Mint Chip & Murder

by Erin Huss

  "I'm not sure what you're talking about."

  My stomach plunged into my gut with the realization that I'd managed to screw myself out of this job. It had nothing to do with the woman in the barrel. Crap! My plan was to secure the job and ask that Mr. Nguyen be given a position on the maintenance team. I'd let us both down. "I'm so sorry, Dr. Dashwood. Would you reconsider if I sent the resume now?"

  "Thank you for interviewing with us." Her tone was polite but implacable.

  "Thank you." I put the phone down and buried my head in my hands. "I didn't get the job." I kept my voice low, not wanting Lilly or Amy to hear. Not ready to tell them there would be no pay increase or vision or high-rise or wow fridges or theater room or game room or conference room or any room. I was about to be homeless.

  Kevin poked me with the tip of his finger. "Are you going to cry?"

  "No." Well, maybe.

  Amy screamed. Both Kevin and I looked out to the living room, where she was jumping around with her phone at her ear. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!" she squealed. "Thank you! Thank you! Bye!" She threw her arms up in the air and continued to hop around as if she'd just been called down as a contestant on the Price is Right.

  Lilly stared at me. "What's wrong with hers?"

  No idea.

  Amy scooped up Lilly and spun her around the room. "I scored an audition for the Zankla movie!"

  I brought my hand to my mouth. "Are you serious?"

  "Yes! Not even for the best friend, but for Zankla. Reena asked for me specifically."

  OK, I was in serious financial doo-doo, but this had to be celebrated.

  And celebrate we did.

  If celebrating meant screaming. We did a lot of screaming. Screaming was about all I could afford to do. Also, ice cream. We ate ice cream.

  "Cheers." Lilly lifted her non-dairy scoop of vanilla on a cone, and we all tapped our spoons together.

  "Cheers," I said and looked down at the ice cream in front of me. On second thought, I was not hungry. Not at all.

  Neither was Kevin.

  Or Amy.

  Really, Lilly was the only one celebrating with ice cream.

  "I want a DNA test," Kevin said out of the blue. "I don't think Trevor and I are related."

  And…we're back to that.

  "Why don't you take him up on the offer to work for him?" I asked. "You might end up getting along."

  Kevin stuck his finger down his throat.

  Guess that's a no.

  Lilly polished off her ice cream. "Can I go change?"

  "Sure."

  "Yay." She hopped down and ran to her room, slamming the door behind her.

  I heaved a sigh and rubbed my eyes.

  "Trevor is my father's brother's son from his first marriage," Kevin continued, answering a question we hadn't asked. "There's a chance my aunt had an affair, and Trevor and I share zero blood. He used to be cool. A total brown-noser, kiss up, sycophant, bootlicker twerp. But not unbearable. As soon as he took over as the trustee, he started all this foo-foo energy weirdness." He shuddered. "The thought of working with him makes me want to gag, barf, vomit, puke, and die."

  "I like him."

  "Whhhyyyy? He's so not genuine. All his energy crap is a total act."

  "It is not," Amy said defensively. "How do you think I managed to land an audition for the biggest movie on the planet? I put my desire into the Universe and the Universe provided. That's how energy works."

  If that's how it works then:

  Dear Universe,

  I want a job with higher pay, better bonuses, and vision.

  Sincerely,

  Cambria Clyne

  "You're as crazy as he is." Kevin pushed his bowl away.

  I paused to sneeze. "If you give him a chance, you two could have a wonderful relationship."

  "Maybe." Kevin coughed into the crook of his elbow. "So, how do you all think my mom killed my mom?"

  "The medical examiner said she'd taken a blow to the head. What I don't get is where they were when it happened."

  "The attic," Amy said. "Even I know that."

  "Why were they in the attic, though? Was Kevin's bio mom like, 'I want to see my kid' and Mom McMills was like, 'Sure, he's in the attic, come on up,' and then Mom McMills clocked her on the head?"

  Kevin rolled his eyes. "She killed her somewhere else then dragged her up there, obviously."

  "Why the heck would she hide the body in the attic? More importantly, how the heck did she drag a dead body up into the attic?"

