Death of a Modern King

by Angela Pepper

  Before Brandon could get through the door, Kyle grabbed him. He was in handcuffs within seconds.

  I looked around at the bewildered faces in the room. Where was Drake? He wasn’t in his chair or under the glass table.

  I heard a muffled plea for help near my feet. I looked down to find Drake facedown on the floor, his arm being bent at a painful-looking angle while two stiletto heels drove themselves into his back.

  Breathlessly, Della said, “I got him, Stormy. I got this one for you. If he’s not the killer, he’s the accomplice, right?”

  “That’s for the law to figure out now,” I said.

  Drake whimpered. Della still had his arm pinned by her grip on his wrist. She had his tie in her other hand and was strangling him.

  “Della, don’t kill him before he goes to trial,” I said.

  She looked up at me, her dark, doe-like eyes gleaming beneath the lacy veil. The look on her face sent a chill up my spine. I repeated my request, and she eased up on Drake, just enough so he could breathe.

  Everything whirled around me, and soon the other police officers were there, taking custody of Drake. Logan was at my side, asking, “What next?”

  “Next?” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “How about lunch?”

  His eyebrows raised high above his sparkling blue eyes. “Lunch? Seriously?”

  “They’re making a new kind of grilled cheese at the Olive Grove. Five kinds of cheese, including smoked cheddar. It’s so good, it might be outlawed by the mayor.”

  He glanced around as his forehead wrinkled. “What do you suppose Corine told Lady Octavia? She seemed upset, and I don’t know if I can do anything today if it was as bad as my imagination is telling me.”

  “The babies are fine,” I said. “The butler, Randy, had the babies at his house. Drake and Brandon kidnapped them from the countess a few days ago to make sure she didn’t turn on them. I’m guessing she got cold feet at some point, if she was in on the whole thing.”

  “A kidnapping? That’s horrible. How did you know?”

  “Kyle and I saw the countess buying a breast pump at the drugstore. He put her under surveillance to confirm the rest.”

  “You swear the babies are okay?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Officer Wiggles was watching the butler’s house this morning, and they’ve already arrested him. Tony’s been watching the babies at his house. If Tony’s kids haven’t traded the babies in for a puppy, they’ll be back with their mother just as soon as she finishes ratting out the boys.” I wrinkled my nose. “I feel awful about devastating the woman with such an awful lie, but it was actually Kyle’s idea, so we can blame him.”

  “Sometimes the ends justify the means,” Logan said.

  “So, how about that grilled cheese sandwich with five kinds of cheese?”

  He grinned. “You had me at grilled cheese.”

  “Let’s invite Corine to tag along, so I can apologize for using her to deliver that fake message.” I wrinkled my nose. “I’m going to be in the doghouse with her.”

  “She’ll forgive you,” he said.

  I touched his stomach in the area of his scar. “The ends may justify the means, but there are always consequences.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Chapter 41

  During the weeks following the arrests of Drake and Brandon Koenig, a few facts came to light.

  Countess Octavia of Krengerborg had no part in the planning or execution of the two homicides. After assisting police with the investigation, she was permitted to return to Denmark with her two children. The offspring had no claim on the Koenig fortune, since their true father, Brandon, was not legally allowed to benefit from his crime, even if he could have successfully contested Dieter’s new will.

  The countess would, however, be getting money from the sale of Tim Barber’s home, since the babies were his grandchildren and only non-murdering heirs. My real estate agent friend, Samantha Sweet, would be listing the property on her behalf. Samantha was feeling optimistic about selling the home and predicted it would go long before the tiny dollhouse she was still trying to unload.

  The Koenig family, including Dieter’s niece Dharma, found that when they looked back with the knowledge that Tim Barber was the father of Brandon and Drake, everything fit. Tim hadn’t been the best employee, but Mrs. Koenig had kept him on staff no matter what. He had doted on the boys, choosing to spend his every weekend at the estate rather than starting his own family. We all hoped he was looking down from wherever he was, enjoying the adorable faces of his royal grandchildren.

