Dying for a Dude (Laurel McKay Mysteries Book 4)

by Cindy Sample

  “There are no cooties,” I said, although Ben wasn’t entirely wrong about the olfactory factor permeating some of the historic Main Street buildings. While most stores bore nostalgic scents such as lemon oil and lavender, there were a couple that smelled moldy or, as Ben so elegantly described it––just plain poopy.

  We first stopped at Placerville Hardware, the oldest hardware store west of the Mississippi, dating back to 1856. Crowded floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the maze of narrow aisles offering everything from toilet plungers to gold-rimmed teacups.

  I’m firmly convinced there’s a dead body stuffed somewhere in the store. They just hadn’t discovered it yet.

  After I purchased a gold pan and cowboy hat for Ben, we headed over to Antiques Galore. I immediately noticed the change in the window display. The silver pistols no longer rested on the red satin centerpiece. An ornate jeweled bracelet and earring set dazzled sidewalk shoppers.

  I pushed the door open, the kids lagging behind me. Jenna checked out an old Victrola record player. I instructed Ben he could look but not touch anything, or else!

  Abe waved from behind the counter where he rang up a purchase for a middle-aged couple. I meandered through the store in search of anything old, showy and cheap. Abe specialized in quality merchandise, so the odds of him offering anything fitting the remainder of Mr. Boxer’s paltry budget were slim.

  Near the back of his vast store, I found a clearance table. A couple of slightly tarnished horseshoes would fit with my theme. A towering pile of books looked ready to fall over, so I restacked them into two piles. I pulled out an oversized pictorial book and rifled through the pages.

  The population of Hangtown during the Gold Rush was surprisingly similar to today’s population of 10,000 in the city proper, making it the third largest city in the state behind Sacramento and San Francisco at the time. Back then, Main Street consisted primarily of jewelry stores, hotels and at least twenty saloons.

  A tad different from the makeup of today’s city.

  I examined a photo of the original Hangtown Hotel. According to the book, it was quite a showplace, claiming the biggest stage in town until the construction of the Empire Theater. The hotel also boasted the largest number of female companions.

  Now how did they define female companions back then?

  I grabbed my horseshoes and the book and ambled up front. Abe’s cash register pinged yet another sale. A cute couple wearing matching yellow polo shirts, khaki shorts, white curls, and satisfied smiles exited the store. I plopped my purchases on Abe’s glass counter.

  “How are you doing after last night’s ordeal?” asked the sympathetic owner.

  I gently patted the bump on my head. “Other than my head feeling like a runaway horse stomped all over it, I’m okay.”

  “You’re sure lucky they found you.”

  I started to nod then settled for a smile. “I’ll take a pounding headache over a pulverizing any day.”

  Abe kindly switched our conversation to something less terrifying than the previous night’s misadventure. He held up the horseshoes. “You taking up riding?”

  “Nope. Some last minute items to decorate the bank.” I pointed to his store windows. “Although I don’t know how we’ll compete with your wonderful wares. I see you sold Scott Shelton’s antique guns.”

  Abe shook his head. “No, Scott came in and bought them back. Even paid me a commission although I told him he didn’t need to.”

  “He must have hated parting with something so valuable and sentimental.”

  “Said he came into some money and wanted to wear them on the Wagon Train trek.”

  “That jewelry set you put in their place is gorgeous,” I remarked. “My mother’s birthday is coming up. Can I take a look at it?”

  The portly owner shuffled over to the window, removed the bracelet and earrings and placed them in front of me.

  “Beautiful, ain’t it?” he said.

  “They look like family heirlooms.” I picked up the bracelet and admired the skillful workmanship. When I peered closer, I noticed some minuscule engraving inside the gold band, “To S, love forever, M.” Aww, that was so sweet.

  “It must have been hard for the owner to part with them,” I remarked.

  Abe sucked in his breath, but he remained silent. It wasn’t any of my business why the previous owner sold the lovely pieces of jewelry. I bent closer to read the minuscule price tag attached to the bracelet.

