“Yes of course,” Chas picked up the phone and asked the desk sergeant to bring a bottle of water and a packet of cookies to his office. “I’m sorry, I know this is difficult, but I just have a few more questions for you.”

  “I appreciate you trying to help figure out who did this, Detective,” Hayley said, gratefully accepting the bottle of water when the sergeant came in.

  “How was the relationship between your mother and your dad?”

  “They were very respectful toward each other. Mama cried when she heard the news.”

  “Was there anyone in her life that might hold a grudge against your dad?”

  “No sir. She was very direct about the fact that she wouldn’t listen to any negative nonsense about my daddy. Things didn’t work out between them, but if anyone tried to say anything bad about Daddy, she’d set ‘em straight real quick.”

  “That’s unusual and quite fortunate for all of you.”

  “Yes sir, my parents are good people.”

  “How long was he married to Brenda?”

  “Couple years.”

  “Did she work with him in his business?”

  “Definitely not. She works at the hospital, as a nurse. I wouldn’t want her as my nurse,” Hayley muttered.

  “Okay, can you think of anything else that might be helpful?”

  “I don’t know…maybe talk to Daddy’s lawyer. Winston Lufkin. He’d know more about the divorce and the business and all that.”

  “Certainly, I’ll look him up,” Chas nodded and handed her his business card. “If you think of anything else, anything at all, you let me know about it, okay?”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you for looking into this. I hope you find out who did this so that they can get locked away forever,” she wiped her eyes.

  “I’ll do my best,” Chas promised, and walked her out.

  **

  “Clay Brogan?” Chas asked the tall man who answered the door. He bore a strong resemblance to his deceased brother.

  “Yessir. You Beckett?”

  “I am.”

  “Hayley said you’d probably be talking to me. You wanna come inside? My wife just made a pitcher of iced tea.”

  Chas followed Clay into the humble ranch home that was sparsely furnished with good, sturdy furniture that must’ve come from his brother’s shop. Clay sat down on the couch, and Chas sat across from him on the loveseat, while his wife Anna fetched the men some tea.

  “It must’ve been tough seeing those emergency vehicles at your brother’s place when you drove by yesterday,” Chas commented, sipping the cool, refreshing tea that Anna placed in front of him.

  “Scared me to death. I had a feeling that something bad had happened to Buster,” he shook his head.

  “You and your brother were close?”

  “Heck yeah. We were supposed to go fishing this weekend,” a muscle in Clay’s jaw worked as he struggled for control of his emotions.

  “You have any idea who might’ve done this to your brother?”

  “Only one that I can think of who’s crazy enough is Brenda.”

  “His wife?”

  “Almost ex-wife, yeah,” Clay nodded. “They had finally gotten things worked out as far as the property settlement. She gave in and said she’d take her car and the boat and twenty grand and be done with it. They were supposed to sign the papers on Thursday.”

  “Don’t you think that’s rather odd that she would kill him after they finally reached an agreement?” Chas asked, frowning.

  “Ain’t nothing that woman does that makes any sense,” Clay grumbled.

  “What do you know about an affair that she allegedly had?”

  “It wasn’t alleged, she flaunted it in Buster’s face. One time he called his own house to talk to Brenda and Heath answered the phone.”

  “What do you know about Heath?”

  “Seems like an okay guy. Don’t know why he’d choose to hook up with Brenda though. She wanted him I guess, and what Brenda wants, Brenda gets.”

  “She’s a pretty persuasive person, you’d say?” Chas clarified.

  “She’s a manipulative wretch,” Clay replied. “I don’t like to talk bad about folks, but this woman ain’t right. She just ain’t right at all.”

  “Did you ever hear her threaten your brother?”

  “Oh, heck yeah. She threatened to burn the house down, shoot him in the face, stick a needle full of poison in his neck while he slept…her threats were a regular thing,” Clay nodded.

  “How long ago did the threats start?”

  “A few months after they got married. Any time she didn’t get her way, she’d lose her dang mind. It was ridiculous.”

  “How long ago was the most recent threat?”

  “Last weekend. We was getting the boat ready to go fishing, and she told him she would slit his throat if he didn’t give her what she wanted in the divorce.”

  “And were there any more threats after that?”

  “I’m sure there were, but I don’t see much of Buster during the week. We just go fishing and have cookouts and such on the weekends. He was a good guy, ya know? A good brother,” Clay choked up and dropped his gaze.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Chas said quietly. “We’re doing everything we can to bring your brother’s killer to justice.”

  “Brenda’s mama and sister are in town. Even they’ll tell you that she’s crazy,” Clay suggested.

  “She’s estranged from her family?”

  “I don’t know about all that, but I know that she treats ‘em like dirt. Acts like she’s better than them. Her mama is on disability, and her sister works out at the grocery store on Springfield Ave. They ain’t got much, but they get by.”

  Chas took Brenda’s mother’s and sister’s names and put them on his list of people to talk to. He wanted to make sure he was armed with information before he listed Brenda as a person of interest or a suspect.

  “Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Brogan, and for the iced tea,” Chas stood and shook Clay’s hand.