  "That is a good question. Mom McMills has a bad knee," he said. "Always has. She must have lured her up into the attic."

  True. Or, "She had help with the body."

  "My dad?"

  "Your dad looked genuinely surprised that Larissa was dead."

  "Patrick?"

  "Sure, but why would he? What's in it for him?"

  "He made money from managing the properties."

  This was true. "You'd think he would have removed all the barrels instead of hiding just one. Who else would have helped her? Who had skin in the game?"

  "Me," said Kevin.

  Amy gasped. "Did you help hide the body?"

  "Nope. I had serious drug problems back then, but I'd remember moving a dead body."

  Huh? "Did your parents send you here before or after they hired Patrick?"

  "After."

  "Before or after they decided to make Trevor the trustee?"

  "After. My mother sat me down and told me that I was a disgrace to the family name, and she told me they had decided to let Trevor have everything. I could continue to live here, rent free, so long as I never contacted them."

  Geez. Harsh. "Wait, they had sent you here but were still in contact?"

  "At first, yes. They just wanted me out of their house because I was bringing around questionable company. Mostly drug dealers and prostitutes."

  "When did she tell you about Trevor?"

  "Right before Thanksgiving. No matter how badly I'd screwed up, I never thought they'd disinherit me. They'd told me the point of all the therapy and tough love was to groom me to take over one day. Liars."

  "Bet that put a damper on the holidays," said Amy.

  Hold on. "According to May, a former resident who liked to peek into the attic, the barrels were moved in September. The fight between Patrick and Larissa happened in September as well. Trevor said he moved the barrels after he found out he'd be taking over the trust."

  "You're saying he knew in September?"

  My mind spun this information around. "Or he had reason to move the barrels and lied to us."

  "My, how quickly you are to change your tune," Kevin almost sang. "I thought you liked Trevor?"

  I thought I did, too.

  "Pretty sure hiding a dead body is a crime," said Amy.

  "I know it's a crime." And a serious accusation. Would make sense as to why they handed down their fortune to Trevor. He knew too much. Otherwise, why make such a drastic decision. It wasn't like they were on their deathbeds, and Kevin was still young.

  "There's only one choice." Kevin slid his chair back. "We have to confront him."

  "I am not confronting anyone."

  "Yes, you are."

  "No, I am not."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Excellent judge of character

  Turns out I was.

  By the time we got to Trevor's office, the receptionist was gone for the day. Good. Or bad. A third witness wouldn't hurt. I could hear Trevor behind the sheer partition in the office. He was humming.

  "Hello?" I said and stepped around to find him meditating.

  He was on the floor with his legs crossed, hands up over his head, eyes closed, and a blunt waiting for him in an ashtray.

  Kevin clapped loud enough to make me jump. "Yo, we're here!"

  Trevor's eyes popped open and he smiled. "Cousin." He rose to his feet and gave Kevin a hug and kissed me on each cheek. "So happy to receive your call and to know that you've chang
ed your mind."

  "I am so excited to work with you." Kevin could not have sounded more monotone if he tried. "Thank you for meeting me at your office."

  I exhaled, making an involuntary raspberry sound. "What exactly did you have in mind for Kevin?" I asked.

  "Excellent question," said Trevor. "I just heard from Patrick that he is closing up shop, which leaves us in quite the predicament. This means a lot more work. What I need is someone to run errands and make sure my fridge is stocked."

  My mouth dropped open. "You want Kevin to be your personal assistant?"

  "I like to think of it as my personal associate."

  Kevin blinked. "That. Sounds. Good. When. Do. I—oh, hell. I can't do this. Did you help Dolores stash my real mom's body in a barrel?"

  I smacked my forehead. The plan was for Kevin to strike up friendly conversation with Trevor, gain his trust, get him relaxed, and then slyly ask about the timing of everything. The hope was to get him flustered in the chance he'd accidentally incriminate himself.

  "I would never do such a thing," Trevor said. "I am insulted by the very accusation. I do not think we should work together."

  "Yeah, me either." Kevin gave him a captain salute using his middle finger.

