A Grave Issue Read online

  I considered what it would feel like to tell my father I was a married man’s mistress and had come into money and property because he’d died unexpectedly while trying to hide money from his current wife in my name. “I can see that. I certainly won’t spread it around.” It would get around anyway, though.

  “Thanks!” she said and nearly skipped off to her car parked in a shady spot at the back of the parking lot. She hadn’t upgraded the car. Yet. It was a blue Honda Civic with a yellow front panel. I wondered how long she’d keep that around.

  She got in, turned the key, and then the car exploded.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The Verbena Free Press

  WEDNESDAY, JULY 24

  Waitress Saved by Assistant Funeral Director

  A Honda Civic owned by popular Cold Clutch Canyon Café waitress Monique Woodall exploded in the Civic Center parking lot on Tuesday. Desiree Turner, assistant funeral director at the Turner Family Funeral Home, was in the area on unspecified business and saw the explosion. With no thought to her own safety, Ms. Turner ran to the vehicle and saw that the front had not been affected by the explosion. She was able to pull Ms. Woodall from the vehicle before flames from the back of the car enveloped the entire front seat.

  Ms. Woodall is in stable condition at Verbena Memorial Hospital having suffered only minor burns. Doctors say she will likely be released later in the day.

  Ms. Turner suffered burns to her hands but was otherwise unharmed.

  Luke Butler sat across from me in the interview room with his arms crossed over his chest. He’d been waiting in the hospital parking lot for me to be released. He’d opened the door of his squad car and said, “We need to talk.”

  We did. I’d kind of hoped to wait until I could get home to wash the smoke smell out of my hair and put on something that wasn’t mildly singed, but I’ve had all kinds of dreams that never came true.

  “Lay it out for me, Desiree,” he said.

  I stared at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You called me Desiree.”

  “You told me to stop calling you Death Ray.”

  “I had no idea that would be all it would take to get you to do that. All I had to do was ask?” I’d have done that in fourth grade if I’d known that was all it took.

  He shrugged. “Is this really what you want to focus on right now?”

  I shook my head. “No. You’re right. We have much more important things to discuss. I’m pretty sure I figured out who actually killed Alan Brewer.”

  “Me too. Kyle Hansen. It was his gun. He had motive. He had opportunity.” Luke ticked his points off on his fingers.

  “He’s a lousy shot and faints at the sight of blood and is one of the sweetest men I’ve ever met.” I would have ticked off my points on my fingers, but my hands were too bandaged up.

  “So?” Luke rocked his chair onto its back legs.

  “Don’t you even want to hear who I’m pretty sure did it?” I rocked my chair back too. Just to show him I could.

  He made a move-along gesture. “Fine. Lay it on me.”

  “Professor Moonbeam.” I thumped my chair down and watched his reaction. I was not disappointed. He’d been itching to have a reason to go after Moonbeam, and now I was giving him something to scratch.

  Luke brought the front legs of his chair down with a thump too. “Why would Professor Moonbeam shoot Alan Brewer?”

  “I don’t know all the specifics, but I think they argued over money.” Maybe Alan was siphoning too much off the top or double-crossing Moonbeam in some other way. I was pretty certain a halfway decent forensic accountant could figure it out. More likely, Moonbeam noticed the money Monique had taken out of the account and thought he’d been double-crossed, and that had started the whole mess.

  “Wait. Why would Alan and Moonbeam have any kind of money thing to argue over?” Luke asked.

  Here’s where I knew I would get a really great reaction. “Because they were partners in Moonbeam’s marijuana business.”

  Luke snorted. “Right, Death Ray. The local bank president got himself all tied up in the drug business.”

  “I’m back to being Death Ray?” That was disappointing at the very least. I thought giving him Moonbeam on a platter would entitle me to permanent Desiree status.

  “Fine. Explain this to me.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Okay. You might want to take notes.” I laid it all out for him. I told him how Alan had bought properties on the cheap after the King Snake Fire and put them in Monique’s name and had then laundered the money through the Clean Green Car Wash.