  “Good luck to you, Detective. I want this killer in jail, no matter who it is.”

  “That makes two of us, Mr. Brogan.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  * * *

  “This is going to take some work,” Timothy Eckels mused, staring down at Buster Brogan’s corpse.

  “I thought that the cause of death was pretty straightforward,” Fiona peered over his shoulder.

  “It was. The family wants an open casket, and we have a bullet wound to the forehead and through the hand. The hand we can hide beneath his other hand, but I’m going to have to reconstruct his forehead and do a patch job on the skin,” Tim explained.

  “Is that even possible?” Fiona frowned.

  Tim stared at her, offended.

  “I know, I know, you’re a genius. If anyone can do it, you can,” she murmured, looking more than uncertain.

  “Shouldn’t you be talking to the family?” Tim asked stiffly.

  “They don’t come in for another hour or so to make their arrangements. Why? Are you trying to get rid of me, Timmy?” her devilish grin returned.

  “Don’t call me that,” he muttered.

  “You should come over for dinner again tonight, I found a great new recipe for…” she began.

  “No, that would not be a good idea. We have a professional relationship and we need to keep it that way,” he insisted, staring at the corpse, rather than his assistant.

  “You’re in denial, Timothy Eckels,” Fiona challenged her boss. “You came over and we had a nice dinner and we talked like humans and you felt the attraction as much as I did. You can’t deny it, because I was there. Why are you fighting this?” she badgered him, on a roll. “Relationships are good. Just because you had a particularly bad one…” she stopped when his head snapped up and he glared at her. “Okay, maybe “bad” doesn’t exactly cover it…you had a homicidally bad relationship…that doesn’t mean that all relationships have to be bad. I’m a fun person, we could have so much fun together.”

  “I am not, and never have been, a fun person. I don’t know what spurs your odd fascination with me, but you need to contain it and conduct yourself in a professional manner,” he examined Buster’s forehead with a magnifying glass as he spoke.

  “You’re impossible, you know that?” Fiona shook her head, exasperated. “You wanna know why I like you? Because you’re brilliant, you’re snarky, and you like the same weird things that I do. You’re also kinda hot in a sciency, dad-bod kinda way.”

  “I have no words,” Tim gawked at her, utterly stunned at her revealing outburst.

  “I like that about you too,” Fiona shot back. “That shy, socially awkward thing you’ve got going is totally endearing. You can resist me all you want, but I’m not going to let this go. The more you push back, the harder I’ll try. You’re in for the ride of your life, Boss Man. It’ll be much easier on you if you just go with it.”

  “You’ve lost your mind,” Tim regarded her impassively. “I need more evidence bags,” he dismissed her.

  “Coming right up,” she grinned.

  He may have not responded positively, but she’d gotten to him. Goodness knows how long he’d stew over what she’d just said. Honesty was a wonderful thing.

  **

  Fiona greeted Hayley Brogan–Myers, and her husband Jace, with warm handshakes and an expression of sympathy for their loss. They had just settled into her office to discuss arrangements, when the doorbell dinged again, indicating another arrival. Fiona was vexed. She always planned bereavement appointments for those times when she could visit with the families uninterrupted. Most folks didn’t just walk into a funeral home unannounced.

  She entered the plush-carpeted foyer and saw a large man dressed in overalls and wearing a baseball cap, looking lost and befuddled.

  “Hello, may I help you?” she asked pleasantly, trying to keep her annoyance at bay.

  “Yeah, uh, I heard that arrangements for Buster Brogan are happening here?” he asked, speaking slowly.

  “Well, yes, but we’ve only just started, so the family hasn’t determined when service will take place yet,” Fiona was puzzled at the question. Family members notified each other, generally, and the public usually read about the time and place online or in the paper.

  “Yeah, I’m supposed to…uh…listen in on all that,” the man looked vaguely uncomfortable.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand…are you a family member?” Fiona asked.

  “Scooter Jones, you get yourself outta here right, now, you hear me?” Fiona heard Hayley growl from behind her. The young woman had apparently come out to see where she was and happened to know the man in the foyer.

  “Ain’t no reason to be like that, girl,” the man replied mildly. “Brenda couldn’t be here, so she asked me to come down here and make sure everything was done right.”

  “You tell that wretched poor excuse for a human being that she doesn’t have any right or say in anything that happens with my Daddy from here on out, and don’t you even think about showing your face at his funeral. You may be her stooge, but you don’t belong here and I won’t stand for it,” Hayley stepped forward and her husband caught her by the arm, restraining her.

  “Uh…sir, I think you should leave,” Fiona gave him a look that forestalled any protest.

  “But, I’m supposed to…” Scooter began.

  “Before I call the police,” Fiona interrupted.

  “I’m just trying to help is all,” he seemed confused.

  “Go home, Scooter!” Hayley yelled, furious.

  “Well, your presence here is anything but helpful,” Fiona said firmly, walking to the front door and opening it.

  “She ain’t gonna like this,” he shook his head, leaving the building. “She ain’t gonna like it at all.”

  When Fiona turned back around, Hayley was cuddled in her husband’s arms, crying.

  “So, I’m thinking that we may want a police presence during the funeral,” Fiona suggested softly, walking them back into her office.

