Lost Souls by J. Bishop (the giving tree read aloud txt) 📗

woman. She had a good employer, a decent home, and was seeing somebody. You, on the other hand, can’t hold onto a job, or money, for that matter. Were you jealous of your sister?”

Bradley’s knuckles turned white from the grip around his bottle. “Jealous? Of Lydia? You think just because she had a job and a man, she was successful? She was just as screwed up as me. Took more pills than me, that’s for damn sure. And her men? Kyle was a loser, and then she shacks up with some married guy.” He pointed a shaky finger.  And that wife of his threatened Lydia. Don’t forget that.”

“Lydia made you the executor of her will. Why is that? Did she leave you money? Did she have any insurance you benefited from?” Mikey kept firing questions.

Mason stood transfixed, not sure whether to clamp a hand over Mikey’s mouth or stand back and admire her. He watched as Bradley’s face fell, and he sputtered, trying to find the right words. Mason surveyed the room while Bradley struggled, and caught sight of a jacket on a hook beside the door.

“That’s a nice jacket, Bradley.” He reached over and touched it. “Is that leather?”

“Must be expensive,” said Mikey. “Is it new?”

Bradley turned red. “What I buy is none of your damn business. And it isn’t mine. It’s…a friend’s jacket. He let me borrow it.”

“Nice friend,” said Mason. “What’s his name?”

Bradley glared. “Is that what you two came here for? To accuse me of murder?” He chuckled. “You think me with that jacket is the smoking gun? Well, good luck proving that. I was nowhere near Lydia’s the night of her death. She’s the one that called me, slurring and depressed, telling me her life was worthless, and I called the cops to check on her. I was here the whole time. Shay even stopped by. She can vouch for me. The only time I left was to go to Lydia’s to ID the body.” He took another drink. “Which gives us both alibis, you assholes.”

Mason considered that. “That’s pretty convenient, using your sister as an alibi.”

“Call her dammit. She’ll tell you,” shouted Bradley.

“I will,” said Mikey. “She didn’t mention anything about it before, though.” She pulled out a notebook and pencil, and wrote something.

“I can’t help that,” said Bradley. “But that don’t mean shit. She’ll tell you.”

“You didn’t answer us about the money,” said Mason. “Did Lydia leave you any?”

He put his beer bottle down and pulled a new one from a mini-fridge on the floor. “Hell. She left me some, but not enough to kill her over.” He unscrewed the bottle and tossed the lid on the floor. “I’ll show you the will if you want.”

Mason studied Bradley, noting his posture and body language. “No need.”

“What about your mother?” asked Mikey. “None of you seem to get along with her. Could she have done something stupid that got Lydia killed?”

Bradley laughed. “That woman can barely walk straight. If she needs anything, she’ll just sleep with someone to get it. She wouldn’t bother killing Lydia and risk prison just because they may have had a fight. Shit. If that were true, Lydia would have been dead a long time ago. Shay and me, too.” He drank from his fresh beer.

Mason nodded. “That leaves one other person, and that’s Shay.”

Bradley choked on his drink, and beer ran down his face.

“But if that’s true,” said Mikey, “then Bradley’s alibi goes right out the window. Huh.” She held her jaw. “That could be a problem.”

Bradley swiped at his wet robe and dabbed his face with his sleeve. “Shay didn’t kill anyone. She and Lydia were close. Hell, Shay rarely leaves the damn house. Lives out in the country and even I rarely see her.”

“They were close? Not according to your mother,” said Mikey. She swiped at the pages in her notebook. “According to her, Shay and Lydia fought a lot. Shay likes to drink, and Lydia pops pills. Sounds like a dangerous combination.”

He shot out a hand. “Is that all you got? If that warrants murder, then a lot of siblings wouldn’t make it past their high school graduation.” Grinning, he raised his beer. “Better have more than that if you plan to go to the cops.” He sneered. “I don’t deny I’m stupid, but the cops ruled Lydia’s death accidental. If you plan to stir that pot, you’ll just be pointing the finger at that Chad person’s wife. If anyone killed Lydia, it’s her.”

Mason couldn’t argue that, but something about Bradley made his gut twitch. “You have a point.” He walked to a window and looked out, seeing a lonely tire laying in the grass. “Maybe Lydia was an accident, but Chad wasn’t. Somebody shot him.” He looked back. “Do you know how to use a gun, Bradley?”

Bradley’s forehead furrowed. “Now you think I killed Chad? Why would I do that?”

“He was married. Slept with your sister. Maybe lied to her. What if Lydia committed suicide over the loss? Or what if her death wasn’t accidental and Chad’s wife did kill her in a fit of rage? What if you knew that, and went to Chad’s to confront him or his wife, and you ended up shooting him instead?” He knew the theory was farfetched, but he wouldn’t put anything past this family. “Then you stood back and let his wife take the fall.”

“Interesting theory,” said Mikey.

Bradley hooted. “You two should be writers, because you can sure tell a helluva story.”

Mason eyed the jacket, the beers, and the robe, and stepped closer. “I can tell you’re amused, Bradley, and that’s fine…” Bradley lowered his beer, and Mason met his gaze. “But despite the lovely aroma of this fine establishment, something doesn’t smell right about you.” He raised a brow. “And I intend to find out what it is.”

“Me, too,” said Mikey.

Bradley held his gaze. “I think it’s time you left, Mr. Redstone.” He pointed. “And take your annoying associate with you.”

Mikey closed her notebook and put