Grimm glanced in the rearview mirror and back to the road. “It’s too much of a coincidence.”
Dezi glanced up. “What’s a coincidence?”
“Your uncle was murdered. Now, the attorney he trusted to get you this envelope is dead. If Young hadn’t forgotten the envelope at home, you might never have received it. What’s in it?”
She emptied the contents onto her lap and frowned. “There are two keys and what appears to be a hand drawing of the layout of a building and the rooms inside.” She drew a breath and let it out through her nose, frustrated at her uncle’s riddles. “Why didn’t he just say what he wanted me to find instead of leading me on some wild goose chase?”
“He might have had a good reason for leaving the clues in a riddle. It appears someone else might be looking for whatever treasure your uncle discovered and isn’t afraid to kill for it.”
A shiver shook Dezi’s frame. “Whoever it is killed Uncle Leon and Frank Young.” She looked across the cab at Grimm. “He might come after us next.”
Grimm nodded, his lips thinning. “That’s what I’m afraid of. We need to keep a sharp eye out for anyone following us. He might have been lurking around the crime scene, waiting for you to show up.”
“Why didn’t he stick around and take it from Frank Young’s secretary?”
“He might have gotten spooked when he killed the attorney.” Grimm glanced in his rearview mirror again.
Dezi turned to look behind them. “Are we being followed?”
“Not that I can tell.” He glanced at the items in her lap. “Do you think one of those keys is to your uncle’s house?”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Directions?” he prompted.
“Should we stop by the police department first?” she asked. “They might still need to process my uncle’s home as a crime scene.”
“Call them and find out,” Grimm suggested.
Dezi gave Grimm directions to get them to her uncle’s single-wide mobile home.
While he drove, she called the police department and was transferred to the detective in charge of her uncle’s case. He assured her that the state crime lab had processed her uncle’s home the day before, and she could enter.
Yes, they’d heard from the county coroner and were aware that her uncle’s cause of death had been murder.
As Dezi ended the call, she sighed. “They said they’d keep me informed if they learn anything more about Uncle Leon’s murder. They have a detective actively investigating the case.”
Grimm reached over, offering her his hand.
She took it, glad for the warmth and strength in the gesture. Dezi held it all the way to her uncle’s house in the modest trailer park where he’d lived for as long as she could remember.
His was the last trailer in the farthest row over. It was small, beige and old enough that the exterior paint had turned powdery, and some of the skirting hung loose or had fallen. The porch consisted of weathered wooden steps, one of which had rotted through.
Dezi led the way up to the door and tried the knob. It was locked. She inserted one of the keys into the lock and attempted to turn it. When it didn’t work, she tried the other.
The second one opened the lock and allowed them to step inside.
Grimm touched her arm. “Let me go first.”
She stepped aside and allowed Grimm to go past her. He reached inside, switched on the lights and then stood in the doorway, looking around. “Wait here,” he said and disappeared into the trailer. Moments later, he reappeared in the doorway. “It’s clear,” he said.
Her lips quirked at the corners as she entered her uncle’s home. “Did you expect booby traps or something?” she asked as she looked around at the place. “The police have been here. I’d think it’s safe to enter.”
The carpet had to be as old as the trailer itself, threadbare in places but clean. In fact, though the wood paneling on the walls was distinctly vintage 1970s and the laminate countertops were equally ancient, the trailer was tidy. A recliner stood in front of a small television next to a bookshelf that took up an entire wall. A book lay on an end table beside the chair with a bookmark jutting out of the middle where her uncle had stopped reading before his death.
Dark powder stained most of the surfaces.
Dezi walked through the small home, imagining her uncle living there, sitting in his favorite chair, reading a book, or maybe watching the news.