Altered to Death Page 10

  Darkness enveloped me. I heard my heart beat and the tempo matched the blood pounding in my head. I banged on the trunk, then stopped. No one was outside, and even if they were, there wasn’t much a chance they’d hear me. My phone.

  My euphoria was short-lived. I left it on the seat by my purse. Why hadn’t I grabbed it? Because I wasn’t counting on locking myself in my trunk. It was a simple task, move the boxes from the trunk into the house.

  Tears filled my eyes. Don’t panic. Keep calm. Think. Keys. The keys had the automatic trunk opener. I could get out.

  Or use the emergency handle inside the trunk. There was a yellow pull handle for this type of situation. I hadn’t paid much attention to that feature when the salesman sold me the car. Who’d get themselves stuck in the trunk? Now, I had an answer. Me.

  A car door opened then slammed shut. Was that my door?

  Was I being kidnapped in my own car?

  Not today. I positioned myself to go feet first in case the car started moving. I yanked the lever. The trunk popped open. I swung my legs out.

  “What is going on?” Steve was standing beside my car, a look of shock on his face. “On second thought, I don’t want to know.”

  I slammed the trunk closed and sat on it. “Cleaning out my trunk. It was hard for me to reach something in the back so I got inside.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t do that at night or when you’re alone,” Steve said. “You might have gotten stuck in there. I can help you. Since I’m here.”

  “No, it’s all good.” I swung my feet back and forth.

  He crossed his arms. “You wanted whatever was in your trunk out so much you crawled inside of it, but now that I’ve offered to help you’d rather leave it in there. Very curious.”

  “Maybe I’m trying to spare your feelings.”

  “By telling me no?”

  I nodded. “Wedding items.”

  “If you have something in your trunk that belongs to my client, I’d be happy to take it off your hands.” Steve smiled at me.

  For the first time, I didn’t trust Steve. It wasn’t a lack of trust that ended our relationship but the fact Steve had withheld a truth from me. Something he knew that caused me a lot of anxiety and ate away at my self-esteem. He could’ve relieved those bad feelings, but he chose to wait me out. Play a game. I didn’t like being emotionally manipulated.

  “I have nothing that belongs to your client.”

  “Boxes from the attic. A rental locker.”

  Involuntarily, my eyes widened. Had Karen told Steve? “How do you know that?”

  “I have my sources.”

  I crossed my arms. “Karen.”

  He shook his head. “Though she did have a few questions for me about my employment.”

  Was Matthew Brodart Steve’s client? He had been trying to win the locker for his brother. Had that been a lie? Why not get a court order for it? Or were they trying and that’s why Ruthann let me know about the locker. She didn’t want them to get it.

  Why hadn’t Hank told his mom they hired a lawyer? If Georgia knew her son had enough proof to hire Steve, she wouldn’t have contacted me. Or had she wanted my help because her sons were trying to push her out of her inheritance?

  “I have nothing of your client’s. If I retrieve items from a storage unit, it’s because I own them.”

  “Pancake Storage had no right to sell the items.”

  I shrugged. “Take that up with Ruthann and Karen. Ruthann owns the units, and Karen conducted the auction. Anything I bought is mine, and I don’t have to give it to you.”

  “Don’t be so sure.”

  In the dark, I couldn’t quite make out Steve’s expression, but his tone said he wasn’t happy with me. Fine by me. I wasn’t thrilled with him either. “I’m not giving you anything, so you might as well go home.”

  “How about I buy the property from you?” Steve took out his wallet. “I’ll pay you double. I’m sure you could use the money.”

  My face heated. I fisted my hands, pressing them into the cold metal of the trunk. “I’m good.”

  “Why are you being so difficult? You have no need for the stuff in the locker.”

  “Why is your client...Hank...so interested in it?”

  “I’m not going to stand here and argue with you. The items taken from the Everton home need to be returned. The court order said nothing was to be removed.”

  “You allowed it.”

  “For animal carcasses. Not chests.”

  “How do you know there were chests in the attic?”

