There's Something About Marty (A Working Stiffs Mystery Book 3) (14 page)

∗ ∗ ∗

As I was leaving work the next day I received a text from my mother.

Slight change of plans. Pick me up at Bassett Motors. Driving there now in the D.

Okay. Not a bad thing. Bassett Motor Works was located a few short blocks away from the courthouse and was on the way to the north end. I just hoped that my accident-prone mother meant that Mr. Ferris was the one driving the DeLorean.

Five minutes later, I pulled in behind Marietta’s car and saw George Junior sitting in the driver’s seat with a big, goofy grin on his face. My mother was in her element next to him while the Big Dog, George Senior, snapped several pictures with his camera phone.

“This is so danged cool!” Little Dog said, crawling out of the car and straightening to his six-foot-six-inch height.

Posing by her DeLorean while George Senior continued his photoshoot, Marietta waved at me. “We’ll be done in a minute.”

“No rush.” I didn’t want to ruin the Bassett boys’ fun.

I couldn’t say the same for Austin, who was walking out of the shop with one of the other mechanics.

With his back to Austin, Little Dog grinned at me. “Hiya, Char! Look at what I’m going to be working on.”

“I know she wouldn’t trust just anybody with it.” And she was probably reveling in all the attention.

Beaming with pride, he nodded. “Seriously cool.”

“Hey!” Austin pulled at Little Dog’s arm to spin him around. “I’ve been waiting to talk to you.”

Looking like a bull threatening to hook Austin with a horn, Little Dog shook him off. “You want me to work on your car or not?”

Austin’s cheeks reddened and puffed. “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

“Just a minute.” Little Dog turned to Marietta. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow to let you know what we find.”

She pressed her delicate hand into his grease-stained, meaty paw. “Thank you, George. Ah appreciate you fittin’ me into your busy schedule.”

Marietta looked at George Senior. “Ah wonder if you could direct me to your restroom.”

“Of course,” he said, leading her toward the office and past a pacing Austin.

I didn’t know if my mother really did hear the call of nature or if Georgie had just slimed her with a bit of axle grease. Whatever it was I didn’t care because Austin looked like he was ready to blow a gasket, and I wanted to hear why.

Sitting in my car with the window cracked open, I pulled out my phone so that I wouldn’t appear to be eavesdropping and listened to Austin accuse Little Dog of jacking up a price on him.

“Hey,” Little Dog growled in response, “I told you a new transmission would run you around twenty-four hundred.”

Austin raked his fingers through his dark hair. “Man, I don’t have that kind of money. Not yet anyway.”

If he was referring to the money that Nicole would be inheriting, he probably wouldn’t see any of it for at least another month.

“I can rebuild it for around seventeen hundred. Will take a little longer, but if you’re not in a big hurry—”

“How much longer?”

“I can probably get you in the schedule by the end of the week and have it ready by next Wednesday.”

“Another week without her car. My wife is gonna kill me.”

I heard a rap on my passenger window and reached over to unlock the door.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Marietta announced, fastening her seatbelt. She glanced past me at Austin. “What’s his problem? Aside from just being generally disagreeable.”

I started the engine and rolled up my window. “I think he has lots of problems. Money being a big one.” At least he and Nicole would soon be coming into their portion of Marty’s fortune.

“Oh well, I’m sure George and he can work something out. The Bassetts were both very nice about working me into the schedule. Said it was a good day to get me in. Perfect timing in fact.”

“Yeah, timing can be everything.” For cars and coming into money.

By the time Friday rolled around, my mother had prepared a two-page handwritten list of all the wedding venues she wanted to visit this weekend. With Marty McCutcheon’s funeral service scheduled for eleven o’clock tomorrow, that would leave little time to spend with Steve, so when he suggested that we meet at Eddie’s after work, I jumped at the chance.

It would be great company, great food, and a guaranteed good time, providing a certain doctor didn’t show up with a similar idea in mind for his girlfriend.

Walking in while the rhythmic beat of
Addicted to Love
pulsed through the overhead speakers, I scanned the crowd. No Steve, but I spotted Donna sitting at the end of the bar.

“Hey,” I said, sliding onto the barstool next to her.

“Hi, hon.” She combed her fingers through the bangs that had been hanging in my eyes. “Are you ever going to make an appointment, or do I need to make one for you?”

“I will. Maybe next weekend.”

“What’s wrong with this weekend? I’m sure I can get you in.”

“My mother is planning her wedding to Mr. Ferris, and I’ve been volunteered to be her wedding venue tour guide for the next couple of days.”

Donna wrinkled her nose at the mention of our biology teacher’s name. “Why the big rush?”

“He wants to get married as soon as possible.”

“Excuse me if I’m speaking out of turn, but this wedding has quickie divorce written all over it.”

