Cold Hard Cache

by Amy Isaman

  I gasped, audibly, as it hit me.

  “You okay?” my mom asked.

  “Yeah. No. Wait.” I turned to face her as thoughts swirled in my head. “Carly thinks something happened to Alex, like he was in danger before he died. And Frank was obviously murdered. Do you think they could both have been killed by the same person? By whoever wanted the gold?”

  “Tricia, sweetheart,” my mom said slowly as she opened her eyes and rubbed them. “I have absolutely no idea who killed Frank, nor do I know who stole the gold, or where it is. Alex died in a tragic accident, and his mom is looking for any answers to help make that pain go away. You’ve been there, sweetheart. You know what that’s like. If Frank or Alex hid the gold, they’re both now gone, so unless Carly understands whatever damn thing Frank told you before he died about the gold being in the iris, I say the gold is still lost.”

  It wasn’t lost. It was right here. I glanced over at my mom. Her face was pale, which highlighted the dark circles under her eyes. She looked weary, and even though I wanted to tell her about the gold, did she need that additional level of stress?

  “I can’t just forget about this whole thing.” I finally said, as if she asked me to forget it, which, I realized, she hadn’t.

  “Why not? It’s not your problem.”

  I wished I could just tell my mom that the reason I couldn’t forget it was because there’s a gazillion dollars’ worth of gold sitting twenty-five yards from us in her garden shed, but I couldn’t. Two people with some relation to this gold were dead, and I certainly wasn’t ready to go, yet. I didn’t want anyone else to be in danger here, especially my mother.

  Which brought me back to the biggest question of all. Since Brian already had the gold, why would he kill Frank?

  Or had Frank just used whatever gold he and Del carried out to pay everything off and Brian stole it from them?

  Or did Carly kill Frank, hoping for whatever gold he stashed? She could melt it down and sell it off with her jewelry without ever worrying about the IRS or gold shops. It really was the perfect setup, but if she killed Frank, she was a damn good actor. And the gold was here. Not buried in Carly’s flower beds of iris, so that didn’t make sense.

  The whole thing made my head hurt. I rubbed at my temples and swore off ever watching another episode of Law and Order.

  I was way too deep into this. All I needed to do was reconcile with my sister and take care of my mother.

  I glanced toward the shed. No matter how much I wanted a full day with no commitments to regroup and relax and watch my mom’s shows with her while I wrote social media captions for some of the pieces in our shop or did some handwork on my latest quilt, there was no way I would be able to turn my brain off.

  I sighed and my mom shook her head. “I know you. And I know you won’t let it go, but it really would be best, sweetheart.”

  “I agree. I’ll try.” At least today, there was nothing I could do except tell my sister about Frank’s funeral. I grabbed my phone to send her a text.

  Me: Frank’s funeral is tomorrow. Mom and I might go depending on how she feels. Deciding tomorrow.

  Anne: Why would you go?

  Me: Carly invited us.

  Anne: K

  Well, that was easier than I’d thought. Unfortunately, the only emotion I felt was relief, not the best when I was trying to reconcile with my baby sister.

  Mom couldn’t do any of her normal hobbies like quilting, gardening, or getting together with friends. She watched old movies for the day while I tried to come up with captivating descriptions of antiques—which was not my strong suit—and took breaks appliqueing small flowers and vines onto a square that I hoped would eventually become a cool medallion quilt. The break felt good, though my THOUGHTS kept returning to the cache.

  ♦♦♦

  Nothing in the giant pile of clothes on my bed felt even remotely appropriate for a funeral. Mom decided that we should go to support Carly, so my mother shared some things she felt “would work for me.” Comfort was one of my values when it came to clothes, but I was not yet ready to put on anything that used elastic to hold it up when it wasn’t something designed specifically for exercise. I liked to think that I still held onto some fashion standards.

  My mother, apparently, no longer did. I loved her, just not her matching sweat suits and elastic waistband pants.