  “Listen to me, Faith.” Steve stalked toward me, bracing his hands on either side of me. “It’s important you hand over the items.”

  Every muscle in my body tensed. I didn’t like this. My breathing became shallow. I hated being trapped. I placed a foot on his thigh, readying to push him away. Hard.

  Steve stepped back.

  A car drove past. It was my grandma Cheryl.

  “This isn’t over yet, Faith.” Steve turned and walked down the street. His truck was parked at the end of the road.

  Yes, it was.

  “Is something going on?” Cheryl stood in her front yard, eyes fixed on Steve’s retreating form.

  “It’s taken care of.” Or will be soon. If Steve wanted the property, he’d have to get it from Ted.

  Ten

  “I’ll get the pizza makings and bring them over.” Cheryl watched Steve’s car drive down the road, a troubled look on her face. “We can make it together.”

  I agreed even though what I really wanted to do was go through the boxes. My grandmother needed to come first and sleuthing second. There were so many questions to answer, and the easiest thing to do was find out which ones weren’t important. The crucial point to figure out was who the box belonged to. If I could confirm Ollie owned the storage unit, I’d know which path to head down. A quick call to Ruthann might clear it all up.

  “See you soon,” I said. My grandmother went into her townhouse next door.

  I scrolled through my earlier calls, highlighted the number, and hit enter. “Hi, Ruthann, this is Faith. I went to the auction today and won a unit. Number twenty-five. I’d like to know who owned it previously. There’s some photographs and a yearbook in one of the boxes and I’d like to give them back.”

  “If they were interested in keeping them, the owner would’ve paid the bill.”

  “I’d also like to identify some of the people in the pictures.”

  “Tomorrow afternoon is the historical society tea. Bring the pictures, and I’m sure someone attending will be able to help,” she said.

  “Is there any way I can find out the name of the previous owner?”

  “I don’t really think that’s necessary,” Ruthann said, annoyance tinging her voice.

  I pressed my luck. “There was a jewelry box in there. The owner might like their items back.”

  “As I said, they should’ve paid the rental fee. Faith, sometimes it’s best to allow a situation to be what it is. The owner didn’t pay for four months. The property became mine to do with as I wished, so I auctioned it off like the contract states. All of the items in the unit are now yours to do with as you see fit.” Ruthann hung up.

  That didn’t go as planned. I moved the boxes from my trunk into my house. I pulled out a few pictures. Maybe my grandma knew a few of the people in the photos. I was positive one of them was Edward.

  I texted Wyatt to delay tonight’s powwow. My fingers flew over the keyboard. I’d rather my grandma not know how involved I was in this probable murder. I was supposed to be scrapbooking our town’s history, not finding the answer to a buried secret.

  There was knock at my front door before it opened. My grandmother stepped in, carrying a basket with all the ingredients for a veggie pizza. “I’m so happy we’re able to do this toge
ther.”

  So was I. In a few months, I’d be moving, and it’d be harder for impromptu grandmother/granddaughter nights.

  “You ready?” My grandmother walked into the kitchen.

  “Yes.”

  We got to work. I pushed my concerns about Ollie, the Everton mansion, and everything else to the back of my mind. As we prepared our pizza, I wanted to reminiscence about the happy memories I had with my grandmothers and create a few more before I moved. I lived with, or by them, for most my life. The only downside to marrying Ted was moving away. I wouldn’t be that far, but I was used to being near them in case they needed me—or I needed them. This was likely to be the hardest change I ever made in my life.

  As the pizza baked, we giggled and looked at a scrapbook I made of the cruise and Disney World trip Ted and I went on. Good and bad memories were intermingled, but it was part of my life. Some of it I’d rather forget so I either omitted the details or minimized them. The ones I wanted to cling to I featured prominently. Like my and Ted’s engagement and the last night on the ship where his daughter and I started becoming friends.

  Cheryl glanced at the boxes near the front door. “Doing some purging?”