  I decided to step in. "You said that you moved the barrels when you found out that you'd be the trustee over the property. I have a resident who said the barrels were moved in September. We just pulled the paperwork this morning, and it said that the trust was not formed until November."

  Trevor took a drag of his blunt and blew a marijuana cloud out in my face. I coughed and covered my nose. "They told me before they did the paperwork," said Trevor.

  "They hired Patrick in September," I said. "And they didn't tell him about you until November. I'm trying to figure out why they wouldn't have told him if you were doing a tour of all properties. Seemed like something they'd mention."

  Trevor brushed off my concerns with a wave of his hand. "You've been through too much. The stress is getting to you, and you're looking for problems that aren't there."

  "No, she is not," said Kevin. "Dolores killed my mother, and you hid the body."

  Trevor stubbed his blunt and exhaled a cloud of smoke. "What's your point? It's my word against yours."

  Kevin pulled out his phone. "No. It's your word against yours. I've been recording this conversation."

  Trevor yanked the phone from Kevin's hand and dropped it into a cup of water.

  Well, that sucks.

  "Now it's my word against yours." Trevor shook his head. "I've tried so hard to make this right, and you have done nothing but be a royal pain in my—"

  "How have you made this right?" Kevin interrupted. "That was my real mother. That was my inheritance. You think allowing me to shop for you makes this right?"

  "I am at peace!" Trevor snapped.

  Wow. I'd never seen him so unhinged.

  He smoothed down the white smock he was wearing and rolled his shoulders. "I am at peace," he said more even toned. "I did not kill anyone. What I did was help a family member out. That is what family does."

  Not necessarily. "Did you blackmail your aunt into leaving you her fortune?" I put two and two together, realizing Trevor had enough information to ruin Dolores McMills. Even if she didn't like to part with her money, she'd been willing to pay off Larissa to make that problem go away. Why wouldn't she have done the same for Trevor?

  "It's not like Kevin was fit for the job," he said. "He took up so much of their time, they had to hire a management company. With me in the picture, they could relax and enjoy life."

  Kevin punched Trevor in the face. Trevor stumbled back and touched his nose, marveling down at the red coating his fingers.

  "I think we're done." I grabbed Kevin's arm. "We're good."

  "No." Trevor pulled a small revolver from under the beanbag. "I had a feeling you two didn't want to meet up to discuss Kevin working for me. Not after everything that happened last night. It's a damn shame." He clicked his tongue. "I really liked you, Cambria. And Kevin, I was beginning to tolerate you. I'm sorry your mother chose me over you. Get over it."

  Kevin and I raised our uninjured arms up in the air. "The only reason she chose you was because you blackmailed her," Kevin said.

  "Tomayto, tomahto." Trevor cocked the revolver.

  Yeah, OK. I'm done.

  "Abort! Abort!" I screamed. "Abort!"

  The door to Trevor's office kicked in, and in came Chase, Hampton, and several other of LAPD's finest with their guns drawn. "Drop your weapon!" Chase said.

  Trevor's face drained of all color, and he lowered the revolver to the ground and raised his hands up. Hampton swung Trevor's hands behind his back and slapped cuffs on his wrists. "You are under arrest for being an accessory to a crime…"

  Chase escorted Kevin and me to the front lobby. "Are you two all right?"

  I nodded and grabbed the mic pack tucked into the back of my pants.

  "I'm grateful you called me instead of confronting Trevor on your own," said Chase, taking the microphone from my shaky grasp. "You made the right decision."

  "I still think I could have taken him alone," said Kevin. "She's the one who was like 'We need to get the police involved. I'm not taking any more unnecessary risks with my life…blah, blah, blah'."

  That was more or less how the conversation went.

  Hampton paraded Trevor down the hall and to the elevator. Kevin and I took the stairs. Riding in a little box suspended above the ground was beyond my current mental capacity. My nerves were shot.

  Outside the building, Hampton pushed Trevor's head down and helped him into the back of a patrol car with the lights on and flashing. He slammed the door shut, tapped the roof, and the squad car was off.