Probably. “Maybe.” I motioned to Eddie who was tending bar, forming a
C
with my thumb and index finger to order my usual chardonnay.

“I’m sure he’s nice.” She shook her head like she was at a loss for words. “In his own way. But really, never in my wildest dreams would I ever think that your mother would fall for Mr. Ferris.”

Me either. “I know.”

“It’s like a steady diet of vanilla ice cream when you could have something with chunks of chocolate or cookie dough in it, something decadently creamy you want to savor, letting every delicious morsel roll over your tongue.”

“I know!” Wait, were we only talking about ice cream? Because my brain was headed somewhere naughty.

“It’s gonna spread like a wild fire when the news gets out.”

I nodded. Such was life in a small town.

She drained her glass. “It’ll be like when Marty McCutcheon ran off and married what’s her name.”

“Victoria.”

“Yeah, her. Everybody was asking one another how did they get together? It wasn’t like he was filthy rich. That didn’t happen until later.” Donna shrugged. “I guess sometimes the attraction is just a mystery. Only it will be a hundred times worse because it’s your mother and Mr. Ferris.”

I straightened. “Back up. What didn’t happen until later?”

“The money Marty inherited from his dad.” Donna blinked, her long lashes fluttering. “You didn’t know about that?”

I shook my head, leaning closer so that I could hear her over the Van Halen song blasting my eardrums.

“I guess that happened a few months before you came back to town.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Eddie said, setting my glass of chardonnay in front of me while everyone packed in front of the flat screens erupted into a cheer. “It’s a thirsty crowd tonight.” He pointed at Donna’s glass. “Want another?”

“Can’t. Meeting someone in…” She looked at the time on her cell phone. “…ten minutes. Yikes! I need to scoot.”

As she reached for her clutch bag, I gripped her wrist. “Finish telling me about this inheritance first, including who you heard this from.”

She pursed her full, glossy lips. “Well, it’s not like it’s a big secret. Remember hearing about how R&E Lumber used to own pretty much everything around here?”

“Sure.” R&E was the major player back when Port Merritt was still a mill town. My grandfather had even worked for them.

“The
R
in R&E was Reginald McCutcheon, Marty’s grandpa, and the
E
was for his wife—Edna or something. The way I understand it from Denise, who volunteers at the museum—nice lady, but she wants to give me a history lesson every time I do her hair. Anyway, according to her, Reggie left everything to his two sons, who ended up selling to a big conglomerate back in the seventies.”

“So, when you say filthy rich you mean—”

“They split a fortune worth millions.”

Holy crap!

Straightening, Donna got to her feet. “Of course, who knows how much dough was left by the time it made its way to Marty.”

I’d bet a chunk of that money that Victoria knew. It probably made Marty quite the catch, and with a father who had to be in his eighties or nineties, she wouldn’t have had to wait long to come into some serious money.

Donna hugged me. “Wish me luck.”

“Why? Where are you going?”

“I’m meeting a guy. Friend of a friend. If I’m back in an hour, that will make it official.”

With everything I’d learned in the last few minutes, I was having trouble parsing Donna’s shorthand. “What will be official?”

“That thanks to you, there are no more available men under the age of forty in this town.”

I made a face at her.

“That I’d consider doing anyway.”

“You could always go out with Kyle.”

“You leaving?” Steve asked Donna as he came up behind us.

I hoped he hadn’t heard me mention Kyle’s name over the music and crowd noise. The last thing I needed to do was to reopen that can of worms.

“Yes, and I’m late, but I took the time to warm the seat up for you.” Donna winked at him. “You’ll have to warm her up on your own.”

Settling on the barstool she had vacated, Steve looked me up and down. “Do you require warming up?”

“I’m sure I will later.”

His lips curled into the disarming smile that first made my heart pitter-pat back in the sixth grade. “Now you’re talking.”

“Donna was just telling me something interesting,” I said as Eddie tossed a coaster in front of Steve.

“Want to try the new microbrew I just got in?” Eddie asked.

Steve didn’t answer right away. “Do I ever ask to try something new?”

Eddie arched his eyebrows. “I don’t know. Should I ask the lady?”

I could feel my cheeks burning.

“Just give me a draft,” Steve said, unamused. “Where’s your bride?”

“Kitchen. We’re a little backed up because of the playoff game.”

While Eddie went to the tap, Steve squinted at the closest TV. “Cool. It’s only the third inning.” He pressed his warm palm to my knee. “So what was it that Donna was telling you? Some enthralling gossip hot from her salon?”

“Not so hot, but very topical considering whose funeral you and I are going to tomorrow.”

Leaning back, Steve blew out a breath. “Why do I have a feeling that I’m not going to like this?”

“What? Something wrong?” Eddie asked, delivering Steve’s beer.

Steve shook his head. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

Eddie smirked. “You’re no fun.”

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” I said the second that Eddie turned his back to us.

“I know you.”

