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CHAPTER FIVE

HUNTINGTON BEACH, CALIFORNIA

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 15, 2023

6:00 P.M.

On Wednesday afternoon, when Adam finally made it home through the nightmarish traffic on the 405, he drove into the garage and was greeted by the welcome aroma of a charcoal fire burning in the Weber grill out on the patio. Joel was grilling steaks for dinner, and after two nightmarish days of fighting a never-ending permit battle, a medium-rare New York strip was just what the doctor ordered.

Adam found Joel in the kitchen, slicing and dicing veggies for a salad. “How’d it go today?” he asked cheerfully, handing Adam a glass filled with a dark red cabernet.

“We’re still not there yet,” Adam said. “The permit deadline is the end of next week. After that, there will be a whole new set of code changes. If we end up having to comply with those, we won’t be able to start construction on time.”

“You’ll get there,” Joel assured him. “You always do.”

“How’s the writing going?” Adam asked in return.

“Medium,” Joel replied. “One step forward, two steps back.”

Joel Franklin was a trained RN. That was how he and Adam had met. When Adam’s first long-term partner, Michael Lafferty, had been diagnosed with ALS, Michael had been determined to spare Adam the inevitable burden of caregiving that was barreling down the road at them. Before he’d even told Adam about the diagnosis, Michael had gone online looking for a private-duty nurse who would function as their live-in assistant. Joel, a recent arrival from Texas who had yet to be licensed as an RN in California, had filled the bill admirably. Joel had helped care for Michael over the awful course of the next several years, but then, once Michael was gone, Joel had stayed on.

Joel was the real reason Adam had finally broken down and called his father after all that time—because now he understood all too well what must have happened to his father. In the face of losing his wife, Chuck Brewster had turned to Clarice for comfort and solace. Having done exactly the same thing with Joel after Michael’s passing, Adam felt he was no longer in any position to cast stones.

Michael had earned a fortune as a screenwriter in Hollywood. After Michael’s death and Adam’s and Joel’s subsequent marriage, it soon became clear that it wouldn’t be financially necessary for Joel to resume his nursing career. At that point, he, like countless other Southern Californians, had set his sights on writing a screenplay. Although Joel and his writing partner, a guy named Marc Atherton, worked on the project every day, Adam had yet to see so much as a rough draft. Joel claimed it wasn’t yet ready for prime time, and Adam understood that, too. When he was designing a home or an office building, he didn’t like showing the project to anyone until he had brought the project to a point where Adam himself was satisfied with it.

They had finished dinner and were in the process of cleaning up when a call came in on Adam’s cell phone from an unidentified number in Edmonds, Washington.

“Adam Brewster?” the caller asked.

“Yes, who’s this?”

“Detective Horn again with Edmonds PD. I wanted to call and give you an update.”

“What’s going on?”

“This morning at her preliminary hearing, your stepmother pled not guilty to the charge of first-degree murder in regard to your father’s death. She was denied bail on the grounds of being a flight risk and is being held in the King County jail. I just got off the phone with Bill McCreedy of the McCreedy Funeral Home here in Edmonds. Your father’s funeral service will be held at two p.m. on Tuesday afternoon.”

Adam allowed himself a deep breath. Ever since he’d heard about what happened, he hadn’t been able to get his head around the idea that Clarice Simpson Brewster could possibly be a cold-blooded killer, but if she was being held without bond, she probably was.

“What was the cause of death?”

“He was stabbed in the back—seventeen times.”

Seventeen , Adam thought, remembering how drunk Clarice had been. If she could barely walk, how could she possibly have done something like that? But then, after a pause, he asked. “Who made the funeral arrangements?” Adam certainly hadn’t been consulted.

“Your father’s attorney was in charge of those,” Horn replied. “Can I expect that you’ll be in attendance?”

“Yes,” Adam replied. “Joel and I will both be there.”

“Once you make your travel arrangements, please let me know so I can set up interviews with you both. If you can fly in early enough on Tuesday, we can get the interviews out of the way before the service.”

“All right,” Adam said. “As soon as we have our flight reservations, I’ll let you know.”

“What flight reservations?” Joel asked once Adam was off the phone.

“That was the detective from Edmonds. Dad’s funeral will be on Tuesday afternoon at two p.m. Since Detective Horn wants to interview both of us, I told him we’ll be there, hopefully in time to do the interviews before the funeral so we can fly home once that’s over. So after dinner, how about if you jump on the computer and check for tickets? In the meantime, I’d better lock myself in the office and go to work. Those permits aren’t going to get themselves submitted on their own.”