A GRAVE CONCERN (Food Truck Mysteries Book 8) by Chloe Kendrick Page A
Authors: Chloe Kendrick
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“Okay,” I said, leery of her motivations. From what it appeared, the man had died of natural causes. The other homeless man had sprinted off without making any contact with the dead man. Unless he’d been poisoned or I’d missed a wound mark, nothing had happened to make the man collapse.
“I need to tell you something—something I already told Jax,” Sabine said in almost a breathless voice. “The man who ran away, the other man. I know him. It’s the father of the Preston family.”
I nodded. “That would explain the manicure, but little else. Why would he be pretending to be a homeless man? He’s got more money than most of the city.”
“I don’t know why. Perhaps something to do with his son? But that’s him. I’d know him anywhere.”
Before I could respond, Carter had walked up to the food truck. “Hey, what’s going on around here?” he said, looking around. “I thought I heard sirens on the way up here. Are you okay?”
I didn’t get to answer, because the ambulance pulled up on the square before I could speak. I left Carter with Sabine and trotted back to explain what had happened. The two EMTs did a quick check, but there were no signs of trauma or wounds on the body. They obviously couldn’t rule out poison or other internal issues, but they put the body on the stretcher and slid it into the ambulance.
They’d just shut the doors when Danvers arrived. There was no sidling up to the food truck for a cup of coffee this time. He arrived in a patrol car with the lights flashing and siren blaring. He stopped the ambulance and spoke with the EMTs for a moment.
Then he turned his attention to me. “What do you know about all of this?” he said, more as an accusation than a question.
“Sabine and I heard some noise. I came out to investigate and found two men arguing. One ran off, and the other collapsed. I couldn’t find a pulse on him, so we called 9-1-1.”I had hoped that throwing Sabine’s name out first might minimize Danvers’s annoyance, but that wasn’t the case.
“It’s not enough that you feed these people. Now you’ve got to get involved in their problems?” he asked. “You’re not a counselor, and you can’t fix them.”
“I thought I might be able to help,” I replied, not entirely truthful. I had wanted to talk to the manicured homeless man to find out what he’d learned about Hamilton Preston pretending to be homeless. Now I had learned that the two were related. It was guaranteed that when I talked to Mr. Preston, he would definitely have something to tell me.
“You’re not supposed to help. You’re supposed to stay out of open police investigations,” Danvers said, almost at a yell. “We don’t need you.”
“And yet you seem to,” I added. I thought back over the cases that I’d helped the police with and the number of times that I’d beat the police department to the correct solution. They’d held me once and arrested Land another time. That certainly didn’t feel like a great track record for them.
I also thought that if Danvers didn’t want my help, I wouldn’t bother to tell him that Sabine had identified the other person at the scene of the crime.
“A woman named Delores indicated that the other man ran off in the opposite direction. Would you say that was true?” Danvers asked me, consulting a notebook. “Did you get a good look at him this time?”
“Yes, he ran away from us when he saw me approach. Then after he’d started to leave, the other man collapsed.” Given Danvers’s words, it sounded like he thought the same man had been at both scenes, but now I knew that it had been Carter at the park with Hamilton Preston. These were two different men.
Danvers scribbled something in the notebook. I really felt that sometimes he just did that to annoy me, but I couldn’t be sure. “Can you describe him?”
“Older, shaved, manicured. It’s the same man that I saw the last day of Hamilton Preston’s
“Okay,” I said, leery of her motivations. From what it appeared, the man had died of natural causes. The other homeless man had sprinted off without making any contact with the dead man. Unless he’d been poisoned or I’d missed a wound mark, nothing had happened to make the man collapse.
“I need to tell you something—something I already told Jax,” Sabine said in almost a breathless voice. “The man who ran away, the other man. I know him. It’s the father of the Preston family.”
I nodded. “That would explain the manicure, but little else. Why would he be pretending to be a homeless man? He’s got more money than most of the city.”
“I don’t know why. Perhaps something to do with his son? But that’s him. I’d know him anywhere.”
Before I could respond, Carter had walked up to the food truck. “Hey, what’s going on around here?” he said, looking around. “I thought I heard sirens on the way up here. Are you okay?”
I didn’t get to answer, because the ambulance pulled up on the square before I could speak. I left Carter with Sabine and trotted back to explain what had happened. The two EMTs did a quick check, but there were no signs of trauma or wounds on the body. They obviously couldn’t rule out poison or other internal issues, but they put the body on the stretcher and slid it into the ambulance.
They’d just shut the doors when Danvers arrived. There was no sidling up to the food truck for a cup of coffee this time. He arrived in a patrol car with the lights flashing and siren blaring. He stopped the ambulance and spoke with the EMTs for a moment.
Then he turned his attention to me. “What do you know about all of this?” he said, more as an accusation than a question.
“Sabine and I heard some noise. I came out to investigate and found two men arguing. One ran off, and the other collapsed. I couldn’t find a pulse on him, so we called 9-1-1.”I had hoped that throwing Sabine’s name out first might minimize Danvers’s annoyance, but that wasn’t the case.
“It’s not enough that you feed these people. Now you’ve got to get involved in their problems?” he asked. “You’re not a counselor, and you can’t fix them.”
“I thought I might be able to help,” I replied, not entirely truthful. I had wanted to talk to the manicured homeless man to find out what he’d learned about Hamilton Preston pretending to be homeless. Now I had learned that the two were related. It was guaranteed that when I talked to Mr. Preston, he would definitely have something to tell me.
“You’re not supposed to help. You’re supposed to stay out of open police investigations,” Danvers said, almost at a yell. “We don’t need you.”
“And yet you seem to,” I added. I thought back over the cases that I’d helped the police with and the number of times that I’d beat the police department to the correct solution. They’d held me once and arrested Land another time. That certainly didn’t feel like a great track record for them.
I also thought that if Danvers didn’t want my help, I wouldn’t bother to tell him that Sabine had identified the other person at the scene of the crime.
“A woman named Delores indicated that the other man ran off in the opposite direction. Would you say that was true?” Danvers asked me, consulting a notebook. “Did you get a good look at him this time?”
“Yes, he ran away from us when he saw me approach. Then after he’d started to leave, the other man collapsed.” Given Danvers’s words, it sounded like he thought the same man had been at both scenes, but now I knew that it had been Carter at the park with Hamilton Preston. These were two different men.
Danvers scribbled something in the notebook. I really felt that sometimes he just did that to annoy me, but I couldn’t be sure. “Can you describe him?”
“Older, shaved, manicured. It’s the same man that I saw the last day of Hamilton Preston’s
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