Tomb's Tale

by Amanda McKinney

  “I’ve been doing this for years. Speed and accuracy improve with age.”

  She smiled. “Thank you for your time.” She looked at Max. “Sorry to barge in and interrupt.”

  “Never be sorry for that.” He widened his arms. “Mi casa, su casa. You know that.”

  “Thanks.” She turned back to Dr. Prescott. “Let me know what else you find.”

  “Of course.”

  Max stepped away from the table. “I’ll walk you out.”

  As they stepped into the long hallway, Max looked at her. “How you doing?”

  “Decent. We had a productive day beginning to get the office back together. Will be a long journey, but at least we have lights and running water now. Well, except for the kitchen.”

  “Good. I’ve got a fantastic contractor when you get to thinking about the remodel. Top-of-the-line. Pricey, but worth every penny.”

  She smiled. Max had almost as much money as he had in good looks and charisma—a lot. “Thanks. When do you think Dr. Prescott will be done?”

  Max shrugged. “Not sure. He’s good at what he does. Very thorough. It takes time, Rox.”

  They stopped at the elevator.

  “Please let me know ASAP.”

  “You know I will. I’ve got you girls on speed dial.”

  With a ding, the doors slid open. “Hey Max, one more thing. How long has April worked here?”

  “April? Oh gosh, years. Why?”

  “Just curious. You know her well?”

  “Well enough to hire her, of course. Good, Southern gal.” He frowned. “Why?”

  “Just curious.” She winked and stepped into the elevator. “Thanks again, for everything, Max. Talk soon.”

  He winked back. “Night, Rox. Go rest.”

  She took a deep breath as the elevator zipped her up to the lobby floor.

  Rest. Yes, she needed a little rest. She could feel the exhaustion all over her body—sore muscles, fatigue, and perhaps most alarming of all, a cloudy head.

  Yes, she needed just a few hours of rest.

  As the door dinged open, her gaze landed on a six-foot-three, muscular, oh-so-sexy fireman standing next to the fountain.

  CHAPTER 11

  His eyes locked on hers and butterflies awoke in her stomach.

  He smiled, his eyes twinkling as he began walking across the lobby.

  She stepped off the elevator, feeling a rush of energy—excitement—just to see him. He was dressed casually in a black T-shirt, worn jeans, and running shoes. And just as the T-shirt before, this one fit snugly over his chest as well. She was really beginning to like his T-shirts.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah? How’d you know I was here?”

  “Went by the office, you weren’t there. Spoke with Fiona and your sisters.” He scratched his head. “Interesting bunch.”

  “And by interesting you mean protective.”

  “Exactly. They wanted to know exactly why I was looking for you before they would divulge your location. And then I hightailed it out of there when they started asking questions about my love life.”

  Roxy laughed. “Sorry. We’re a tight-knit group.”

  “I’d say so.” They began walking across the lobby.

  She looked at him. “So what did you need?”

  “I’ve got some information for you. About the creepy corpse case… which is a hilarious name by the way.”

  “They told you that, too.”

  “Yes, right before asking if I was single.”

  She shook her head. “Again, sorry…”

  He pushed open the front door and held it for her. The sprinkles had subsided, but it had gotten significantly darker since she’d been inside.

  Her phone rang.

  “Hang on.” She pulled her phone from her bag and clicked it on. “Roxy.”

  “Rox, it’s Ace. Sorry for calling so late.”

  “It’s seven-thirty, what am I, ninety?” She walked down the steps, with Weston close at her side, eavesdropping if she had to guess.

  “Close. First, I called your architect, Mr. Schaeffer, and he hasn’t received any requests for the office blueprint, and quite frankly, he seemed extremely offended that I thought he sent the files without your permission.”

  “Humph.”

  “So, unless someone hacked into his computer or got ahold of his files, which definitely is possible, I don’t know how April got it. And I’ll get on her write-up shortly, but that’s not why I called. I’ve begun digging into the scarce family tree of the creepy corpses, and I’ve got a name for you.”

