Chapter 10

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Once again, I trudge back to Marcall’s after lunch, my feet feeling as heavy as the rest of me. I just can’t understand how Chloe ended up with a poisonous syringe in her truck. It makes zero sense.

“Uh oh, what happened?” Damiens asks the minute he sees my face. “Did they say something to you at the foster office?”

“What? Oh, no, it’s not that at all! In fact, I may have good news about that!”

“Then why so glum?” Aranya asks.

“Drew said they found an empty syringe with traces of cyanide in Chloe’s Cupcake truck, and that’s the poison that was in the cupcake that killed Morley.”

“What?” Damien exclaims. “That’s not possible.”

“That’s exactly what I said. And now I’m worried that with evidence like that, they won’t be looking at anyone else.”

“That’s really rough.” Damien shakes his head sorrowfully. “Can I ask, though, what the good news is? Since it’s about our foster application, maybe?”

“First, I dropped off the letter. They were all out to lunch as well, but I put it in the middle of the receptionist’s desk so she can’t miss it. Second, Drew actually knows the director and is going to call her this afternoon and tell her how utterly fabulous you are.”

“Oh Charlotte, that’s amazing. I can’t thank you, or Drew, enough for that. Can you believe it? We may have a little girl very soon.”

“I’m sorry for being down about Chloe with all the other hopeful news. It’s just so hard to imagine. I need to do something.”

“Let’s go talk to Ethan,” Damien suggests.

“Morley’s employee?”

“Yep,” he nods his head.

“You’re seriously suggesting that we investigate this?”

“I feel like I owe you, so yes, let’s go. However, I see even a hint of a gun, and I’m tearing out of there so fast you’ll forget I ever mentioned it.”

I giggle. “Okay, I’m good with that. And for the record, it’s usually just the bad guy who pulls a gun on me. Not everybody I talk to threatens to kill me.”

“What if Ethan turns out to be the killer, though?”

“Seriously, what are the odds that someone will hold me hostage at gunpoint for a third time?”

“You just had to say that, didn’t you?” Damien says in disbelief.

“Aranya, are you okay by yourself for a while? It should be pretty quiet now until we close.”

Aranya waves her hand at us. “I’m good! You guys go do what you have to.”

Damien and I grab our coats and head out into the cold afternoon. It’s starting to snow again, but it’s still just a light dusting of snowflakes. The Halloween themed lights shine out underneath the snow, making the whole area glow.

After several steps, I laugh out loud.

“What’s so funny?” Damien asks.

“Do we even know where we’re going? I was so caught up in the moment I forgot to ask!”

Damien looks at me like I’m losing it. “We’re going to the mortuary. Where else would we go to talk to Morley’s assistant?”

“But Morley fired him last night,” I point out.

Now, Damien is the one laughing. “Morley fires him all the time. I guarantee, especially now that Morley is dead, Ethan is there working today.”

“Okay, I hope you’re right about this. Otherwise, we walked all this way in the snow for nothing.” I’m still not convinced that someone who got fired would just turn up again at work the next day like nothing had happened.

I breathe a sigh of relief when we walk into the mortuary and a blast of warm air hits us. “Here comes Ethan,” Damien whispers. “Also, I told you so.”

“Good afternoon, is there something I can help you folks with? Are you looking to pre-purchase burial plots? A lot of couples are doing it. It’s one less burden for your children after you pass.”

I look down at Damien and try not to guffaw. What a funny-looking couple we’d make.

”As a matter of fact, that’s exactly why we’re here!” Damien says.

“It is?”

“Oh, honey, there’s no need to be nervous. Remember, it’s for the kids,” he coos as he reaches up to take my hand. Oh dear, I’m not sure where he’s going with this, but I guess I’ll have to play along.

Ethan leads us to a small table where we sit side by side. “You folks make yourselves comfortable while I gather the literature. My name is Ethan Davis, and I’ll be assisting you. Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’d love a cup of coffee if you don’t mind,” Damien tells him.

“Coming right up, sir!”

After he rushes off to get Damien some coffee, I whisper, “I assume you have a plan here?”

He pats my hand. “Of course I do. Just play along.”

He returns in a matter of seconds with an entire serving tray complete with delicately patterned teacups, sugar, and cream, along with a small pot of coffee. He sets it down in front of us and then rushes off again. I assume this time to get the paperwork.

Damien picks up the small pot, examining it carefully. “Do you suppose this is any good?” he asks. He’s a total coffee snob. If it just happens to be coffee that came from a machine and a small plastic cup, I’m going to have fun watching him try to drink it.

