“Then why would he have been like that?” I asked. I felt that knowing why he’d been masquerading would be a big step towards understanding the motive behind his murder. At the moment, the police weren’t inclined to believe my story, since they had only my word for it. And while I’d been shown time and again to be honest and insightful, they were listening more to the family than to the woman who had solved more than a few cases.
“Let me ask you a question. Are you sure it was him?” Brianna’s face was sincere and almost hopeful. If I were mistaken, it would be one less hurdle for the family to get past during this time. Much as I wanted to help this woman, I just couldn’t turn my back on what I knew to be true.
“If it wasn’t him, the man could have been his twin,” I said earnestly. I wasn’t trying to upset the woman, but at the same time, I wanted to be accurate.
“That’s what I mean. I hate to bring up family dirt, but my brother bore a marked resemblance to him.”
I remembered the official biography of Hamilton Preston and the unofficial mentions of a brother via certain websites and asked, “I thought you didn’t have any brothers except for Hamilton.”
She gave me a weak smile. “That’s just the official biography of my brother. There was one more child in the family. My older sister passed away when I was still very young. She was in a car accident. But we definitely had a brother.”
I thought of some of my relatives that I’d like to forget about. “Not a good situation?”
She shrugged “You could say that. He could never stay off the booze, and he could never hold down a job. He bounced around a lot, and from what I’ve heard, he’s been on the streets more than once. I was just wondering if he might have been the person that you saw instead of Hamilton.” She flipped through some photos on her phone until she found one. She held the phone up for me to see. The photo was older, and I assumed that she’d taken a snapshot of the older photograph. The man did bear a resemblance to his brother. I honestly couldn’t tell the difference. I’d never met either one, and I could only go off the images that I had seen. This one was slightly blurry from the image-of-an-image effect.
I shrugged. “It could be. Did you tell the police about this?” I wondered why Danvers hadn’t mentioned this to me. He was usually anxious to tell me when I’d screwed up.
“My parents strictly forbade me from mentioning him to anyone, much less the police, and I’m sure they didn’t, either. At the time, they were still sure that Hamilton would come home, and they didn’t want to embarrass him or hurt his chances to win the race for city council. Milton was always the black sheep of the family.”
I didn’t speak, but I mentally chalked one up for me. I had uncovered something that Danvers had not. I now wondered how I could parlay that into even more information about the murder. “Was he among the homeless here?” I asked. It would have looked terrible for the campaign if the candidate who wanted to lock up the homeless also wanted to lock up his relatives for the “crime” of homelessness.
“I honestly don’t know. He could have been. I haven’t seen him in probably six years or so, but I definitely know that at the time he left, he’d lost another job and my mother indicated that he would likely not be able to keep his home then. He’d taken some money from the business he worked at and gambled it all away. He also took some money from our gallery that he wasn’t entitled to, and that was that.” She finished the story in a rush as if she desperately needed to unburden herself. She looked relieved to have finished. “He was supposed to marry someone in our social circle, but those actions put an end to that, and he left. I can’t speak for my parents, but I haven’t heard from him since. My mother mentioned a few years ago that she’d heard from him, and he was in Texas, but that’s the extent of what I know.”
I indicated that I would ask the police about the resemblance and learn if I had been mistaken. I wondered again if I had been wrong. I had been so certain of my recognition of the man, but now that so many people were questioning what I’d seen, I was beginning to doubt myself.
“Oh, I have to go. Milton’s ex-fiancée that I mentioned is here. She isn’t very kind about our family in circumstances like this. I’m going to have to go ensure that she doesn’t go telling stories.” She gave me a more genuine smile this time and walked off to talk to the other guest.
I spied her with a tall blonde who was wearing a bright red dress. A diamond necklace that I assumed to be real sparkled around her neck, and a large rock was on her finger, indicating that she had married after the debacle with the Preston brother. Given that Hamilton had just been found dead, I wasn’t sure that the attire was best suited for the occasion. However, she was quite the center of attention and several people, including Brianna, stood near her, listening to her talk.
Land looked at me. “You’re not going to ask the police about this,” he stated. He knew me and my competitive drive well enough to know that I wanted to show Danvers up on this case. Sometimes I had an excuse for that desire, and sometimes I just wanted to prove again that I could do it.
“I know, but I will be looking into this matter. I will see if I was mistaken. What if I did see the brother instead of Hamilton?” I had pangs of doubt now. I’d been so certain that it was Hamilton Preston, but now I wondered. Perhaps the resemblance had been enough.
A younger man walked by, and I knew this had to be Hamilton’s son. He bore a striking resemblance to his father—the same dark wavy hair and patrician nose. I caught him by the arm and asked for directions to the restroom, a move that I’ve always found to be an effective icebreaker. No one wants to deny a person certain creature comforts.
“Aren’t you a Preston?” I asked, pretending to be as lost socially as I was directionally.
He nodded. “I’m Hamilton’s son, Barton.” I was amazed that they were still able to come up with names ending in “ton.” I would have run out of ideas quickly.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, watching his face for any reaction. If he knew anything about me or his father’s predilection for running around town in less-than-designer clothes, he didn’t show it. He smiled and shook my hand firmly.