  Halfway through my explanation, he got up and grabbed a notepad and a pen and made me start over at the beginning. I finally reached the end of my theory. “Monique? What does Monique have to do with it?” Luke shook his head like a cartoon dog.

  I waited for him to figure it out. He didn’t. “She and Alan were . . . special friends.”

  “Ohhhh,” he said. Then he made a face. “He’s, like, old enough to be her dad.”

  “And that’s so unusual.” I rolled my eyes. “He’s nearly old enough to be Rosemarie’s dad too.” He was probably older than Christine too.

  “Point taken. So why would they have been fighting over money? Was Alan ripping him off?” He sighed. “Alan was kind of a slimy bastard. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think he was.” This was where I ended up on some shaky ground. “I think Moonbeam thought Alan was ripping him off.”

  “Why?”

  “Monique figured out there were bank accounts in her name and made some purchases. Birkin bags don’t come cheap.” The girl had taste. You had to give her that.

  “Birkin what?”

  “It’s a purse. A really expensive purse. There were also the Louboutin shoes she wore at the funeral.” Luke would be able to figure it out for sure. He’d be able to get access to those bank accounts with a court order. That would make everything clearer. I wasn’t sure it really mattered, though.

  “Shoes and a purse? How much could that cost?” He waved away the suggestion.

  “Depending on her taste, around ten thousand dollars. Enough that someone might notice money coming out of an account.” I leaned forward.

  He looked horrified. “Who carries a ten-thousand-dollar purse?”

  “At the moment, Monique Woodall,” I said. “So suppose Moonbeam confronts Alan about the missing money. Alan denies any knowledge or says it’s nothing. Moonbeam gets mad. You know he gets really mad, right? Like the kind of mad that lands you in court-mandated anger management classes.”

  Luke nodded. “I’d heard.”

  “He steals Kyle’s gun, shoots Alan, bada bing, bada boom.” I dusted my hands together as well as I could through the bandages.

  “How does he know anything about Kyle’s gun?” Luke asked, eyes narrowed.

  “He was at Lola and Kyle’s house for the big garden tour. He could have seen it then.” It all fit together perfectly.

  Luke blinked. “Why frame Kyle?”

  “Why not frame Kyle? He’s handy. Thanks to Rafe, everybody knew about the fight between Lola and Rosemarie and about the emu.” Everyone knew that Lola and Kyle had a motive to get rid of their neighbors. Seemingly half the town knew they had a gun and where they kept it.

  “So Kyle was the perfect fall guy.” Luke stood up. “Thank you, Desiree. I told you this marijuana business was bad news. I told you somebody was gonna get shot.”

  “As much as it pains me to say this, Luke, you were right.”

  We were almost to the door when he stopped. “So why try to get rid of Monique?” he asked.

  “Maybe he didn’t want to share the profits? Maybe she was interfering? I’m not sure. I do think that once you get away with killing someone, it probably seems like it could be a good solution to a lot of your problems.”

  * * *

  Luke gave me a ride home. I took a shower, put o
n clean clothes, rebandaged my hands, and went into the kitchen to get some non-Jell-O food substances. Hospital food seriously sucks.

  Donna was already in the kitchen, sitting in one chair with her feet up on another. Greg was at the stove stirring something that smelled really good. “What are you making?”

  He turned and smiled at me. “Mac and cheese. Don’t worry. Donna’s supervising so I make it right.”

  I clutched my chest. “For me?” Mac and cheese was my favorite, my go-to comfort food.

  “We figured you deserved it after pulling people from burning cars,” Donna said.

  I sat down across from her. “Will there be pie for dessert?”

  She smiled. “Janet Provost brought a strawberry rhubarb one over this morning.”

  I squinted at her. “Tell me the truth. Am I really dead? Have I gone to heaven?”

  “No. And I am a professional when it comes to knowing whether or not people are dead,” she assured me. “Oh, Tanya Medina dropped off something for you too.”

