Lowcountry Bombshell (A Liz Talbot Mystery) (25 page)

I opened my laptop and waited for it to power up. “Someone else in the store. Joe always played the same numbers. He didn’t buy quick picks. He wasn’t in a lottery pool. The numbers he played were personal. He would have either filled out a form, or, more likely, since it was just one set of numbers, called them out to the clerk.”

“You think it was the clerk?”

“The clerk went missing the same night Joe was killed and Calista was burgled and attacked. He’s the guy I asked you about. Roy Lee Jenkins.”

“Shit,” Sonny said.

“Right.”

I popped the DVD in. The beginning time stamp was 7:00 p.m.

“What time was the ticket purchased?” Sonny asked.

“I don’t know. Calista said Joe bought the winning ticket five weeks before the drawing. He bought ten-draw tickets.”

“How would anyone remember what numbers someone else picked five weeks before?”

“I don’t know. But I think the answer is on this DVD.”

Sonny stood. “Better get some coffee. This could take a while. You want a mocha?”

“Thanks, yes. With soy, please.”

Sonny rolled his eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

We were into our second cup when Joe Fernandez walked into the store. At first, I didn’t recognize him. I’d only seen photos Calista had shown me, and those in the newspaper articles. The camera was pointed at an angle. Joe reached for the handle at the same time another hand entered the screen. It looked like the other person opened the door and Joe walked in. He seemed to thank him. Then both men walked to the counter, Joe in front. We couldn’t see the man behind him.

Joe waved to Roy Lee. There was no sound on the DVD. It looked like they chatted for a moment, then Roy Lee handed him his ticket. Joe waved and left the store.

The man behind him stepped to the counter and smiled.

“Sonavabitch.” I pressed pause.

“What the hell?” said Sonny.

I stared at him. “You know this guy? Niles Ignacio? He’s the yoga instructor.”

Sonny shook his head. “No. That’s Tim Fuckin’ Poteat.”

“Oh. My. God.” I turned back to the screen. “This is not the same Tim Poteat in the photo Mack Ryan sent over. Calista and I both would have recognized him instantly.”

“Then someone swapped the photo. Because I’m telling you, that’s Tim Poteat.”

“I need to get to Calista,” I said.

“This DVD is evidence in Joe Fernandez’s murder and Roy Lee Jenkins’s disappearance. I need to get the original, get it logged in, and get a warrant for Poteat’s arrest. He still has friends in the department and the Solicitor’s office. I’ll have to handle this with care.”

I nodded. “I’ll stay with Calista until you have Poteat in custody.”

“Watch your back.”

“You, too.”

THIRTY-TWO

I called Calista, but she didn’t pick up. I called Blake and got his voicemail. Why could I never get ahold of my brother when I really needed him?

It was nine-thirty on a Saturday night. I called the station.

The phone rang through to the after-hours dispatcher at the fire station. “Good Evening, Stella Maris Public Safety Services. How may I help you?”

“This is Liz Talbot. I need to reach my brother. Do you have an emergency contact number for this evening?”

“Well, hey there, Liz! This is Mary Jo. You remember me don’t you? We were in ninth grade Spanish together? How are—” She was so perky I wanted to slide through the phone and grab her throat.

“Hey, Mary Jo, I’m sorry to cut you off, but this is an emergency. Where’s Blake?”

“Well, he has the night off. I can try his cell.”

“I’ve already tried that. Can’t you call him on the radio function?”

“I’ll tryyyy.”

“Could you do it now? Please?”

“Hold please.”

She actually placed me on hold. Now she was all business. I resisted the urge to bang my head on the steering wheel. I took deep breaths. In Mary Jo’s defense, it was rare for there to be an emergency on a Saturday night in Stella Maris.

She came back on the line. “I’m unable to reach him at this time. Is there a message?”

“Is Rodney on duty tonight?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Please get ahold of him, Blake, or both of them, and have them call me back as soon as possible. This is urgent.”

“I’ll do my best,” she said in a saccharine tone that suggested she’d get around to it when it suited her.

“Thank you so much Mary Jo,” I said, thinking how I should’ve started out being nicer to her and I would’ve gotten further.

No use calling Nate. He was no doubt in Greenville, four hours away.

I called SSI and convinced someone on the other end of the line to get Mack Ryan to call me. I was driving off the ferry in Stella Maris when he called me back.

“Mack, who had access to that stack of photos you sent over?”

“I pulled them myself. Sent them over with someone I knew I could trust. Why?”

