Lowcountry Bombshell (A Liz Talbot Mystery) (21 page)

TWENTY-SIX

Calista and Elenore were released just before noon on Sunday. Thankfully, Jim Davis’s car had been removed by the time we arrived, sparing Calista that sight. Nate, Mack Ryan, and I searched the house together. Blake had removed the teapot and cups and taken them into evidence. Other than that, the house was undisturbed, the premises secure.

After a lengthy interview with three former Marines who’d been with Mack Ryan since he opened SSI, Nate, Calista, and I agreed they passed muster. The plan was for them to rotate shifts, with Nate and me  dropping in unannounced periodically. With his reputation on the line, Mack would no doubt also be checking in. Nate and I went home and crashed.

We woke up just in time to shower, dress, and get to Mamma’s house by six for Sunday dinner. Hand in hand, we walked towards the front door.

“I like your dress,” Nate said.

“This old thing? I just threw something on.” I’d been planning to wear that green-flowered sundress all week. It fit me just right, and the square neckline suggested things but didn’t shout them. The lace around the hemline was feminine, the overall effect subtly sexy.

Nate grinned. “I’ll enjoy helping you take it off later.”

“Nate Andrews. When we leave here, we need to check on Calista.”

“We will, Slugger. We’ll tuck her in, look the Marine in the eyes, and then we can have some down time. It’s been a rough weekend.”

“Boy howdy.” I smiled and reached for the door just as Mamma opened it.

“Liz, honey, I heard all about this incident on the ferry. Why on earth didn’t you tell us what happened?” Mamma hugged me tight, then held me at arm’s length and checked me over from one end to the other. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Mamma. But I’m gonna kill my brother, straightaway.”

“Now don’t go off on Blake. He didn’t tell me a thing. And I’ve had words with him as well. I heard all about it over at Phoebe’s Day Spa.” Mamma let go of me and grabbed ahold of Nate. “Darlin’, it’s so good to see you. I can’t thank you enough for saving Liz from that horrible man.”

I sighed deeply. “Mamma, how do you know I’m not the one who did the saving?”

“Well that’s not what they were saying over at Phoebe’s. Y’all come in the house. I’m just finishing dinner. Frank, get these children something to drink.”

Daddy stirred from his chair. Chumley didn’t get up, but woofed a hello.

Daddy said, “Nate, how about a Jack and Coke?”

Nate smiled. “Jack sounds good. Let’s save the Coke for later.”

“All right then.” Daddy poured two fingers into a highball glass and handed it to Nate.

“Tutie, I’ve got Merlot open. Does that suit you?”

“Sounds good, Daddy.”

“Your brother and sister are out in the screened porch. I can’t think what for. It’s hot as blazes outside.” Daddy handed me a glass of wine.

“I’ll see if Mamma needs help in the kitchen.”

“Nate, have a seat,” Daddy said.

I gave him a little smile over my shoulder and followed the smell of fried chicken into the kitchen. “If you could bottle that fragrance, you could make a billion dollars.”

Mamma manned two cast iron skillets—one with chicken and one with okra. “Honey, would you slice a couple tomatoes? Grace gave me some from her garden, and they’ll be good with this okra.”

“Sure, Mamma.” I went to the sink to wash my hands.

“So tell me about Nate.”

“What about him?”

“Darlin’, your makeup is perfect. I love that shade of lipstick on you, by the way. You haven’t put on a dress with lace around the hem for Sunday dinner since I stopped dressing you myself. So tell me about Nate.”

I smiled slyly.

Mamma looked at me and nodded. “That’s what I thought. Are you sure about this? You sure had your heart set on Michael Devlin for a long time.”

“I’m sure. Michael and I aren’t the same people we were in college.” I set to peeling and slicing tomatoes.

“You share a lot of history—a lot of common roots.”

“It’s just not there for us anymore, Mamma.”

“The way I hear tell, that’s not the way he sees it.”

