Murdered in the Man Cave (A Riley Reed Cozy Mystery) (9 page)

"Have you no respect for the dead?" Pierce
said. "The man's barely been dead and you're already trying to see
what you can steal from him."

"That's ridiculous!" Karla snapped. "I have
every right to reclaim what's mine."

"Go for it," he said. "The police are inside
and I'm sure they'd love to talk to you."

"I have nothing to hide," she insisted.

"If you say so."

"What-
ever
." She rolled her eyes. "I
can come back later when the police are done."

"I can go in with you, if you want," I
offered, curious as to what she had left behind and wondering if
she might be able to offer any insight into Brent's death.

"No thanks," Karla sneered. "I know Brent
couldn't quite get you out of his system, but just so you know, we
were planning to get back together."

"Oh, really?" Brent had given me no
indication of that, but he didn't tell me everything going on in
his life, especially where it concerned romance. Still, somehow it
didn't fit that he would have wanted to start up again with someone
with whom he seemed totally mismatched. Or was that just my
opinion?

"Yes," she said. "Only now that will never
happen."

I detected little remorse from her about
Brent's death, per se, but rather the prospect of losing whatever
she could have gotten from him.

"I'm sorry your plans didn't work out," I
told her. "And I'm even sorrier that Brent is dead and no longer
has a say in the matter. Also, I must add that I have long been out
of his system, other than as a friend."

She wrinkled her nose, narrowed her eyes at
Pierce, and strutted back to her car in high-heeled stilettoes,
before backing out and driving off.

"Is she for real?" Pierce asked.

"You're probably asking the wrong person
that," I responded.

"I never thought she was good enough for
Brent," he said, "but when it came to his love life, he didn't pay
much attention to what anyone else thought."

"Isn't that true for most people?" I defended
Brent, respecting his choices whether I agreed with them or not.
That included Karla, though apparently he had ended things with her
while he was still able to.

"I suppose so." Pierce glanced at his watch.
"Anyway, I've got a meeting to get to, though Brent's death will
follow me like a shadow till the police nab his killer. I'll see
you at one."

I nodded to that effect and watched him get
into a black BMW and drive away.

Turning around, I saw Emily finally emerge
from the house.

"Did you find anything missing?" I asked
curiously.

"Nothing that I could think of," she said.
"It doesn't look like anything is missing other than his
laptop."

And even that might have only been misplaced
by Brent, I considered, rather than stolen by a killer. Still, I
hoped the authorities could locate it, in case it contained some
clues about Brent's murderer.

"Was that Karla I saw leaving?" Emily
asked.

"Yes."

"What did
she
want—to gloat over my
uncle's death?"

"Not exactly," I said. "Karla claimed she
wanted to collect some stuff she left behind."

Emily frowned. "I think that's a load of
rubbish. There's nothing in the house that belonged to her."

I couldn't say one way or the other, but
added, "She also said she and Brent were planning to get back
together."

"Yeah, in her dreams," she sneered. "Uncle
Brent had already moved on."

I looked at Emily. "Are you saying he was
involved with someone else?"

"Yes. I never met her, but I could tell that
they were starting to get close."

I wondered why Brent hadn't mentioned it when
he told me about his breakup with Karla. Perhaps he wanted to keep
it a secret until he was sure it would work.

"Do you know her name?"

"I think it's Ivana."

"You might want to pass that information on
to the authorities."

"I already did," she announced. "They plan to
talk to her."

"Good," I said. "She might know something
important."

"I'll be out of your hair later on today,"
she told me during the drive back to my house. "Detective Whitmore
told me that they would be through with their investigation inside
the house by three."

"You're welcome to stay a little longer," I
said. I knew it wouldn't be easy being in the house where a loved
one had died. But I also knew that staying away would only delay
confronting what happened there.

"Thanks, but I need to be there to do
whatever is necessary to get my uncle's house in order. I know
that's what he'd want."

"I agree," I said. Brent would want his niece
to deal with his passing and get back on her feet as soon as
possible.

Speaking of which, I also needed to accept
the reality of Brent's death and get back to living my own
life.

But first, there was the matter of seeing to
it that he was given a proper burial.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

Emily kept her interview with Klackston
Industries, which surprised me a bit. Though I was glad that she
still seemed intent on bettering herself, knowing Brent, I
suspected that he had provided for her well as his sole living
relative. I was sure Brent had remained a wealthy man over the
years with bestselling books and selling the movie rights to at
least two, which were made into motion pictures. But I also
believed that he would never want Emily to simply live off his
earnings without doing something for herself, even if it meant
starting at the bottom and working her way up.

After calling the funeral home, I phoned my
attorney, Brianna York, whom I had actually been introduced to by
Brent when we were involved. She had been wonderful in advising me
on legal matters and I was sure the same could be said for
Brent.

"Well, hello there," she said cheerfully.

"Hi, Brianna. I'm sure you've heard about
Brent's death."

"Yes and it's a terrible tragedy. He was a
good man."

"Yes, he was," I agreed. "I'm helping Brent's
niece with funeral arrangements. I assume he had burial
insurance."

"Indeed, he did," she confirmed, "and he even
has his plot and headstone paid for, though I'm sure Brent
certainly hadn't planned for it to be utilized at this point of his
life."

I couldn't help but think that he had likely
thought much more about his mortality than she realized, but said,
"I'm sure he didn't."

"Just let me know what funeral home will be
handling the burial and I'll be sure the cost is covered."

I thanked her for that, feeling a little
awkward to be talking about anything other than my own legal
business. But I was up to the task in helping Emily get through
this.

"While I've got you on the line, Riley,"
Brianna said, "a matter of Brent's will needs to be
discussed..."