I made a face at him. “But did you know that Marty was the grandson of the couple who owned R&E Lumber?”

“Yeah, so?”

“And that he came into a lot of money when his father died earlier in the year?”

He gave me the same squint he’d aimed at the TV a minute earlier. “What’s your point?”

“If I were a woman looking for a wealthy husband, he’d be quite the prize.”

“You keep trying, but I’m not getting on the murder train with you.”

“I’m just saying that if what Nicole told me about her father’s will is true, Victoria will most likely inherit millions.”

“Probably, and not a bit illegal.”

I sighed. “It would be if she gave him something that led to his cardiac arrest.”

Steve stared at me. “You just can’t leave this alone, can you?”

No. “She was making tea for him from a poisonous plant.”

His gaze tightened. “I assume that Frankie knows about this plant.”

“Yep, she’s added it to the tox screen that the lab’s going to do.”

“Then you’ll know soon enough if that had anything to do with his death.”

Now it was my turn to stare at him. “Tell me you don’t find this suspicious.”

He reached for his beer and took a long drink. “Can’t do that, Chow Mein.”

That wasn’t an answer. “So you agree with me that it’s suspicious.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Come on, it’s definitely suspicious.”

“You obviously think so. Just like you thought Phyllis Bozeman poisoned her grandson.”

I scowled at him. “That was a weird coincidence. Anyone could have jumped to the same conclusion.”

He leaned so close I could smell the beer on his breath. “But no one else did. You did. That should tell you something.”

If he was trying to make me feel like a rank amateur investigator he was doing a great job of it.

I reached for my wineglass. “I still think it’s suspicious.”

“You’re entitled to that opinion.”

“Awfully big of you.”

His gaze darkened as his lips brushed mine. “You know what else you’re entitled to?”

“What?”

“Some warming.”

“Mmmm. You’ll have to feed me first though.”

He grabbed a laminated menu from a holder at the end of the bar. “Pizza?”

“Kitchen’s backed up, so it might be a bit of a wait.”

“Some things are worth waiting for.”

I thought he was talking about the pizza until he winked at me.

Let the warming begin.

∗ ∗ ∗

“It looks like most of downtown Port Merritt is here,” I said as we stepped into the packed funeral home chapel.

Gram clucked her tongue. “I told you we should have left earlier. Even Barry and Mary Jo had the good sense to leave by ten-thirty.”

That was around the same time that I discovered that I couldn’t fasten the waistband of my cheap black funeral suit and had to run across the street to find a safety pin in Gram’s sewing room. Damn that pizza!

I made the mistake of exchanging glances with Steve, who had a smug look on his face.

“Don’t even start about me getting up earlier to go jogging with you.” Because I was never going to give him an up close and sweaty view of just how out of shape I was.

Not bothering to hide his amusement, he averted his gaze. “Did I say anything?”

“You didn’t have to,” I said, following Gram down the aisle to where Duke, Alice, and Lucille sat in the fourth row on the left.

Gram frowned at her sister. “I thought you were going to save us three seats.”

“We did.” Alice pointed at the empty seat between her and Lucille.

“You two are back here with us,” Marietta said, sitting with Mr. Ferris directly behind Alice.

I slipped into the padded folding chair next to my mother and breathed in notes of musky jasmine, mercifully subtle this morning.
Thank you, Mom.

“You’re up early.” Unless she was being paid a respectable appearance fee any public sightings before noon were about as rare as pictures of me in a bikini.

Marietta crossed her long legs, barely covered by a short black leather skirt. “Not that you’d know because you haven’t been home any morning this week, but I’m still on Louisiana time.”

Much more interested in Darlene, Austin, and the McCutcheon children taking their seats in the front row, I ignored the jab. “Hmmm.”

While soft piano music pumped through the speakers and tapered candles flickered by the bronze urn draped with a wreath of roses on the table in front of them, I watched the four of them sit in silence. Not that it was any surprise—Austin wasn’t touching Nicole.

Seconds later, Curtis Tolliver led Victoria to her front row seat.

Marietta leaned into me. “The widow I take it?”

I nodded.

“Younger than I thought she’d be.”

Victoria stopped to hug Cameron, who had been sitting in the second row next to a slim brunette in a navy blue suit.

“Who’s that?” my mother whispered.

“He’s one of Marty’s employees. I don’t know her.” But by the way Darlene appeared to be staring across the aisle at the woman, it was a safe bet that she had seen her before.

Cameron’s mother? He certainly had her coloring.

Bob Hallahan and Phyllis Bozeman sat to her right, both of them with their sights set on Marty’s widow.

As Victoria took her seat I noticed Darlene sneaking another glance at the brunette, but this time Victoria, Cameron, and the woman were all staring back at her.

“Oh, mah.” Marietta fanned herself with the program for Marty’s memorial. “It appears to be heating up in here.”