I tilted my head back and forth. “He’ll come to see things my way.”

Mamma looked at me sideways. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I know, Mamma.”

Mamma knocked on the window. “Merry Leigh? Come light the candles.”

The back door opened and Merry and Blake stepped into the kitchen. Everybody said hey and all that. Merry went through the swinging door into the dining room.

I looked at Blake. “You get any sleep?”

“A little. You?”

“Enough.”

He nodded. “I’ve got Ryder Keenan coming in tomorrow morning for an interview. Sonny’s got eyes on him just in case.”

“Seems like he would try to run if he’s guilty—and I think he is,” I said.

“Mack Ryan has personally vouched that Keenan will show up. I think he has people sitting on him, too. Ryan has a lot to lose.”

“What time is he coming in?” I asked.

“No,” Blake said.

“Give me one good reason why not?”

“Because this is an open police investigation and you are not a sworn officer. And because you’ll talk all over the top of me, like you always do.”

“I do no such thing.”

“I will tell you everything he says. You can listen to the recording of the interview if you want to.”

I was only slightly mollified.

Mamma piled the last few pieces of chicken on a platter. “Blake, take this into the dining room, would you?”

She scooped mashed potatoes into a bowl. “Liz, take these in with the tomatoes.”

I followed Blake into the dining room. Mamma had outdone herself. The table was decked out in her best china, silver, and crystal. The wall sconces and chandelier were dimmed, and soft candlelight flickered from the table. An arrangement of fresh-cut hydrangeas in mixed colors spilled out of a porcelain pitcher.

Mamma was right behind me with a squash casserole and a gravy boat. “Blake, bring the biscuits. Frank, you and Nate come to dinner.”

We all took our places, Mamma and Daddy at either end, Nate and me to Mamma’s right, and Blake and Merry to her left. Mamma held out her hands and we all followed suit, joining hands for the blessing. Mamma returned thanks, making sure she worked in how grateful we all were that Nate and I had been spared on Friday night.

Then we all focused on passing food and piling it on our plates, which were really more the size of a typical platter. Mamma wouldn’t have anyone going hungry at her table.

Nate said, “Mrs. Talbot, this looks fabulous. I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal like this.”

“Please call me Carolyn.” Mamma smiled. “E-liz-a-beth Su-zanne Tal-bot, do you mean to tell me you haven’t cooked this young man a proper dinner?”

Nate’s eyes widened. His face froze in an alert expression one might see on a cornered rabbit. “Oh, yes ma’am. Liz is a great cook. But I can’t talk her into frying chicken, now.”

“Mamma, I save my calories for coming to your house. I cook lighter things through the week so I can splurge on your biscuits and gravy.”

“Just don’t be letting poor Nate go hungry because you’re on some diet,” Mamma cautioned. “A man has to have a good meal at the end of the day.”

“Oh, I’m not going hungry.” Nate bit into a piece of chicken, likely to avoid further discussion of my cooking talents.

I took pity on him. “Mamma, when are you and Daddy leaving on vacation?”

Blake chuckled and Merry grinned. I knew I’d stepped into something.

Merry said, “Napa Valley this year, right?”

Daddy grumbled under his breath.

“You can have wine shipped home. Make sure you stock up on Cabernets,” Blake said.

Mamma sighed, “I’ve been wantin’ to go to wine country for years. All of our friends have been.”

“You’re going for the harvest, right?” I asked.

“That was the plan,” Mamma said. “I have everything arranged. I’ve spent hours planning our itinerary.”

Daddy put down his fork. “Why do we have to chase those grapes all over California when we can sit right here and let them come to us? We can order any wine you want from the Internet. Every damn one of those wineries has a website. And I tell you something else—we can order a lot of wine for what those plane tickets cost alone.”

Blake said, “Dad doesn’t want to fly.”

I looked at Mamma. “He always does this. You know he’ll get on the plane. And he’ll rave for months to everyone who’ll listen about how much fun y’all had when you get back.”