  I blew out a breath. It was finally over. The McMillses were dead. Trevor was on his way to jail… Wait a second. "Kevin, does this mean you now get everything?"

  He shrugged, as if the thought had not occurred to him. "Don't you wish you would have signed the marriage certificate?"

  No. Maybe. Wait, no. Definitely no.

  "Guess that means I'm now your boss." Kevin swung his good arm over my shoulders. "Make me a sandwich, woman."

  "Make it yourself."

  Hampton sauntered up, giving his pants a hike. "You two did a good job."

  "Thank you," I said.

  Chase squeezed my arm. "I'm thinking since you're injured and have been through so much that it would be best if we reschedule our dinner plans."

  Hallelujah! I do love this man.

  Hampton gave an understanding nod of his head. "Of course. Silvia will absolutely understand. She's a very compassionate person."

  Kevin coughed to cover a laugh.

  "When would be a better time?" Hampton asked.

  I was about to say my schedule looked good the year after next, when Chase said, "With me leaving soon, it's too hectic. Let's plan on when I get back."

  FBI training was four months. Fewer than two years, but still not tomorrow, so I was happy.

  "It's a plan." Hampton thanked Kevin and me again for our help, then stepped away to call Silvia and break the news.

  "Can you give us a minute?" Chase asked Kevin.

  Kevin rolled his eyes. "Fine. So long as you talk loud enough so I can hear from over there." He pointed to the spot near the door where he'd presumably be standing and eavesdropping.

  "I'll try my hardest," Chase said.

  Kevin left, and Chase moved his hands up to my face, cradling my cheeks, rubbing my skin with his thumbs. "Thank you again for calling me instead of confronting Trevor on your own."

  "I promised I'd be safe."

  Chase's eyes slid down to the splint on my wrist.

  "That was not my fault. I was pushed out the window—"

  Chase pressed his mouth against mine, and I forgot what I was saying. His arms wrapped themselves tightly around me, and I rose to my toes. I closed my eyes and lost myself in his touch. Everything in my body told me thi
s was right. He tasted right. He smelled right. Even the roughness of his five o'clock shadow on my skin felt right. I wanted to bottle these feelings up and carry them around with me for the next four months.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Dependable

  Chase left on a Tuesday. We said good-bye at the airport, and I cried the entire way home. Kevin and Amy and Lilly were waiting for me with ice cream and donuts and Law and Order reruns and Kleenex and hugs. Lots and lots of hugs.

  Two months later, and life had returned to somewhat normal. Chase and I talked once a day, even if it was for only a few minutes. Keeping the flame alive long-distance was harder than I'd anticipated. Training was difficult, and Chase was exhausted. Our conversations had gotten shorter and shorter with each passing day. But I refused to give up on us.

  Good thing I had work to keep me busy. With the McMillses no longer alive and Trevor behind bars, Kevin was set to inherit everything. At least, we thought so. He was still going through probate court, and all properties sat in limbo. Luckily, Patrick agreed to stay on until the case was settled. When asked if he'd reconsider retiring, he'd said, "You couldn't pay me enough to work for another McMills." And he meant it. Kevin had offered him almost double what he was making before, and he respectfully declined by saying, "Hell, no."

  Until the McMills's assets were finalized, Patrick kept his word to stay on, and we chugged along as best we could. Which meant sticking to our monthly meetings and property tours. It was a Wednesday. Lilly was at school, and I was wiping down the coffee table in the lobby. I had no idea what exactly would happen to me once Kevin regained control of his parents' property portfolio. "Whatever management company I hire will have to keep you. It will be part of the deal," Kevin had said. A beautiful gesture, but I'd been sending out my resume anyway. All positions I'd applied for were for either less money or an assistant management position. Yes, a downgrade. But I didn't want to put all my eggs in one basket. What if probate court decided Kevin didn't inherit everything? A lower-paying job was better than no job.

  At least that was what I kept telling myself.

  I finished wiping down the table, fluffed the pillows, and grabbed a piece of lint off the floor. Even if Patrick was only my temporary boss, I still wanted everything to look perfect. I took pride in my work, because I was dependable like that.