THE SOUND OF MURDER (24 page)

CHAPTER 59

Tears were on the menu, it seemed. I’d emailed Amy Small right away after learning that Charlie’s death was not suicide, but when I finally got to talk to her on the phone at my uncle’s office, she had a hard time making it through the conversation.

“I just knew my dad wouldn’t do that.” She snuffled. “I mean, it’s horrible, but I’m…relieved.” I had already told her that Charlie hadn’t suffered. “If he had killed himself, I would have felt like I didn’t really know him.” She began crying in earnest. “Oh, Dad…”

I hung up quietly so Amy could grieve on her own. Besides, I had work to do.

I had Roger’s admission that he had killed those retirees. His shoes were in the incriminating Pet Cam photos (which I had emailed to Uncle Bob right after downloading them). I even found seven different bank accounts in his name with large semi-regular cash deposits. But none of that was concrete proof. And Roger and his agent had made sure they had no obvious connections to Underwood Holdings. It was going to be tough to pin the Sunnydale murders on Roger. I searched through my notes again. Surely there was something…

“Olive.” My uncle got up from his office chair, and walked over to me. “You’ve done everything you could. It’s time to let the police handle the rest.” He gently closed my new laptop. “Good thing that Roger guy tried to kill you. They’ll keep him in jail for that.”

“Yeah, good thing.” I knew I was lucky, but it didn’t really feel that way.

He went back to his desk and opened the top drawer. “Come over here. I’ve got a few things for you.”

I walked the few feet to his desk.

“First of all, I owe you an apology.”

Wow. My family did not do apologies.

“I should have filled you in about Hank’s suspicions. I thought he was just being paranoid. I didn’t want to get you headed down the wrong road.”

“Secondly,” Uncle Bob’s chins tripled as he tried to hold back a smile, “someone else owed you a little something too. I wasn’t sure your landlady could ask you to pay rent while they fixed your apartment. It’s a little complicated, since it looks like you might have caused the fire, which you will never, ever do again—”

“Never,” I agreed.

“But a nice letter from a PI on the official letterhead of Franko, Hricko and Maionchi did the trick.” He handed me a check from the account of Mae Freeman, my landlady. “The rent money you paid.”

“Thank you!” I ran around the desk so I could hug my uncle.

“One more thing.” Uncle Bob took a small cardboard box out of his drawer and handed it to me. This time he didn’t try to hold back his smile. I opened it to see a stack of business cards, printed with “Duda Detective Agency, Olive Ziegwart, Assistant Investigator.”

I didn’t know what to say so I hugged him again.

He made some “aw gee shucks” noises, then looked at me. “Hey, I like your peacock earrings. They go really nice with your blonde hair. Now,” he patted me on the head, “can I take my ace detective out for a beer?”

“I’d love to,” I said, “but I’ve got a date.”

Water sparkled in the pool at my feet, cascaded in waterfalls next to me, and reflected the setting sun in the canal below. Water, water, everywhere—and I wasn’t afraid.

“I guess the baptism by fire cured me,” I said to Matt, who sat on a sculpted “boulder” near me at Arizona Falls, a way cool hydroelectric generator-turned-art installation.

“Any other issues cured?” He looked over at the couple who stood hand in hand gazing through a sheet of falling water. Cody reached out to the waterfall and splashed Sarah, who squealed in delight.

“I’m working on it.” I knew I needed to recognize Cody as more than just my kid brother with a disability. He was a full-fledged adult with a girlfriend. “Really.”

“Thanks for coming. Cody really wanted a double date.” Matt’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I think it would have been too much like having a chaperone if it was just me.”

“I’m sorry about Candy.”

“I’m not sure we would have ever worked out long-term.” Matt watched Cody and Sarah as they walked toward us. “This acting life in L.A….it’s what she wanted.”

“Yeah.” Spray from the nearest fall misted my face. I closed my eyes and thought about what Jeremy had said, about acting precluding any romantic relationship.

“What about you?” Matt must have read my mind. I was so comfortable with him. Maybe I didn’t need romance, as long as I had friendship like this. “Don’t you want that too?” he continued. “Fame and fortune?”

I tried to picture myself onstage in a fancy theater in New York. I wanted it, oh, I wanted it, but the photo in my head was fuzzy. “Not yet.” Roger might be a despicable man, but he was right about one thing. “I’m not good enough yet. I think I can be, but I’ve got a lot to learn.”

I opened my eyes and turned toward Matt. “And I like working with Uncle Bob.” I thought again of Roger and how I didn’t suspect him until it was nearly too late. “But I’m not a great detective yet, either.”

“What are you guys talking about?” I turned to see Cody behind me, Sarah by his side.

“I was just telling Matt that I’m not a great actor or a great detective—”

“But you’re a great sister.” Cody hugged me around the neck.

Not yet.

But I’m working on that too.

Author
’
s Note

You won’t find Sunnydale on an Arizona map, though you will find several very nice retirement communities that look a bit like Marge’s hometown. A couple of these communities in Maricopa County (which is on a map) have posses, staffed by volunteers who help their neighbors and even save lives.

The Phoenix Fire Department is thankfully very real, though the annual Fire vs. Police tug-of-war is not. That said, Guns and Hoses events across the country raise money for charity and include not just tug-of-wars, but golf tournaments, bouncy ball races, and jelly donut-eating contests. Go out and support your local first responders!

About the Author

Cindy Brown has been a theater geek (musician, actor, director, producer, and playwright) since her first professional gig at age 14. Now a full-time writer, she’s lucky enough to have garnered several awards (including 3rd place in the 2013 international
Words With Jam
First Page Competition, judged by Sue Grafton!) and is an alumnus of the Squaw Valley Writers Workshop. Though Cindy and her husband now live in Portland, Oregon, she made her home in Phoenix, Arizona, for more than 25 years and knows all the good places to hide dead bodies in both cities.

In case you missed the 1
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in the series

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