“Um… no. No. Uncle Phil was, you know, a big guy. He didn’t eat well or move his body much. And his last physical did say he was dealing with advanced heart disease, among some other health concerns. I think they just, you know, assumed and let it rest at that.”
“And he was cremated, right?”
“Yeah. You think someone at the garage knew what he was up to?”
“I think someone at the garage was in on it with him. That one guy was talking to you like shit…”
“Ren. Yeah. I mean… they’ve all been kind of assholes, though. And if they were in on it, why wouldn’t they have access to the drugs?”
“Maybe Phil was trying to freeze them out? Or they found out that Phil was fucking them over in some way?”
“And, what, killed him because of it?”
“I know that likely seems crazy to you, but trust me, this kind of thing happens when you’re doing illegal shit. Especially when this much money is on the table.”
“I guess.”
“I think you were the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve never been around before. You haven’t even been in contact with Phil. So there’s no reason to assume that Phil had any next of kin. Whoever is doing this likely thought they would have unfettered access to Phil’s office and house, which would allow them to find the storage units and the keys, clear everything out, and move on.”
That made a lot of sense, actually.
“I guess what I’m struggling with is… why? If he wasn’t going to spend the money, why bother doing this?”
“Best guess is it either fell in his lap, or he was at risk of losing the business or house. Or both. Any chance you really pored over the mortgages for either?”
“No. I figured the estate attorney had figured all that out. I didn’t see any need to dig deeper. I’m sure the paperwork is around there, though. We could do some digging.”
“We probably should,” he agreed. “The more we know, the easier this will be to figure out. I do have a suggestion, though.”
“What is it?”
“I think we should move the drugs.”
“Oh, um, wow.”
“I get that’s a big thought. But let me put it this way. First, we have someone actively trying to find these drugs. We have to assume that, eventually, he will find them. History has shown us that all he needs is a bolt cutter once he knows what unit to open.”
“That’s true.”
“On top of that, you don’t want anything like that attached to your name. Even if your prints aren’t on anything, you technically are in possession of it. And that many drugs? It could fall under the Kingpin statute. Which, even for a first offense, is twenty years.”
“In prison?” I clarified, stomach tensing.
“Yeah, prison. And from what I hear from Dom, you don’t want to be spending a lot of time there. You miss birds, apparently.”
“Dom was in prison?”
“Yes. Just recently got out. Spent most of his twenties and his early thirties inside.”
“Oh, wow. Well, I’m glad he’s out.”
“We all are. And I would be really glad not to have to worry about you in prison.”
“Okay. We can move the drugs.”