A GRAVE CONCERN (Food Truck Mysteries Book 8) (8 page)

I wondered why Carter had not told anyone about his father’s connection to this case. Was it shame, or did he really think that he’d get away with withholding information from Danvers? That wouldn’t help much. If Brianna Preston told me about the black sheep brother, I was certain that the police had likely heard of him, as well. It would only be a matter of time before the pieces started falling into place for them. I paced the apartment, suddenly feeling like it was too small for me.

I’d made about my tenth lap across the carpet when the door buzzed. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I asked who was there. As Carter had predicted, it was Aaron.

I quickly returned the papers to the filing cabinet and shut the drawers. I didn’t want anything with Carter’s name on it in plain sight.

I answered the door before Aaron had made it down the hallway. He gave me a small smile as he came into the apartment. “Thanks for seeing me like this,” he said. “I have to talk to someone, and it can’t be just anyone.”

“You mean about the proposal and Carter saying no?” I asked, wanting to make this fast. I had some thinking to do, and I needed to be by myself to do it.

“Yeah, I guess that means he already told you,” Aaron said. He was breathless, like he’d been running and a bit manic in his actions. I’d never seen him stressed like this before.

“He told me that you proposed and that he’d turned you down. He didn’t go into details,” I said, remembering the conversation. I wasn’t sure what I was expected to do in this situation. Carter was an adult and made his own decisions.

“There’s more to it than that,” Aaron said. “You really need to help me convince him to marry me.”

I laughed. If life were only that easy—that people did what you said merely based on the fact that you told them to. “It doesn’t work that way, Aaron. Carter has to want to marry you.”

Aaron looked frantic now. His nostrils were flared and his eyes were wide. “He does want to marry me, but it’s just about the kids. He thinks I don’t want them, but I do.”

I nodded, having heard this discussion from Carter. “You still have to respect his wishes. There’s still plenty of time. You’re both young.”

Aaron bit his lip. “I don’t think we’ve got a lot of time here. It’s true that married people can’t testify against each other in a court of law, right?”

I nodded, unsure of where this was heading. “They can’t be made to testify against each other, but they can choose to if they want to.”

“Then I need to marry him right away.”

“So you don’t have to testify to what?” I asked, feeling peevish that this conversation was not going the way I wanted. I was barely keeping up with Aaron.

“Carter went to the park that night. I don’t know why he went, but he left shortly after dinner. He’d been acting shady, and so I followed him. I wasn’t proud of myself, but his behavior had me convinced that he was meeting another man. And he was with another man, in a manner.”

“I take it you mean Hamilton Preston, the man who was killed?” My mind was reeling now. “Why did Carter want to see him?” My mind went back to the folder in my filing cabinets and the answer inside.

“I have no idea, but I was relieved when I saw that it wasn’t some young boy. The guy was old enough to be his father,” Aaron said. “Anyway, they talked for a while, and then they argued. I didn’t want to hear too much, because I couldn’t pretend to be surprised later. So I left when the fighting started. Imagine my surprise when I saw the news story about a dead man in the park. Carter has to be the one who killed him.”

That might well be the case. I strained to remember what I saw that night, but all I could see was a vague figure in the dark. It might have been Carter, for all I know.

“And you want to marry him…” I started.

“So I don’t have to testify against him. What if the police find out that I saw the two of them arguing? I don’t want to be the one who puts him in jail. I couldn’t do it. That’s why I thought if we got married it would be a moot point. We’d be covered.”

I was impressed. If ever there was a testament to love, wanting to use spousal privilege in a murder case had to top the list. Now that I knew all of this, I had to talk to Carter and get this straightened out. His connection to the family, albeit tenuous, and someone seeing him argue with the victim made a case for the police.

Aaron’s phone buzzed before I could speak again. “Shit, it’s Carter. His mother just passed away.”

We didn’t stop to split up so that Carter wouldn’t notice that we’d arrived together. By the time that we made it to the hospital, I’d texted Land and told him what had happened. He said that he didn’t feel a need to overwhelm the family at the hospital; too many people would be daunting. He would plan to stop by another time or visit Carter at home later.

Carter was in the lobby when we arrived at the hospital. Besides the woman at the information desk, the room, which was larger than my apartment, was empty. They had small groupings of plastic chairs, and Carter was sitting alone in one of those arrangements.

I wasn’t sure if he had been expecting me, since he’d only texted Aaron, but he held out his arms for a long hug. I held him for several minutes. I told him that Land and I had already made arrangements for him to be off work for a while, even though that wasn’t true. I would be taking care of Dogs on the Roll by myself, while Carter was off.

My plan, though I hadn’t shared it with Land yet, was to invite Sabine to help out with the food truck until Carter was back. She and I could talk about the wedding—and, of course, about her new job at the art gallery. I wouldn’t really be prying into the murder if we were just chatting at work. At the very worst, I’d be getting to know my new sister-in-law. At best, I’d get to know more about the people in the victim’s family.

