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Pop passed away months ago and at the reading of his will, our long-lost sister showed up and inadvertently opened up a can of worms I’d have rather kept a lid on. Two cans, actually. The first being that Cheyenne wasn’t our full sister. Turns out she was a half-sister. And the second can was that our mama had left us fifty million dollars in a trust. A trust that was being challenged because there was suspected foul play surrounding her death.
Feeling restless, I paced my living room, unable to relax as I waited for my brothers and sister to show up. I wished that they could just let the past be the past, but it seemed like they were hell-bent on finding out the truth.
I went to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge and stared at the photo that my sister had put up with a magnet. It was of all my siblings standing in front of the bar on the day of Pop’s funeral. When I looked at Billy and Jimmy I still saw the rug rats I’d had to raise. Sure, they were both grown men now who were engaged to be married. But when I looked at them I saw the toothless kids that I had to force to eat vegetables, do homework, and get in bed before ten p.m.
And then there was Cheyenne, my baby sister. If I were being honest, it was difficult for me to look at her. It wasn’t that I didn’t love Cheyenne, I did. But my maternal grandparents had swooped in after my mother’s funeral and taken Cheyenne to Connecticut when she was barely five.
I hadn’t watched her grow up. She walked back into our lives as a young adult. So when I looked at her I saw one thing, my mother. She was the spitting image of her. The same long blonde hair, huge blue eyes, and smile that lit up brighter than the lightning bugs Firefly Island was renowned for. Sometimes when she walked into a room, for a split second it was like seeing a ghost. It didn’t help that they also shared the same mannerisms, and their voices were identical.
Seeing her and hearing her brought feelings to the surface I’d rather keep buried. Not only because of how badly I missed Mama but also because of the secret I’d been keeping from my siblings since the day after Mama died. A secret I was scared I’d have to share with them if they kept up this damn hunt for the truth about the night she died.
My head was all over the place when I heard a loud knock at the door. I knew who was standing on the other side. My youngest brother always knocked like he was SWAT and this was a trap house.
Before I even opened the door all the way, he was inside askin’, “Where’s the food?”
“Didn’t call the meeting.” I shouldn’t have to explain that to him since it was his fiancée that had. The rule was, whoever called the meeting provided the food.
“Haven’t ya heard? Your house, you’re hostin’.” Jimmy winked and headed to the kitchen.
“Since when?” I closed the door behind him.
“Since you changed the locks,” he bellowed as he opened the fridge door. “Hey, can you watch Sherlock for a couple days next week? Bella has a meeting in New York and I’m taggin’ along.”
“Yeah.” Jimmy had gotten the hound dog when he was a teenager and I’d spent the first few years of the mutt’s life takin’ care of him. I’d been the one to potty train him, clean up his messes, and take him to the vet to get his balls cut off. At the time, I’d been pissed because it was one more thing I was responsible for, but when Jimmy moved out and took the dog with him I’d missed the damn thing more than I’d care to admit.
Something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye and I walked over to the window that faced the back of the property and looked at the blue house that had new residents. I’d hoped to get a sighting of my new neighbors, but it turned out to be the screen door flapping. The place had to be in pretty bad shape since Old Man Thompson hadn’t lived in it for over five years. I was thinkin’ I might head on over there later and offer to check out the pipes and electrical. It was the neighborly thing to do, after all.
I was already making a mental list of what I’d need to inspect when I heard a light knock at the door. When I opened it I found Jimmy’s better half standing on my porch.
“Sorry I’m late, Mary Jane had a lot say.” Isabella held up bags of take out from Granny’s Pantry. The owner, Mary Jane, liked to talk. “Where’s Jimmy?” She asked as she walked in. “I saw his car.”
“Where do ya think?” I said flatly.
“Hello, beautiful.” Jimmy walked out of the kitchen with a smile and a fried chicken drumstick.
“What are you doing? You knew I was bringing the food.”
“I’m a growin’ boy.” Jimmy patted his stomach and then playfully swatted Isabella’s ass as she walked to the dining table to set the food down.
“Hi.” Cheyenne knocked lightly on the open door as she walked in.
Reagan and Billy were right behind her and after everyone said their hellos and filled their plates, we all took our seats around the dining room table and Isabella wasted no time getting down to business. She was a woman after my own heart.
“Okay, so when Jimmy was at his fitting this morning—” Jimmy interrupted with a loud groan as his head fell back dramatically. His fiancée ignored him and continued, “This document arrived.” She pulled papers out of a manila envelope she was holding. “A couple of months ago I tried to hire the P.I. firm my father uses to find out more about your mother’s crash but they were unavailable. It turns out they were unavailable because my father had hired them and this is the report.”
Miles Santini was a well-respected businessman who was regularly featured in Forbes magazine. I didn’t know much about Isabella’s relationship with him other than it had been strained and the two were working to make it better now.
“The private detective was able to find the tow truck driver who was first on the scene and the mechanic. The tow truck driver passed away years ago so that didn’t lead anywhere. But the mechanic is alive and living in Alaska. He says that he has information but will only talk to you.” Isabella handed me the paper.
I looked down at the report that basically outlined what she’d just said.
It listed the mechanic’s name, Jerry Samson. I remembered that he worked at Firefly Auto Shop and he’d come into Southern Comfort for a drink on paydays, but I couldn’t remember ever saying more than a few words to the man.
Why would he want to talk to me?
“Why Hank?” Billy asked the question I’d been thinking.
“Don’t know, he said that he’d talk to Pops or Hank.” Jimmy twisted a toothpick in his mouth. “Since Pop is gone, that leaves Hank.”
