1 Lowcountry Boil (21 page)

I thought for a moment, and then went back to the car. What I did have in my toy box was a butt set—a device that would identify Adam’s phone line for me in the phone company’s junction box—jumper wires to tap his line, and a digital recorder that would store all of his phone calls for me. The ones that went through the landline anyway. I realized if he were smart, he’d use a disposable cell for his criminal activity. On the other hand, I’d heard him talk to Troy on the hardware store phone. He even had his number in the rolodex. Adam wasn’t the smartest criminal I’d seen.

The junction box was three houses down. Thank goodness the subdivision had underground utilities. Access would be easier. It took me less than thirty minutes to install the jumper wires. I sealed the recorder in a plastic bag, with only one small hole for the wires, and hid it in the pampas grass Adam’s neighbor had no doubt planted to hide the telephone junction box. Lots of people do this—they camouflage the utility boxes with landscaping. It makes my job easier.

Most of the time I try my best to stay within the law. But when absolutely necessary, I do indulge in the occasional breaking and entering, wire-tapping, et cetera. But since my motivation is pure, I can sleep at night. I suspected Adam of hiring Troy to kill Gram. I
knew
Adam was plotting to kill someone else. I needed to stop him. For me, the moral lines were clear.

I climbed out of the pampas grass, brushed off my clothes and looked around. Still not a soul. If anyone had asked what I was doing, I would have spun a story about investigating noise on the phone line, or a gas leak. In the days of outsourced technicians, no one looks for a recognizable logo on your shirt.

My gaze settled on the recycling bins and trashcans at the end of each drive. The collection crew hadn’t made it down Adam and Deanna’s street yet. I dashed back to the car and pulled out a large trash bag from my handy stash of Heftys. I moseyed over to the Devlin trash containers. Nothing in the recycling, but that was always the way. The dirt was invariably in the nasty trash.

I held my breath and opened the trashcan. First, I sprayed the contents with half a can of Lysol. Then, I pulled out the three kitchen-size white bags and stuffed them in my extra-large lawn-and-leaf bag. I closed the can and lugged my treasure back to the Escape, where I stowed it in back for later inspection. At least with the trash double-bagged it wouldn’t stink. I hoped.

I climbed into the driver’s seat and slathered myself with sanitizer. Where might Adam be? After this morning’s drama, not likely with Marci. The only other place I could think of was onboard his sailboat,
The Conquest,
which was moored at the marina. That destination in mind, I started the car and pulled out into the street.

Colleen materialized in the passenger seat. “Deanna’s on the move. She got one of the part-time clerks to fill in for her. She’s on her way home.”

“And she won’t find Adam there. The question is, does she know where to find him?”

“If she goes looking, she must have an idea.”

“True.” I drove slowly around the block. Then, I wended my way through the neighborhood and circled back. I passed Adam and Deanna’s house just as she pulled into the garage.

There was only one way in and out of Sea Farm by car. I pulled into the Shell station on Inlet Drive just past the entrance and parked at a right angle to the road so that I could turn either way. I’d give Deanna an hour. If she didn’t come back out, I’d head to the marina.

Thirty minutes later, Deanna’s blue Volvo rolled to a stop at the intersection of Sea Farm and Inlet Drive. She crossed Inlet and headed down Palmetto Boulevard. I let one car between us and followed. When we circled the park, the car between us turned right and continued down Palmetto Boulevard. Deanna continued around the park to Main Street and bore right, towards the ferry dock. We were right behind her. I wondered if she’d seen my car the day before when I’d parked behind her in the bank lot.

Moments later, she pulled into the ferry parking lot. She pulled close to the front, near the ferry, and I hung back.

“Looks like we’re going off island,” I said. “But she’s not looking for Adam, or she wouldn’t be in her own car.”

“Unless she couldn’t borrow one.”

I conceded the point with a tilt of my head.

I stayed a couple of cars back once we exited the ferry. Traffic was heavy enough to keep a couple of cars between us, but light enough that I could keep her in sight. This got more difficult when she headed into Charleston.

I got caught by a light and lost sight of her on King Street. Where was Deanna headed?

I looked at Colleen. She had a look of intense concentration on her face. “White Point Gardens,” she said. “Step on it.”