  “I got a yearbook and some photographs from a storage unit. One of the pictures is of Edward Brodart and three other guys.” I placed my scrapbook on the coffee table. “Maybe I should give the picture to Georgia. Edward looks quite dashing in the picture.”

  Grandma let out an unladylike sound, a cross between a snort and a harrumph. “Georgia might not want it depending who Edward was with.”

  “Did Edward have a rocky past?”

  “Edward liked feeling important and being respected. He was willing to do anything to make sure no one talked down to him, even if it meant making people fear him,” Cheryl said. “When he was in high school, he hung out with a tough crowd and got into some trouble. Let me see the picture. I might be able to tell you who the other men are.”

  “Buford brother trouble or Hank Brodart trouble?” I walked to the door and retrieved the picture.

  The Bufords spent a few nights in jail but were always able to pull themselves together to financially take care of themselves and their mother. Though, it kept them from having a long-term relationship with a woman. The longest relationships they had were when they were in high school and each dated a girl for longer than a semester. Wyatt held the record between the brothers as he had the same girlfriend from the first day of school until two weeks before prom.

  Hank’s trouble, even though it never landed him in jail, was more concerning. The man had a short fuse and lost many jobs because of his temper. I had a slight run in with him over two years ago, and while I wasn’t fearful of him, I was wary around him. I didn’t think he’d have hurt me, but I was surprised he had grabbed me because I asked him a question he didn’t like. Hank didn’t like people prying into his business.

  At times, I worried about Sierra, but she always seemed happy, except for stress about how they’d pay their bills, and there was never a mark on her. She loved her husband and never made complaints about him. Matter-of-fact, she usually complained about the rudeness and unfairness of the bosses who fired him. Per Sierra, losing his temper was never Hank’s fault.

  “Edward had a bit of both of those personalities,” Cheryl said. I handed her the photo and sat down. “When Edward was a child he had quite the temper. The throw-himself-on-the-floor-kicking-and-screaming kind of fits. He outgrew the fits, but he verbally lashed out at his mom and dad.”

  I was shocked. It didn’t sound like Edward at all. “I never heard him say a harsh word to anyone. Heck, everyone thinks he was one of the nicest guys in town.”

  She studied the picture, frowning for a moment as her eyes narrowed. “He always was in public...once he no longer had the tantrums. I heard him speak quite harshly to Georgia and his children over the years. He was especially critical of Hank. Hank was more of a handful than his brother, but if the boy even sneezed in church, Edward elbowed him and told him how he would never amount to anything if he couldn’t follow simple instructions like stay still and keep quiet.”

  Poor Hank. No wonder he was the way he was. “I can’t believe Georgia stayed with him and allowed him to lash out at his children. She adores her sons. She’s so distraught over Edward’s death.”

  The oven buzzed.

  “Let’s eat.” Cheryl tucked the picture into a pocket of her sweater.

  The best time to eat pizza was when the cheese was still gooey and stretched for a mile when you took a careful bite out of it.

  Cheryl encased her hand in bright blue oven mitts then took the pizza out. The smell of oregano, basil, yeast, and cheese rumbled my stomach.

  I snatched a slice before the pizza stone touched the table. The mozzarella was a toasty brown. The way I loved it. I puffed out a few breaths onto the tip before biting it. The cheese stretched out. Delicious.

  I swallowed the bite. “Should I pass the picture on to Georgia?”

  “No. I’d also leave it out of the town scrapbook. At times, it’s better not to remember how someone was.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Back in the day, those four boys were considered a gang. Most of the time they were pranksters, but on occasion they were vicious. They’d taunt dogs, and one time they removed all the chains from the swings at the park, worst was when they blocked Heather Barlow from crossing the street. She was pushing her baby in a stroller and the boys stood shoulder-to-shoulder on the ramp. Heather tried going around them, and Edward put his hand on the stroller tray, forcing her to stay there. One of the other boys, either Walter, our neighbor Clive’s oldest nephew, or Donald Lucas, told her to push the stroller off the side of the sidewalk.” She removed the picture from her pocket and pointed at a dark-haired young guy. “This young man is Walter. After that incident, Walter stopped hanging out with the group.”

