A GRAVE CONCERN (Food Truck Mysteries Book 8) (11 page)

“Why he came back to Capital City after all this time. The last I’d heard, he was in Texas somewhere. Then suddenly, he’s back here. I wonder if he came back for Hamilton’s funeral.”

“I don’t think so,” I said, thinking back to the first time that I saw Milton Preston. He’d been here when Hamilton had argued with the person in the park. Had the two brothers been arguing? In either case, the answer was clear. He’d been in town before the murder, and, in fact, it was possible that Milton had killed his brother. I wasn’t sure what the motive would have been if they hadn’t seen each other in years, but anything was possible.

“What makes you say that?” she asked, staring at me.

“I think that I saw your brother before the murder. So I don’t think it could have been him. I also saw your brother and father, as well. This predates the murder.” I tried to be gentle about it, but I hoped my words would jar her enough to get some answers from her.

She closed her eyes a minute and then opened them again. “So they both knew that he was in town and didn’t mention it to me. Just like the men in that family.”

“How so?” I asked, feeling some sympathy for her. She had been outnumbered by men in the family, but now the women, mother and daughter, outnumbered the men, the singularly missing Mr. Preston.

“My father left equal shares of the art gallery, the house, and the estate to all three of his children. He’s a bit of a chauvinist, and he thought that the men would always outnumber the women in the running of the family business. That’s the way he liked it.” She made a face like that wasn’t the way that she liked it.

I could understand. My parents had always encouraged me to do anything I wanted with my life. None of us had envisioned a food truck business, but they were supportive of that, as well. How much harder it would have been to achieve my goals if my family had thought my worth less than that of men.

“So what does that mean now?” I asked, thinking about the consequences of this notion.

“Hamilton’s shares of the business go to his two children. I’m not sure about Milton’s shares. No telling who he slept with on the road. So the business testosterone gets diluted now. My father is trying to fix things to get it back into male hands, but who knows what will happen with that?”

“Can he do that?” I asked. I wondered about the ramifications of trying to change the proceeds of a will after it has been probated. Of course, if there were trusts and other financial vehicles, then it could be arranged.

“My father has a phalanx of lawyers working on it at the moment, but the short answer is that it’s unlikely.” She drew herself up. “He actually accused me of killing my brothers so that I could inherit everything. He’s got private investigators looking into Milton’s past, as well, to see if he had any children. I really hope they’re girls.” With that pronouncement, she seemed to turn in on herself.

I took a deep breath and told her about Carter and the other children.

“Two girls, you say?” she said with a smile. “That’s not bad at all. It evens things up somewhat.”

“Do you think they’ll inherit anything?” I asked. I had thought about this earlier, but I’d not mentioned it to Carter, who had his plate full. I hadn’t had time to find out more, and there didn’t seem to be a good way to ask since Milton wasn’t even buried yet. Yet I doubted that Carter’s existence was known to the family if there had been a rich socialite fiancée at the time.

“The trust is almost a definite. I doubt that there’s much in the way of an estate. I can’t imagine that Milton had any personal property to leave.”

“What about Hamilton’s estate? Could it have left anything to his brother?” I asked. I wasn’t sure how the family had structured things to ensure that the gallery and money stayed in the family. They seemed rather insular.

She shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I see your point. If Hamilton left money to Milton, then Milton suddenly would have been a wealthy man. He could have been killed for the inheritance.”

However, that statement sent me crashing to the ground. Milton had died of natural causes. He hadn’t been murdered, and if he had been killed, Carter would be the one to benefit most from the man’s death. I didn’t want to accuse a friend of being a killer.

She stood up to go. I gave her Carter’s contact information. Even though I wasn’t sure of his reaction to meeting his father’s family, I did want to see him get the money that was his, so that he could raise the children without the burden of being too poor.

“I’ll be in touch,” she said as she left.

***

Sabine was ready for details when I returned. “So tell me all.”

I tried to succinctly tell her what had happened with Brianna and the information about the trust funds and the wills.

“She’s guilty,” Sabine said with finality. “She has to be.” She told an incredibly hole-filled story of Brianna murdering all of her family members to get the art gallery. While Sabine estimated the net worth of the gallery at 15 million dollars, killing one’s entire family for money seemed ruthless. I knew logically that people had killed for far less, but Brianna didn’t seem the type to do that.

I shrugged. “I just didn’t get that from her. She may be the killer, but then she’s a good actress, too,” I explained. “She acted as if she would have gotten the gallery anyway. Hamilton would be too busy with politics, and Milton was MIA. So she was the only one left.”

Sabine looked at me with her eyes sparkling. “I have more to tell you about that,” she exclaimed, as if she had discovered the secret to eternal life.

I waited, but apparently I was expected to coax her. “Well, tell me,” I said finally. “What happened?”

