston family stood.

I looked at Mr. Preston, who was smug in his continued comments. He hadn’t even had the decency to stop when he saw that Carter was upset. I looked around the room, hoping that Land would be visible, but he wasn’t. I cursed under my breath and opted to move ahead with my plan.

“Mr. Preston, could I see you alone?” I asked. His wife looked slightly surprised, and Mr. Preston practically leered at me. Given his decision to hire Sabine, I didn’t think I would have trouble gaining an audience with him.

We went into another room in the funeral home. It appeared to be an empty visitation room, lined with various coffins along the wall. These were the high-end models with the cherry wood and the brass handles. It felt both creepy and appropriate to be discussing the matter in here.

“What can I do for you that can’t wait?” Mr. Preston said with a grin.

“I wanted to talk to you about your son,” I said, hoping that Carter would see that the plan had been moved into action. I was certain that nothing would happen here, but backup was always important in my book.

“Which one? They’re both dead,” he said without much emotion in his voice.

“Actually, both of them. I wanted to set the record straight.” I heard my voice crack at the end, which made me wonder how certain I was of my facts. I ran through them again in my head while I was waiting for a response and found them spot on.

“Do we need to talk about the dead at all?” he said. “I’d much rather talk about the acts of the living.”

“They were both living when the embezzlement was made,” I replied, trying to ignore his comments. I wondered how Sabine had put up with his behaviors for even a few days. I had a feeling that her career at the art gallery would be over after today.

“Milton was a weak boy,” he started, but I interrupted.

“Milton wasn’t the thief. It was Hamilton.”

He grinned. “Pretty little girl, but you’re quite confused. Milton took the money and left town. Hamilton was the good boy.”

“That’s what you wanted people to believe. He did have trouble keeping a job, which is why he worked for you. He’d been trying to raise a family with Carter’s mother and woo a socialite. It was costing him a fortune. He was torn between his love for his family and his desire to earn your approval. Milton did leave town. He was broke. However, he wasn’t stealing money from the art gallery.”

The old man chuckled a soft dry laugh that sent shivers up my spine. “You certainly have a vivid imagination. Perhaps we can put that to use.”

“Hamilton took that money to become a candidate six years ago. You didn’t want him to run, and he didn’t have enough money to start a campaign. You pulled the plug when you found out, which is why he dropped out of the race. Milton had left, and he was a convenient scapegoat. You knew that the accusations of embezzlement meant that you had Hamilton right where you wanted him. He had to do what you said, or you’d release that information.”