  He had a thin face and hooded eyes. Walter was much heavier now than in the picture. I could kind of see that young boy in him. “They sound horrible.”

  “Rumor has it they did worse.”

  “Do I want to know?”

  “Likely not. The foursome was arrested a few times for drunk and disorderly and throwing rocks through the Everton mansion windows. The other stuff they were accused of were just words. Nothing to prove the other stuff was even true. Stealing money from people’s houses. Breaking into houses for liquor. Even a fight that almost killed one of them.” Cheryl heaved out a sigh. “Back then people felt it was a boy’s nature to rabble rustle and fight authority. The old chief of police would look away if no one was hurt.”

  “I bet Mrs. Barlow was scared when they made her leave the sidewalk. That should’ve mattered.”

  “It didn’t. Fortunately, times have changed.”

  My mind flittered to Bob Roget, Ted’s brother and one of my favorite people in the world. Not too long ago, he and his partner wouldn’t have been able to marry, and now they were and waiting for an adoption to go through. “I guess girls always had a thing for the bad boys. It seems out of character for Georgia, at least what I know about her.”

  Grandma smiled. “Not all women like bad boys. Quite a few stayed cleared of them unless giving them a dressing down. Like Georgia. She took those boys to task and helped Mrs. Barlow. The only one Georgia kept clear of was Donald Lucas. He terrified her. He bullied her relentlessly.”

  “His parents didn’t care he picked on a girl?” That was a surprise as old-fashioned manners were crucial in Eden. Fathers and mothers, for the most part, expected their sons to treat girls with respect. You kept your hands off girls, and if you didn’t, you married them.

  “His mom died when he was a young child from a drug overdose, and no one knew who his father was. The boy went from foster home to foster home. No one could handle the boy. The only thing that stopped him from tormenting Georgia was
when she caught Edward’s eye. When she did, Edward changed overnight. One day he was a bully, the next day he was calm and treated Georgia like a princess.” Cheryl offered me another slice of pizza.

  I accepted. “Do you think Georgia’s parents had a come to Jesus chat with him?”

  She shook her head. “No, Georgia’s parents were hands-off parents. They allowed their children to make all their own decisions. If they didn’t want to go to school, they didn’t have to. What changed Edward was love. He fell hard for Georgia. She was a quiet girl. Studious. Long dark hair. Big blue eyes. A wisp of a girl but with a strong spirit. She was an advocate for the underdog. If Edward wanted to win her heart, he had to shape up.”

  “So he did? Just like that.”

  Grandma laughed. “I think Edward was motivated because another guy was competing for Georgia’s affections.”

  “Who was it?”

  She tapped the image of a handsome young man. He wore rugged jeans, a red plaid shirt, cowboy boots, and had long blond hair. “Ollie Harbaugh.”

  Eleven

  I paced in front of my windows, stopping to peek out every other walk by. Where was Wyatt? He had texted thirty minutes ago that he was on his way. There was nowhere in Eden where it would take longer than thirty minutes to reach my house. I hadn’t heard any sirens, so he wasn’t off doing volunteer fire fighting duties. I glanced at my phone. No follow up message from him.

  Don’t worry. Wyatt can take care of himself. If he was running behind, it was because his mom needed help or he stumbled upon a damsel in distress. Wyatt was a sucker for a woman who needed help. The man couldn’t say no.

  I wandered over to my crafting table and stared at the photograph of Edward, Ollie, Walter, and Donald Lucas. Donald was a nice-looking guy with a bright smile, but the twist of his lips said it was an act. There was something unsettling with the set of his mouth and the way he tilted his head down and forward so he was peering up through his lashes. I asked my grandmother a few more questions, but she was done with that topic of conversation. She hadn’t known much about Donald besides him running with the gang and being in the same foster family as Ollie. Ollie had stayed in Eden after he graduated, while Donald moved away for a few years before coming back and then leaving again—with Ollie.