  The one pair of gray slacks I brought that weren’t either jeans or sweats would have to do. I found a simple white blouse in her closet that, along with a cardigan in case it was cold, would work just fine. I was fairly sure it would be cold in the funeral home.

  I found out in a few hours that I was right. It wasn’t air-conditioned this early in the year, but the heat certainly wasn’t up very high. Mom and I slowly made our way across the entrance lobby and toward the marked “Chapel.”

  Frank’s casket sat on a gurney-like thing at the front of the small room.

  “Thank you, Jesus, the lid is closed,” my mom said under her breath.

  “Thank God for that,” I agreed in a whisper, while mom took off down the aisle with her walker.

  “Let’s sit in toward the back.” I put my hand on my mom’s walker to slow her roll.

  “Why? I want to be able to hear.” She tugged at her walker.

  “I need to see who comes,” I hissed, tightening my grip on the handle.

  She stared at me, her eyebrows up. “Why?”

  “Well, I don’t see the detectives here. Maybe the person who stabbed Frank and ran out of that doorway is here, and I might recognize them… or something,” I added lamely. I honestly didn’t know what I was looking for, but I still wanted to see who came.

  “Oh, right, I forgot. You’re the new Nancy Drew. God, give me strength.” My mother rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and said her little prayer, loud enough for others to hear.

  “Okay, enough drama. Just sit here with me. In the back.” I guided her toward a row close to the back, got her seated, and headed back to the lobby to set the walker out of the way in case any more people decided to show up, though I didn’t anticipate a big crowd at the funeral.

  Nor did I anticipate seeing my nephew Logan in the lobby. He was standing off to the side, sort of in a little nook next to a plant stand. Like he was hiding.

  He flinched when he saw me. I jumped a bit too. Surprise for both of us then.

  “Uh, Hi, Aunt Trish.”

  “Hey, there,” I said slowly. I hadn’t seen him dressed up since his high school graduation, and I was startled at how grown up he looked in his slacks, collared shirt and jacket. “I’m here with Grandma. Do you want to come into the chapel? You can sit with us.” I gave him a hug trying to make him feel slightly less awkward and not like I’d found him hiding behind a fern.

  “I’m so sorry about last week with Carly,” I said, hoping to alleviate his discomfort as I awkwardly patted his back. “I think that took me as much by surprise as it took you. I gotta say, I’m kind of surprised to see you here. Your parents said you were pretty upset by the whole thing.” I felt his body relax just slightly as I let go.

  “Yeah. I was. I’ve been thinking about what she said. A lot. About Alex’s text. It just caught me off guard, I guess. But I still wanted to be here for Alex and Frank and Kat. I spent a lot of time with them when I was little. Frank wasn’t perfect, but he was a good dad. We had some good times fishing. You know that he and Grandpa Del were best friends, right?”

  I nodded. “Your Grandma filled me in on the whole thing after I found Frank. And I’m sure that news about Alex’s text couldn’t have been easy to hear.”

  “It wasn’t. I miss him.” His voice sounded shaky and on the verge of tears.

  “Come on. Your Grandma will be happy to see you.” I turned back toward the chapel to give him a minute to regroup.

  “Wait, are my other grandparents here? Grandpa Del and Nana Ruth?” he asked.

  “I didn’t see them, but we’re in the back so they might be up at the fron
t.”

  Logan shook his head. “That sucks. I wish they never would’ve found that stupid gold. It ruined so much.”

  “Yeah, money can do that to people, unfortunately.” I instantly thought of the tarot cards I found in London and how that find made people, myself included, a little crazy, as Logan and I headed into the chapel toward my mom.

  Chapter 17

  CARLY AND KAT SAT in the front row, and a few other people I didn’t recognize sat scattered throughout the space. I could really only see the back of the mourners, so it wasn’t like they were identifiable, anyway. Frank obviously didn’t have a ton of friends.

  Nobody approached Carly to give her hugs or console her though she dabbed at her eyes every few minutes. I debated going up front and started to move when an elderly gentleman dressed in a solid black suit entered the chapel from a side door at the front.