“
If
we get back,” Daddy muttered.

“Frank, why do you insist on aggravating the fool out of me every time we plan a trip?”

I looked at her from under a raised eyebrow. Mamma well knew the answer to that question. We all did. Daddy aggravated her for sport. Apparently she enjoyed the game. She’d stayed married to him more than thirty years.

“Why don’t you and the girls go out there. They’ll like all those snooty restaurants you have picked out where they bring you two bites of a bunch of stuff, none of it recognizable.”

“I’d like to have a nice romantic vacation with my husband.” Mamma’s voice dripped with icicles.

“Daddy, remember how much fun you had in Bermuda?” I asked.

“They have beaches there,” Daddy said.

“For heaven’s sake, Frank, we live at the beach.” Mamma set down her fork.

This was going nowhere good. We needed to capture both their attention with anything else. I said, “Mamma, I meant to ask you. Do you remember Elenore Harper?”

Mamma drew back her chin. “Why, of course I remember Elenore Harper. Odd woman. Why do you ask?”

“She’s working for a client of mine as a housekeeper.”

“A housekeeper?” Mamma sounded incredulous. “Lauren will get a kick out of that. I hadn’t heard anything about it. Last I heard of her, she’d gone back to Summerville.” Lauren Harper, Warren’s second wife, was in Mamma’s Jazzercise class, Episcopal Church Women, Garden Club, et cetera.

“That’s what Daddy said. I remembered her, but I didn’t recall she’d moved back and forth so much,” I said.

“She had another child with that man she was running around with, didn’t she?” asked Merry. “I went to school with Jessica, Warren and Elenore’s oldest child. Seems like there was a scandal.”

“No,” Mamma said. “What it was, they found out she had a child before she married Warren. Left him with family in Summerville. Hid him all those years. Then, when she and Warren divorced, she went back and got the little boy.”

“Crazy woman screwed up four children’s lives,” Daddy muttered. “Blake, pass the biscuits. Where’d that gravy get to?”

Something tickled the back of my brain. The only birth records I’d found while doing Elenore’s profile were hers and the ones for her three children with Warren.

Merry passed the gravy around. “So Liz, are you okay with me taking the kids camping as soon as the weather breaks?” Merry worked with at-risk teenagers. She’d asked to take them camping on the property I’d inherited from Gram.

“Of course. There’s three hundred acres of woods and a beach. Use it anytime you like. Maybe I’ll come roast marshmallows with you.”

Blake snorted. “Merry, have you ever camped in your life?”

Merry raised her nose. “I certainly have.”

“When?” Blake challenged.

“You can’t count when we went to summer camp,” I said. “We had cabins.”

Merry said, “How hard can it be?”

We all looked at her.

Mamma said, “Blake will help you. That’s what brothers do.” She smiled at Blake.

Nate said, “I can help out. I know how to put up a tent.”

“Thank you Nate,” Merry said. “
You
are a gentleman.”

“Maybe Liz and I will join you,” he said.

My family burst out laughing.

Nate said, “I’m trying to help her overcome some of her phobias.”

Mamma shook her head, “Bless your heart.” She patted him on the hand. “Honey, you have a neurotic tiger by the tail.”

“I don’t think I have a grip at all.”

I regarded him from under my eyebrows. “When you’re all finished making fun of how I avoid germs, snakes, spiders, and mosquitoes—all things that can kill you, mind you—shall I bring in dessert?”

“What’s for dessert, Carolyn?” Daddy asked.

“Chocolate cake. But you’re not getting any.” Mamma stood and cleared her place. She glided into the kitchen.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Carolyn. You know I’ll get on the damn plane.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

True to his word, Mack Ryan had a stack of photos delivered to my house bright and early Monday morning, along with a full list of all current and former SSI employees.

I sat at my desk and flipped through them while finishing my coffee. They were labeled with names, all former Charleston police officers flagged. None of the men were smiling. These headshots looked like military service photos. But nothing about Ryder Keenan, Tim Poteat, or the other two former police officers screamed, “I’m a psycho.”

