Murdered in the Man Cave (A Riley Reed Cozy Mystery) Read online

  "No one's accusing you of anything," he responded coolly. "It's just routine questioning as part of the investigation. That's my job." He paused. "You said you didn't have your phone. Where is it?"

  Emily stared at the question. "I guess I must have left it at the library."

  Whitmore seemed less than convinced she was being truthful. I had no reason not to believe her, other than the convenience of the response, but gave her the benefit of the doubt anyway.

  "Do you know anyone who owns a dark sedan—perhaps blue?" he asked her.

  Emily seemed to ponder this. "Yeah, probably. Why?"

  "Ms. Reed says she saw someone hurriedly driving away from this street as she was driving onto it. Of course, the car could belong to one of the other residents on the block. I just thought that if you knew of a person, in specific, who drives such a car who also knew Brent London, it could help speed up things in our investigation."

  "My uncle's ex-wife, Margo, owns a dark blue car," Emily said. "He gave it to her a couple of years ago for her birthday."

  "Do you know if she would have had any reason to pay him a visit today?"

  "Not really. The divorce wasn't that amicable and they hardly kept in touch afterwards." She paused. "But who knows? My uncle didn't talk to me that much about his relationships with his ex-wives. Or ex-girlfriends for that matter."

  Whitmore took some notes. "That'll be all for now," he said, glancing at me as if to suggest he was dismissing both of us.

  "Then I can go?" Emily asked impatiently.

  "Yes, as long as you both remain available, in case I have any other questions." He looked at her. "By the way, do you have somewhere else you can spend the night—and maybe longer?"

  "Not really," she said. "Why?"

  "This house is an active crime scene. As soon as we get our work wrapped up, you can move back in, though I imagine it will be a while before the rec room is cleared for you to spend time in."

  "She can stay with me for as long as necessary," I volunteered. I wasn't used to having overnight company or a young woman as a house guest. But, under the circumstances, I felt it was the right thing to do.

  Emily looked surprised. "Are you sure it's okay?"

  I smiled at her. "Yes. I think we could both benefit from each other's company as we come to grips with this terrible tragedy."

  "Then it's settled," Whitmore said. "I'll have an officer escort you to your room, if you need to pack an overnight bag."

  Emily nodded, but still looked a bit out of it after hearing such dreadful news about Brent. Given that I was still reeling from finding his body, I could understand on some level how traumatic this must have been for Emily, after losing her parents too.

  "I'll be right here when you're ready," I told her as she walked away.

  Just then, the medical examiner arrived. A short man in his fifties with thinning gray hair, he walked up to us.

  "Wish I could say it was good to see you again," Whitmore told him. "But it never is, under the circumstances."

  "Ditto," he said.

  He gazed at me and Whitmore said, "This is Riley Reed. She discovered the decedent."

  "I'm Dr. Striver," he said. "Were you a friend of Brent London's?"

  "Yes," I said sadly.

  "I called him a friend, too. He often sought my advice for his mystery novels so he could make the medical examiner in his stories as accurate and realistic as possible."

  "I'm not surprised," I told him. "Brent was always thorough when researching his plots."

  "That's what made him such a good writer," Striver muttered and frowned as he turned to Whitmore. "So where's the body?"

  "I'll lead the way," Whitmore said and then gazed at me. "I'm sure we'll talk again, Ms. Reed."

  "I'm sure we will," I agreed.

  I watched as the two men walked away, continuing to discuss the situation that awaited the M.E. in Brent's man cave, before the grim task came of removing his body.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Emily, who had been at my house once with Brent for lunch, had taken a detour to retrieve her cell phone from the library. I went straight home to see if I needed to tidy up the place for an unexpected guest.

  I had barely stepped inside, while still trying to process the notion that Brent was gone before his time and deciding who to call first, when the doorbell rang.

  Figuring that Emily had found her phone somewhere other than the library, I opened the door, expecting her. Instead, it was my sister, Yvonne.