“Well, I was in the gallery, and I heard Mr. Preston talking with his wife. Apparently they had set up a trust regarding the gallery. The plan was to divide it up between the three kids in equal parts.” She paused for effect, but I smirked. Brianna had already told me this detail.

I explained to Sabine about my conversations with the family and my understanding of the trust.

“You’re not hearing what I’m saying. That means that for every person who dies, there’s more for the rest. Now the whole gallery goes to Brianna. She singly inherits the business, which is worth several million dollars. Not a bad motive for murder.”

I scrunched up my brow. I knew that the police liked obvious and easy. I wondered how long it would be before the police would latch on to her as a suspect. She would have the clearest motive for murder. I hadn’t realized how afraid I’d been that Carter would be suspected for some of the same reasons. Add in anger towards the family that abandoned him, and you had an equally compelling case.

“So what happens to the money if Brianna dies?” I asked, wondering what would become of the gallery.

“Then it would be equally divided between the children of the three heirs. The father was complaining that they had too many children to effectively run the gallery.”

“How many are there in all?” I asked. I wanted to see if she had come up with the same count that I had.

“The father said that there were six, but that he wouldn’t be surprised if Brianna would get knocked up just to keep a piece of the business. Those were his exact words on the matter.” She shrugged, indicating her lack of empathy.

“Then he knows about Carter and the kids?” I asked, adding in my head. “Hamilton had two, and Carter’s mom had four. So that would be the six.” I wondered if the comments had anything to do with the fact that Milton had managed four kids out of wedlock. I was glad to hear that Carter might eventually get something from the family, even if it was a piece of the business.

“I believe so. He referenced children that he called bastards several times. Mr. Preston was adamant that his son’s bastard children shouldn’t get a piece of the gallery. He cursed up a storm about his son’s inability to pull off a social marriage to a woman who he called worthy of the family.”

I felt sorry for Carter. If Mr. Preston could keep the gallery away from him and the other children, then I was sure that the man would. Carter would only be entitled to the estate of his father, which I’m sure would not account for much. Milton had been living on the street prior to his death, so the chances of him having put away a nest egg were slim to none. “So what next? I asked. “Did they talk about Milton’s funeral at all?”

Sabine nodded and rattled off the dates and times of the funeral and visitation. Hamilton’s body was still in the morgue, since he’d been murdered, and his body was considered evidence, but Milton had died a natural death, so his body had been released to the funeral home already.

My heart broke when I thought about Carter. He’d be burying his mother tomorrow and his father the next day. I couldn’t think of a worse situation. I made a note to call him later and check in.

I wondered if any of the Preston family would show at the funeral. They obviously knew that he existed if the elder Mr. Preston had called him a bastard.

The rest of the shift went quickly. Land and I had agreed to not open the trucks tomorrow in honor of Carter. We both planned on being at the visitation and funeral tomorrow. Land had wanted to get a good night’s sleep, so we made plans for him to pick me up at 10 a.m. the following morning. I went home and had a quiet evening curled up with a book.

An evening alone and sleeping until 8 a.m. felt like heaven. I tried to imagine doing this on a regular basis. Not that I’d give up my job for a minute. I love that it came from my aunt, and I love that it’s brought me independence and a burgeoning future. Yet, I have to say that sleeping until 8 made me think about what a normal career might have been like.

I got up, lingered over coffee, and found one of my two little black dresses to wear to the funeral. I didn’t need too many formal clothes, but at the same time, functions such as these arose. I was glad that I had appropriate attire already at home.

I was ready and waiting when Land arrived at 10 a.m. on the dot. Sabine was with him, and I wondered how he’d managed to get her dressed and out the door on time. He always complained about her punctuality, but she’d managed to be on time all week with me at the food truck. I wondered if Land had merely exaggerated her lateness for effect or out of brotherly annoyance.

The visitation was being held at the funeral home, so we only had a few miles to drive. We took the Buick, since Land still had a sports car that two people could barely squeeze into. Three would have been a stretch.

There weren’t many cars at the funeral home, which made me all the more certain we’d made the correct decision in coming early and staying throughout. We walked through the doors and were met with the sounds of crying. We followed the sniffles and sobs to one of the rooms. Carter and Aaron were trying to console a young girl, who was weeping around the edges of a handkerchief.

They greeted us warmly, and Carter suggested that I have a go at it. I was about to protest the sexism in assuming that I’d be the best choice as a woman, but the little girl clung to my leg, and the lecture got caught in my throat.

I took her to the restroom, allowed her to use the facilities, and took her back to the room being used for the services. Carter and Land were having a serious conversation, which ended as soon as I approached. I didn’t like being cut out of the conversation, but since the little girl was still with me, I chose to let it slide. Who knew that I was such a softie around kids?