  “Already? You’re incredible.”

  “I know. Adam Richmond.”

  “Richmond? So on Leland's side?”

  “Yep, apparently Leland had a brother, Cliff, who had a son—Adam. Adam would be Leland’s nephew. Anyway, his dad, Cliff, died a few months ago from a heart attack, and he inherited his dead daddy’s money, then blew every penny of it at the casino within one month. He’s dead broke and got a rap-sheet. B&E—a few—and drug charges.”

  “Sounds like a stand-up guy.”

  “Yep. So that made me dig into him a little further, and get this, I noticed he’s received a few significant deposits into his checking account over the last month. Thousands.”

  “From who?”

  “I traced the account number to a Sebastian Wells…” He paused for effect—an annoying little habit of his every time he uncovered a big clue to a case.

  “Keep going!”

  “Are you ready for this? Mr. Sebastian Wells is an old doctor friend of Dr. Creepy Corpse, aka, Leland Richmond.”

  “You’re kidding me. Does he know Cliff, too? Adam’s dad?”

  “Nope. That’s what stood out to me. Somehow Leland’s—who’s been dead for forty years—old buddy is giving his estranged brother's son money.”

  “Hmm... where is he now? Sebastian?”

  “He’s got a few beach houses around the world, Mexico, Hawaii, Cape Town, South Africa—where he’s currently on vacation. Big game hunter. Got an apartment in NYC, too.”

  “Any other transactions?”

  “Nope, just last month.”

  She paused. “Why the hell would Mr. Wells give Leland Richmond’s nephew money?”

  “Hey, you’re the PI, not me.”

  “Where's this kid—Adam—now?”

  “Lives in the next town over and works at the Evening Shade restaurant.”

  “Evening Shade?” She stepped off the last step and glanced into the woods that surrounded Graves Laboratory. “Isn’t that a little restaurant up on a mountain, overlooking the lake? Close to Graves, right?”

  “Let me check, hang on.” Click, click, click… “Yep, exactly two-point-four miles from the facility.”

  “Interesting…”

  “Good. Hey, other phone’s ringing. Gotta go.”

  “Thanks. Talk soon.”

  Click.

  She slid the phone into her bag, paused, then turned to Weston. “I’ve got something I need to do.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Must be important.”

  She glanced at the road. “Yeah—might have found a connection that can help me untangle what happened to the Richmonds.”

  “A break in the creepy corpse case.”

  She nodded. “Yep, found the nephew of the victim.”

  “Nice.”

  “So… maybe we can catch up later?”

  “I’ll just fill you in on the way.”

  “On what way?”

  “The way to interview the nephew.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Didn’t your mama teach you not to eavesdrop, and never invite yourself places?”

  “Didn’t yours teach you that two is always better than one? Besides, what are you planning to do? Just walk in and say ‘Hey buddy, I found your murdered uncle in a tomb under my house after a witch blew up my kitchen, do you know anything about it?�
�� By the way, he probably doesn’t even know his uncle is dead—no one seems to be aware of that fun fact.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, then stopped, realizing she wasn’t quite sure how she was going to approach it.

  “I say you go in there and pretend like you’re wondering if he knows anything about the fire.”

  She looked past him, in deep thought.

  “And don’t you think it will be easier if the fireman who worked the explosion assisted you in this interview? It would look more professional, more realistic.”

  “You’ll intimidate him.”

  “Exactly. You’d be surprised what young kids with a rap sheet will admit when they’re intimidated.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You heard every damn word of my phone conversation.”

  “Need to turn the volume down, sweetheart.”

  She glared at him and after a minute, said, “Okay, you can come. But I lead.”

  He grinned. “Wouldn’t expect less.”

  CHAPTER 12

  A short six minutes later, Weston rolled to a stop in front of a small wooden sign with Evening Shade Restaurant written in cursive across it. He turned off his headlights and looked around—only a white SUV and black sports car speckled the small rock parking lot.

