Thankfully, it was a quiet night, and I got some sleep. I felt safer knowing a patrol car was driving by on a regular basis, and this morning, when I peer out the front window, there’s one parked in front of my house. I quickly magic some coffee for them and take it outside.
Then I load the boys into the car and head for work with the patrol car following. After parking in the lot, the officers follow me into Marcall’s, where Damien is back at work and already preparing for the day as usual.
“Whoa, what the…” he sputters when he sees me walk in with not just the usual two rabbits and a cat, but a police officer as well.
“It’s just a precaution,” I tell him. “They aren’t staying or anything, right?” I ask.
“Just making sure everything is on the up and up,” the officer replies.
When I explain the note I found on my car yesterday, and the message they found at the travel agency, Damien starts in right away in full dad mode. They don’t even have a kid yet, and he’s got this thing down pat. “How many times have I warned you to be careful, boss?”
“Don’t freak out on me. It’s all good. Drew thinks they were just trying to scare me and that I’m not in any real danger.”
”As evidenced by your police escort,” he says sarcastically.
“They just followed me to work this morning,” I explain, as if that’s better.
“You mean they were at your house last night?” he howls as he gets louder and more high-pitched.
“They weren’t at my house all night,” I tell him as I motion with my hands for him to calm down. “They were just driving by regularly to make sure everything was okay.”
“Do they have any suspects yet?”
“They know a left-handed person wrote the notes.”
He waves a wooden spoon to punctuate his words. “You realize you’re not making this any better, right?”
“Are you guys all ready for Poppy to move in?” I ask, hoping to change the subject and distract him.
“Slick move, trying to distract me,” he points out.
“Did it work?” I ask.
“Now that you mention it, I have a dilemma,” he tells me.
“And what is that?”
“I have to find a little girl’s unicorn bed.”
“That’s what the internet is for, right? Hey, did you say unicorn?”
“Yes, Poppy loves unicorns. More than you can imagine, loves unicorns.”
“Ha!” I exclaim. I knew it. Little girls love unicorns.
“Okay, well, here’s the thing. When she lived with her mom, apparently she had a pink unicorn bed.” He shows me a picture, and it’s bright pink. We’re talking obnoxiously bright pink. The headboard has a unicorn, and a rainbow painted on it, and then at the foot of the bed, which is still blindingly pink, there’s a huge glittering heart. “After her mom died, and she went into foster care, she obviously couldn’t take the bed with her. And when we agreed to foster her, DHHS tried to get the bed back, but it’s long gone, and they don’t know where it went. And she has been crying over this bed. Has already started writing letters to Santa for a new matching bed.”
“Oh, that breaks my heart. She lost everything, and now all she wants is a piece of her home.” Tears swim in my eyes. I know exactly how she feels. At least I was a little older when I lost my parents. How do you tell a three-year-old her mom is never coming home? The least she could have is a bed she loves.
“I have looked everywhere and called every furniture store from here to Colorado Springs, and no one has a bed even remotely like this.”
“Could someone custom make one for you?”
“With the holidays, they’re all backed up with orders from now until Valentine’s Day, and I really wanted her to have this bed when she arrived.”
“That’s awful. What are you going to do?”
“I guess I’ll have to just find the best one I can. Maybe a princess bed or something?”
“I would think you could find a pink princess bed somewhere.”
“Yeah, time is running short. She’s supposed to be here Sunday evening, so we obviously need something for her!”
“I really hope you find something in time. She’s already been through so much at such a young age.”
“I’ll just have to keep looking. If I find a place in Denver, is it okay to skip out and go get it?”
“But of course!” I tell him. “Oh, and when you were out yesterday, Neil Doyle stopped by looking for you.”
“Shauna’s boyfriend?” he asks.
“Now fiance,” I tell him as I hand him the note he left.
“They want me to cater their wedding reception, huh? I’ve never done anything like that.”
“Give him a call and see what he wants you to do. He said they both love your cooking.”
Damien shrugs. “I had no idea but I guess I’ll look into it.”
“Hey, what time do you think the mortuary opens today?”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“You know very well missy.”
Wow, he really is getting to be a dad.
“Drew told me yesterday that they found a box of threatening letters in Morley’s house after he died, and that Owen Munoz and Ethan Davis wrote most of them. I just want to have another conversation with Ethan, that’s all. No biggie.”
“You do still realize how bad this all sounds, right? You just keep talking and talking like you’re going to say something to convince me none of this is a big deal. But it’s not working! You need to just stay here today and let the CPPD handle it all.” He pauses like he expects me to agree with him or something. “What are you doing on your phone?”