I tried to place him. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t figure out where I’d seen him before. I was beginning to wonder if I just saw the Preston family wherever I went.
“I’ve met your uncle, too,” I lied, trying to find out more about the man. I was curious now about the black sheep of the Preston family.
“Uncle Milton? I wouldn’t say that too loud. They’ll think you’ve been hanging out on Government Square.” He gave me a broad smile that let me know he was joking.
I explained that I worked on Government Square. He was momentarily embarrassed until I told him about the work I do. He listened politely. He shared that he was in his last year at Dartmouth and hoped to work for a local bank when he graduated from school. I was annoyed for a moment, knowing that he would likely get the job through his name alone.
“So you’ve seen Uncle Milton? Wow, that’s wild. The last time I’d heard anything he was out west somewhere. Do—does the family know?” he asked. His mouth was practically hanging open in astonishment. I didn’t believe that anyone could be that good of an actor, so I trusted that he was telling me the truth.
I shrugged. “I’m not sure,” I said, thinking that I’d just told his aunt about the situation. I thought that perhaps he was thinking of his immediate family or his grandparents. I turned to look around, wondering where Sabine had gone to, but I couldn’t find her.
Barton sensed my desire to leave, and he excused himself. “I love food trucks. I’ll have to come check out your truck sometime soon.”
Having accomplished my goal for the evening, Land and I were ready to go home. I had to be up and at the truck by 5 a.m., which meant up by 4 a.m. for me. However, Sabine was nowhere to be found.
We walked around the various museum exhibits, managing to see the original paintings that had been donated to the facility
, along with some of the newer works, before Land finally caught sight of her. Sabine was standing with a group of men near a display of Grecian statues. The men were rapt with attention, and I sighed. I would never be stunning in the same way that she was. Of course, I’d never look that way in my little black dress, either.
Land gave my hand a squeeze and then cleared his throat. “Sabine, are you ready to come home?” He gave her a broad, brotherly smile that told the men that they should be on their best behavior with his sister.
She gave a dramatic sigh to the men. “I have to go. The old folks need to go to bed.” She spun around deftly and followed us.
Grinding my teeth, I didn’t say a word. I wanted to yell at her, since she was only a couple of years younger than me, but I knew that wouldn’t work. She enjoyed being the center of attention, even when it wasn’t a good attention.
She turned her head quickly, which snapped her hair around her artfully. It looked natural, but I had a hunch she’d practiced that move before. “Mr. Preston, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She gave him a finger wave as we headed out the door.
The man she waved at must be the Preston patriarch. He had stooping shoulders, but a powerful build that exuded energy. Black eyes danced under their thick brows. I understood who ran the family business, just from looking at him. He wouldn’t let go of control of the gallery—and likely his children—until he was dead.
“So what did you learn tonight?” she asked with a challenging grin as we left. “I learned that I have a job at the Preston Gallery, if I show up tomorrow.” She quickened her step so that we had to rush to keep up with her. “I should be able to clear up this entire matter in a day or two,” she added as she headed back to the car.
Chapter 5
On the way home, we learned that Sabine had found out that Mr. Preston was the head of the local chamber of commerce, and his attendance at the event had practically been required. As a result, she found him quickly and gave him her undivided attention. The ploy had netted her a job interview and then a job offer.
“Not only can I keep an eye on the family,” she said, “but I’ll have better pay and benefits.” I could tell that she felt accomplished in that moment, and I let her enjoy it. I left it to Land to tell her that she was walking into a dangerous situation.
I wasn’t sure if the idea had been her own or Detective Jax Danvers’s, but Land would not be happy with it either way. He wasn’t in favor of the people he loved deliberately putting themselves in danger, and that’s what Sabine would be doing if the murderer turned out to be a member of the family.
Land didn’t speak at all on the way home, even after we dropped Sabine off at her apartment. It was still early, and I wondered if she would be calling Danvers to let him know the developments in the case.
He excused himself from spending the night, but he made up for it with a passionate kiss that nearly made me forget why we’d gone out tonight. He waved good-bye and headed down the hall. I closed and locked the door before heading to find my tablet.
My first search was on the name of Hamilton Preston’s brother. It only took three articles to find it. He was Milton Preston, Hamilton Preston’s rarely mentioned brother. The article gave a little bit of background on the black sheep of the family. Like the rest of the family, he’d been born into money. The Prestons had been in Capital City for nearly a century. No one knew where they’d been before moving here, but since then, they had made a mark on the city and its culture and politics.
Except for Milton. He’d been involved in some banking scandal. I wished that the article had spelled out the details of the crime. It was just the type of thing that appealed to a money nerd like me. Whatever the indiscretion, he’d been forced out of the bank, and the family had sent him to a friend’s real-estate business out of town. The job didn’t stick, and he’d arrived back home like the proverbial bad penny a few years later.
Things had gone downhill from there. He’d lost three more jobs in quick succession. The last job he’d had was with the gallery. While the article didn’t spell it out, I assumed the incident was the embezzlement mentioned by his sister, and he’d been asked to leave his family’s business.