Ethan returns with a stack of notebooks and brochures in his hands, settling down in a chair across from us. “Okay, folks, here are some brochures for you to take home and look over, but I also have our plans laid out in detail just in case you’re looking to purchase today.” He stacks several three-ring binders in front of us. Each with laminated pages showing different caskets, urns, and headstones.

“Have you folks thought about what might be best for you? Some customers come in here with very set ideas in mind, while others are open to anything. We’re fine with whatever makes you the happiest.”

Damien leans forward to address Ethan, his hand on one knee, an elbow on the other. Very convincing if you ask me. “Let me be honest with you, Ethan.” I choke on my coffee a little at this point. “We were at the Halloween Festival when your boss died right in front of us.”

Ethan pales slightly. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear about that. I’m sorry you had to see it.”

“Actually, I think it was a good thing.” Damien points his finger at Ethan. He’s really getting into this. “It opened our eyes to the fact that you never know when it’s your time. And we want to make arrangements in advance so our family doesn’t have to deal with it, should we pass unexpectedly like Mr. Haynes.”

“That’s why our customers love our pre-paid plans,” he says, nodding his head. “Assuming you’ve lived a long and happy life, once you pass, your children won’t be burdened with the costs of a funeral or even a burial plot.”

“Forgive me,” I tell him as soon as I realize where we’re going with this, “we haven’t even offered our condolences for your loss.”

“Oh. Well, here’s the thing. Can you keep a secret?”

“Definitely!” Damien and I say simultaneously.

Ethan smiles. “You make such a cute couple.” At this, I roll my eyes so hard I think I pulled something. “Mr. Haynes was not the - how should I say this - nicest man in the world.”

I nod my head vigorously. “I’ve heard that. In fact, we even heard Mr. Haynes fired you on Halloween, so we’re a little surprised to see you here now.”

Ethan looks like he’s caught off guard for just a moment and I’m waiting for him to ask who could have told us, while I franticly try to decide which name I could throw out that would sound credible. “He actually fired me all the time.”

“No way!” Damien responds.

“Like I said, he wasn’t a very nice man, and that’s putting it mildly.” He chuckles, “Okay, I admit it, I couldn’t stand the guy.”

Damien and I stare at him without responding. Drew told me that was a police technique, although if he realized I’d use it for actual, uh, unauthorized police work, I’m sure he wouldn’t have shared that tidbit. People like to talk about themselves, and silence often makes others uncomfortable. So they fill it with details and stories. Ethan seems like the perfect experiment for this.

As I predicted, he interprets our silence as a reason to continue. First, he looks around to make sure no one else is listening. “I know it’s rude to speak ill of the dead, but I for one am glad he’s gone. I would even bet that a lot of people are.” He puts his finger against his lips. “Don’t tell anybody I said that, okay? Kudos to that cupcake chick for finally doing what the rest of us had only dreamed of.” Then he giggles. “Oops, did I just say that out loud?” He leans in closer, “By the way does anybody know how she did it? I’m dying to know.”

Damien opens his mouth to answer, but when I put my hand over his, he stops. When I talked to Drew, he said the cause of death wasn’t public knowledge. And while I may be willing to interview suspects, even though I’m not supposed to, I feel like betraying his confidence would be stepping way over the line.

“I heard he once lost a body in Cripple Creek because he stopped to gamble, and someone stole the hearse.” I bring up, hoping to distract him.

“That was the saddest thing ever. That poor old man. Actually, if anyone was going to kill Haynes, I figured it would be Owen Munoz. Morley even had to get a restraining order against him, it got so bad. Even if he didn’t kill him, I’m sure he’s celebrating these days. We’ll probably see him spit on his grave or something, he hated him so much. Although I don’t blame him.” Ethan shudders, and I almost expect to see him throw salt over his shoulder.

“I daresay he’s the most unlikeable man in Crested Peaks. Or he was anyway.” He laughs at his own joke. Damien and I laugh along with him, of course, because we want him to keep talking. Actually, if he’d just admit he killed his boss right here and now, we could be done with all of this, but I’ve learned that unfortunately, it’s never that easy.

He leans in even closer. “Can I tell you folks another little secret?”

“Yes!” we reply again in unison. I glare at Damien. We have to stop doing that.

Ethan smiles. “Morley was grooming me to take over the business so he could retire.”

“Really?” I ask. This time, fortunately, without Damien’s help.

He nods his head vigorously. “He considered me a manager in training,” he boasts, making air quotes. “As soon as he felt I was properly trained, he was retiring and leaving the entire business to me!” He exclaims, poking himself in the chest in case we didn’t realize exactly who he was talking about.