  I sat back down as he began to talk. He enunciated every word, speaking slowly in a deep baritone voice and pausing after every few words.

  “We have gathered here… today… to celebrate… the life… of our beloved… friend… Frank Baker,” he intoned. Oh boy, this was going to be a long service, and I tried not to fixate on how annoying his slow speech was. When the funeral director asked if anyone would like to share any stories or memories of Frank, little Kat was the only one who got up. Her voice shook when she started, and tears rolled down her little cheeks as she shared a story about one time her Dad took her on a trip in his big truck for a few days, and how they listened to music. She’d felt big sitting up so high in his rig. And she missed him.

  I think everyone in the funeral home was in tears by the time little Kat finished telling her story.

  Logan fidgeted the entire time she spoke.

  “Go on, share something.” My mom encouraged Logan in a whisper.

  He shook his head. “I can’t. I don’t want to ruin this for Carly. I think she hates me now.”

  “Oh sweetie.” My mom patted Logan’s leg, and we all sat and waited in the silence when the director asked yet again if anyone would like to share. People looked around the chapel uncomfortably, wondering if anyone would get up and fill this hideous, silent void. Now that I could see people’s profiles, I still didn’t recognize anyone, except maybe a man a few rows in front of us and off to our right. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place him. The funeral director tried again, and the silence grew more awkward as nobody stood to take the microphone the director held in his outstretched hand. I peeked over at my nephew, wondering if he’d get up, only to see him staring down at his lap.

  As soon as the director began the final prayer, Logan leaned over. “I’ve gotta go. I have class, and I don’t want to upset Carly. I’ll see you later.”

  He didn’t wait for either of us to respond, just patted my mom on the leg, and sidled down the empty row, up the side of the chapel, before vanishing into the lobby.

  The entire ceremony took a grand total of seventeen minutes, and I now understood why the funeral director spoke so slowly. After the final prayer, people stood and greeted one another. I headed toward the back to grab mom’s walker.

  The sun shone through the glass doors, and the heat felt great after the chilly chapel. I paused with her walker and looked out the window. I thought Logan was long gone, but he was across the street, chatting it up with Mike the detective. Obviously, Logan would know him since Logan’s dad was a cop. So, the cops came to see if the murderer was at the funeral, but didn’t come in which didn’t surprise me.

  What did surprise me was the man I found talking with my mom in the chapel when I returned with her walker.

  “Tricia, hi! I have someone I want you to meet! Roberto, this is my daughter, Tricia, and Tricia, this is Roberto.” Her voice sounded a little higher than normal.

  He looked up at me, and despite practicing a poker face for when I negotiated deals in my shop, I completely failed to hide my surprise when my eyes met the coin shop owner.

  “Oh, hi,” I said. “Uh, how are you?”

  “Wait, you two have met?” My mom asked.

  “Well yes, we have,” Roberto said, grinning.

  I nodded in agreement. “Yeah. We met when I was in Boise on the day that you fell. I thought I told you that I visited some coin shops.” I shifted my weight from foot to foot, feeling like a teenager about to get in trouble. But I didn’t know why.

  My mom leaned toward Roberto the coin dealer in a conspiratorial way. “My daughter found Frank on the street after somebody stabbed him. He gave her some sort of clue and now she thinks she’s Nancy Drew. She’s going to solve the murder and find some gold stash worth millions to save us all.”

  A slow flush of heat began working its way up my neck to my face. Now I did feel like a teenager, a totally mortified one. Especially since my first reaction was to be pissed that my mom told Roberto this at all, because now he knew. A wave of guilt hit me because I found the gold. I just hadn’t told anyone yet because I didn’t really know what the heck to do about it. And now, she’d blown my cover with Roberto.

  Which sounded ridiculous even to me.

  “Mom, we need to get going. Your appointment, remember?” I said wanting to just get out of the chapel.

  She glanced at her watch. “Oh, we’ve got plenty of time, and don’t you want to talk to Carly anyway? Give me a minute to catch up with Roberto. We haven’t seen one another in years.”