I tooled down King Street as fast as traffic would allow, which was not nearly fast enough to suit me or Colleen. She was tense, her eyes worried. She gripped the armrest on her right side and the console on her left.

I turned left on South Battery and started looking for Deanna, her car, or a parking place. It was a sunny spring afternoon, and White Point Gardens—the park at The Battery—had an assortment of college kids, housewives with preschoolers, tourists, and locals playing hooky from work.

“What was she wearing?” I asked.

“A navy sailor dress.  Matching shoes and hat.”

“In the hardware store? The last two days she had on slacks. Wherever she’s going, she dressed for it before she left the house. Doesn’t sound like tailing-your-cheating-husband attire.”

Colleen said, “Keep going. Park on Murray.”

I turned right on East Battery, then rounded the tip of the Charleston peninsula onto Murray Boulevard.

Colleen pointed. “There.”

Deanna was making her way through the park in purposeful strides, her shoulder bag clutched tightly to her body. Every few steps she glanced over her shoulder.

I pulled over and parked in front of a cannon.

Deanna sat down on a bench under a huge live oak. Her posture was perfect, her purse on her lap.

Colleen turned in her seat to look behind us. “Troy.” She pointed towards the battery.

“Where?” I twisted to see.

A man leaned casually against the black metal railing that ran across the High Battery. From that distance, I couldn’t make out who it was. I pulled out my binoculars to have a look for myself.

It was Troy all right. “He’s got balls of brass, wandering around Charleston in broad daylight. I’m calling Blake.” I reached for my iPhone.

“No.” Colleen’s eyes were frantic. “I don’t want Deanna caught with him. She has that money.”

“
With her?
”

“Maybe. I hope not. Just wait.”

I vacillated. I understood Colleen’s instinct to protect her sister, but Troy was a killer. “Let’s see what he wants with her.” I pulled out my eavesdropping equipment, put on the headphones, and positioned the receiver. Then I raised the binoculars again.

Troy chewed a toothpick in the corner of his mouth and watched Deanna. He was hiding in plain sight—who would look for him in the park with tourists and college kids? I couldn’t make up my mind if he was the dumbest hit man in the history of the world or crazy like a fox. We’d been there ten minutes when he crossed East Battery and sauntered over to the park bench where Deanna waited. He flashed her a smile. “Mind if I sit down?”

She stared up at him for a ten count, but said nothing.

“Mrs. Devlin?” he said.

“Yes, please sit down. Mr. ah…”

“It’s better you don’t know my name. Why don’t you just call me Mr. Exterminator?”

Deanna didn’t look at Troy, didn’t turn her head. “I’m sure I’d feel quite silly doing that.”

Colleen asked, “Are you recording this?”

“Yes,” I said.

“She doesn’t recognize Troy Causby?” Colleen asked.

“Deanna’s four years older than us. Troy’s, what? Two years younger? Their paths probably never crossed.”

He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “Lady, you’re wasting my time. You called me, remember? And while we’re on that, please tell me you didn’t call me from the hardware store again.”

“Of course not. As soon as I realized who…
what
you were, I…I’ve watched enough
Law and Order
to know better than to use my home, business, or cell phone. I used a pay phone, and remembered to wipe both the phone and the coins I used free of fingerprints.”

He laughed out loud.

She blushed bright red. “My husband is not going to be giving you any more money.”

He leaned in closer to her and lowered his voice. “Is that a fact?”

She raised her chin. “Yes, it is. He doesn’t have it to give. His funds have been…confiscated.”

“By who?” he asked.

“If you want the rest of your money, you’ll have to deal with me.”

He leaned back on the bench, stretching his arms across the back. “Your old man said you were too dumb to figure out what was what. Guess he was wrong. But it might notta been too smart for you to call me. What’s to stop me from telling him about this little meeting?”

“Money. I told you. I have it. He doesn’t.”

Colleen whistled. “Jeez-Louise. Do you believe her?”

“Shhh,” I said.

Troy said, “And what do you want?”

“I want my life back and my children safe.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“First of all, I want to know what he was paying you to do,” Deanna said.

“No way, lady. You could be wired eight different ways.”

She hugged her purse tighter. “I believe I know
what
he wanted you to do. It’s the
to whom
and
why
I’m interested in.”