Aaron wanted his turn, and I stepped away so that he could hug Carter. I couldn’t hear all that they were saying, so I sat down and waited for the reunion to subside. I truly hoped that Aaron was savvy enough not to mention the murder at this time or place, but I’d have to see about that. He could be pretty blunt at times.

Their hug broke off finally, and Aaron continued to hold Carter’s hand. “What can we do for you?” he asked.

“Nothing right now. The funeral will be in four days, so there’s time to get everything together. The kids will continue to stay with me. I’ll be taking custody. It was in the will, and I’m the next of kin, so I shouldn’t have any trouble with that. They’re up with my mom now and my aunt. They’ll be back down soon. They’ll be glad to see you.” He seemed to want to fill the void of silence in the area by chattering, and he talked until someone else added a few words.

“What about your dad or other relatives?” I asked. “Should I try to contact them to let them know?”

Carter’s face flushed. “No, not my father. He hasn’t been in my life for years, and not the kids’ lives, either. I’d be afraid that he’d try to muck things up—ask for money, try to take the kids, something like that. He’s not good for much else these days.” His tone was as harsh as his words. Given what I’d heard about Milton Preston, that was probably a good assessment of his character. I wondered when Carter had seen his father last. However, now did not seem like the time to ask.

“Do you have a list of people to notify? I’ll try to take care of that and the flowers, if that works for you?” I said, wanting to change the topic. Carter definitely knew about his father and what he was like. So an argument with any of the Preston family might have been in order.

“I’ll get you a list tomorrow. Thanks so much.” He gave me a weak smile, and I gave one back. This was the hard part about being involved with other people. When they felt pain, you did, too.

Though I was close to my parents, I made a plan to visit them later this week and give them each a hug. They knew that I loved them, but it was definitely time to remind them.

“I’m a bit surprised that you called me,” Aaron started. I cringed inside, thinking about this discussion at this time, but apparently it was going to happen. “You said that we were done.”

“I’m not done with you,” he said as they continued to hold hands. “My mom tonight—before she passed—told me that I should marry you, and that I was being an idiot. I think she was right.”

“Then you’ll marry me?” Aaron said with a certain amount of shock in his voice. A tear welled up in his eye and slowly ran down his cheek.

Carter nodded his head. “Yeah, though I don’t know who will talk me into doing the right thing now that she’s gone.” I had a few reservations about a relationship where other people convinced you to get married. It seemed like a volatile start to the marriage. I’d known immediately when Land asked me—and even before that—I would say yes. I couldn’t imagine answering any other way.

Aaron tried to keep the grin off of his face, but he was having a hard time acting somber. It was a nice touch to have something good come from tragedy. “I will. Maeve will, for sure. She won’t let you do the wrong thing.”

I cleared my throat, not sure if I should be doing this now or not, but it needed to be done both for the children and to clear up this murder case.  “Carter, the first thing on my list is to tell you that you need to tell your father about all this. It’s best to iron the custody out now, rather than it be a big deal later on down the road.”

Carter sighed, like he felt all the weight of the three children on his shoulders now. “Fine, if you think it’s best. I don’t know how to get ahold of him, though. I haven’t seen him since I was ten, and from what I gather, even his family doesn’t know how to get in touch with him.”

Aaron nodded. “Who is his family? We can invite them to the visitation, at least. That should show that we tried to contact your dad and work out the issues.”

Even though I knew the answer to the question, Aaron apparently did not. Carter had kept this secret well-hidden all this time. “It’s the Preston family,” he said finally. “The people who run the art gallery. The guy who was killed the other night. That’s my father’s family.”

“Have you talked to them lately?” Aaron asked. Given his concern and worry about the kids, I had escaped having to look like a creep for trying to learn this information.

Carter took a deep breath. “Yeah, I have. The other day, I talked to my uncle, the one who was running for office and disappeared.”

Aaron looked at me, and then looked at Carter again. I wondered if he was preparing to hear that Carter had killed Hamilton in the park, in which case, Carter would have to marry both of us.

“He was okay when you talked to him? What did you two talk about?” Aaron finally asked.

Carter sighed again; the grief was obvious in his breaths. “I asked if he’d seen my dad recently. He said no, he hadn’t, but that he’d look into the matter. I thanked him and left.”

“That was it? He didn’t offer to help or anything?” Aaron said. Perhaps Hamilton valued his cash more than the election if he was willing to let family members go hungry.

“I didn’t ask him for any money. I don’t want their money. I wanted to tell my dad that my mom was dying. That was it. I thought maybe he’d want to show up to pay his respects. That uncle couldn’t have cared less. He thanked me and left.”

Carter’s façade began to break at this point, and the tears started. My heart broke for him, but I also felt panic well up inside of me. Carter’s story of the amicable parting did not coincide with the conversation I’d seen or what Aaron had shared with me.

I’d heard enough for one evening. I told Carter to keep in touch, let me know how I could help, and then I left.

***

Land had told me that he would take care of contacting Sabine, and apparently he had. She showed up at work at 6:15 wearing appropriate clothes for a food truck and looking ridiculously good. I felt oddly inadequate standing next to her, wondering if Land wanted or expected me to be as well put together. He’d never said anything, but he was far more likely to see me in jeans with my auburn hair pulled back than he was to see me dressed well.

