A GRAVE CONCERN (Food Truck Mysteries Book 8) (5 page)

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 you 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.”

“Then why would he have been like that?” I asked. I felt that knowing why he’d been masquerading would be a big step towards understanding the motive behind his murder. At the moment, the police weren’t inclined to believe my story, since they had only my word for it. And while I’d been shown time and again to be honest and insightful, they were listening more to the family than to the woman who had solved more than a few cases.

“Let me ask you a question. Are you sure it was him?” Brianna’s face was sincere and almost hopeful. If I were mistaken, it would be one less hurdle for the family to get past during this time. Much as I wanted to help this woman, I just couldn’t turn my back on what I knew to be true.

“If it wasn’t him, the man could have been his twin,” I said earnestly. I wasn’t trying to upset the woman, but at the same time, I wanted to be accurate.

“That’s what I mean. I hate to bring up family dirt, but my brother bore a marked resemblance to him.”

I remembered the official biography of Hamilton Preston and the unofficial mentions of a brother via certain websites and asked, “I thought you didn’t have any brothers except for Hamilton.”

She gave me a weak smile. “That’s just the official biography of my brother. There was one more child in the family. My older sister passed away when I was still very young. She was in a car accident. But we definitely had a brother.”

I thought of some of my relatives that I’d like to forget about. “Not a good situation?”

She shrugged “You could say that. He could never stay off the booze, and he could never hold down a job. He bounced around a lot, and from what I’ve heard, he’s been on the streets more than once. I was just wondering if he might have been the person that you saw instead of Hamilton.” She flipped through some photos on her phone until she found one. She held the phone up for me to see. The photo was older, and I assumed that she’d taken a snapshot of the older photograph. The man did bear a resemblance to his brother. I honestly couldn’t tell the difference. I’d never met either one, and I could only go off the images that I had seen. This one was slightly blurry from the image-of-an-image effect.

I shrugged. “It could be. Did you tell the police about this?” I wondered why Danvers hadn’t mentioned this to me. He was usually anxious to tell me when I’d screwed up.

“My parents strictly forbade me from mentioning him to anyone, much less the police, and I’m sure they didn’t, either. At the time, they were still sure that Hamilton would come home, and they didn’t want to embarrass him or hurt his chances to win the race for city council. Milton was always the black sheep of the family.”

I didn’t speak, but I mentally chalked one up for me. I had uncovered something that Danvers had not. I now wondered how I could parlay that into even more information about the murder. “Was he among the homeless here?” I asked. It would have looked terrible for the campaign if the candidate who wanted to lock up the homeless also wanted to lock up his relatives for the “crime” of homelessness.

“I honestly don’t know. He could have been. I haven’t seen him in probably six years or so, but I definitely know that at the time he left, he’d lost another job and my mother indicated that he would likely not be able to keep his home then. He’d taken some money from the business he worked at and gambled it all away. He also took some money from our gallery that he wasn’t entitled to, and that was that.” She finished the story in a rush as if she desperately needed to unburden herself. She looked relieved to have finished. “He was supposed to marry someone in our social circle, but those actions put an end to that, and he left. I can’t speak for my parents, but I haven’t heard from him since. My mother mentioned a few years ago that she’d heard from him, and he was in Texas, but that’s the extent of what I know.”

I indicated that I would ask the police about the resemblance and learn if I had been mistaken. I wondered again if I had been wrong. I had been so certain of my recognition of the man, but now that so many people were questioning what I’d seen, I was beginning to doubt myself.

“Oh, I have to go. Milton’s ex-fiancée that I mentioned is here. She isn’t very kind about our family in circumstances like this. I’m going to have to go ensure that she doesn’t go telling stories.” She gave me a more genuine smile this time and walked off to talk to the other guest.

I spied her with a tall blonde who was wearing a bright red dress. A diamond necklace that I assumed to be real sparkled around her neck, and a large rock was on her finger, indicating that she had married after the debacle with the Preston brother. Given that Hamilton had just been found dead, I wasn’t sure that the attire was best suited for the occasion. However, she was quite the center of attention and several people, including Brianna, stood near her, listening to her talk.

Land looked at me. “You’re not going to ask the police about this,” he stated. He knew me and my competitive drive well enough to know that I wanted to show Danvers up on this case. Sometimes I had an excuse for that desire, and sometimes I just wanted to prove again that I could do it.

“I know, but I will be looking into this matter. I will see if I was mistaken. What if I did see the brother instead of Hamilton?” I had pangs of doubt now. I’d been so certain that it was Hamilton Preston, but now I wondered. Perhaps the resemblance had been enough.

A younger man walked by, and I knew this had to be Hamilton’s son. He bore a striking resemblance to his father—the same dark wavy hair and patrician nose. I caught him by the arm and asked for directions to the restroom, a move that I’ve always found to be an effective icebreaker. No one wants to deny a person certain creature comforts.

“Aren’t you a Preston?” I asked, pretending to be as lost socially as I was directionally.

He nodded. “I’m Hamilton’s son, Barton.” I was amazed that they were still able to come up with names ending in “ton.” I would have run out of ideas quickly.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, watching his face for any reaction. If he knew anything about me or his father’s predilection for running around town in less-than-designer clothes, he didn’t show it.  He smiled and shook my hand firmly.

I tried to place him. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t figure out where I’d seen him before. I was beginning to wonder if I just saw the Preston family wherever I went.

“I’ve met your uncle, too,” I lied, trying to find out more about the man. I was curious now about the black sheep of the Preston family.

“Uncle Milton? I wouldn’t say that too loud. They’ll think you’ve been hanging out on Government Square.” He gave me a broad smile that let me know he was joking.

I explained that I worked on Government Square. He was momentarily embarrassed until I told him about the work I do. He listened politely. He shared that he was in his last year at Dartmouth and hoped to work for a local bank when he graduated from school. I was annoyed for a moment, knowing that he would likely get the job through his name alone.

“So you’ve seen Uncle Milton? Wow, that’s wild. The last time I’d heard anything he was out west somewhere. Do—does the family know?” he asked. His mouth was practically hanging open in astonishment. I didn’t believe that anyone could be that good of an actor, so I trusted that he was telling me the truth.