  She was a little shorter than me and had recently begun dying her black hair, which had started to gray.

  "I heard on the news that Brent is dead," she said solemnly, stepping inside. "That he was murdered..."

  "I was going to call you," I told her, pausing. "I was the one who found his body."

  Yvonne's blue eyes grew behind her glasses. "What?"

  "I was supposed to meet him there as a consultant. When he didn't show up at the door, I went inside. He was lying on the pool table. Someone had apparently beaten him to death with his own pool cue."

  "Oh, that's terrible," Yvonne said. "Even worse is that you had to see such a horrific sight of someone that you once cared for."

  "I never stopped caring for him," I told her. "He was my friend and didn't deserve this."

  "Who does?" She suddenly gave me a hug. "You could have walked in on the killer, who could've turned the pool stick on you."

  "Don't think I haven't thought of that," I muttered, while considering as well the car that had sped past me on the street. "Thankfully, that wasn't the case."

  "I'm so sorry about Brent."

  "So am I." I thought about Emily and what was going through her head at this moment as his next of kin. I could only imagine that she was in a surreal state, just as I was. Yvonne released me. "I was about to make some tea. Do you want some?"

  "Yes, thanks," she said.

  I nodded, thinking that any tidying of the house would have to wait.

  Within minutes, we were sitting in the breakfast nook with tea and some leftover chocolate chip cookies I'd made a couple of days ago.

  "Do the police know who murdered Brent?" Yvonne asked, nibbling on a cookie. "They really didn't have much to say on the news."

  "Not that I know of," I responded. "But the investigation has only just begun."

  Yvonne sipped the tea. "Do you have any idea who could have killed him?"

  I told her about the car that could have contained a killer. "Other than that, I haven't a clue," I said. "Brent never talked to me about being on someone's bad side."

  "Well, obviously someone wanted him dead."

  I nodded. "It will be up to the police to sort things out." After sipping tea thoughtfully, I said, "I've invited Brent's niece, Emily, to stay with me until the police finish their investigation at his house."

  "That was nice of you." Yvonne looked around, as if someone else might be in the room. "Is she here now?"

  "No. She went to the library to see if that's where she left her phone."

  "Isn't she the one who had drug problems?" Yvonne probed.

  "At one point," I admitted. "But that's apparently a thing of the past."

  "You don't sound so convinced."

  I sighed. "Brent wasn't convinced and he asked me to talk to her about it."

  "Did you?"

  "Yes, and she promised me she was clean," I said, truly hoping that was the case.

  "A friend of mine said the same thing last year," Yvonne said. "Unfortunately, she was only fooling herself."

  "Each case is different," I told her. Even if Emily was using again, I didn't believe for a moment that it had anything to do with Brent's death. She certainly seemed as broken up about it as I was, and rightfully so, given the way he had stepped up and taken her in when she most needed help.

  I looked at Yvonne, my mind shifting to her desire to have a child and her husband possibly standing in the way of it, jeopardizing their marriage. I was about to bring it up, when I hea
rd the car in the driveway.

  "That must be Emily," I said.

  "Well, go let her in," Yvonne said, standing. "I need to be going anyway. George and I are going out."

  "Oh..." I gazed at her. "Like a date?"

  "Like an opportunity to talk in a relaxed setting. I'm not saying any more than that. I don't want to jinx things."

  "I understand," I told her, hoping that things turned out the way she wanted them to.

  I opened the door as Emily approached it. "Hey," I said.

  "Hey." She looked up at me. "Hope this isn't a bad time to show up."

  "Not at all. I was expecting you. My sister was just leaving."

  "Yes I was," Yvonne said, and introduced herself.

  "Actually, I think we already met," Emily told her. "It was at a book signing party my uncle had a couple of years ago."

  Yvonne nodded. "I remember," she said and looked at me. "You insisted I go with you."

  I remembered. "Yes, I had to practically drag you there, but you were glad you came by the time it was over."

  "That's true," Yvonne said and paused as she gazed at me. "So are you going to be all right?"