  He glanced at Roxy in the passenger seat and stared for a moment, his thoughts everywhere but where they should be. The blue glow of the radio barely lit the lines of her face—the long eyelashes, big, sultry eyes, the full, pouty lips. She was so beautiful, so sexy. And mesmerizing, apparently, because he’d spent the entire day thinking about her.

  All day.

  After they’d escaped the tunnel, he’d gone home for a quick shower, and as he ripped off his dirt covered shirt, he’d smelled her—the scent of her hair from when she’d snuggled in his arms all night. And he knew he was in trouble when instead of throwing the shirt in the dirty clothes pile, he’d set it on the dresser. He didn’t want to lose that scent or the feeling she’d given him when she fell asleep against his chest. He’d eventually drifted to sleep himself, but only after the heavy rise and fall of her breathing guaranteed she was sound asleep.

  Of course, he could have called her this evening instead of driving to her office. But when he’d gotten off work, his car just seemed to drive itself there. He had to see her again.

  He had a crush. And it was pretty damn bad.

  She stared straight ahead, and he assumed by the tight look on her face that she was going over their plan in her head.

  “It’s game-time.”

  She looked over. “Yep. Let’s go.”

  He pushed out the door and jogged around to her side just as Roxy swung open the door. So much for opening the door for her. He held her hand as she stepped down.

  “Why do you guys jack-up your trucks so much?”

  “Who’s ‘you guys’?”

  “You know—macho men, cowboys.”

  “It’s a Southern thing.”

  She slid her phone into her pocket and looked at him. “I lead, remember.”

  “Yes, yes, I remember, I remember.”

  As they walked across the lot, Weston couldn’t help but notice the romantic atmosphere oozing from the little restaurant.

  Nestled deep in the woods, the small log-cabin was illuminated by thousands of twinkling lights strung through the trees. Antique-looking lanterns lit a walkway with a small bridge that stretched over a babbling brook. And inside was just as cozy. Small, with white linen covered tables, spaced far apart, or separated by small rooms, allowing for the utmost privacy. Large windows looked out to a deck, which overlooked the lake below.

  He immediately felt uncomfortable.

  The young, blonde-haired hostess wearing one of those feminine-but-masculine black and white suits greeted them. He never understood women wearing suits, but whatever.

  “Good evening, welcome to Evening Shade. Just the two of you?”

  Roxy cut him a glance—a not-so-subtle reminder to stay quiet, and stepped forward. “Actually, we’re here to talk to Adam Richmond. Is he available?”

  “Um, he’s in the back, cooking this evening. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “No, we need to speak with him, just for a moment.”

  Weston shook his head at Roxy’s prickly demeanor.

  “Um, well, he’s really busy—

  If there was one thing Weston didn’t appreciate, it was wasted time. And Roxy was going to get nowhere with the hostess. He cleared his throat and stepped next to Roxy. “I’m sorry, your name is?”

  The hostess smiled, batting her eyelashes. “Cookie.”

  He grinned—he’d known a few Cookies in his life. “Cookie. I love those earrings. Opal, right?”

  Her smile widened as her cheeks flushed. “Yes, my birthstone.”

  He could practically feel Roxy’s glare at his side. He smiled bigger. “Mine too, what a coincidence. I’ve got to get back to my team at the fire station pretty quick—

  The blonde’s eyes widened. “You’re a fireman?”

  “Oh, my God,” Roxy muttered next to him.

  He had to bite back a chuckle. “Yes, ma’am. Chief Cage. Because I’m pressed for time, do you think we could just talk to Adam real quick? I just have a few questions for him.”

  Looking almost hypnotized at this point, Cookie nodded. “I think that’d be okay. He’s actually about to get off work. Let me go tell him you’re here. Be right back.”

  As the hostess sauntered away, he turned to Roxy and—yep—was on the receiving end of one of the most intimidating glares he’d ever seen in his life. Aside from his mom's, of course.

  “What?”

  “You’re unbelievable.”

  “Thank you. I knew you’d come around.”

  She dramatically rolled her eyes.