From there, he’d lived with various friends and relatives. My impression was that he stayed until they couldn’t take it anymore. Then he moved on to the next. He’d been engaged to one of the Chesterfields, but the engagement had been called off after he’d left the family firm. I hadn’t recognized the woman I’d seen tonight, but apparently she was related to one of Hamilton Preston’s rivals for the city council seat. I wondered if that added even more acrimony to the relationship between the families. No wonder this was a heated race for council. If the Chesterfields felt that the Prestons had betrayed them with the broken engagement, there would be some emotions at work beyond what was best for Capital City over the next two years.
Milton had eventually run out of friends and money, and he’d hit the streets. The Prestons were mortified to learn of his homelessness, but by that time, he had dropped out of sight. I couldn’t find any recent mentions of him in the press. He’d entirely vanished from the city, and I was sure that the candidate would have appreciated that.
A means of committing the crime started to occur to me. What if Milton had contacted Hamilton? Perhaps he knew of some youthful indiscretion on the part of his brother, or maybe he just didn’t think it would go over well for Hamilton to be advocating for moving his brother off to parts unknown? Certainly that would have been a strong motive to bump him off.
Hamilton had dressed the part of a street person in order to avoid detection. The truth was that few people bothered to look at the homeless people. They thought to make eye contact was to offer the person money, or to perhaps realize that anyone could be on the streets without the help of family and friends.
When I first graduated college, which now seemed like a lifetime ago, I hadn’t been able to find a job. I’d been praised for my interview skills and my articulation of my life goals, but none of the interviews ever transformed into job offers. So six months after my college graduation, I still sat on my parents’ couch, watching TV.
Had it not been for my aunt’s bequest to me in her will, I might still be there, or working in a mindless job that didn’t allow me to use my business skills. Her will had left me the original food truck, though Land still insisted that she had promised it to him. These days, I tell him that my aunt’s plan all along had been to leave the truck to him via me. He’s rather skeptical of my aunt’s prescient abilities, but he allows me my romantic fantasies.
So no one would likely remember either Milton Preston or a disguised Hamilton Preston. If it hadn’t been for the man getting hot dogs from me, I doubt that I would have put the recipient of the daily menu and the politician together as I had.
The other thought I had led to even more possibilities. What if someone else had contacted Hamilton, pretending to be Milton Preston? Obviously, he’d need to be a man to meet the basic criteria, but even then, a woman might be able to pull off a dark meeting with Hamilton if the initial contact had been via a letter rather than a phone call. It would mean that anyone who knew the Preston family history could have made the contact and encouraged Hamilton to dress as he had.
So the opportunity meant little to the case. The ME had not released a report to the press, so I wasn’t sure when Hamilton had been killed. I had no questions to ask about alibis. I made a note to myself to ask Sabine to ask Danvers for information on the autopsy. I wondered if I would get a straight answer from her if I asked her in a manner that presumed she could get that information.
I had a feeling that motive would drive this case. Whoever had wanted to kill Preston had a reason to do so. I hadn’t found the most compelling reason yet, and I wasn’t even sure that I would recognize it if I came across it. The son of a prominent family might have multiple reasons for people to want him dead.
I went to bed still thinking about this and didn’t sleep well.
The wine, the late night, and the endless thoughts running through my mind kept me awake throughout the night. I thought about letting Carter get the truck and set it up on Elm Street, but since I hadn’t heard from him, I had no idea how his mother was doing today. I couldn’t expect him to show up on time.
When my alarm finally rang, I rolled out of bed with a groan, threw my hair into a ponytail, and headed off to get the truck. I made it to Elm Street ahead of schedule and was working on the second urn of coffee when Carter arrived.
If anything, he looked worse than I did. He had dark circles under his eyes and he obviously had not showered since the last time I’d seen him. His T-shirt had a stain from yesterday, and his jeans held multiple blemishes from condiments across the front.
“Bad night for you, too?” he asked as he grabbed a coffee from the urn.
“No news?” I asked. Usually Aaron stopped with Carter to pick up coffee in the morning. The cup of Land’s special blend meant that Carter had come by bus, which didn’t bother to stop and allow Carter to get his caffeine fix.
“No, things are the same.” He looked at me through hooded eyes. “Has Aaron talked to you since yesterday?”
I shook my head. “Not at all. But to be fair, I wasn’t home last night. We went out to a party.”
He snorted. “I’m betting it was related to that guy’s murder, right? Otherwise, you’re in your jammies by 8 p.m.”
I admitted that he was right. “Were you expecting Aaron to call me?” I asked. “Is everything okay?”
I had a sneaking suspicion that Carter had dumped Aaron with the idea that he would come pleading to friends and family for help in persuading Carter to marry him. That plan had apparently backfired in a big way. I’d heard nothing from him, even though we were on good terms.
“Nah, just wondered if he would. He’s done stuff like that before.” Carter turned and started shredding ginger for today’s condiments.
A GRAVE CONCERN (Food Truck Mysteries Book 8) Page 5