  "I'll be fine," I assured her, and turned toward Emily. "We both will."

  "Okay," Yvonne said. "I'll call you tomorrow."

  Once Emily and I were alone, I asked, "Did you find your cell phone?"

  "Oh...yes," she said hurriedly. "It was just where I left it."

  "Good." There was a moment of awkwardness, which I tried to break. "Can I get you some tea? I also have some leftover chocolate chip cookies I made. They're pretty good."

  "Thanks, but I already ate."

  I got the feeling there was something on her mind. I couldn't help but wonder if it had anything to do with Brent. Or perhaps even Tony. I recalled that Brent thought he might be supplying her with drugs, though she denied that she was using. Then I remembered her job interview, for which I had given a recommendation.

  "How did the interview go?"

  Emily gave me a dazed look. "Interview—?"

  "The job at Klackston Industries," I reminded her.

  "Oh, that. Something came up and I had to reschedule it for tomorrow."

  "What came up that was more important than a job interview?" I couldn't help but ask.

  "I had to help a friend," she said vaguely.

  "You mean your friend Tony?"

  She hesitated. "Yeah."

  I frowned. "Is he into drugs? Are you?"

  "No, it's not that."

  "Then what?" I pressed, as if I had a right to. "I just want to help, if I can." I wondered if I was just trying to take my mind off Brent's death by focusing on Emily's situation.

  "You can't help!" she snapped. "Maybe I can't either..." She sighed. "He's a gambling addict. I've been trying to help him, but it's really hard for him to break away from it."

  "I think he needs professional help," I told her, while feeling relieved that she hadn't turned to drugs again.

  "You're right," Emily said, running a hand through her hair. "Look I need a shower and then I'm going to bed. It's been a really tough day."

  I could hardly argue with her there, all things considered. I walked Emily upstairs and showed her to her room and then handed her some towels for the guest bathroom.

  Heading to my room, I could only wonder what the investigation would turn up regarding Brent's murder. No one deserved to die that way, especially someone who had so much to live for, even if he was losing his mind with each passing day.

  * * *

  The next morning, I was up bright and early for my run after a difficult night sleeping. I dreamt about Brent being clubbed to death with his own pool cue, which I witnessed. Needless to say, it was horrible. Unfortunately, the dream did not show me Brent's killer, as if I could trust a manifestation of my mind in that regard.

  Though I would have welcomed running with Emily, a peek in her room found her sound asleep, snoring lightly. I saw no reason to disrupt that after the tragedy she'd had to endure last night. Having lost her parents early in life, and now Brent, seemed almost too much to bear for a young woman.

  I slipped out the house and was about to head to the beach when I ran into Annette walking her dog. She'd left a couple of messages on my cell phone, which I had yet to respond to.

  "I got your messages," I told her. "I was going to call and—"

  "I'm so glad to see you're all right," she interrupted, "after what you went through finding Brent London dead like that. I saw it on the news."

  "Yes, I'm fine," I assured her.

  "I wanted to drop by, but I noticed that your sister was there and another guest. Fred said I should give you some space."

  I was ready to start running, but gave her the courtesy of another minute or two. "Brent's niece, Emily is staying with me while the police complete their investigation."

  "Who could do such a terrible thing to someone who was loved as much as Brent London was, especially in Cozy Pines?" Annette asked, while allowing Mama to do her business.

  "I've asked myself the same thing," I admitted. "I honestly don't know. I'm sure the police will figure it out."

  She frowned. "Everyone was so looking forward to having Brent as our guest at the next book club meeting."

  "He was looking forward to it, too," I told her, even if I suspected that Brent was a little nervous that he might somehow be tripped up by the Alzheimer's. "So I suppose that Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca is back on as our reading selection."

  "I guess it is," Annette said. Mama suddenly whimpered, indicating she was ready to leave.

  It gave me a good excuse to move on. "Well, I'd better start my run now."

  "And I'd better go before Mama gets too restless."