  He laughed. “Look, no offense, but you seem kinda… uh, edgy this evening. You weren’t going to get anywhere with her. And I got it done, didn’t I?”

  She exhaled. “Alright, alright." Pause. "Who the hell names their kid Cookie anyway?”

  “Probably a nickname.”

  “Charming.”

  Just then, Cookie emerged from the back. “Okay, right now is good. He’ll meet you outside. Just walk around to the right of where you walked in.”

  Weston smiled, and just to piss Roxy off even more, winked. “Thanks, Cookie.”

  Roxy spun on her heel and pushed out the front door.

  He casually walked out after her. Over her shoulder, she said, “Okay, Mr. Macho, now it’s my show. I’m serious.”

  He held up his hands as if to surrender. “Okay, okay.”

  She stomped ahead of him, and the realization suddenly hit him in the face like a bat—she was as stubborn as he was. They were both strong-willed, bull-headed, natural born leaders. Two people who were not inclined to take orders. Two people who were probably worst suited to be in a relationship together.

  But Weston Cage never shied away from a challenge. Not even from the worthiest adversary.

  He looked her up and down. Damn, she was going to be work. Knocking down the wall she’d built around herself was going to be a slow, delicate process.

  Did he really have the patience?

  As they rounded the corner, a puff of cigarette smoke rolled through the darkness. Behind the smoke was a skinny, wiry-looking dark-haired guy wearing a stained apron over a plaid button-up, baggy jeans, and shiny cowboy boots. He also wore a sketched out look on his face—a look that Weston had seen many times in his career. And a look he could work with. He guessed the kid to be in his mid-twenties.

  Roxy stepped up, quickly shedding the prickly demeanor. “Good evening, Adam Richmond?”

  Adam inhaled another puff of his cigarette as his eyes darted between Roxy and Weston, lingering a moment on Weston. “Yeah.”

  “Perfect, my name is Roxy Knight, and this is Weston Cage.”

  Weston stuck out his hand, and after a moment was obliged with a limp shake in
return.

  “I’ve got a few questions for you, about your uncle, if you don’t mind.”

  Something flickered in Adam’s eyes, and he shifted his weight. Weston’s instinct immediately piqued.

  Roxy continued, “Leland Richmond. That was your uncle, correct?”

  “Uh, yeah, that’s him. I ain’t ever met him though.” He spoke quickly, his voice a little higher. He took a deep drag and blew it to the side.

  “Were…” she caught herself. “Are your dad and he close?”

  Adam snorted. “No way. Besides, my dad’s dead now. Died a few months ago.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “That’s life.” He shrugged.

  Roxy paused. “I own the house that Leland and his wife used to own. Do you know it?”

  “No.”

  “Are you familiar with the gossip surrounding your uncle and his wife?”

  “Uh…” He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ve heard some stuff.”

  “What in particular?”

  “Um…” Pause. “Just that they left town or something. Probably dead by now.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  He looked away. “Just guessin’. They'd be real old.”

  “Okay. Well, we recently had a small house fire, and,” She quickly glanced at Weston. “I found… some things that used to belong to them. Your uncle was a doctor, correct?”

  Weston noticed the kid’s breathing pick up. He subtly widened his stance—sketched out kids were, more often than not, loose cannons. He looked at Roxy. Although she seemed as cool as a cucumber, he had no doubt she was picking up on Adam’s nervous energy, too.

  Adam lifted his cigarette, his hand trembling slightly. “Yeah. Pops told me he was. Look, I really don’t know anything else.” He looked down.

  She paused, stared at him for a minute. “Okay. One more question, do you happen to know a man by the name of Sebastian Wells?”

  Adam’s head shot up. “Uh…” He took a small step back and looked around. “No, I don’t think so.

  Roxy nodded, allowing a moment of silence to hang in the air, then said, “Adam, do you know if Leland, your uncle, was involved in anything that could have gotten him in trouble?”

  “No…” He took another drag, tossed the cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. “I don’t know anything.”