“You don’t have to,” I started, but he cut me off.
“My mom and dad dated about 20 years ago. It’s the same old story. He was well off, and she was working her way through school. They dated. She got pregnant, and the family gave her a small settlement to make it—me—go away. So she did. My mom said she wanted the man and not the money, but she took the cash since she wasn’t going to get the guy.” He gave me a small wry smile that told me he’d explained this before.
“But the younger kids?” I asked. There was at least a 12-year difference in age between Carter and his next youngest sibling.
“He came back. It was about 10 years after I was born and my mom was paid off. He told her that he’d been young and gutless, but that he was back and wanted to make things work. They started dating and then moved in together. I’m not sure why but they never married. My mom said that he was still afraid of being caught by his family, and she didn’t want the hassle of being forced into another settlement. They had two more kids together before the shit hit the fan.”
“What happened?” I asked. I hated to admit that the story was compelling. I was rooting for the couple, even though I knew the ending to this story.
“A few things happened at once. My mom got pregnant again, and she decided that it was time to tie the knot. She found out from the newspapers that he was engaged to another woman, some socialite. And then she learned that he’d been drinking heavily all this time. She caught up with him one day after they’d split up. Ironically, she was at the hospital for an OB/GYN appointment, and he was there for a liver condition. He was told that he had to stop drinking or he’d eventually die of it.” Carter said the words without emotion. I couldn’t tell if he was holding in the emotions or if he didn’t have any other feelings to express at this point.
“And that was it?” I asked, feeling somewhat disappointed at the anticlimax. I’d expected a big scene or something. Instead, it had seemed to fizzle out.
“Yeah, she went on without him. A couple of times, she tried to contact him about child support or something for the kids, but either he was broke, or the family didn’t know where he was.” Carter’s gaze was still fixed on some point in the distance.
“Well, we’d talked about inviting him to the funeral, but now that he’s gone…” I paused, trying to think of a more polite way to finish the sentence.
Carter cut in. “You want to know if we should tell any of the Prestons now?”
I nodded. “I don’t want to be crass, but you’re definitely next of kin now, and it’s quite likely that there will be a settlement of some sort from his estate.”
Carter barked another laugh. “Aaron already suggested that, but I can’t imagine that he had a cent. I mean, he was living on the streets. How much money could he have had?”
“I don’t know, but you might want to make contact with the family, see if you can attend the funeral,” I suggested. I wanted Carter’s appearance at the food truck that morning to appear as though it was more helpful and less like a means for murder.
“You can do that if you want. I’m just not up to dealing with that side of the family yet. I mean, if there was money, I would have preferred to spend it on helping my mom get well, rather than get it now, when it can’t do anyone any good.” A tear trickled out of his eye, and I decided that I’d best leave. I gave him a long hug and drove home.
***
Land showed up a few hours later. It must have been a tough day, because he’d apparently stopped at a local Chinese place and brought dinner. I was a bit shocked, until he explained, “I’ve been talking to Danvers, and I was running late.”
We got the meal together and began to eat. Of course, he was not free with his answers about what he and Danvers were talking about, so I began to ask.
He took it in stride, answering the questions as fast as they came. “They were starting the autopsy, which is why he had to go. I was offered the chance to sit in on it, but I thought I’d rather see you.”
I took the compliment with a smile and ate some more of the Hunan chicken with chopsticks. Land, of course, was a pro at using the proper utensils, but I had to attempt each bite multiple times to get it in my mouth.
“So what are they thinking?” I asked.
Land shrugged without losing any of the rice on his chopsticks. “Actually, I was thinking. I had Sabine tell Danvers all about her ID of the other man. He was annoyed with her, but glad that she’d come clean.”
“So what does that do?” I asked. I wondered why Land was playing matchmaker in this situation. Land had warned me on many occasions to be careful of Danvers and not to trust him. Why was Sabine dating him if this was his attitude towards the man?
“Danvers stopped over at the art gallery after Sabine came clean. Mr. Preston was there and answered a few questions about his movements.” Land raised an eyebrow. I knew he was suggesting that the lie was worth mentioning.
“Did he say where he’d been in the morning?” I asked.
“At the gallery, but that directly contradicts what Sabine said, so Danvers is taking a dim view of Mr. Preston at the moment. That’s why they’re rushing the autopsy.” Land finished the last of his vegetarian fare and cracked open a fortune cookie.
As if on schedule, Land’s phone rang. He looked at the screen and answered it. “Yeah.” That was his idea of a greeting.
He listened for a few minutes and then clicked off. I waited for him to speak, but he took his time in responding. “They just finished the autopsy. The family identified the body a little while ago. The deceased was definitely Milton Preston.”
“Deceased?” I asked. If Land wasn’t using the word victim, it was because it no longer applied. Despite English being his second language, he was one of the most precise grammarians I knew.
“Enlarged heart, bad liver, kidneys failing. There wasn’t much left that functioned properly,” Land replied. “It was natural causes.”