“I’m looking to see when the mortuary opens.”
Damien smacks himself on the forehead and turns back to stirring the pot of black beans, cursing in Spanish as he often does when I make him crazy.
“You know you’re going to have to watch your language around your foster daughter, right?”
“How will she know what I’m saying in the first place?”
“You said she’s from Puerto Rico, right? How do you know her mother didn’t teach her Spanish?”
I laugh when he pauses mid stir. Ha! Got him.
He returns to stirring while looking at me sideways, but I notice he’s no longer cursing, just pinching his lips together as if he’s trying desperately not to say anything further.
The mortuary opens at 9 AM, which is awfully convenient because that’s when Aranya comes in today, too, so I won’t have to leave Damien in the cafe alone. As soon as she arrives, I let her know where I’m going and then dash out the door, much to Damien’s chagrin.
♥♥♥♥♥♥
When I step up to the front desk, I see a bright orange sign that wasn’t there when we were here last time. “Welcome! We are now part of the Kamfield Family.”
What the heck is that? I point to the sign and ask the receptionist. “What is this?”
“Oh, Mr. Haynes sold the mortuary to the Kamfield Corporation before he died.”
“I still don’t know what Kamfield is.”
“It’s a national chain of mortuaries.”
“But I thought Ethan was being groomed to take over. He’s still in charge, right?”
Now it’s the receptionist’s turn to look confused. “Oh no, he’s gone.”
“Gone on vacation or gone, gone. Like never coming back.”
“He’s gone gone,” she says simply.
“A sale like this couldn’t just happen overnight. He had to have planned for this before he died, yes?”
She nods her head, “Oh yeah.”
This poor woman must think I’m the most annoying person in the world, or at least the weirdest, because I keep asking her all these questions. “So did Ethan know that Mr. Haynes sold to Kamfield before he died?”
“Of course he did. We all did. They called us in for a meeting months ago, and he told us he was selling. A lot of the smaller mortuaries are doing it now. It’s too expensive to maintain an independent mortuary long term, and so the corporate chains are offering big bucks to take over established businesses.”
“So if Ethan knew, why did he keep coming back to work and claiming that he was getting ready to take over?”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to ask him that. I kind of need to get back to my customers. Do you need to schedule a funeral or did you just come in to ask about Ethan?”
I turn back to see several people waiting impatiently for me to finish grilling the receptionist.
“Sorry about that, have a nice day.”
“Next!” she proclaims.
I wander out of the mortuary. Ethan knew that Morley was selling to Kamfield and that he was out. That definitely gives him a reason to kill Morley. Add to that the evidence that Drew has with proof of him threatening Morley all the time.
As I walk up the sidewalk trying to figure out what just happened, I’m so lost in thought it takes me a while to register that I’m being followed. My pulse races as I chide myself for going to the mortuary alone to begin with. Why didn’t I listen to Drew and Damien for once?
Whoever it is, I’m not going down without a fight. I’ll run, I’ll kick, I’ll scratch, I’ll use whatever magic I can think of - it’s worked every other time after all - to take them down. I pause, waiting for the footsteps to get closer. Let them think I’ve given up.
When I spin around and come face to face with Drew, I scream. Then I feel like a dope. “Drew! What on earth? You scared me to death! I thought I was being followed by the killer.”
Drew puts his hands on his hips and glares at me silently.
“You were following me on purpose, weren’t you? That little fink Damien called you, didn’t he? Ohhh wait til I see him.”
“Damien didn’t say a word. I told the patrol car to watch the cafe today. When the officers saw you leave and go to the mortuary, they called me.”
“Oh.” Oops.
“What were you doing at the mortuary? As if I didn’t already know.”
“I wanted to talk to Ethan.”
“I’m shocked.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, you know.”
“And getting injured, or worse, by someone who has already killed one person, and threatened two others, doesn’t become you.”
“It doesn’t really matter at this point because he wasn’t there anyway,” I explain.
“Where is he?”
“He got fired.”
Drew looks confused. “Rumor has it that he got fired all the time but came back, anyway.”
“That was when Morley was in charge.”
“Obviously, Morley isn’t in charge anymore, but Ethan told the CPPD he was on track to take over as General Manager before Haynes died.”
“That’s the story he was telling everyone, but it turns out Morley had already sold the mortuary to Kamfield, a corporate mortuary chain.”
Drew rubs his hand over his chin, as he often does when he’s pondering something. I notice he hasn’t shaved for several days again. He’s been so wrapped up in this case. “This is a twist.”