“Sometime in between when you pulled them and when they arrived at my house, one of them was switched.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Tim Poteat has been moonlighting for some time as a yoga instructor. He’s using the name Niles Ignacio. The real Niles Ignacio was a celebrated yoga instructor in Burlington, Vermont. I suspect he is no longer drawing breath. Calista would have recognized his photo immediately.”

“Shit.”

“Tell me about it. I’m on my way to Calista’s now. I can’t get her on the phone.”

Silence.

“Mack?”

“Poteat is on guard duty at her house this evening. With Kennan in jail, I considered Poteat cleared.”

“Oh, no.
No. No. No.
”

“We’re on our way. ETA forty-five minutes.”

I’d no sooner ended the call than the alarm on my phone screeched. Calista had pressed the emergency button on the pendant I’d given her.

THIRTY-THREE

I called Sonny and let him know where to find Tim Poteat.

“Blake with you?”

“No, I haven’t been able to reach him.”

“He was going out for a sunset sail, on a date. He might not be back yet. I’m headed your way. I can deal with the details later. Don’t go in there alone. Wait for me.”

“Sonny,” I said, “you and I both know I can’t wait. Calista’s life may depend on it. Mack and his guys are on the way. You can’t beat them. They have a head start. Get the evidence. Get the warrant.”

He grumbled, but finally agreed.

I parked on Ocean Boulevard, down the street a ways, where Poteat couldn’t see my approach. I called the too-perky dispatcher at the fire station.

“I gave Rodney your message,” she said. “Didn’t he call you back?” Her tone oozed innocence and the desire to spank Rodney for not doing as he was told. But I wasn’t buying what she was selling.

Through gritted teeth, I snarled my location and told her to send Blake and Rodney PDQ on a matter of life and death. I prayed Blake’s date had brought him back to shore for dinner. It was unlike him to be out of touch for long.

I skirted the perimeter of the yard and went up the steps to the pool deck. I pulled my weapon from the holster at my waistband and led with that. The house was quiet.

The door to the pool house was ajar. Where was Elenore? Was she a victim, or part of the threat? I crossed the pool deck and parted the curtains. Elenore was in bed, under the covers. I approached the bed with caution, shook her gently. No response. I felt for a pulse. She was alive, and dressed for bed, as if she’d simply turned in early. I shook her harder. She was unresponsive. Drugged again.

It was just me and Poteat.

I scanned the windows and doors of the house for any sign of movement and found none. Was he even still here? I crossed the patio in a crouching run. The door to the great room was unlocked. No one was in the main part of the house. I eased the door sideways on its track and stepped inside. I left it wide open in case I needed to make a quick exit.

Water was running in Calista’s bathroom. I slid through the kitchen and down the short hallway. I slipped Sig in the waistband of my capris, reached inside my pocket and tapped voice memo and record on my iPhone. I slid the phone back in my pocket, microphone up, and retrieved my weapon. If things went sideways, Blake would know to check my phone. I continued down the hall.

The bedroom door was halfway ajar. I moved to the left side, flattened myself against the wall, and then peered inside. Calista was undressed and tied, wrists together and ankles together. Her wrists were anchored to a thick chain that wrapped between the mattress and the headboard. Her ankles were attached to the other end of the chain near the footboard. She wasn’t gagged. She struggled against the thick, padded bindings. 

When she saw me, her eyes widened She shook her head, as if warning me to run.

I showed her my gun.

She nodded, closed her eyes a moment. Her chest rose, as if she drew a deep breath. “You’ll never get away with this, Niles.”

His voice came from the bathroom. It still had that soothing, yoga-speak quality that called to mind Mr. Rogers and got on my last nerve. “Of course I will, dear heart. Once you go to sleep, I’ll have all the time I need to find your bank account passwords and transfer all that lovely money—my money—wherever I like. Then, I’ll get on a plane and disappear.” The water stopped running.

“You’ll never guess the passwords,” she said. “They aren’t written down anywhere.”

“Well, no wonder I’ve had such a hard time finding them. You’ll have to tell me, then, before you go to sleep. In fact, now that I think about it, we should just get all that tedious transferring out of the way first. I’ll get your laptop as soon as I finish mixing your cocktail.”

Oh, dear heaven, what was he doing in the bathroom.

“I’ll never give you the passwords to my accounts. You can’t execute a wire transfer without the account numbers, the passwords, and my security codes. You don’t even know which banks the money is in.”

“Why, of course I do. I’ve had plenty of time to gather nearly everything I need from your files. Some nights, after you were asleep, I’d slip in here and disable the alarm so I could search. I know exactly where the blind spots are in the cameras.”