As an only child, I hadn’t spent much time around children since I was one myself. My girlfriends had just started having families, but none of their babies were anywhere near this age. I decided to treat her like a mini-adult, and I talked to her about her brother’s job and how I knew Aaron and Carter. She had intelligent questions and seemed to calm down. I knew it would only last until she remembered why she was here again, but that was good enough.

Carter didn’t feel much like talking, so we left him alone for the most part. He stuck mostly with the children. Aaron came over a few times to talk to us, but we stood around and waited instead.

I saw that Brianna Preston had walked in alone. For that I was grateful. That likely meant she’d been sent as the emissary of the Preston family rather than having the remains of the family converge en masse on Carter during this time of sorrow. She walked up to Carter and started talking. I couldn’t help myself, and I approached them, as well. “Brianna, how are you? I hadn’t expected to see you here,” I said.

She looked at me in surprise before understanding passed over her face. “Of course, you’re Carter’s boss. I remember that.”

I smiled. “Carter’s wonderful. I don’t know what we’d do without him.” I inched closer to him to show a certain proprietary interest in him.

Carter was too dimmed by the tragedy to even pay attention. He was looking over our shoulders at the latest interest. So was Aaron.

Barton Preston had just walked in. Considering that he was wearing a dark suit with a green tie that practically matched Carter’s own attire, the resemblance was scary. No wonder both of them were doing a double take.

Brianna smoothed things over by making introductions to Carter and Aaron. “This is my nephew, Barton. He was Hamilton’s son.” I noticed the use of the past tense, which just reinforced how much death had occurred in the past week.

He shook hands all around, and gave me another smile. “That’s such a trip that you saw dear old dad posing as a homeless man. That’s just like him,” he said.

“What do you mean?” I asked. I wasn’t sure how posing as deathly poor would be like anyone.

“He was always cheap. Beyond cheap. If the family had hired a private investigator, I can just see him taking over the case and trying to find his brother on his own. I miss the old man, but man, I wish I had a picture of that.”

I mentioned that I’d seen his grandfather, as well, talking to Milton just before the other brother had passed away.

Barton’s eyes grew wide, and he snickered, which was not becoming at a funeral. “Good old dad. I’m sure that he wasn’t there to give moral support to Uncle Milton. He was there to try to get his brother’s shares of the gallery, so he could take control.”

“Would he have done that?” I wondered about the character of a man who could his homeless brother up for a favor, yet not offer to help him out. It would take a special type of person to do that.

“Oh yeah, in a minute. I fractured my leg during college,” he said, pointing to his left leg. “I failed that semester and lost my scholarship, because I couldn’t get to class and couldn’t play sports. He told me that he’d paid for my education and he wouldn’t contribute any more. Like he’d paid a cent. I’d earned it all through scholarships, and it hadn’t cost him anything.”

“What did you do?” I asked, figuring that he’d graduated by this point.

“I worked, and my mom spent some of her divorce settlement for tuition. We made it okay, but I wouldn’t be at all surprised that anything that he did involved money.”

The information gave me ideas, but greed was usually the motive for someone to be the killer, not the victim. It seemed like this crime was turned around.

Barton and Brianna took seats in the first row, which is typically for family. I thought that the move was fairly presumptuous, given that they had only just acknowledged Carter in the last few days, but I wasn’t going to make a fuss about it.

We sat a few rows back during the service and the time afterwards. The two Preston representatives stood talking to Carter for quite a while. I wanted to move closer to hear what they were saying to Carter, but Land practically held me back. Sabine gave me a grin, but she didn’t help me. She stood next to Land and waited.

When the Prestons were done, Carter started crying. I could feel my skin burn and my neck grow hot. I wanted to go after them, but I decided to stay and find out what they’d said to Carter.

Aaron put a hand on Carter’s shoulder for a moment and then approached us. “You’re never going to believe what happened,” he said, sounding as shocked as his words indicated.

“What did they say to make Carter cry?” Land asked in a voice that was threateningly calm.

“That’s what you won’t believe. It seems that even though Carter’s dad no longer worked at the art gallery after he got caught with his hand in the till, they kept him on payroll. So Milton had a quarter of a million dollars in back pay waiting for him. It’s not covered by the trust, so that all comes to Carter and the kids now. You can’t imagine how helpful that money is right now. I wasn’t sure that even with my job we’d be able to afford the house and car. It’s been a bit overwhelming to inherit the kids and the debts.”

Land and I looked at each other. We both knew enough about finances and businesses to know that you had to give the money to the employee or keep it in escrow. The payroll option seemed a bit off, especially for a family member who had been stealing from the firm. Milton could never have returned to Capital City. Would they have continued to pay him indefinitely at a rate of 50 thousand dollars a year? I wondered what was at stake that they were giving Carter a massive bribe to keep him mollified.