”Isn’t it, though?”
“Supposedly, Morley promised that he was grooming Ethan to take over when he retired. So Ethan tolerates his abuse all this time, thinking he would eventually take over, leaving Morley to retire somewhere far away. But now, all of that is for naught because a big corporate chain owns it. Talk about adding insult to injury.”
“Add to that all the times Ethan threatened him before any of this happened,” I point out.
“Right. I think we should pay Mr. Davis a visit at his home.”
I gasp. “We? As in you and me, or you mean one of your officers?”
“I mean you and me believe it or not. You did give me the tip that the mortuary was sold. Even though you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place.”
“Goody!” I exclaim.
“But you do everything exactly as I tell you to. No matter what. And keep in mind this doesn’t make you a police detective by any stretch of the imagination.”
“Whatever you say, detective!” I tell him, giving him a smart salute.
We get into Drew’s car and drive over to Ethan’s house. I’m hoping he’s home, and this isn’t all a waste. Besides, what a bummer that the one time Drew lets me accompany him on official business is all for nothing if he isn’t there. There’s a car parked in the driveway, so I hope that means we’re in luck.
As Drew knocks on the door, I cross all the fingers and toes I can that he answers. “Ethan Davis! Crested Peaks Police! Open up!”
The door cracks open just a bit, and one eye peeps out at us.
“Mr. Davis, Detective Bailey with the CPPD, may we have a word with you?” Drew asks.
I’m embarrassed to admit it, but this is so exciting.
“I already told the police everything I know.”
“I understand that, but we have a few follow-up questions if you don’t mind.”
“Okay,” he sighs as he opens the door reluctantly.
I’m praying he won’t recognize me from the other day. He must come across dozens of people a day. I’m sure he won’t remember a tall lady with long pink hair, right?
He points at me. “Hey, don’t I know you?”
Drew turns and looks at me questioningly.
“I don’t think so,” I mumble. Big mistake.
“Wait! Yes! Of course! You came in with your husband looking to pre-purchase burial plots! I’m so sorry, but I can’t help you anymore. I’ve been let go from the mortuary.”
Oh man, is my face red. Drew will have a fit over this.
“So you’ve already met my colleague, Charlotte Duffin? And her husband, I guess?”
“Yes, a lovely couple they are. They’re so cute together, don’t you think?” he asks.
Tagging along with Drew on official business isn’t so fun anymore. I wonder what the chances are of a sinkhole suddenly occurring right where I’m standing?
“They’re as cute as can be,” Drew growls. “Anyway,” he says, while still glaring at me, “the first time we spoke you admitted to arguing with Mr. Morley Haynes, at the Hotel Glacier, shortly before he was killed. You also told us he fired you that night, but you just took it as one of his usual firings.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Ethan nods his head. “Morley did that all the time, so I figured it was just a matter of time before he came around and let me come back to work.”
Then I butt in. “But we just came from the mortuary where the receptionist told us not only had Morley sold the mortuary to Kamfield, you knew about it and knew you’d never become General Manager.” Police work is a lot more fun when I’m not the one getting caught in a lie.
Ethan’s shoulders slump. “Okay, you’re right. All this time, I thought if I just kept coming back to work, I’d eventually become the manager. And then that piece of trash sells the entire place to a chain. I couldn’t believe it.”
”Is that what you were arguing about on Halloween at the hotel?” Drew asks.
“Yes,” Ethan sighs.
“Can you tell us where you went after you argued with Mr. Haynes?” Drew asks.
“But I already told you that. I told you I picked up some takeout and then went straight home,” he protests.
“Can anyone corroborate your alibi?”
“I don’t think so,” he responds.
“Do you have a receipt for the takeout?”
Drew is getting tough!
“Um, I must have one somewhere around here,” Ethan mumbles while beginning to sweat.
“So if you picked up dinner and then came home right after the argument with Morley, can you explain why his home security cameras caught you vandalizing his garage door that night by spray painting this, uh, design?” Drew says, brandishing his iPad to show Ethan the footage. Whoa. What is this?
The color drains from Ethan’s face as he watches video of himself spray painting Morley’s garage door with an obscene gesture one normally makes with one’s middle finger. Well played Detective McHotty! It’s almost hard not to laugh at the clip of Ethan attempting to spray paint his clumsy artwork onto Morley’s garage door. Although if he’s the killer, I guess it’s no laughing matter.
“All right, I admit it. I didn’t go straight home after the party. I went to Morley’s house first. I was just so angry. You have to understand.”
“Sure, I understand. I have another follow up question though.”