“I’m going to take these over to Calista’s,” I said. “Why don’t you check in with Blake?”

“That innocent tone doesn’t fool me any more than it would him. You want me to crash the party with Ryder Keenan,” Nate said.

“Of course I do. Two sets of eyes, and all that.”

“I’m not eager to antagonize your brother.”

“Trust me. He’ll be so happy
not
to see me, who he fully expects to show up contrary to his instructions, that he’ll do a little dance when he sees you.”

Nate looked skeptical.

“Okay, maybe not dance. But he’ll get Nell to bring you coffee.”

“Fine,” Nate said. “But if he asks me to leave, I’m leaving.”

I had a ton of work to do that morning. I wanted to comb through all the profiles I’d compiled on the case, profile the new names I’d just gotten, reread my notes, and work on a few puzzle pieces that nagged me—like Elenore’s mystery child and the way several players had a Summerville connection and. But Dr. Gadsden was due at Calista’s at ten, and I needed her to look at the stack of photos Mack had sent before Gadsden arrived. Also, his relationship with Calista smacked of unhealthy. I wanted to lay eyes on him.

A man roughly the size of a small mountain stood guard by the front door. In aviator sunglasses and ball cap, he might have been any one of the three Marines we’d interviewed. He nodded good morning.

Elenore was marginally more civil than usual when she let me in. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Elenore. How are you feeling?”

“Much better, thank you. Ms. Talbot, I appreciate your coming to our rescue Saturday night. I’m afraid to speculate what might have happened otherwise. Surely someone knocked us out for a reason, and you intervened before anything worse happened.”

I smiled at her. “You’re welcome. Have you remembered anything that happened after you and Calista had tea?” Did she know she was my number one suspect in the Rohypnol incident?

“I’m afraid not. This way, please.” She led me into the great room.

Calista was curled into the corner of the white sectional, a pillow hugged to her chest. “Liz. Would you like some coffee?”

“I’ve had plenty, thanks. I have the photos Mack Ryan sent. I’m hoping you recognize one of these men from somewhere in your past.” I handed her the folder and took a seat.

Slowly, she flipped through the pictures. “They don’t look happy, do they?”

“I think it’s a military thing. They encourage you to look threatening for photos.”

Calista studied the last photo. “There are thirty-five of them. Somehow I imagined an army.” She handed me the folder. “I don’t remember any of them from before the security system was installed here.”

I sighed. “Would you mind taking another look?”

“Not at all.” She looked through them again, slower this time. She shrugged and handed me the folder. “If I’ve ever seen any of them before, I don’t recognize them.”

“It was worth a try.” I studied her for a moment. “You’re meeting with Dr. Gadsden at ten?”

Calista glanced at her watch. “Yes. He should be here any minute.”

“I tried to talk to him, but his receptionist wouldn’t make an appointment.”

“I can talk to him and ask him to speak to you,” she said.

“I’d like to try something else.”

“Okay.”

“I want to hear how he treats you, without him knowing.”

“You want to listen on a session?”

“Exactly. I know it’s an invasion of your privacy, but that’s the fastest way for me to understand his intentions.”

Calista stared out the window and bit her lower lip. “I guess it would be okay. How do you want to do it?”

“Where do you typically meet?”

“Sometimes outside. But on hot days like today, right here.”

“Okay. When the doorbell rings, I’ll call your phone. Answer it, press the home button to change the screen, and lay it on the coffee table before you answer the door. I’ll wait in the guestroom, and listen through the open call.”

She looked queasy.

I reached out and touched her arm. “Anytime you feel uncomfortable, pick up the phone—pretend you have a text or something—touch the green bar at the top to bring the call back up on the screen, and hang up.”

“All right.”

The doorbell rang.

Calista said, “Liz, there are one or two things I haven’t told you.”