I took the words and thought about them for a few minutes. Even though Milton’s death was caused by natural causes, Hamilton’s most certainly had not been. I was going to have to refocus on Hamilton’s’ death and ignore the other death, even though that one was the death that likely involved Carter’s future and the lies of the family patriarch.
I took a deep breath. “So we’re back to where we were,” I said finally.
Land smiled, leaned across the table, and kissed me. “Not at all. When you started on this case, you had three distinct sets of suspects: the family, the business, and the campaign. Now with the other son’s death, it certainly seems like the motive lies within the family. So you’ve made a lot of headway in this case so far.”
He handed me a fortune cookie. I cracked it, and the hard exterior crumbled into pieces. “Be careful what you wish for,” it read. I ignored the message as I pulled Land in for another kiss.
***
The next day was the day before the funeral. Sabine showed up early and had the prep done long before the coffee drinkers switched to solid food. Much as I liked Carter, he could be a slacker at times. I realized that he was in way over his head with the responsibilities he had to bear, but at the same time, he added work to me.
I was still waiting for the irresponsible, immature sister that Land spoke of to rear her head at the truck, but so far I’d not seen any of that. Being an only child, I had always wished for a sister, and this was as close as I was likely to get to having one. Land had an older sister somewhere in Europe, but I’d heard nothing of her except for an occasional comment.
“So I heard you fessed up to Danvers last night?” I asked after things were under control for the morning.
“Yes, Jax is so tedious about the truth sometimes,” she said. “I think he believes that I was enamored of Mr. Preston and his money, but that’s not true.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” I agreed, though I was a bit baffled. Who would pick Mr. Preston who was old enough to be her grandfather when she had a very attractive and rat
her buff policeman boyfriend available?
“He’s going to interview Mr. Preston more today at the police station.” She pointed across the square as if I didn’t have any idea where the police station was. I’d been there too many times to not know its location intimately.
The shift went quickly. I wanted to keep an eye out for Mr. Preston, but I didn’t see any signs of him. Brianna Preston did show up after the lunch rush, making me wonder if she had taken lessons from Detective Danvers.
“Maeve, do you have a moment?” she asked. She was dressed impeccably in a business suit that I would have loved to have owned, even though it would have remained in the closet for the foreseeable future. “I need to speak to you,” she said as she eyed Sabine. “It’s a delicate matter.” I wasn’t sure whether Sabine was getting the eye because of the situation with Brianna’s father or just because Brianna didn’t want any prying ears around.
I exited the food truck. Sabine gave me a thumbs-up to let me know that everything would be under control. We walked off to one of the benches near where the death had occurred yesterday. I plopped down, but Brianna wiped a place clean with a tissue.
“So what can I help you with?” I asked as she finally took a seat next to me.
She looked around. “Is this where it happened?”
I raised an eyebrow. “You mean your brother’s death? Yes, it was.”
“I wish I could have been here,” she said, scanning the area for a second time.
“It doesn’t seem like it would have done any good,” I offered. “His death was from natural causes. You couldn’t have done anything. He was dead before we could even administer life-saving measures.”
She drew a deep breath. “I know, but there are things I would have liked to have asked him. Now I won’t ever be able to.”
I nodded. “Death cuts off the chance for things to be explained and resolved.” I thought of Carter and how he’d never be able to ask his father why he’d left or where he’d been. I would definitely not be satisfied to leave things undone like this, though I knew I’d have no choice in the matter. “What would you have liked to have asked him?”
“Why he came back to Capital City after all this time. The last I’d heard, he was in Texas somewhere. Then suddenly, he’s back here. I wonder if he came back for Hamilton’s funeral.”
“I don’t think so,” I said, thinking back to the first time that I saw Milton Preston. He’d been here when Hamilton had argued with the person in the park. Had the two brothers been arguing? In either case, the answer was clear. He’d been in town before the murder, and, in fact, it was possible that Milton had killed his brother. I wasn’t sure what the motive would have been if they hadn’t seen each other in years, but anything was possible.
“What makes you say that?” she asked, staring at me.
“I think that I saw your brother before the murder. So I don’t think it could have been him. I also saw your brother and father, as well. This predates the murder.” I tried to be gentle about it, but I hoped my words would jar her enough to get some answers from her.
She closed her eyes a minute and then opened them again. “So they both knew that he was in town and didn’t mention it to me. Just like the men in that family.”
“How so?” I asked, feeling some sympathy for her. She had been outnumbered by men in the family, but now the women, mother and daughter, outnumbered the men, the singularly missing Mr. Preston.
“My father left equal shares of the art gallery, the house, and the estate to all three of his children. He’s a bit of a chauvinist, and he thought that the men would always outnumber the women in the running of the family business. That’s the way he liked it.” She made a face like that wasn’t the way that she liked it.
I could understand. My parents had always encouraged me to do anything I wanted with my life. None of us had envisioned a food truck business, but they were supportive of that, as well. How much harder it would have been to achieve my goals if my family had thought my worth less than that of men.
“So what does that mean now?” I asked, thinking about the consequences of this notion.