“You’re the one who drugged our tea, aren’t you?” Calista said.

Poteat laughed. “The Rohypnol is ground up in your loose tea—the chamomile. Thank you for reminding me. I need to take that with me. You’ve been drinking it most nights, just like I suggested. I couldn’t have you waking up and finding me going through your things, now could I? Happily, the old lady’s been drinking it, too. Every night she slept here. Put two birds to sleep with one cup of tea. Well, usually just one apiece.”

“Did you kill Jimmy?” Calista asked. “Tell me. You owe me that much.”

“I hadn’t planned on it. Is it my fault he was parked outside mooning over you like a lovesick teenager? He saw me coming in. He had to go. I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. Don’t you dare say that. You’re not one bit sorry.”

He sighed. “You’re right. I’m not. It had to be done. And then your little detective showed up with her boyfriend in their Scooby-Doo van. I had to set off the alarm to distract them so I could leave. I was parked not far down from your ex-husband. They’d have noticed my car in another minute. What a waste. I could have searched for a good hour before I had to get back to work. You ladies were out cold. Had an extra cup of tea, did you? And of course, the wine. Tsk, tsk. I had to tuck you in. That was fun.”

Calista closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She looked like she was fighting nausea. “Why were you here to begin with?”

“I was just going to have some more fun with you. You know, run the barking dog tape. Move some of your things around after you went to sleep. I was never going to kill you until tonight. You were so attached to all that symmetry. It worked for me.”

“Ooooohhh!” Calista was almost as angry as she was scared.

“Now. All I need are the passwords.” He appeared at the side of the bed and caressed her head. “And you’re going to give them to me. I don’t want to hurt you. I’ve grown fond of you.”

“You can go to hell.”

“Or, we can have some fun before you drink your Nembutal and Mountain Dew and I fill you full of chloral hydrate.” The Mr. Rogers voice was gone, the one that replaced it cruel. “Like we should have two years ago, when we first met. You remember our one night together, don’t you, Calista? I had to wear a mask that night, and I couldn’t talk to you. This will be so much better. I can tell you everything I’m going to do first.”

She screamed.

I pivoted, planted both feet, and raised my weapon. “Untie her. Now.”

“Well, well,” Tim said. “Nancy Drew to the rescue. Where’s Nate? Oh, wait, yes, he’s gone back to Greenville, hasn’t he? And your brother, deputy dog, I’m sorry, he and his Charleston buddy are busy congratulating themselves on locking up Ryder Keenan. I’m so happy you’ve come alone. Did you come to hold Calista’s hand on the anniversary of Marilyn’s death so she wouldn’t be afraid?”

“Untie. Her. Now. You have no idea how bad I want to shoot you.”

“Likewise, bitch.”

“Calista, meet Tim Poteat, ex-Charleston police officer, current SSI employee, and part-time yoga instructor. Tell me, Timmy, was Ryder involved at all? Or was he just a convenient scapegoat?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I work alone. I won’t be splitting the money I’ve waited two years to collect with anyone else.”

“About that…” I tilted my head and gave him my dumb-blonde look. “You went to work for SSI in two thousand ten. Was that before, or after you killed Joe Fernandez trying to find that lottery ticket?”

He laughed harshly. “I left the police force not long after Joe and I took a ride. I stayed around long enough to make sure no one looked for Roy Lee Jenkins very hard.”

I asked, “What did you do? Talk to your buddies? Cast doubt on a few statements, make him look like a drugged-up drifter no one cared about but his mamma?”

“Something like that.”

“Is that
your
mamma in the pool house?”

Evil and disgust flickered in his eyes. “Of course not. My mother’s somewhere in Florida. An unmarked grave in the Everglades, if you want specifics. What would make you think that cow was my mother?”

“Loose ends,” I said. “I hate to leave a puzzle with just a few missing pieces.”

He shrugged. “Makes no difference to me. You won’t live to tell. After I’m gone, they’ll never find either of us. And they’ll think Elenore killed Norma Jeane here.”

“Why would they think that? If she isn’t your mother—your accomplice—why would she kill Calista?” I asked.

His eyes glittered like a snake’s. “She’s Roy Lee’s mother.”

Roy Lee. The one person I hadn’t profiled. Damnation. “I can see why Elenore would want to kill
you
. Where did you bury Roy Lee? Since I’m gonna be dead soon and all. Wow me with how smart you are.”