It gave me a small pleasure to tell Sabine that she had to put her hair up to be in the prep area, but she did it without complaining and got to work. I wasn’t sure if the cooking gene ran in the family, but in no time, Sabine had chopped the onions for today’s condiments and started grating the ginger. Just for today, I’d let her select her favorite condiments to serve at the truck. I thought it seemed like a nice touch, since I truly appreciated her jumping in to help.

The morning went fast. I manned the coffee for the first hour or so until those few odd customers started ordering the hot dogs. I was always surprised by the thought of eating hot dogs at the crack of dawn, but there were several of the regulars who stopped by for an early morning snack. Sabine kept busy, making sure that we had sufficient condiments and hot dogs ready for the day.

In was nearly 7:30 when I saw one of the homeless men about 100 yards from the food truck. I recognized him immediately as the man I’d seen earlier—the one with the nicely manicured nails. He must have realized that I recognized him as he started off at a quick trot in the other direction.

I headed for the door, but by the time I’d hit the cement of Government Square, he was already gone. I couldn’t find any trace of him at all. I walked around for a few minutes, but none of the other regulars could tell me anything about the man. He was an infrequent visitor to the square. No one could even give me a name. I did get confirmation that he wasn’t residing in any of the area shelters. The infrequent appearances made me wonder what was up with the man. Why was he so secretive, and why did he only come around on rare occasions?

“What was that all about?” Sabine asked when I returned to the truck. She apparently didn’t have the same taciturn nature as her brother.

I explained between customers that I’d seen the man twice now, and that I wondered if this well-manicured man was, in any way, related to Hamilton Preston, since both of them had been posing as homeless people.

“Preston’s brother was homeless,” she said without explanation.

I figured that the man must have been discussed at the gallery.  “What exactly did the family say about him?” I asked.

She shrugged. “It wasn’t something they discussed in front of the hired help like me. I overheard a few things. The father had hired someone to find the homeless brother. He’d been traced back to Capital City, but at that point the trail went dead.”

For someone who hadn’t been allowed to listen in on the conversations, I thought she’d done fairly well. It was helpful to know that he was in town. That made Milton Preston a viable suspect in the murder of his brother.

The rest of the morning went quickly. Danvers stopped by after lunch. I handed him a free coffee, pretending that I’d forgotten about their relationship. He thanked me, almost pleasantly, and then shifted to talk to Sabine.

I acted like I was deeply involved in counting the money, but, of course, I eavesdropped on their conversation. They were making plans for the evening, and their cutesy lovey-dovey talk was nearly enough to make me sick.

Land and I had never been much for the saccharine speech. I knew he loved me and vice versa, but we were more of an action-oriented couple. I was glad of it after hearing these two.

I finished up the cash count and started on the cleaning, while Sabine still talked with Danvers. She mentioned my quick exit from the food truck earlier that day to search for a homeless man. Danvers shot several peeved glances in my direction, but he played nice, presumably for Sabine’s sake.

“Why are you so interested in the homeless people in Capital City all of a sudden? Are you still holding on to the notion that Hamilton Preston was impersonating a homeless person when you saw him?” Danvers’s tone was no longer sweet.

I explained to him that I had recently seen a homeless man with a manicure, and I had seen him again this morning. My thoughts suggested that perhaps the two events were related, and I wanted to talk to the man.

Danvers rolled his eyes at me. “That’s it? The guy had nice nails and you wanted to ask him about that. You’ve really taken this to the ridiculous end.”

I felt myself grow flushed. I felt demeaned by his words, especially in front of Sabine. “Do you have a better explanation for the matter? There’s a potential suspect in this case who is homeless. Have you found Hamilton’s brother yet?”

“There’s absolutely no indication that Milton Preston was anywhere near the scene of the crime, or even in Capital City. The last his family heard from him, the guy was headed for New York. Not sure why, but that’s what the family said.” I did notice that Danvers had used the man’s name and was well-aware of the man’s existence, despite the family’s secrecy.

I glanced at Sabine, who was keeping mum. I wasn’t sure why she wasn’t speaking up, but she began cleaning the grill with a fervor.

“What’s that look for? Sabine, do you know something about this?” Danvers sounded hurt and almost betrayed. He certainly knew that Sabine worked at the Preston Gallery, so he had to suspect that she would learn details that might prove useful to the investigation.

She sighed. “Yes, the family hired a private detective and found out that Milton Preston is back in Capital City. They don’t know where or if he’s even still here, but they hired someone to trace him down.” She shot a look that could have killed others, but I was used to the Mendoza death stare by now.

Danvers took a deep breath. “Great. I’m the last to know. I’ll put a couple of men on this see if they can pick up the trail. If Mr. Manicure is the brother, then that means he had opportunity to commit the crime, though I’m not sure what the motive would be.”

“Do you know why he left?” I asked, thinking about the man’s problems with alcohol and addiction.