The family unquestionably had something to hide, and I was dying to know what it was. It had to involve the gallery, since that was the only thing that the family had worth enough money to give Carter a quarter of a million dollars.

“Be sure to get that money fast,” I offered to Aaron. “I smell something funny and I don’t want his inheritance to get caught up in it.”

Aaron nodded. “They invited him to his father’s funeral tomorrow, and they’re going to give him the check there. That should be soon enough.”

They definitely moved fast. The family would be paying out the settlement to him before his father was properly buried.

“I want to go to the funeral, as well,” I said, looking at Aaron. Maybe we could switch for the day. “Could you handle the food truck with Sabine if I went with him?”

Sabine raised an eyebrow at her new coworker. “That works for me.”

Land eyed both of them for a second. “I’ll come with you two,” he said, looking at me. “I should be done before my shift starts. If not, I’ll drive separately, but I want to keep an eye on you.”

I wasn’t sure how he knew, but it was pretty apparent to me that Land knew that I had come across something that might explain this case. However, he didn’t know everything, or he wouldn’t have been quite so worried about my safety. I knew that I was going to be quite all right.

***

Carter and Aaron reached my apartment at 4:30 a.m., which was far earlier than Carter usually arrived at the truck. I had just started my first cup of coffee and was barely coherent, but Carter and Aaron were excited. Aaron was chattering nonstop about the food truck and working with Sabine—which Carter assured him was not that exciting. Carter seemed relieved about the money issues and was able to be more relaxed and himself than I’d seen in many months.

I was bound and determined to make sure that he was comfortably set before the case was solved. I’d thought about how to do that before going to bed last night, and I was fairly certain that it could be done. Unmasking the killer came first, but I hoped that my plan would allow me to do both.

Carter was dressed in a black suit and dark tie. Aaron was in a T-shirt and jeans. I was impressed that he had a T-shirt advertising Basque in the Sun, our second truck. I wondered where he got the shirt, but realized that it had to be from Carter’s closet, which likely meant that the two of them were staying at the house together.

Aaron headed off to the food truck after I’d given him myriad instructions on what to do and how to work with Sabine. He kept reassuring me that it would be fine, but I think I was keyed up about the solution to the murder case. By focusing on the food truck, I didn’t have to face what that would mean when it came out.

Carter was fairly quiet, and we drank coffee in silence. I typically kept a few bags of Land’s special blend of beans at the apartment, and I knew that the coffee was good. Even on a bad day, I couldn’t mess up that coffee.

The newspaper had indicated that the visitation would start at 9 a.m., but I still asked Carter what time he wanted to leave. I thought that it might be good for him to talk, if I could get him to open up a bit.

“The visitation starts at 9, but I don’t need to get there that early. I’m not staying for the funeral, itself, and I wasn’t invited to the graveside service, so I’m spared that.”

His tone sounded a little harsh. I wasn’t sure how I would have reacted in those circumstances. Since I had some time with him, I had thought to talk to him about options for handling the money. He needed some sort of financial plan for that much money, so that the majority of it didn’t go for taxes and that would be around to see the last of the children through high school. While Carter was still talking about cars and nice homes, I knew that even though 250,000 dollars sounded like a lot of cash, it wouldn’t last long if he decided to buy big-ticket items. My father had indoctrinated me early with talk of investments, stocks, and bonds.

I went over several of the possibilities with him in the time that remained. To my surprise and gratitude, he was receptive to most of the ideas. He agreed to stay put in the house they lived now; we agreed on a new car. I showed him a budget that would support the three younger children and take away most of his worries about money. It was by no means ideal, but he would have a cushion to land on if things got bad. That, combined with his upcoming marriage, would allow him to live modestly, but comfortably.

“It was just nice to dream,” he said with a wan smile. “It sounded like such a large amount of money when it’s put to you at once.”

I agreed. We went over a few more things together before it was time to leave. Land had agreed to meet us there. He was driving himself so that he could leave if he needed to get to work or if some circumstance arose. I had a feeling that the latter might happen today. I drove us to the funeral home, where a number of people were already in attendance.

I wasn’t sure who had the children today, but Carter had made no indication that they would be attending. I thought it would likely be too much for them, coming on top of yesterday and combined with the fact that they hadn’t really known their father. So Carter was the lone emissary.

He was greeted at the visitation by his grandfather, the elder Mr. Preston. The older man shook hands with Carter and gave him a grim smile. Carter said a few words and walked to the casket. I stood back, knowing that I wasn’t needed right now. I had a plan that required some quick action on my part. However, I wanted to give Carter time to grieve first, if he would grieve for the man. Carter came back to me, bearing an envelope.