  She grinned at him, and I literally took a step back when I realized that the grin was… coquettish? “How do you two know each other?”

  “Oh my, we go way back. We met when, fifth grade? Mrs. Rill’s class?” Roberto said.

  Mom nodded, and flicked her head toward Carly, clearly telling me to get lost for a few minutes.

  “How long has it been since you’ve seen each other?” I asked.

  “Good lord,” my mom said, studying Roberto’s face. “It’s gotta be since just after high school? You enlisted and got sent off to God knows where. I met Bob after that and got married. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

  He laughed. “I’d never forget your face, Phyllis.”

  I knew my mom had her heart broken when her dad ran her first love off. Apparently that love had returned. And it looked like that little spark was still there, just fifty-five years later without her father to stop them.

  I grinned and headed toward the front of the chapel. Carly and Kat stood at the front of the chapel. My smile quickly vanished as I took in the tears streaming down Kat’s face as she ran her fingers along the top edge of the casket.

  “Hey,” I said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

  Carly turned. “Thanks for coming Trish.”

  “Of course. I can’t stay long. My mom has a physical therapy appointment in a bit, but I wanted to say hi. How are you doing?”

  She shrugged. “I took some time off work. I’m using all my vacation time, but I couldn’t go back right now. I’m useless there. I wish I could just quit but I can’t. We’d lose our insurance. I can’t make enough to live on with my jewelry, but it’s just so hard. I can’t focus, and I just keep thinking about Alex and Frank and all of this. I know there’s nothing I can do. They’re both gone. I just don’t understand any of it. Why did they both have to go?”

  Her voice hitched and tears streamed down her face. She glanced down at Kat and ran her hand over her daughter’s head, smoothing her already smooth hair.

  Her despair was almost palpable, and I felt completely inadequate. I’d lost a husband but also losing a child added a whole new level of grief, a level that I didn’t know. And I could tell her right now that, I could pretty much solve her problems by handing over half the gold. But would that solve her problems? Or make them worse? Somebody killed for the gold, possibly twice, and the last thing I wanted to do was put Carly in danger.

  “I can’t take much more, ya know?”

  “I know. I am so sorry.” I hugged her, and she sobbed on my shoulder. I held her while she cried, feeling th
e agony in her body, but I knew, from personal experience, that nothing but time would make it any easier to bear. Right now, it was the heaviest most horrible feeling, and she had to find her way through. Even though I knew that, with every cell in my body, it still didn’t stop me from wanting to make it better. Or easier. With a pile of money.

  “Oh, I’m a mess.” Carly let go and reached into her pocket for a tissue.

  “You’re allowed to be a mess,” I said.

  “This has brought back all the agony of losing Alex. I don’t know if I’ll survive it this time,” she added in a whisper, glancing down at Kat.

  “You will. You have to. For her. And Carly, I haven’t seen you in years, but I do know that you’re a strong woman. You can do this.”

  She wiped at her eyes and turned back toward the coffin. “I don’t want to say goodbye to him.”

  I nodded, gave Carly another hug, and left her standing with her daughter, my heart aching for her, but I couldn’t take away that pain.

  My mom and Roberto were engrossed in conversation and didn’t even notice me standing there waiting for them.

  “Mom,” I finally interrupted. “Do you want to invite Roberto to lunch? We need to get going if you want to eat before your appointment.”

  “I’d love to go,” Roberto beamed. He grabbed the walker and assisted my mother all the way to the car as I followed behind, feeling rather useless but pleased. We all could use a little ray of sunshine and if that ray came with Roberto, so be it.

  I was so engrossed with watching my mom and her old-new boyfriend giggle and flirt on the way to the car that I jumped when Mike the detective spoke right behind me.

  “Hey, Tricia, gotta minute?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” Roberto seemed to have my mom and her walker situation under control, so I turned to Mike. “How’s the investigation going?” I asked. “Well, you probably can’t tell me anything. Can you?”