A GRAVE CONCERN (Food Truck Mysteries Book 8)

by Chloe Kendrick

  He gave me a wan smile. “You can keep Aaron away from me. I told him this morning that I can’t marry him. Not when I will be responsible for three kids. It isn’t fair.”

  I was certain that he was wrong. Now was the time to cement things with someone, not push him away. People in grief shouldn’t make huge changes to their lives; they’re not thinking clearly. I hoped that Aaron knew this and would not take the rejection too personally, especially since I suspected that it would be temporary. However, it would be difficult not to take the rejection of a marriage proposal personally.

  Carter nodded apropos of nothing and started his work for the day. I explained to Carter what I’d learned last night and how that might impact the investigation. He agreed that my logic seemed sound. Usually I bounced my ideas off Land, but I hadn’t seen my fiancé yet today, and I was keyed up between the news about Carter’s mom and my thoughts on the murder case.

  The morning flew by, and when I looked up at one point, Detective Danvers was next in line. I poured him a cup of coffee, but he pulled out his wallet and asked for a Mexican dog, as well. Carter prepared the dog quickly and served it to him. I tried to waive the total, but Danvers paid and then stood to one side, waiting patiently for the rest of the customers to order. I was done in under five minutes, not because I was always this efficient. I wanted to know what was going on, and this man had the information.

  He nodded again as he approached the window. The hot dog was gone, and he was nursing his coffee. “We have a suspect. I wanted to know if you could take a look at a photo lineup to see if you recognize the person who was arguing with Preston in the park.”

  I nodded and waited. Given that my theory had mapped out several people as culprits, I was anxious to see which way the police were headed.

  Danvers had an array of six men, all dark hair and dark eyes. I immediately recognized number three. It was Albert, the homeless veteran. I felt a sickness at the pit of my stomach. I didn’t want it to be him. He was quirky and unhappy, but I had never seen him angry with anyone, and certainly not yelling at any of the others on Government Square.

  I looked back at Danvers. “I have no idea. I told you that it was dark, and I was far enough away that it could have been anyone.”

  Danvers took the array and nodded. “I figured you’d say that. You recognized one of the faces. I could see it in your reaction, but you don’t want it to be that person. Since I made up the array, I think I know who you’re thinking of, too.” He smirked at me, like he’d been too smart for me.

  I didn’t say a word. I didn’t want to be the one who put a possible suspect in prison—especially if I thought that he was innocent. I had doubts that Albert could have done this. He had seemed to be more afraid of Preston than angry toward him. He would have been more likely to run away than hurt the other man.

  “Well, this has been fun,” Danvers said, taking back the array and grabbing his coffee with the other hand. “Wish you’d been more definite, but from your reaction, we certainly have a path to follow in getting our suspect.”

  While I was cursing Danvers, Land pulled up in the other food truck. Carter nodded without being asked, and I went over for some comfort.

  I explained the situation to Land, who just listened. I wasn’t used to this approach. Normally Land was full of ideas and solutions to the issues, but today he just paid attention to what I said without talking.

  When I finished, he took a deep breath. “Danvers has a lot of pressure to make this case go away. He was telling me that if the case goes a certain direction, the Feds could get involved. If one of the other candidates killed Preston, then it becomes a case of election fraud, and the US government doesn’t take kindly to that. He’d be off the case and the Feds would take it over. No one wants to see their case get snatched up.”

  I nodded. I hadn’t thought of it that way, though I had thought of the candidates as being potential suspects. That didn’t mean that I still wouldn’t take an interest in this case. I didn’t like the thought of Albert becoming the main suspect in the case, just because it was more convenient for the Capital City Police.

  “So what’s he going to do besides try to railroad homeless people?” I asked, feeling that desire to outsmart Danvers coming to the front again. I’d done it more than once, and I knew that given the time and effort, I’d likely do it again.

  I thought about the homeless man with the manicure. Danvers had not had his picture in the lineup, but certainly he would be an ideal candidate. Still, I had very little information to go on. The man’s face had been dirty and smudged. A person with a shower and clean clothes would have looked far different. Hamilton had barely bothered to hide his appearance. He’d only managed to put on cheaper clothes and walk around the areas where the homeless people stayed.

  “I can tell you what we’re doing,” Land said after a pause. “We’re going to a party tonight.”

  I looked at him. This was the master of hulu, telling me about a night out. Land had expressed his desire to have a quiet life with me, stating in vague but certain terms that he’d done enough daring things in his youth. He didn’t talk much about those things, but I accepted him for who he was today.

  Yet here he was now, telling me that we were going out on the town. “Where are we going, party man?” I asked, still feeling surprised.

  “There’s a gala at the art museum later to support small businesses in Capital City,” he said without explanation.

  I put two and two together. “Do you really think that the Preston family will show up to an event the day after their son was found dead?” I asked. I really hoped that if I died, my parents would wait a few days to party. Yet I knew that many people had expectations put on them to perform, even if they didn’t want to participate.