  Ouch. “I don’t suppose that third zero behind the three is a mistake?”

  “It’s a work of art as well as a piece of history.”

  “I don’t disagree, but it’s too much for my measly budget. I’ll stick with the horseshoes and this book. I’m trying to solve the mystery of the skeleton in my grandmother’s back yard.”

  “Boy, you’re a real Jessica Fletcher, aren’t you? Maybe you should stay away from sleuthing though. Look how close you came to getting crushed last night.”

  Geez. Didn’t anyone think I looked more like Nikki Heat than the elderly detective from Cabot Cove? I began to reply when a huge crash startled us. Immediately following the deafening sound were the words no mother wants to hear uttered by her young son. Especially when he’s surrounded by cut glass crystal and English bone china.

  “Oops.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  One hundred dollars’ worth of broken china fragments later, the kids and I finished decorating the bank. Ben claimed that his run-in with a small curio cabinet was due to him wanting to catch Abe’s Siamese cat. When the cat rebuffed Ben’s efforts and unsheathed its claws, Ben knew enough to back off. But he forgot to look behind him and crashed into the cabinet.

  Abe seemed understanding about the incident, but I felt obligated to reimburse him for the damages and gave him all the twenties in my wallet.

  Ben’s lower lip puffed out to twice its normal size. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I tried to be careful. That is a very dangerous store for a young child to be in.”

  Jenna burst out laughing and so did I. Ben was correct. An antique store was no place for a small boy, especially if Ben had inherited his mother’s klutzy DNA.

  Monday proved uneventful which, considering the incidents of the past couple of weeks, was a nice change. Mr. Boxer actually smiled a good morning at me, so he either approved of my decorations or enjoyed his time in San Francisco. I wondered if his visit included socializing with any “female companions.”

  I debated calling Tom to see if his detectives were pursuing new leads but decided he would call me if he learned anything new.

  I needed to update Rex regarding Tom’s and my conversation. Since the lawyer helped search for me Saturday night, he might realize the incident confirmed Hank’s protestations of his innocence. Rex already may have set legal things in motion.

  My mother called as I was halfway out the door to grab a sandwich. “How is your headache, dear?” she asked. “Are you feeling better today?”

  “A little, although I still need Advil now and then. I’m sure it will disappear eventually.”

  “I believe you’ve become a headache for Spencer’s murderer. Does Tom think you need police protection?”

  “He offered to have someone drive by my house in the evenings, but as long as I’m either at home or work I should be fine. The good news is that Tom is having the detectives re-examine the case. After I hang up with you, I’ll call Rex and give him an update. Maybe he can get Hank out of jail.”

  “Funny you should mention Rex’s name,” Mother said. “Remember I mentioned I would check to see if that deed you found granting ownership from Mountain High Winery to Spencer was ever recorded?”

  “Yes. What did you find out?”

  “No deeds have been recorded between those two parties. Are you certain you saw Chad Langdon’s name on that document?”

  “Positive. Almost.” My mind raced as I tried to grasp what this meant. “So if Spencer was about to record that deed transferring Chad’s interest in the
winery over to himself, wouldn’t that be an excellent motive for murder?”

  “Exactly what I thought.”

  “Tom needs to find out about this. You didn’t do anything illegal to get that information, did you?”

  “Don’t be silly. I simply networked.” She giggled. “But that’s not the only thing I discovered.”

  My ear glued itself to the phone waiting for her response.

  “I had my informant, um, I mean my friend, run every recorded transaction involving Spencer’s name in the past twenty-four months. Guess who else he foreclosed on?”

  “I already know the answer to that. He took back the Hangtown Hotel from Scott Shelton. And Scott is not a happy camper.”

  “Well, there’s one other unhappy person camping out a few doors down from your office.”

  “What? Who?” Was she going to share her news or turn this into a one-hour primetime special?

