Too Sweet to Die T. Doyle (tharntype novel english .TXT) 📖

area. Brett says they rounded up the usual guys but none of them know who’s bringing in the drugs. In fact, Brett said a couple of guys were upset that they’re missing out on the action.” Ray played with the label on his beer. “I don’t think any of this is related to Tyler.” He looked at me. “It’s probably a coincidence.”

“Speaking of coincidences, Hilda Collins was recently diagnosed with Parkinson’s. Parker was planning on renovating her house and even talked about getting a companion for her.” I filled a pot with water for the pasta and set it to boil. “She may have committed suicide.” I tossed the prepped chicken into a saucepan with artichoke hearts, garlic, olive oil, and Italian seasonings.

“That would explain Parker not wanting to sue the insulin pump company,” Ray said.

“I wonder if Tyler really suggested suing the company,” I asked.

Joe made a pfft sound. “Of course, he suggested it. Big company like that? He’d only have to draw up the paperwork and they’d probably be bending over backwards to settle out of court.”

“Do you think Parker really notified the company about the malfunction?” I asked.

Ray stroked his beard, which I now recognized was his thinking face. “Maybe. He could have worded it carefully so they understood he considered a human error was possible. Hilda may have had a life insurance policy that wouldn’t pay out for accidental death or something. But I doubt that. I had a case a few years ago where the guy committed suicide making it look like murder, so his wife could get the life insurance. Turns out, he’d had the policy for twenty years and he could’ve saved himself the trouble. His insurance covered suicide if the client had been covered for three years.”

“How did you prove it wasn’t murder?” I asked.

Ray straightened his beard hairs. “He’d taken care of everything. He’d paid off the house, re-roofed it, paid off the wife’s car, transferred his retirement to their savings account.” Ray shook his head. “Wife had no idea he was depressed. She said he was having a hard time finding something to do in his retirement.”

“That’s more common than you think,” Joe said. “People don’t want to move to retirement communities like Sunnyview because they think it makes them old, but the truth is it keeps you active, and gives you a reason to wake up every morning.” Joe winked at me. “And that’s why I’m never retiring.”

“Yes, dear.” I stirred the chicken thankful that retirement wasn’t a discussion we needed to have for at least a decade. “I think Mrs. Collins heard about Oscar’s death and decided to commit suicide by insulin.”

Ray tipped his beer bottle toward me. “It’s plausible.”

“But I still believe Oscar’s death is related to Tyler’s adoption-slash-kidnapping situation.” I added the pasta to the boiling water and checked the time.

Ray narrowed one eye. “And probably the same guy killed them both.”

I pointed my wooden spoon at Ray. “Agreed. If Oscar knew about the kidnappings, then he’d probably have tried to find out who Tyler was working with before turning it all over to the police.” I stirred the chicken, watching it turn from pink to white. “If Oscar was killed to keep the kidnapping secret, why was Tyler killed?”

“Can you find out who is Tyler’s beneficiary?” Joe asked.

“I already did. Tom called a locksmith to open the safe in Tyler’s office because Polly didn’t have the combination. Inside the safe was cash and his will. Tyler left everything to his parents and included his bank account information, even the one in the Cayman Islands.”

“Nice.” I tested the pasta, squishing it in my mouth. “Perfect.” I drained the pasta and then put it back in the pot, added the chicken mixture and tossed everything together.

“Smells delicious, Babe.” Joe grabbed the pasta bowl from the cabinet and handed it to me.

I poured the pasta into the bowl and added a serving spoon.

Joe poured me a glass of wine and grabbed another beer for Ray.

We sat at the table and dug into the food.

Ray mumbled happy noises and chewed his pasta which I took as a compliment.

“How did Tyler get the babies?” I stabbed at my salad. “Angela and Chris met the mother through someone at church. Tyler made sure the father signed a form so they could adopt Paul. There’s got to be a paper trail for all these babies.” I shook my head. “I’m just having a really hard time picturing Tyler transporting babies in the back seat of his car. And wouldn’t the parents be suspicious when he shows up with a newborn but no parent? I should ask Ingrid what happened when her grandchildren were adopted.”

Joe squeezed my thigh. “My love, someone cut your brake lines. Maybe you shouldn’t ask more questions. The FBI can handle this.”

I glanced at Ray. He cocked his head, eyebrows raised, reminding me of a dog waiting for a command. “Joe’s got a point, but I could ask Ingrid,” Ray said.

“That works for me.” I sipped the cold, sweet, white wine and relaxed. “Do you think Tyler was killed to tie up loose ends?” I asked Ray.

He added more pasta to his plate. “Yeah. I wouldn’t be surprised if Oscar’s death scared Tyler. I think Tyler got involved and then got sucked into something much bigger than he intended.” Ray shoveled a forkful of pasta into his mouth. “I’ve seen it happen before,” he said while chewing. He swallowed. “You know, a guy gets some party favors once, and the next thing he knows he’s the dealer on the base.”

“You’ve lost me,” I said. “Party favors?”

“Drugs, prostitutes.” Ray wiped his face with the paper towel. “Had a guy who planned his best friend’s bachelor party. A friend of a friend hooked him up with his dealer. Next thing this guy’s the go-to guy on base for party favors. His contact refuses to deal with anyone but him, making him the dealer-on-base. Ruined his career because he didn’t want to