  "I'll see you later," I told her and started to jog down the sidewalk.

  Annette called out to me, as if she had a sixth sense, "Be careful."

  "I will," I promised, though I had no reason to be concerned for my safety. Cozy Pines was a fairly safe place to live and certainly to jog. I assumed she was referring to Brent's murder and me being a witness after the fact. Since I had not seen the killer and had no clue who it might be, I doubted I was a target.

  I picked up the pace and made it to the beach. Aside from a few ripples, the ocean was calm this morning and did wonders to help me take my mind off of Brent.

  * * *

  At home, I found Emily dressed and in the kitchen.

  "Good morning," she said cheerfully.

  "Morning."

  "I figured since you put me up for the night, the least I could do was make you breakfast. I hope you don't mind me helping myself to your kitchen and food?"

  Though I was usually possessive of my kitchen, in this case I really did want Emily to feel at home for as long as she was there. I smiled. "Not at all. Knock yourself out. I'll just go freshen up."

  She grinned. "Okay, see you in a bit."

  As I washed my face, I wondered if she had truly come to terms with Brent's death and what she would do now.

  When I came back downstairs, Emily was seated at the table in the breakfast nook. She had made coffee, toast, and oatmeal.

  "Looks great," I told her.

  "I just worked with what I had."

  I flushed, thinking I should have stocked the refrigerator with more food, but I didn't know I was going to have a guest.

  "I didn't put any sugar in your coffee," she said.

  "Thanks, I take my coffee black," I told her.

  We ate in silence for a moment, both caught up in our thoughts, before Emily asked curiously, "So why were you at my uncle's house yesterday?"

  "He wanted my advice on redecorating his man cave."

  "Oh, yeah," she mumbled thoughtfully. "He's been talking about doing something like that for a while." She paused. "Now this happens..."

  I felt her pain as much as anyone could as someone who was close to him though not a family member. Unfortunately, there would be more pain to come. I felt she h
ad a right to know what Brent was going through before he was murdered.

  "Brent was in the early stages of Alzheimer's disease," I told her.

  "What?" Emily nearly choked on her oatmeal.

  I repeated myself. "I just found out a couple of days ago."

  She frowned. "And he didn't tell me?"

  I really wished he had, so I wouldn't be left to shoulder the burden. "He wanted to hold off for as long as possible, so you didn't consider him to be a burden," I told her.

  "I wouldn't have," she insisted, biting off a piece of toast.

  "I'm sure that was the case, but Brent just wanted to make sure you were strong enough to be able to deal with it."

  "You mean because of my past drug use?" She regarded me as though she could read my mind.

  I chose not to confirm it. "Brent has always been a strong man, physically and mentally. The thought of you seeing him decline so soon after you lost your parents scared him."

  "If he had just told me, I could have helped make his life easier," Emily said. "He shouldn't have gone through that alone—before telling you."

  "I agree," I told her. "Now that you know, I'm sure Brent would have wanted that."

  "Hope so." She bit off more toast. "I'm glad that it hadn't gone full blown at the end for him."

  "Yes, that is one good thing," I admitted, while wishing he'd had longer to deal with it and perhaps take medication to slow down the progress. Over the rim of my mug, I regarded Emily and asked, "Have you thought about making funeral plans?"

  She held my gaze as if in a trance. "I'm sorry, but I hadn't gone there yet, with this just happening and now learning about the Alzheimer's—"

  "I understand." I paused appropriately. "It's probably a good idea if you start to look into it. I'm sure the medical examiner won't take too long to release his body."

  "After my parents died, I prayed I'd never go through something like this again."

  I placed a comforting hand on hers. "If you want, I can help with the funeral arrangements."

  "Would you?" she asked anxiously.

  "Of course. I'll call the funeral home today and run everything by you before any final decisions are made."

  Emily nodded. "I have no idea about Uncle Brent's—it feels too weird to just call him Brent now—finances or anything, like burial costs. We never talked about it."