"With me?" I asked in surprise.

"Yes, you have been named as one of the
beneficiaries of his last will and testament."

"Are you saying he left me something in his
will?"

"Yes, he did."

I let that sink in for a moment. Though we
had remained friends over the years, I certainly had never
considered being named in Brent's will. I hardly knew what to say.
Since I was doing all right for myself financially, I didn't need
his money. Or perhaps he had something else in mind.

"You and the other beneficiaries will be sent
a copy of the will as required by law," Brianna was saying.
"However, before that stage occurs, Brent made a special request of
all the beneficiaries..."

"And what was that?" I asked, more than a
little curious.

"He would like everyone to gather together in
one room, so he can speak to you on video."

"You mean like a reading of the will?"

"Exactly," she said. "Of course, this is no
longer in vogue today or required legally. But as the benefactor,
it was his wish and I would hope all the beneficiaries abide by it,
so there are no unnecessary complications."

My first thought was disbelief that Brent had
requested what I had only seen in movies, given the standard legal
process of probate where it concerned wills today. But since he had
written about such readings in at least one of his novels and he
was also somewhat eccentric, it wasn't so farfetched.

"If that was Brent's wish, I will certainly
come," I assured her.

"Good," Brianna said. "I'm in the process of
contacting the other beneficiaries as well. I thought that after
the funeral might be an appropriate time to gather everyone to meet
at my office."

I wondered who was on the list. Apart from
myself and Emily, I assumed that Pierce might be a beneficiary and
perhaps Brent's surviving ex-wives, whom he appeared to have some
obligation toward, even if they were no longer together. Might
there be others as well?

I couldn't help but wonder if what Brent had
left behind and to whom he had left it to could have had anything
to do with his death. Or was that scenario more something out of a
good cozy novel?

"Count me in," I reiterated.

While I had Brianna on the line, I took the
opportunity to go over some of my legal affairs with her, including
adding a codicil to my will. I thought it was a good idea to put in
motion an internship or scholarship at my alma mater, Oregon State
University.

Afterward, I called my good friend and
florist, Peggy.

"I'm so sorry about Brent," she expressed,
having first met him when we were dating.

"It's still hard to believe," I told her.
"Finding him like that—"

"It must have been awful."

"Yes, it was," I said.

"I can only imagine what it must have been
like for Brent," Peggy said, "being confronted by his killer."

I shared her disturbing thoughts and
admitted, "Thinking about it gives me the chills."

"Have the police come up with a suspect or
motive?"

"None that I'm aware of," I responded.

"I'm sure they'll solve the case soon," she
said. "Brent was famous. The authorities always give top priority
to such crimes."

I did not disagree with her, though it was
hard to think of Brent as a celebrity, per se, as much as a dear
friend, who deserved to live longer. "I hope so," I told her and
then, "I'm handling Brent's funeral arrangements. I'd like some
flowers delivered for both the church and cemetery."

"Of course," Peggy said.

We discussed having a standing spray with
white roses and Asiatic lilies, blue hydrangea and delphinium,
along with tropical ferns and leaves. For the casket, we would go
with white roses, a white carnation and larkspur, along with white
dendrobium orchids and an assortment of greenery. In a symbol of
camaraderie, there would also be a couple of baskets with yellow
daisies, snapdragons, gladioli, Asiatic lilies, and leatherleaf
fern.

Though I would have to clear it with the
cemetery, we agreed that some ground cover plants and low growing
perennials, such as blue river lavender or burgundy lace fern,
around the gravesite might be nice.

All in all, I was sure Brent would
approve.

* * *

I spent the rest of the morning writing my
blog. The subject was inexpensive ways for remodeling a kitchen
while still presenting an updated, vibrant place for family and
friends to hang out.

After fielding a couple of calls from friends
and one from the press in wanting my take on Brent's death, which I
kept brief, I called Yvonne.

"I'm anxious to know how your date went last
night," I told her.

Yvonne paused. "It didn't go as well as I had
hoped," she stated.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." Now I paused,
trying to decide what to say. It seemed best to just come right out
with it and see where it took the conversation. "So did you talk
about having a child? Or did that not even come up due to the
climate of the outing?"

"We talked about it..."

"And...?" I pressed, perhaps more than I
should have.

"And he doesn't think now is a good time to
add to our family."

"Did he say when he thought was a good
time?"

She sniffled. "Yeah, somewhere down the
line."

"But he didn't outright reject the notion," I
pointed out. "So perhaps he is at least softening to the
prospect..."

"I think it's more that he's simply putting
off having to deal with it," Yvonne stated flatly. "He's never
wanted children, why on earth would I expect that to change
now?"

I wanted to concur with her, but also wanted
to give her hope that it could still work out and needn't put her
marriage in jeopardy.

"People do change," I said, thinking of some
of my shifting views over time. "Or at least they can. I suggest
you not pressure him right now, but allow it to sink in before
broaching the subject again and telling him why you feel now is a
good time to have a child."

"All right," she said simply. "Enough about
me. How did things go last night with your house guest?"

"Fine. We didn't come to blows or
anything."

"That's good to know. So how long will she be
staying?"

"Emily is moving back to Brent's house this
afternoon," I informed her. "The police will be done with their
work by then."

"What are they saying about the murder?"

"Not much at this point," I responded,
"though I have a feeling they know more than they're letting
on."

"You mean like who the killer is?"

"Possibly. Or at least they are narrowing
down the suspects."

"Do you have any ideas about who they might
go after?" Yvonne asked.

"Not really. I suppose it could be anyone who
had a beef with Brent. He never talked to me about having enemies."
I told her about Brent's ex-girlfriend showing up at the house.