  “Good idea, because if that murdering woman shows up at Daddy’s funeral, I might just take matters into my own hands,” Hayley gritted her teeth.

  Fiona hadn’t encountered a situation like this one before, so she just let the moment pass. “Have you thought about casket colors?”

  **

  When the couple left the mortuary, Fiona picked up the phone and made a call to Chas Beckett.

  CHAPTER NINE

  * * *

  There were two mechanics at Al’s Auto, who were both working under the hoods of cars, so Chas approached the first one that he came to.

  “I’m looking for Heath Morton,” he said, as the mechanic stood up, wiping his fingers on a greasy rag.

  “You a bill collector?” his voice was somewhat hostile.

  Chas flashed his badge and the man’s demeanor changed immediately.

  “That’s him, right there,” he pointed to the other mechanic, who had been silently watching the exchange.

  “Heath, I need to talk to you for a minute,” Chas said. It wasn’t a question.

  “I’m pretty busy right now,” he gestured at the car. “Could you maybe come back in a bit?”

  “We can talk here and now, or I can transport you downtown for our conversation.”

  Heath held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey now, no reason to get all upset,” he pulled a towel out of his back pocket and walked over to Chas, wiping his hands. “What seems to be the problem, Officer?” he asked.

  “It’s Detective. I’m here to talk to you about the murder of Buster Brogan.”

  “What makes you think I’d know anything about that?” his tone wasn’t confrontational, merely curious.

  “You’re having a relationship with his wife, Brenda, is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir, but they were about to be divorced. They haven’t been living as man and wife for quite a while now,” Heath shrugged.

  “Where were you on the night that Buster was killed?” Chas asked, surprised at Heath’s affable manner.

  “What night was that again?” Heath frowned.

  “Wednesday, three nights ago.”

  “Well, I was here, working until around six, then I went home and watched some TV until bedtime. Had a few beers, you know, a normal weekday night.”

  “You were here until six?”

  “Yessir.”

  “The hours on the door say that the shop closes at five,” Chas pointed out.

  “Yep, it sure does, and it’s much easier to work on the cars without being interrupted when it’s after hours. We stay ‘til six or seven on a lot of nights.”

  “Was anyone else here with you on Wednesday night?”

  “Nope, just me, myself and I.”

  “Anyone come in to see you?”

  “Nope, that’s why I got so much done.”

  “So, no one can confirm that you were actually here?”

  “Wait…you don’t think that I had anything to do with killing Buster, do you?” Heath backed up and frowned.

  “I think that you probably know some things that might help me in my investigation,” Chas replied carefully.

  “Like what? I don’t know nothing about it.”

  “You ever hear your girlfriend, Brenda, threaten to kill her husband?”

  Heath smirked. “Yeah, but she don’t mean nothing by it. That’s just how she is,” he shrugged.

  “What do you mean, that’s how she is?”

  “You know, mouthy. She’s got a temper on her, and she says stuff she don’t mean when she’s upset.”

  “She ever threaten to kill you?”

  Heath looked uncomfortable. “I mean, yeah, she’s said stuff that sounds like a threat, but, like I said, she don’t mean it. She’s feisty is all. Everybody knows that.”

  “Did she ever say anything to you about wanting to kill Buster?”

  “Sure, when she was mad.”

  “What kinds of things did she say?”

  “That she’d love to just take him out so that she could quit fighting with him, stuff like that.”

  “When was the last time she said something to that effect?”

  “Let’s see…I wanna say…maybe Monday or Tuesday? It was when they were talking about splitting up property and such. I tried not to pay too much attention, because it wasn’t my business.”

  “Monday or Tuesday? And what did she say?”

  “Something like, so help me, Buster Brogan, if you go back on our agreement, I’ll find you and shoot you in the face.”

  “That seems pretty dramatic,” Chas commented.

  “Yeah, she’s a hard woman sometimes,” Heath nodded.

  “Do you think it’s possible that she killed her husband?”

  “I s’pose it’s possible,” he sighed. “I mean, I don’t think so, but I guess anything is possible.”

  “Where was Brenda on Wednesday?”

  “She got called in to work before I got home. You ain’t talked to her yet?”

  “No, not yet. Do you know what time she went to work?”

  “Nope, just know that she was gone before I got home. She left me a note and left my supper in the microwave.”

  “Was it still warm?”

  “Nah, I had to heat it up.”

  Chas made a note.

  “Do you know of anyone who might have a grudge against Buster Brogan?”

  “Not that I can think of.”

  “Do you know Scooter Jones?”

  “Scooter? Yeah, I know him, why?”

  “How do you know him?”

  “He’s a friend of Brenda’s.”

  “A friend?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Not a boyfriend? Past or present?”

  Heath actually laughed aloud. “No, Scooter definitely ain’t Brenda’s type. They been friends for years. He helps her out around the house and runs errands for her sometimes.”

  “What’s your relationship with Scooter?”

  “I don’t have one. He’s Brenda’s friend. It might sound bad, but he’s kinda dumb, you know. Like he’s…not all there, so we don’t hang out or anything.”