Ethan nods his head. If this guy doesn’t pass out from the stress, I’ll be shocked.
“One of the Hotel Glacier employees admitted to seeing you ‘sneaking around the kitchen’ were his words, after your very public argument with Haynes, and right before he was killed. Can you explain that?”
Ethan goes from pail to slightly green and I stare at Drew in shock. He obviously didn’t tell me he knew that. Ethan could have snuck into the kitchen, poisoned Morley’s cupcake and left!
“Do I need a lawyer?” he asks.
“I don’t know, do you?” Drew responds.
“I swear to you I didn’t kill Morley. Even though I lied about all the other stuff. It’s just because I knew how bad it would look, that’s all.”
“Were you in the kitchen after you argued with Morley?”
Ethan shakes his head, and I’m convinced he’s going to insist he talk to his lawyer before he says another word to us. Why wouldn’t he? He’s in serious trouble here. Maybe Drew will arrest him and then we’ll have to drive to the police station together. This is getting exciting again.
“Okay, I admit it,” he moans, holding his hands up.
I can’t believe I’m about to hear a murderous confession, and Chloe will go free.
“I was in the kitchen because Pete was selling me some brownies.”
“Brownies?” I shriek. “Who lies about buying brownies?” He’s confessing to buying baked goods? What’s wrong with him? Like anybody is going to believe that. I’m practically bouncing on my toes, waiting for Drew to slap the cuffs on him. Brownies. What an idiot.
“I’m pretty sure he means pot brownies,” Drew says, rolling his eyes at me.
“But pot is legal,” I point out. “You can get ′brownies’,” I say with air quotes and as much sarcasm as I can muster, “in any pot shop in Colorado. Why would you secretly buy brownies from someone when you don’t need to?” I ask. Now I’m mad. Here I thought Chloe would be exonerated in just seconds, and this guy is supposedly lying about where he gets his pot?
“Do you know what edibles cost at the pot shop?” Ethan asks.
“Uh, no,” I admit.
“They’re expensive and when you add on the sales tax…” he says, shaking his head sorrowfully, “It may be legal, but it isn’t cheap. Pete grows pot in his house, which is legal,” he points out to Drew, “and then makes brownies that he sells to some of us on the side.”
“That part isn’t legal,” Drew points out, “and that’s why you have to sneak around to do it.”
Now Ethan looks scared. I’m just happy he’s about to go down for murder. I don’t even care about his secret pot brownies, but whatever it takes.
“I need you to stay in town for the foreseeable future,” Drew says.
I stare at Drew in disbelief. How are we not arresting this guy already?
“Yes, sir,” Ethan whispers as he stares at the floor.
Just as we’re about to leave, I can’t help but notice a unique piece of art prominently displayed near the front window. It’s so interesting looking I have to stop and stare. It’s a bronze bust of a boy holding a kite, but is dark with an almost blue tint in places. “This is an amazing statue,” I tell him.
“Believe it or not, I made that myself,” Ethan says proudly.
“Did you really?”
“I was an art major before I got into business, so I love making things like this. Now that I’ve been fired for good this time, maybe I should go back to creating sculptures.”
“You could sell them in town at Lucinda’s Arts,” I tell him.
He nods his head. “Thanks, I’ll look into it.”
“What was that all about?” Drew asks.
“Just admiring his sculpture,” I try to convince him.
“Please, I know you, and I know when you’re up to something. We’re questioning a suspect, and all of a sudden you’re advising him on a new art career.”
“Okay, I was going to tell you more once we got in the car. But I happen to know that the bluish tint on the copper sculpture probably came from cyanide.”
“You’re kidding me. And where on earth did you learn that?” he asks.
“Remember, I lived in New York City before returning to Crested Peaks. My old boss had a thing for pricey, obnoxious art and copper sculptures. Mostly of naked women, those were his favorite.”
Drew looks impressed. “Well, okay then, good to know.”
“Don’t you see what this means? If Ethan is making sculptures like that, he had access to cyanide! He could have easily used it to poison Morley. I don’t understand why you haven’t arrested him already!”
“I plan to look into everything we learned today, but that doesn’t mean I can just arrest him on the spot. So far, this is all still just circumstantial.”
“Fine, but I’m telling you, I’m sure Ethan is the one who killed Morley,” I insist.
“And I’m not saying he didn’t. I just need more evidence. I know one thing I can tell you for certain,” he turns to me like he’s about to announce some dramatic idea.
“What’s that?
“I have a sudden craving for a breakfast burrito,” Drew says as he opens the car door for me.
“And I know just where you can get one!” I laugh.