Chapter 26

Clear everything from kitchen countertops except for one or two tasteful accessories, remove magnets and other items from refrigerators, and reduce dishes to best pieces for display.

The next morning at Vocaro’s, I knew if we waited long enough, we would eventually cross paths with Warren. He usually came in for coffee, and if he had time, he would sit down and chat with us for a bit. That morning after he ordered breakfast at the counter, I waved at him, and he joined Nita and me at our table.

I moved the work plans Nita and I had been going over to make room for him. He put down a tray laden with an egg-and-sausage sandwich, a bowl of mixed fruit, a muffin, and a carton of banana yogurt. The stress of being a possible suspect in Ian Becker’s murder hadn’t dulled his appetite.

“How have you been, Warren?” The last time I saw him, he’d been convinced the police suspected him of Ian Becker’s murder because his body had been found at the funeral home Warren owned. They couldn’t have been serious in that belief because I knew from experience the police don’t wait around much before making an arrest.

“I’ve been better.” He took a huge bite from his sandwich and chewed slowly. Hours went by, or so it seemed, before he finally swallowed. “They haven’t found out who murdered Ian, so the police may still have me in their sights.”

I finished my last bite of croissant in record-breaking time compared to Warren. “Have you thought of anyone else in Louiston Ian might have wanted to see while he was here? What about his girlfriend that last summer? I heard his cell phone showed he’d made a call to her when he first arrived. Did he say anything about her when he called you?”

Warren paused as he peeled the cover off the carton of yoghurt. “Over the years, Ian dated a lot of girls. But that last summer, he’d spent most of his time with one girl—Emily somebody.”

“Emily Thompson?” Nita asked. “That was the name on his phone records.”

“I think that was her name,” Warren said. Even after all he had already eaten, he dug into the yogurt with gusto.

“Did Ian mention her when he talked to you?” I asked.

“No. I can’t imagine why he would. Why are you interested?” Warren asked.

Nita went on alert. “We are looking to see if there’s a link between Ian’s death and Damian’s murder.”

Warren looked perplexed. “Monica murdered Damian. You think she killed Ian too?”

I glared at Nita. “No. We’re looking at both murders to see if the same person could have murdered them—someone other than Monica.”

“But you caught Monica standing over Damian’s body with a knife in her hands.” Warren looked puzzled. “How could you two of all people expect to prove someone else did it? Besides, you and Monica have never gotten on. Why are you trying to help her?”

“Because of Sister Madeleine,” Nita said.

I sighed. It did sound impossible. “Not just that. Monica said she didn’t do it, and Sister Madeleine believes her. She’s convinced me to help Monica with her business while she’s in jail. You know Sister Madeleine.”

Warren laughed. “Yeah. How well I know Sister Madeleine. She’s a lot like Mrs. Webster—has an iron will and can convince you to do anything. And make you think it was your idea.”

“And since she believes Monica is innocent, I’m asking questions to see if she could be right. It may be hard to believe, but when I think about how awful it was for Tyrone to be in jail, and seeing Monica there now too, I’m beginning to feel sorry for her.”

Nita snorted. “You are being more considerate of Monica than she deserves.”

I ignored her. “Warren, is there anything you can tell us about Ian’s last summer here?” I watched as he thought about it, as though searching his memory banks.

“Honestly, I can’t remember much. I was working for my dad and getting ready to go back to school. That summer, Ian spent a lot of time with Emily. You might want to talk to her—if she’s still in town. I haven’t seen her since that summer. She lived somewhere in the outskirts of Louiston.”

Warren gathered his trash and got up to leave.

“One more thing, Warren,” I said. “Are you handling the funeral arrangements for Damian or Ian?”

“I’m handling them for Damian but not for Ian, especially since he was found at my place. It just wouldn’t seem right. His folks are dead, and since he has no other family, his arrangements are a bit up in the air right now. I understand he has an ex-wife, but she doesn’t want to get involved with making the decisions about his final arrangements. Probably afraid she would get billed for them.”

“She sounds like a nice woman,” Nita commented dryly.

“The Reynolds family hasn’t made it public yet, but they plan to hold a memorial service for Damian at my place in the chapel. They haven’t decided on a date yet.”

Good. When the service was held, that would give me the opportunity to possibly talk to Damian’s ex-wife.

“Sounds like Damian had a nicer ex-wife if she’s arranging the service.” Nita took our empty cups and tray over to the collection station.

“Mrs. Reynolds has her daughter to think about,” Warren said. “Most of the arrangements are being made by Damian’s agent, Garrett Fletcher.”

Garrett Fletcher. That was someone else I needed to talk to. Since he would be in town for the memorial service, I’d have to find a way to talk to him too, especially after hearing about his argument with Damian at the B&B.