  “I think that they will feel a presence is necessary at the event. It may not be all of them, and I doubt it will be the mother, but I’m pretty certain you can find someone to talk to.” Land smiled at me. I wondered when he and Danvers had concocted this idea. It was unlike Danvers to be so helpful, but at the same time, he had his own motives for doing getting us into the event. He wanted answers before other agencies got involved in the hunt for the killer.

  . Land always stressed to me that I shouldn’t trust Danvers, and at times like this, I saw his rationale for saying that. Under different circumstances, we’d be standing outside, looking in.

  “I have to get something to wear,” I said. “I need to do something with my hair.” I normally didn’t mind the way I looked. I accepted that making a living in the food truck industry meant getting a little dirty. However, I knew that people who made their living selling works of art would not understand that.

  Land laughed. “Go then. I’ll pick you up at 7 p.m. Oh, and Sabine will be coming with us,” he said, almost as if it were an afterthought.

  I knew better. Land was incredibly deliberate about his word choices. He’d waited until the end of the conversation to tell me this, after I’d already been mollified by the idea that we were going to look into another aspect of the murder. So the fact that he’d dropped the news on me meant something.

  It wasn’t that I minded bringing Sabine. She was a charming woman, beautiful and funny. However, she and Jax Danvers seemed to have some sort of romantic relationship; I suspected that it was loving. They weren’t open about it, and Land and I had spent more than a few hours speculating on what was transpiring between the two. Land wasn’t keen on the idea, since he didn’t trust the detective.

  In this case, I wondered if Sabine was to be the eyes and ears of Jax Danvers at the event. She could report back to the detective what we did and what was said by others. Her presence would be significantly less suspicious than the appearance of the homicide detective in charge of Hamilton Preston’s case. Was she a spy, or just a guest?

  While Land would have disagreed, I found that Sabine would provide us with some cover. She would be talking to the various guests, leaving me free to ask questions
and learn more about the Preston family.

  These thoughts replayed in my mind as I prepared for the party. I found a navy dress that complemented my auburn hair. It was sleeveless, reminding me of summer, but I would bring a wrap just in case the autumn evening turned cooler.

  Land was true to his word and was at my apartment door at 7 sharp. He looked quite respectable in his suit and tie. While I’d seen him dressed up many times, we both wore T-shirts on a daily basis. Those times when I saw him dressed nice, he took my breath away. I was marrying a damned good-looking man. I’d likely be devastated at the wedding, where he’d be wearing a tuxedo. I smiled to myself just thinking about it.

  Of course, Sabine was a beauty, too. She had opted for a little black dress, which brought out her deeper skin tone and dark hair. I wasn’t sure that I would ever wear a dress that short, but she didn’t seem to mind it at all. She wore heels that made her almost as tall as her brother, a fact easily seen as she had her arm around him once inside the door.

  “You look lovely,” Sabine said to me as I grabbed my wrap. “I can’t believe you got my brother to go out on a weeknight like this. I thought he was too old to have fun.” She laughed lightly at her own joke.

  “I’m only six years older than you,” he reminded her. However, the age gap felt larger to me. While Sabine had graduated from college locally, she had yet to start using her degree. When I’d met her, she’d been working at our secured parking lot as a guard. More recently, she’d been working at a department store, though she still subbed at the secured parking lot. Land had indicated that she’d been spending more of her income on clothes than saving for a future. I wondered if this dress was something that she’d purchased recently.

  “Ready to go?” I asked, feeling excited for both the event and the chance to talk to the Preston family. I was a little nervous about the entire affair.

  We drove to the event, mainly in silence. Sabine tried to start a conversation a few times, but Land answered with one- or two-word answers. She didn’t have my savvy in getting him to open up, or maybe he just didn’t want to talk at the moment. It was certainly not a frivolous start to a party evening.

  When we arrived, Land handed the keys to the valet like we did this all the time. The affair was held at the Capital City Art Museum, which was a great cement structure that seemed to drive the local artists crazy with disdain. However, the inside was filled with paintings that represented both the great works of history and local artists. The original donors to the museum had scored some works by 18th and 19th century artists before the painters had become well known. Those works formed the basis of the museum, and the curators had focused on getting works by local artists since then.

  Sabine took a glass of wine immediately and sauntered off to look around. She wasn’t the only one to look around; she was quite the object of attention at the party. Two men offered her another drink before she had made it to her second painting.

  Land snagged us some wine, as well, and we began to walk around, nodding at people as we looked for the Preston family. I’d seen a few photos of them in the local paper, and I hoped to be able to recognize them from their photographs.

  An older man stopped us and asked about our business. Land stood back and watched the crowd as I answered his questions and discussed business models for growth. I had to say that I enjoyed bouncing business ideas off of these people. I became so bogged down in the daily process of making sandwiches and serving coffee that I forgot the big picture. I had the money saved for a third truck or another business venture, but Land and I were only in the early stages of discussing what that might be.

  He smiled and motioned to another person in the distance. A younger woman approached us. “Hello, I don’t think I’ve met you before,” she said gracefully, holding out a hand. I shook her hand, and Land did the same. “I’m glad that you could come.”