  I clapped my hands and then really wished I hadn’t. “It’s a painting. It’s so beautiful.”

  “Why did you want a painting?” she asked.

  “For my room. It needed a little something.”

  “I’ll hang it for you after lunch,” Greg said, setting a bowl in front of me and one in front of Donna. “For now, maybe take a minute and relax.”

  It was good advice. I decided to take it.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The Verbena Free Press

  THURSDAY, JULY 25

  Local Marijuana Grower Arrested for Murder

  Professor Moonbeam, owner of Professor Moonbeam’s Dispensary and Bakery, was arrested for the murder of Alan Brewer. Sources have revealed that Brewer, president of the Verbena Union Bank, and Moonbeam were involved in a complicated scheme to launder the money from Moonbeam’s marijuana business.

  According to authorities, Moonbeam became suspicious that Brewer was siphoning funds out of the business, and when he saw an opportunity to remove Brewer and lay the blame on Brewer’s neighbor, Kyle Hansen, he took it. Hansen and his wife, Lola, had been involved in an ongoing dispute with Brewer’s wife, Rosemarie, that began with the death of an emu. All charges against Kyle Hansen have been dropped.

  It’s possible that Professor Moonbeam might also be responsible for the explosive device planted in the Honda Civic belonging to Monique Woodall of Verbena. Ms. Woodall was rescued from her vehicle by Desiree Turner, assistant funeral director at Turner Family Funeral Home.

  Professor Moonbeam has claimed that he is innocent of all charges.

  Uncle Joey walked after me carrying a box. “Are you sure you should be doing this, Desiree? I can handle it.”

  I consulted the map we’d been given to show us where our booth was. “It’s a two-person job. You know that, and I’m fine.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t like it, Desiree. I don’t like any of this.”

  “You’ve made that clear.” After the delicious mac and cheese, which Greg had made precisely right, and the lovely pie from Janet, my family had sat me down and had a long discussion about what I should and should not be doing. The “should not” list included investigating murders and pulling people from burning cars.

  We found our spot. Uncle Joey set down the box he was carrying and went back to the car to get another. I started unpacking our ringtoss supplies. It was hot, and I started to regret insisting on helping out as I felt the sweat begin to trickle down my back. I could have easily played the invalid card for another day or so.

  “Hey, hero!” Jasmine said as she sauntered up while I unpacked. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m setting up for the Fire Festival.” I turned to face her as I answered. “Duh.”

  She jumped back. “Girl, what happened to your eyebrows?”

  I sighed. “Singed off when I pulled Monique out of her car. I tried to draw them back in. I take it I didn’t do a great job.”

  Jasmine cocked her head to one side. “They lack a little symmetry.”

  I held up my bandaged hands. “It’s kind of hard to do much with these all wrapped up.”

  “Honestly, they kind of go with the black eye.” She made a circle gesture in the air. “It’s like a whole gestalt you’ve got going on. You might even set a trend.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I feel so much better now. Where’s your booth?”

  She frowned. “Way in the back. I don’t know if I’ll get any foot traffic at all.”

  “I can’t believe you decided to be a fortune-teller.”

  “After I said that to you, I realized how perfect it would be for me. Everyone has the same fortune at my booth. If you work through your problems, you’ll find happiness and contentment. Easy peasy.” She smiled. “Hey, look who’s out of the hospital.” Jasmine pointed down the sidewalk to Monique, who was walking toward us with a lot of purpose and determination.

  She marched up to the booth. I hadn’t seen her since the ambulances had driven us off to Verbena Memorial. Her eyebrows were gone too, but she’d done a much better job than I had of drawing hers back in. Other than that, she seemed pretty unscathed. “What the hell did you do?”

  “Uh, saved your life? Cleared Kyle Hansen’s name? Made sure a criminal was locked up?” That might be overstating. Whoever had put the bomb in Monique’s car hadn’t done a terrific job. It was possible that she would have gotten out on her own.