“How long have you been in training?” I ask. I didn’t know Morley, obviously, but it seems odd that someone would repeatedly fire a person they intended to take over the business.

“Four years!” he says proudly.

“Oh! Does it take that long to learn to run a mortuary?”

His face falters. “Well, no, not really. I already have a degree in Business Management and a Funeral Director’s license, but he wanted to make sure I was especially well trained before he stepped back.”

“So now that Morley is dead, does that mean you automatically become the General Manager? Since you were already training for that?” Damien asks.

He looks around again to triple check no one is listening in. “I’m assuming that’s what will happen. Everyone knew I was being trained to take over, and I’m sure that Morley had that covered in his will. It’s just a matter of time before the lawyer locates that and makes me General Manager.”

“Well, congratulations then!” Damien tells him. “I mean, under the circumstances.”

Ethan assumes the appropriate serious facial expression. “Yes, yes, of course. A tragedy in some respects, but perhaps better for all involved in the long run. And gosh, I feel bad now. I’m supposed to go over all these materials with you folks, but I ended up talking all about me!”

Damien pats him on the hand. “You know, that’s fine, given that we only recently decided to do this. Why don’t we take home some of your literature home, talk it over, and then we’ll get back to you after we’ve made a decision.”

“Marvelous!” Ethan claps his hand together. “Let me just give you these, and please don’t hesitate to call us with any questions.” He walks us to the front door, where we can see it’s snowing harder now. “Bundle up, you guys. It’s cold out there! We’ll be in touch!”

“By the way,” I stop right before opening the door. “Were you at the hotel that night for the party? That would have been hard for you to see, I imagine. Morley dying, I mean.”

“Nah, I left after we argued, and he fired me. I picked up some takeout for dinner, then went home and passed out candy to the kids who were trick or treating.”

“Thanks for your help, we’ll be in touch,” Damien tells him as we head out into the bitterly cold mountain air. I pull my heavy hood up over my head while sliding thick mittens over my hands. It’s windier, and the snow is coming down heavier than when we first walked into the mortuary. It’s uncomfortable to walk in, but the more it snows, the better it is for skiing, and the runoff in the spring will mean more water for the area.

“When did you come up with that whole scenario? Have you been plotting that this entire time?”

Damien does this weird skipping thing while smacking me on the arm. He’s so proud of himself. “Ha! I thought of that as we were walking in! Was that awesome or what?” he says, laughing at himself. “And you did a good job playing along!”

“So, what did you think of his story?” I ask while watching Damien bob and weave around the sidewalk like he’s some kind of prizefighter. For a guy who typically tries to talk us out of these kinds of things, he’s having a good time now.

“I think he could have killed Haynes. Considering he had every reason to hate the guy, and it didn’t seem like Morley was letting him become General Manager anytime soon, he had a great excuse for getting him out of the way, right? Hey, have you had any of those psychic thingamajiggies like you had when Darla was murdered?”

Last summer when Darla, who was Damien’s cousin’s girlfriend, was murdered, I experienced several instances where I knew that one of the suspects was lying about something. It wasn’t a gut feeling; it was way more powerful than that. Turns out the suspect was secretly Darla’s father, but not the murderer.

Miranda thinks I may have some limited psychic abilities that I could have inherited from my grandma or even my parents. Unfortunately, it’s too late now to know for sure.

“Miranda asked me the same thing after we talked to Shauna. My answer is still no, I haven’t experienced any psychic thingamajiggies, as you say, since last summer and all the drama with Cody.

“I wish I could get some kind of reading though. It would make this all go a lot faster. But I agree, Morley seems like the type of guy who claims he was going to hand over the reigns to his eager assistant, while leaving him overworked and underpaid with no intention of ever making him manager.” I surmise.

“And with Morley dead,” Damien adds, “that paves the way for Ethan to take over.”

“Except he said he left the party and went home.”

“That’s a pretty weak alibi,” Damien points out.

“Would he have access to cyanide is another question we need answered,” I remind him.

“We can’t forget Owen Munoz,” Damien points out. “The only thing we know so far is why he hated Morley, but we didn’t actually talk to him specifically about the night Morley was killed.”

I stop in the middle of the sidewalk in shock. “Damien Torres, are you offering to question yet another suspect with me?”

He shakes his head. “It’s getting a little late, and Tom is expecting me. We’re working on getting the house kid proofed tonight. If they approve our written application, then they’ll do a home visit, so we have to be ready for that.”

“I wonder if Drew talked to the director yet?” I ask.

“I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon!”

“C’mon, let’s go back to the cafe and call him. It’s too cold to keep standing around out here.”