“Hamilton’s shares of the business go to his two children. I’m not sure about Milton’s shares. No telling who he slept with on the road. So the business testosterone gets diluted now. My father is trying to fix things to get it back into male hands, but who knows what will happen with that?”
“Can he do that?” I asked. I wondered about the ramifications of trying to change the proceeds of a will after it has been probated. Of course, if there were trusts and other financial vehicles, then it could be arranged.
“My father has a phalanx of lawyers working on it at the moment, but the short answer is that it’s unlikely.” She drew herself up. “He actually accused me of killing my brothers so that I could inherit everything. He’s got private investigators looking into Milton’s past, as well, to see if he had any children. I really hope they’re girls.” With that pronouncement, she seemed to turn in on herself.
I took a deep breath and told her about Carter and the other children.
“Two girls, you say?” she said with a smile. “That’s not bad at all. It evens things up somewhat.”
“Do you think they’ll inherit anything?” I asked. I had thought about this earlier, but I’d not mentioned it to Carter, who had his plate full. I hadn’t had time to find out more, and there didn’t seem to be a good way to ask since Milton wasn’t even buried yet. Yet I doubted that Carter’s existence was known to the family if there had been a rich socialite fiancée at the time.
“The trust is almost a definite. I doubt that there’s much in the way of an estate. I can’t imagine that Milton had any personal property to leave.”
“What about Hamilton’s estate? Could it have left anything to his brother?” I asked. I wasn’t sure how the family had structured things to ensure that the gallery and money stayed in the family. They seemed rather insular.
She shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I see your point. If Hamilton left money to Milton, then Milton suddenly would have been a wealthy man. He could have been killed for the inheritance.”
However, that statement sent me crashing to the ground. Milton had died of natural causes. He hadn’t been murdered, and if he had been killed, Carter would be the one to benefit most from the man’s death. I didn’t want to accuse a friend of being a killer.
She stood up to go. I gave her Carter’s contact information. Even though I wasn’t sure of his reaction to meeting his father’s family, I did want to see him get the money that was his, so that he could raise the children without the burden of being too poor.
“I’ll be in touch,” she said as she left.
***
Sabine was ready for details when I returned. “So tell me all.”
I tried to succinctly tell her what had happened with Brianna and the information about the trust funds and the wills.
“She’s guilty,” Sabine said with finality. “She has to be.” She told an incredibly hole-filled story of Brianna murdering all of her family members to get the art gallery. While Sabine estimated the net worth of the gallery at 15 million dollars, killing one’s entire family for money seemed ruthless. I knew logically that people had killed for far less, but Brianna didn’t seem the type to do that.
I shrugged. “I just didn’t get that from her. She may be the killer, but then she’s a good actress, too,” I explained. “She acted as if she would have gotten the gallery anyway. Hamilton would be too busy with politics, and Milton was MIA. So she was the only one left.”
Sabine looked at me with her eyes sparkling. “I have more to tell you about that,” she exclaimed, as if she had discovered the secret to eternal life.
I waited, but apparently I was expected to coax her. “Well, tell me,” I said finally. “What happened?”
“Well, I was in the gallery, and I heard Mr. Preston talking with his wife. Apparently they had set up a trust regarding the gallery.
The plan was to divide it up between the three kids in equal parts.” She paused for effect, but I smirked. Brianna had already told me this detail.
I explained to Sabine about my conversations with the family and my understanding of the trust.
“You’re not hearing what I’m saying. That means that for every person who dies, there’s more for the rest. Now the whole gallery goes to Brianna. She singly inherits the business, which is worth several million dollars. Not a bad motive for murder.”
I scrunched up my brow. I knew that the police liked obvious and easy. I wondered how long it would be before the police would latch on to her as a suspect. She would have the clearest motive for murder. I hadn’t realized how afraid I’d been that Carter would be suspected for some of the same reasons. Add in anger towards the family that abandoned him, and you had an equally compelling case.
“So what happens to the money if Brianna dies?” I asked, wondering what would become of the gallery.
“Then it would be equally divided between the children of the three heirs. The father was complaining that they had too many children to effectively run the gallery.”
“How many are there in all?” I asked. I wanted to see if she had come up with the same count that I had.
“The father said that there were six, but that he wouldn’t be surprised if Brianna would get knocked up just to keep a piece of the business. Those were his exact words on the matter.” She shrugged, indicating her lack of empathy.
“Then he knows about Carter and the kids?” I asked, adding in my head. “Hamilton had two, and Carter’s mom had four. So that would be the six.” I wondered if the comments had anything to do with the fact that Milton had managed four kids out of wedlock. I was glad to hear that Carter might eventually get something from the family, even if it was a piece of the business.
“I believe so. He referenced children that he called bastards several times. Mr. Preston was adamant that his son’s bastard children shouldn’t get a piece of the gallery. He cursed up a storm about his son’s inability to pull off a social marriage to a woman who he called worthy of the family.”
FOOD TRUCK MYSTERIES: The Complete Series (14 Books) Page 98