  She took a step toward me, crowding into my space. “Don’t get cute with me. The raid. Why the hell did you call in that raid?”

  “What raid?” I asked.

  “The raid of all four of my properties plus my apartment.” She jabbed her finger into my chest.

  “Ouch,” I said, brushing her hand away. “Slow your roll. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Jasmine stepped in between us. “You better step off, Monique.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Or what?”

  Jasmine crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t want to know.”

  “What I want to know is who else would know to call in a federal task force at all my properties and at my apartment? It certainly wasn’t in Moonbeam’s interest.” She kicked at our booth.

  “How could they raid you? I thought you were a legal grow. Didn’t Alan fill out all the paperwork? Or Moonbeam?” I sat down on the chair inside the booth, feeling suddenly exhausted.

  “Of course all the paperwork was filled out! Alan and Professor Moonbeam took care of all that ages ago. These are not amateurs I’m dealing with. During the raid, we even had someone from the county get on the phone with one of the deputies.” She threw her hands in the air and stepped back away. Jasmine relaxed her stance.

  None of this sounded right. None of this made sense. “What did the deputy do?” I asked.

  “He laughed and hung up the phone. He didn’t care. He said because they were a federal task force, it didn’t matter that we were legal with the county and the state.” She kicked the booth again. “They destroyed the crops. They took everything.”

  “Monique, I’m so sorry, but I had nothing to do with this. You have to know that whoever did call in that raid must have done it days ago. I didn’t know about everything in time to make that happen.” Someone had though. Someone had been unhappy enough about those grows to figure out how to get them shut down. That wasn’t easy. It would have taken time and planning.

  Monique started to calm down. “Desiree, they put me in handcuffs. Handcuffs! I thought I was going to be arrested and taken to jail. Strip-searched and deloused. All those awful things.” A little sob escaped from her.

  It must have been terrifying. “But they didn’t arrest you. Did they arrest anyone else? Anyone at all?”

  “Well, Moonbeam. But that wasn’t for the marijuana.” She shook her head. “No. They ended up letting us all go, but not before they destroyed everything. It’s a mess. They destroyed the whole crop.”

  “What will you do
?” I asked.

  She sighed. “Shut down, I suppose. I hate to do it. If Alan thought it was a good investment, it must have been one. I don’t see how we can come back from this though, especially without Moonbeam. He was the one who knew the plants.”

  I wasn’t sure if Alan thought it was a good investment or a good place to hide money from Rosemarie before he extricated himself from that particular union.

  “I miss him, you know.” She traced a design on the counter of our booth.

  “Moonbeam?” I asked.

  “No! Alan.” She looked away for a second, but not before I saw her eyes glisten. “It’s especially hard because I can’t really talk about it to anyone. Right now, you’re the only one who knows about us.” She looked over at Jasmine, who mimed locking her lips with a key and throwing it away.

  I reached across and patted her arm. “It’s extrahard to have a loss and not be able to process it with anyone.”

  She wiped at her cheeks with her sleeve. “I wish I’d known that the last time we were together would be the last time I’d ever see him. I would have . . .” Her words trailed off.

  “Would have what?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.” She picked at the edge of the booth with her fingernail. “I always tried to make sure he knew how much I loved him when he walked out the door. I guess that’s going to have to be enough. He was a little mad at me that last time though.”

  “Why?”

  She smiled a little. “Well, the money. Plus, I guess I got a little carried away with making sure he knew I loved him. We’d been together all afternoon. He knew Rosemarie was going to Miss Delia’s funeral and that she wouldn’t call him or anything for an hour or so.”

  So while Rosemarie and Lola were rolling around on the floor of the Turner Family Funeral Home, Alan had been rolling around with Monique.

  “After we were . . . done”—she blushed—“he turned his phone on, and it went wild with messages. I guess they must have been from her over at the police station. He got dressed and rushed out the door. He didn’t even take a shower or kiss me good-bye. He probably didn’t even know I’d sort of left a little love bite on his chest.”