His cold, smug little smile told me he was a true believer in his own brilliance. “Roy Lee isn’t buried anywhere. He spent some time in a freezer in a storage building in Mt. Pleasant. There may be a piece or two of him still there. It’s hard to tell, really. The yoga instructor from Vermont was in there, too. Every now and then, I feed a hand or a chunk of leg to an alligator. In different parts of the county, of course. The freezer is almost empty now.”

Bile rose in my throat. I focused on keeping my voice calm. I squinched my face with doubt. “Elenore as Calista’s killer? That doesn’t play.” I resisted the urge to tell him Sonny and Mack already knew all about him. It worked in my favor that he thought I’d come by and caught him by accident. He had no idea backup was on the way.

He shrugged. “The way I see it, the theory will be she holds Calista responsible. Calista got all that money. Her son has disappeared to—who knows where? Calista had that crazy Marilyn obsession. Hell, the old woman’s crazy, too. That’s what I would think, anyway. Based on the evidence they’ll find. She did buy the enema bag, after all. Come to think of it, they may think she killed me, too and somehow did away with me. If I have time, after I deal with the two of you, I’ll leave some breadcrumbs in that direction. I must say, brainstorming with you is quite productive.”

Calista said, “
You
put that horrid thing on my shopping list!”

“Of course I did,” Poteat said. “Who else?”

Calista oozed wrath. “And you set poor Elenore up to take the fall for you from the very beginning—you’re the one who introduced me to her. You suggested I hire her. You killed her son and did horrid things to him and now you’re making her out to be a killer for no more reason than it’s convenient.”

I tried to keep my voice casual. “Does Elenore have any idea she’s here as a pawn in your twisted plot?”

“Nope. She’s just cleaning house. Grateful for the work. She doesn’t know a thing.”

My whole body itched to lunge at him. “It’s such a shame you didn’t think to get rid of the Mini Mart’s security footage. You might have gotten away with all of this.” The minute the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to call them back. I needed him to keep feeling confident for a few more minutes.

He scowled. “Roy Lee screwed me over on that. He was supposed to bring me the DVD. Told him I’d pay him a hundred thousand dollars. I couldn’t ask the store manager for it. There was no case at that point—Roy Lee was still alive. Besides, I was undercover narcotics.”

“You killed him because he didn’t bring you the DVD?” I asked.

“I would’ve killed him anyway. He saw me in the store the night Joe bought the winning ticket. I was a regular. He didn’t know I was an undercover cop. He was a loose end. I don’t like them either.”

I focused on keeping my expression one of rapt attention and hoped he’d keep on talking.

He said, “Roy Lee and that DVD needed to disappear. I thought he had it, just didn’t bring it with him. Maybe he thought he’d jack up the price. But he’d had an attack of conscience. Stupid of him to meet me, that being the case, but there you go. I figured I’d find it in his apartment after I killed him. But it wasn’t there. I would’ve bet Elenore had it, but didn’t even know. That’s why I arranged to make her acquaintance. Are you saying Patel still has it?”

I tried to look defeated. “He’ll find it soon enough.” I willed him to believe it was missing.

He smiled. “No one knows where it is, do they? That means the cow has it after all. Probably in a box of things she collected from Roy Lee’s apartment.”  

“So, Calista coming back here, hiring SSI—that was just a happy coincidence for you?”

He laughed again, shook his head. “It was convenient. But I’ve been planning how to get my money back ever since Calista left town. I’ve followed her—electronically of course—everywhere she’s been. I waited for her to settle somewhere. If she hadn’t come back to the lowcountry, I could’ve transferred or gotten work with another security company wherever she landed. I just bided my time, built my resume. Then, when she started building her house, I got a friend at Dixon Hughes Goodman to recommend SSI.”

I nodded, tried to look impressed. “And you took up yoga as well?”

His body shook with a silent chuckle. “It’s great exercise. The one thing she did, everywhere she went was find a yoga instructor. So, I found one who looked like me and had no family to speak of, and became him. Of course, he relocated from Vermont—you know, to that freezer I mentioned. And then he—I—went to work in Mt. Pleasant. The rest was easy. She needed a friend.”

“You are one more piece of work,” I said. “But you missed your true calling. You’d have made a great actor. You sure played a gay yoga instructor convincingly. Must’ve been all that undercover work.”

He sneered. He held his hands at hip height. He had a gun. He was ready to draw. I was going to have to shoot him. Part of me really did want to. I’d rarely met a man who was more in need of shooting. But the better part of me loathed the idea of taking a life. I didn’t know if I had that in me.

His eyes held mine.