  The twins, a boy and a girl, would be shielded as long as possible from the history of their ancestors, but they would see the photograph of Tim Barber holding them in his arms, and they would know their grandfather delighted in their laughter and smiles for one glorious weekend in New York.

  The butler, Randy, turned on his former employers after a few days of pressure. He was facing charges of kidnapping, conspiracy, and a half dozen other charges, including evading the police in a high-speed chase. It turned out he was, as I’d suspected, the person driving the vehicle that Kyle and I had been chasing near Lady Octavia’s rented house. He’d been doing some surveillance work with the brothers. Once he came clean about that incident, more bombshells followed, including the fact that he’d gotten the brothers access to Tim Barber’s home the day they murdered him and staged the suicide. It had been Drake who’d pulled the trigger, which put one first-degree murder charge on each brother.

  As for Brandon’s carefully orchestrated murder of Dieter, he’d left nothing to chance. He didn’t just oil the diving board and hope for an accident. Instead, he’d gotten the butler to slip a knockout pill in Della’s morning coffee so she wouldn’t be poolside that morning. Then he’d dressed in the handyman’s clothes and hid in the bushes. When Dieter Koenig stepped onto the diving board for his morning swim, Brandon bludgeoned him on the back of the skull. The pipe he used had a diameter that matched the edge of the diving board. Crime scene investigators searched the entire property, including the underground tunnel and the fallout shelter where Brandon had lived during the days he was supposed to be in New York. The crime scene investigators finally found the weapon inside a toolbox in the aircraft hangar. The pipe had been thoroughly wiped clean of evidence, but it was the only clean item in the toolbox, so its use was fairly obvious.

  Brandon might have gotten away with the perfect crime, if not for love.

  It was because of love—Dieter Koenig’s love for his new wife—that Logan and I had been invited to the mansion that day for breakfast. If we hadn’t witnessed Brandon fleeing the scene in the groundskeeper’s clothes, things might have played out very differently.

  I tried not to think about what could have happened.

  All I could do was keep looking forward, keep living my life, and try to do good in the world and in the town I loved.

  As the days passed, the weather cooled, and the House of Bean rolled out their version of a pumpkin spice latte. The sweet concoction was dubbed Cinderella Got Her Fella. Their specialty drink names were getting longer and weirder, but, as I said to Chad when I first ordered the new item, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  On the morning of the annual Forest Folk Run, a charity quarter-marathon that people walked or ran in costume, the sun was shining and the first leaves of autumn were turning gold and red.

  My father was already dressed up and waiting at the starting location, the Olive Grove parking lot, when I arrived with Jessica.

  He looked us over and let out a low whistle. “I don’t know whether to scream or laugh,” he said.

  Jessica and I struck a pose for the event photographer, Lily Chang. Lily was laughing so hard, she nearly fell off her electric scooter.

  I turned to Jessica and asked, “Why’s everyone making fun of us?” Unfortunately, the fake monster teeth I was wearing made it hard to speak eloquently. What came out was, “Shy-shes
herung-faffa-fa-ba-va?”

  Jessica, whose monster teeth were equally magnificent, answered, “FAAAAASSSSH! GAAAAR!”

  I tried to tell her she sounded like a wookie. “FOO FA FA FOOFIE!”

  “GAAAAH!” She stroked her monster-fur suit, which had been custom-dyed a red shade to match her actual hair. “MAAA?”

  I preened my own monster fur, which was a patchwork mashup of various colors, including purple, and grunted to her that she was beautiful to me.

  Our small monster let his opinion be known.

  We both turned to the vintage baby carriage we’d brought with us. Inside was Jeffrey, looking less than thrilled about his own costume. He wore a patchwork fun-fur vest over his gray fur, and a collar decorated with tiny plastic skulls. Everyone thinks their child is the cutest, but our kitty-monster was truly the most adorable of all the small monsters at the charity event.

  Before the actual walk-run started, the organizers got us to assemble in our groupings of three to five for the costume contest.