  I had to repeat my spiel on the food trucks and the plans to grow in Capital City over the next year or two. While I was glad of the opening to talk to these people, I was being honest in my replies. While I was the majority owner in the company, our relationship had put us on equal footing.

  When I was done with the discussion, I took a sip of the wine. I was going to need this if I had to repeat my story too many times. Of course, that wasn’t even the half of it, since I left out all of our brushes with crimes and murders.

  “That’s incredibly fascinating,” she replied. “The council here is always looking for new people to participate. We want to make sure that the local businesses are well represented.”

  I smiled, thinking to myself that the last thing I needed was another responsibility at the moment. I was still worried about this case, the potential for a new business, a wedding to plan, and the mess that was Carter’s life. I didn’t need to spend two nights a month at a meeting.

  “What type of business do you have?” I asked. She’d not mentioned whether or not she’d ever been to the food trucks. I hoped that I could act more knowledgeable about her work.

  “I help run an art gallery, the Preston Gallery.” She didn’t cringe or act like I should know the business, even though her family member had been in the news for the past two days. She said it just as she would on any other day, in any other situation.

  This had to be Brianna Preston, Hamilton’s sister. I’d seen a few photos of her in the newspapers, but she was different now. I wasn’t sure if it was her demeanor or her appearance. She was definitely chagrined; there was a sadness in her eyes that didn’t leave. Yet she was wearing a jacketed suit in a soft pink that cost more than most of my wardrobe.

  I smiled at her. “Of course, I’ve heard of your gallery.”

  She looked gratefully at me for a moment. “I’m sure that’s not the only reason you’ve heard of me this week.” She tried to laugh, but the sound was harsh, sounding more like a bray. A waiter stopped by, and she took another glass of wine from his tray.

  Land nudged me with his elbow, as if I needed to be prompted. “Well, yes, but I didn’t want to appear rude or pushy.”

  “You’d have to go quite far to beat the rest of the crowd this week. You’d be amazed at what has been said of my brother,” she said, downing the drink and replacing it with another. I wondered how many she’d had if the waiter knew to stay close.

  “I’m sure.” I thought of my own brushes with murder and death. People could be ridiculously rude about it. I’d had people ask how I’d gotten out of prison, when of course, I’d been exonerated long ago. People remembered only the salacious news reports and not the whole story. I found that part of investigating to be frustrating.

  “I honestly don’t know what happened to my brother. We weren’t that close, hadn’t been for some time. He and I had very different visions for the gallery. I wanted to promote new artists and help build the community. He wanted to maximize profit for the gallery so that he could run for office.”

  I nodded. I knew that people could bring their own agendas into a business. While part of me would be delighted to invite Land’s sister to participate in the food truck business, I had worries that she, too, had her own agenda, and I wasn’t sure that it didn’t include Detective Danvers.

  “I take it that he won?” I asked. “I mean, since he was running for office.”

  She took a deep breath and looked around the museum. The event seemed under control with people mingling, and she continued. “To some degree, he did. His voice counted for more than mine in the voting,” she said with a wry grin. “However, I did manage to host a number of events that brought artists from the community into our gallery.”

  “I think it’s important to give back something. Kind of a karma thing,” I agreed. “I give my leftovers to the homeless people in Government Square.” If she knew anything about the case, this would be an opening for me to find out more. The police had not used my name, but had indicated that a vendor had seen Hamilton Preston posing as a homeless man in the area.

  “Wait, are yo
u the one who said that they saw Hamilton?” she asked. She stopped drinking for a few seconds and set her glass down on a nearby table. “The one who said that my brother was dressed as a homeless man?”

  I nodded, hoping she would go on. I was surprised that she’d heard of it.

  “That’s just so hard to believe. Hamilton was so fastidious about his appearance. I just can’t believe that he would put on someone else’s old suit and traipse around town like that. It’s so out of character for him.” She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, as if she were trying to sober up enough for this conversation.

  “Do you have any idea why he would have been there?” I asked, standing firm that it was her brother I’d seen.

  “None whatsoever. He was running for office. I can’t imagine why he would have done that.”

  “Could he have been trying to go incognito? Undercover in some way?” I prompted, wanting to eliminate some of the more far-fetched answers offered by the people around me.

  The laugh came out again, still harsh and inappropriate for the soiree. “Not really. Hamilton was nothing like that. He was the type to meet a problem head-on. If he were going to meet the homeless people of the city, he’d go in his best Brooks Brothers suit.” She smiled at the thought, which suggested she’d cared for him, even if she had her complaints.

  “Could he have been trying to understand what life was like for the homeless people in Capital City? There seem to be more of them every year.” I turned to look at Land, but he was just listening and smiling. He must be approving of my approach.

  She made a face again. “That wasn’t Hamilton, either. He didn’t give a fig about the homeless problem here. He wanted them gone. He had plans for a pedestrian area in Capital City that would include the gallery, and he wanted no part of any homeless people marring his vision. He had a few proposals to run the street people away and jail the ones who came back. It wasn’t his best moment by a long shot.”