Troy said, “I don’t have any idea about the why. The boss don’t confide in me.”

“Liar,” Colleen said.

“Shhh,” I hissed.

Deanna sat silently.

Troy said, “You’ll have to figure why yourself. Are you saying you’ll give me the rest of the money just for the
who
?”

“Not exactly,” Deanna said. “I want the
who
right now. And I want your word that you will not do
anything
to this person. As a matter of fact, I want you to guarantee his or her safety.”

“Now how am I supposed to do that? I’m not a freakin’ guardian angel.”

She locked eyes with him. “Let’s just say that this person had better not suffer any unusual misfortune while you’re still around, mmm-kay?”

“Who the hell do you think you are? Angelina Freakin’ Jolie?” He looked away, then back. “Assuming I agree to this, what else do you want? And when do I get my money?”

“I want you to follow my husband, find out what he’s up to. I know he’s having an affair. I want to know with whom and I want pictures. I also want to know what else he’s mixed up in that involves the need of your…services.”

“The why?”

She stared him down. “Exactly, the why. Beyond that… I’m sure my husband will get his just desserts. As soon as I get the results I need, you will get your money.”

“I’m not a private detective.”

Deanna said, “I imagine you’ll make do. There has to be a certain amount of skulking about in your line of work.”

I shook my head. I could not believe how cool Deanna was. Adam must have hit her one too many times. Something pushed her over the edge.

Troy said, “Okay, I understand what
you
want. All
I
want is enough money to get out of this place and never come back.”

“I think that would be a very good idea.” She turned away and looked across the harbor. “Now, why don’t you tell me who you think should be in the dunk tank this year at the Fourth of July celebration?”

“What?” He scowled at her.

“I
said…
” she turned her head and looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “
Who
do you think we should have in the dunk tank this year?” She winked at him.

Colleen rolled her eyes. “Dear heavens.”

Troy said, “Oh, ah…I think you should get that lady from the bed and breakfast, Grace Sullivan.” Without another word, he tipped his imaginary hat, stood, and left.

“
Grace.
Grace was the target.” I laid down the binoculars and started the car. “We need to tail him while I get ahold of Blake.”

“No need,” Colleen said. “He’s going back to Stella Maris. Besides, we’ll lose him in the crowd. And Grace is safe now. Deanna told Troy she has the money. He’s not going to kill Grace if there’s nothing in it for him.”

I looked over my shoulder. He was walking fast in the opposite direction, and I was headed down a one-way street. I sighed, picked up my iPhone and dialed 911.

“What’s your emergency?”

“You have an APB on Troy Causby of Mount Pleasant. He’s walking away from White Point Gardens on East Bay. Send help.”

“What’s your name, please?”

“That’s East Bay, just north of The Battery. Troy Causby. Please hurry.”

I hung up. I was sure the operator had my name and number on the screen. I couldn’t tell her anything else, and I needed to call Blake. If the Charleston PD called me on it, which I doubted, I’d explain later.

I dialed Blake and got his voicemail. “Blake, Grace was the next target. Make sure she’s got protection.”

I stowed my eavesdropping equipment. “Colleen, I know Adam abuses Deanna. I’ve seen the bruises,” I said. “Deanna told Troy she wanted her children safe. He abuses the girls, too, doesn’t he?”

Colleen’s lip trembled. “They’re family. If I interfere, I’ll be reassigned. Please don’t ask me about that.”

“But you sent me to the hardware store because Deanna was in trouble.”

“That’s what I told you. But Adam was there, too. And stopping his plans is part of my assignment. And if he’s in jail for fraud or something, everything will be okay. There are gray areas. I just can’t cross the line.”

“Okay, let’s don’t talk about it anymore.” But I had my answer. And I knew why Deanna had been pushed to the point where she would deal with a hit man. She was protecting her children the only way she knew how.

And she was less afraid of Troy than she was of Adam.

Colleen seemed calmer, but still sad.

“Hey,” I said. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get Adam’s ass locked
up
.”

She smiled.

I slipped my phone into its mount on the console.

Colleen stared at the iPhone. “Got any Michael Jackson on that thing?”

“Sure.” I glanced at her sideways. “Have you seen
him
since he passed?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” There was that smirk again.