  Jessica and I pushed the carriage into our chalk circle, where we were joined by my father. Finnegan Day was dressed as a futuristic monster-slayer in tattered leather and punk-rock metal spikes. He’d modified his cane sword to resemble a double ax. He had a variety of tools and supplies strapped to himself, including one canteen marked “Irish.” He offered us a swig.

  I took out my monster teeth so I could talk and take a drink. It was iced tea.

  “Dad, I thought for sure it was going to be hot coffee with whiskey.”

  He winked at me. “I’m a law-abiding citizen who wouldn’t bring liquor to a family fun event.”

  “Is your Irish coffee in the canteen marked Iced Tea? This one is just a decoy, right?”

  “No comment.” He scanned the crowd as he twirled his battle-ax on its axis. “Where’s Sanderson? Don’t tell me he’s stuck at work.”

  “He had to sign some papers, but he’ll be here,” I said.

  A woman cried out, “Look what the cat dragged in!” It was Ruby Sparkes, wearing a judge’s sash. She was one of three judges for the costume contest. Ruby was dressed as the Bride of Frankenstein, with two thick streaks of white in her purple-red curls.

  My father said, “Top o’ the mornin’ to you, Ruby.” He took a swig from the Irish canteen.

  “You’re looking well, Finnegan,” she said, twirling one of her curls girlishly.

  “I’m a monster slayer from the future,” he said. “I drove here in my time machine.”

  “The one that looks like a green Torino?”

  “That’s the one,” he said. “You like it?”

  “I can’t say for sure. You’ll have to take me for a ride sometime.”

  “Careful what you wish for,” he teased.

  “Is this a teddy bear?” Ruby asked, peering into the baby buggy. Jeffrey yawned; Ruby let out a tiny shriek. “Good heavens, it’s alive,” she said. “You scared me so much, you little devil.” She made some marks on her clipboard. “That’s definitely worth a point.”

  Someone yelled, “Objection!” A man in a tattered-to-shreds suit ran toward us and stepped inside the chalk circle. It was Logan, or at least the zombie version of Logan. “Objection, your honor,” he said to Ruby. “The parties were not all present, but now they are.”

  “You look hideous,” she said. “Very good. The four of you are quite the sight.”

  “Hey,” said my father, pretending to be offended. “That’s my family you’re talking about.”

  Ruby laughed and finished making her notes. “Have a good walk or run today, folks. And please take it at your own speed. Contrary to what some whippersnappers think, it’s not a race. We all win if we have fun and get everyone across the finish line safely.” She blew us kisses and moved on to the next grouping.

  Logan hugged me tight to his side and said, “You look cute in fur.”

  I smiled broadly at his compliment.

  He continued, “I don’t know much about the legendary Forest Folk that live around these parts, but do you reckon they get along with zombies? What I mean is, do you think a cannibal sasquatch and her zombie boyfriend and her roommate and their beastly feline companion can live together in harmony, happily ever after?”

  I meant to say something profound and beautiful, but I’d put my plastic monster teeth back in my mouth, so I said, “GBBBEEEEFFFULLZ!”

  Soon, the event organizers were herding us toward the starting line and firing the T-shirt cannons.

  We paced ourselves for the quarter-marathon, finishing in the middle of the pack. My father doubled back and brought in the stragglers.

  After, we gathered with the rest of the town in Central Park, where confused dogs barked and sniffed the people in furry costumes. Jessica and I had planned to get a friend to take Jeffrey home, but he appeared to be enjoying himself from the safety of the baby buggy. We passed around refreshments, lay back on the grass, and watched the clouds float across the sky.

  Everything was truly GBBBEEEEFFFULLZ.

  THE END of Stormy Day Book 4.

  Look for more adventures in book 5!

  Click here for Angela Pepper’s personal newsletter, so you’ll never miss a new book, or exclusive bonuses for fans!

  Author’s Note

  Click here for Angela Pepper’s personal newsletter, so you’ll never miss a new book, or exclusive bonuses for fans!

  ANGELA PEPPER

  www.angelapepper.com