  “Two months ago, Spencer filed a Notice of Default on a million dollar loan for a property located on Coloma Road.”

  “And this is important why?” I asked.

  “The person who owns the property is your ex-husband’s defense attorney.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Wow. You could have knocked me over with a legal pad. The victim tried to foreclose on Rex Ashford. Who knew?

  And that truly was the question. Did the detectives review any of Spencer’s financial transactions when they investigated his murder?

  “Laurel, are you there?” Mother asked.

  “Yeah, just bowled over. I’m not an expert on this legal stuff, but isn’t it a conflict for Rex to be representing Hank?”

  “I ran that by Robert before I called you. He said it’s okay as long as Rex discloses it to Hank and the judge. Maybe Rex felt it wouldn’t be an issue and that he was the best attorney to defend Hank. Or maybe it’s just an odd coincidence.”

  I personally think all coincidences are odd, but this particular one leapt to the top of the odd pile for me.

  I thanked Mother for her research, and she warned me to keep an eye out for murderers on the loose. My stomach knotted when I recalled Saturday’s ordeal. From one standpoint, my almost getting killed benefited Hank since Tom agreed to re-examine the investigation.

  But it sure would have been nice if he’d listened to me before I was almost mashed into McKay mulch.

  I debated the best way to proceed with the information Mother unearthed. Chad Langdon continued to take the lead on my suspect list. As for Rex, even if he was experiencing financial issues, I simply could not imagine him killing Spencer. I called the attorney’s assistant and made an appointment to see him at one-thirty. If nothing else, Rex needed an update on the case.

  I opened the frosted glass door of Allen & Ashford, Esq. a few minutes late for my appointment. Rex’s young assistant dressed more like a backup dancer for Beyoncé than a paralegal. After following her swiveling hips down the hall, I decided she could show professional dancers a move or two. The young woman stopped at the doorway, flashed a saucy smile at her boss then wiggled her way back down the corridor.

  What I wouldn’t give to be a saucy twenty-something again.

  Nah. I was perfectly happy with my family and my lifestyle. Except for one pressing problem, which I hoped Rex and I could resolve today.

  I sank into a comfortable and likely expensive leather chair and greeted the attorney. Dressed in a navy Armani suit, he could easily have posed for the cover of Esquire.

  “Laurel, you look far better than you did Saturday night,” Rex said. “How are you feeling?”

  I shivered at the reminder of my winery nightmare, or possibly from the over-chilled office. “I’m fine. Thanks for hanging around to help search for me.”

  The attorney’s Crest-white grin almost blinded me. “Maybe you should leave me to deal with Hank’s case in the future. You don’t want your children to lose their mother as well as their father.”

  If Rex thought his words would provide comfort to his client’s ex-wife, he was way off the mark. I tried to control my trembling and replied. “My frightful experience might be worth it since the Sheriff’s Department is taking another look at the case.”

  “They think Spencer’s killer targeted you? You’ve been grilling people all over town. Maybe you’ve upset someone with your questions.”

  I frowned at him. The attorney was starting to tick me off.

  “This week I’ve concentrated on annoying only one person––Spencer’s murderer,” I replied. “Given the circumstances, Tom suggested you contact the Deputy District Attorney and recommend reduced bail.”

  “That’s not exactly how the legal process works, but if you want, I’ll give Camille a call. Try not to get your hopes up for Hank’s quick release though.”

  We stared at one another. I began to have second thoughts about hiring Rex to defend Hank. His reluctance seemed peculiar unless he calculated he would earn more in legal fees if he dragged the case out. That reminded me of his financial situation.

  I didn’t want to alienate the lawyer while he still represented my ex, so I eased into my questions.

  “I’ve come across a litany of possible suspects,” I said.

  “Spencer wasn’t the most popular guy in town.” Rex crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, assessing me warily.

  “That’s for sure. Did you know he took ownership of the Hangtown Hotel after he foreclosed on Scott Shelton?”

  Rex nodded.

  “I gather Spencer made large loans to several locals.” I raised my eyebrows in Rex’s direction, encouraging him to elaborate on his own financial transaction with the victim.

  “Is that so?” He flicked a piece of nonexistent lint off the cuff of his perfectly pressed trousers.

  “Yes.” I waited for him to respond. The silence was so deep you could have heard an eyelash drop. A few of mine did since I kept blinking furiously wondering why my not-so-subtle questions didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

  The finest criminal defense attorney in town appeared far more adept at maintaining discretion than this amateur detective. After a few minutes of complete silence, I checked my watch and decided enough time had elapsed. I would ask Mother to continue her “networking,” hoping she would learn more about Rex’s financial issues. In the meantime, I needed to return to the bank and work on luring more customers into its deposit-hungry arms.

  I reached for my purse and Rex stood.

  “I’ll try to get a bail reduction hearing for Hank,” he said. “Don’t worry. I have everything under control.”

  I shook his hand and walked to the door. I stopped to look back and caught Rex rummaging through his credenza. Everything might be under control from Rex’s perspective, but I wondered if that was necessarily a good thing for me.

  Or for Hank.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Surprisingly enough, Rex did have everything under control. Tuesday afternoon, he called to say the Deputy DA had agreed to a reduced bail hearing the following day. Because the detectives were looking at some new evidence, bail could be as low as $200,000. Too bad Mother hadn’t landed on any buried treasure when she fell down the mine shaft. Mr. Bones was definitely not the kind of booty we needed.

  Later that night, I sat on the sofa, my kitten perched on my lap, watching the local and state election results on television. So many Californians, including myself, vote by mail that it can take a while to tally the results. Pumpkin didn’t appear to have a political preference, although every time either candidate appeared on the screen, she jumped off my lap to lick her butt. At this point, I almost didn’t care who won. I just wanted a reprieve from the nonstop adversarial political commercials clogging the airwaves.

  Our home phone rang and I leapt up. Pumpkin went flying, yowling in response. I apologized to my cat and jogged over to the phone.

  “Did you see Chad Langdon is in the lead?” Mother asked. “After that incident at Mountain High Winery, my trust level in him has sig
nificantly diminished.”

  “I don’t trust anyone running on a ‘no-growth’ platform who is a silent partner with a developer,” I replied.

  “With Spencer eliminated, I thought for sure Tricia would win. I guess Chad is popular enough to get a huge number of write-in votes, so there may not be a runoff in November.”

  “Did you call to discuss politics?”

  “No, don’t be silly. First, how are you feeling? Next, did you discover anything new about Mr. Bones? I need to list your grandmother’s property while the market is hot. With interest rates climbing back up, real estate sales could come to a dead halt at any time.”

  “I’m fine and Jenna is reading through Harold’s old journals, but it’s not easy given his scrawling penmanship and the condition of the volumes. I purchased an interesting book from Abe that covers quite a bit of Placerville history during that period. I’ll start reading tonight.”

  “Good, I appreciate it.” She paused while I waited and watched Chad’s votes tick higher on the TV screen.

  “Do you think I’m wrong, forcing your grandmother to move to the retirement community? She’s barely talking to me lately.”

  “No, I understand where you’re coming from, especially after her fall the other day.” I took the phone back to the sofa, patted my lap, and waited for Pumpkin to land in her favorite spot once again. She threw me one of her “I’ll jump up when I feel like it” looks and trotted out of the room. “If I hadn’t stopped and checked inside the shed the other night, who knows what could have happened to Gran?”

  “I suppose.” Mother sighed. “She’s very effective at guilt-tripping.”

  A family trait Gran successfully passed along to my mother.

  “I’ll go ahead and list it tomorrow,” she said. “With tourists arriving to watch the Wagon Train roll in this weekend, I might hold an open house on Sunday. People from the Bay Area love these old Victorians.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, “until they move in and discover what a money pit they are.”