Lowcountry Bombshell (A Liz Talbot Mystery) (6 page)

“Of course. How could she help me if I wasn’t open with her?”

“Did you tell her everything?”

“You mean did I tell her about the money? No. I’m not stupid.”

I covered my face with my hands, caught myself, lowered my arms, and crossed them. “What exactly did she tell you about this man she thought was a threat?”

“She said he was someone from my past who thought I owed him a lot of money. I suspect she was talking about my first husband, Jimmy. He always wanted me to make him rich.”

“Did you go in disguise when you met with her, or did she see you looking like Marilyn Monroe?”

“I didn’t wear a disguise, really. But I did wear my hair in a headband, and I didn’t wear makeup. It’s funny. If you look at candid shots of her, not the publicity photos, the resemblance is more striking, if that’s even possible. But most people have the publicity photos as a reference. Harmony did say she thought I looked just like Marilyn.”

“Did Harmony know about Jim—about all the parallels in your life to Marilyn’s?”

“Well, I didn’t tell her everything, I guess.” Calista propped her elbow on the door and rested her head on her hand. “I should have been completely honest.”

For a few moments we both watched the marina at Isle of Palms grow closer. I struggled to wrap my brain around everything Calista said, wishing I’d thought to record our conversation as I drove. I could hardly take notes. Who knew we didn’t get through all the crazy that morning?

I tried to use a gentle voice. “Assuming for a moment that Harmony possessed all the talents you believe she did, did she tell you a single thing you didn’t already know or suspect?”

Calista was quiet for a moment. “It was more that she confirmed my fears, independently.”

“Did you tell anyone what she said?”

Calista raised her head. “Not a soul.”

“Then even if she was really on to something, if no one knew, why would anyone have killed her on your account?”

“That’s a very good point,” Calista said. “Do you think he bugged her therapy sanctuary?”

“If the most likely suspect is your ex-husband, Jim, you tell me. Does he have the skills to install listening devices? And keep in mind, he’d likely have to break and enter to do that without her catching him.”

“No.” Calista shook her head. “The Jimmy I knew wouldn’t have a clue how to do that. I guess he could’ve hired someone. But it’s unlikely he’d have that kind of money. Sounds expensive.”

I drove off the ferry, through the parking lot, and turned at 41
st
Avenue. “When is the last time you had contact with Jim Davis?”

“I haven’t been in touch with anyone from California since I left eighteen years ago. I did have a trust set up to care for my mother. She’s been in and out of mental health facilities. But she doesn’t know where I am, or even my name. Neither does he.”

We drove in silence for a while, tooling across the Isle of Palms Connector and down Highway 17. The twin, upside down v’s that formed the supports for the Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge, the latest version of the Cooper River Bridge, grew gradually closer. It wasn’t until we were on it that Calista spoke again. “People change. Maybe Jimmy has more street smarts than he used to have. Maybe he’s found me after all these years.”

“I’ll check into Jim Davis. That should be easy enough.” I didn’t subscribe to some of Calista’s notions, but she was, after all, paying me for my time. “You didn’t mention Niles this morning.”

“Why would I? He’s my yoga instructor. Is he important? Do you want the name of my hair dresser?”

I smiled. “No. You live on Stella Maris. Unless you’re still driving into Charleston to get your hair done, Phoebe DiTomei does your hair.”

Calista smiled back. “Yes, she does.”

“But I do need a more complete list of everyone you come in regular contact with. Especially anyone who has access to your home, like Niles and Elenore.”

“I imagine you know more about Elenore than I do.”

“Fair enough. But I didn’t know Elenore was your housekeeper.”

“I’ll make a list.” Calista pulled a notebook and pen from her purse.

“I need names and jobs of everyone from your gardener to your financial planner. If you’re in a book club, or play bridge, I want to know with whom.”

“Got it.”

“Now, when we talk to Sonny, go easy on the metaphysical subject matter. He will find out all about Harmony’s business and the various services she offered during the course of his investigation. You don’t need to go into all that in detail.”

“I shouldn’t tell him the whole truth?”

I sighed. Damnation. What the hell was I thinking? “I guess you’d better.” I was so not looking forward to this conversation.

SIX

Kudu boasts a perfect courtyard, with ivy-covered brick walls and a fountain, but it was way too hot to sit outside. Sonny and I often met at Kudu because it was mainly a student hangout. I liked the energy. He liked the pastries and the fact that other Charleston detectives didn’t frequent the place. We both loved the coffee. The fact that it was also convenient to today’s crime scene was coincidence.

We found Sonny tucked into the nook in the back left corner. He was already into a tall coffee and a ham and cheese croissant. My mouth watered. It purely wasn’t fair he could eat those things and stay so lean.

Sonny was a handsome package—tall, brown hair, hazel eyes. He met Blake and Michael in middle school, and the three of them had been running together ever since. Sonny had eaten almost as many meals at my mamma’s table as I had. Some folks initially wrote him off as a mild-mannered, somewhat slow Southern cop. Those people were fools.

I introduced Sonny to Calista, zipped over to order frappes for Calista and me, and hurried back to the table. I didn’t want to leave her alone with Sonny any longer than absolutely necessary.

When I returned to the table, Sonny was still staring at Calista and sipping coffee. His eyes met mine, then darted back to Calista. He cleared his throat. “Ms. McQueen…ahhh…how did you know the deceased, Harmony, no last name?”

I wondered if she really didn’t have a last name. Of course, she must have at one point. Harmony was clearly her professional name, but was it her real first name?

Calista gave Sonny an abbreviated version of the story, but covered all the salient points, like how Harmony was trying to save her from certain death, and this had no doubt led to her untimely passing.

Sonny chewed thoughtfully on a bite of pastry. “Liz, what’s your connection to this case?”

“Calista is my client.”

“And what is the nature of your inquiry for Ms. McQueen?”

Calista opened her mouth, and I put my hand on her knee and squeezed, giving her the signal not to speak—the same one Blake often uses on me.

“I’m assisting Ms. McQueen with security,” I said.

“Security from what—who?” Sonny took a big sip of coffee, and eyed me over the rim of the cup.

“Hells bells, Sonny. You are familiar with the concept of private security.”

“I am. I’m just curious why Ms. McQueen is in need of it. I’m not clear on where this imminent danger is coming from.” He looked at Calista. “My apologies, ma’am. I’m a bona fide skeptic when it comes to the transcendental arts.”

Calista pulled in her chin. “Well, my life coach was murdered just this morning. She was trying to warn me that someone was going to kill me. Until you’ve made an arrest, I’d say having my own security makes perfectly good sense. Have you? Made an arrest, I mean.”

I noticed how Calista skipped over the part about how she’d hired me before Harmony turned up dead. She was a quick study in dealing with Sonny’s dubiety.

Sonny avoided looking at Calista. “We’re still in the early stages of the investigation. If I understand you correctly, you have no idea who Harmony was trying to warn you about?”

“That’s right. My next reading was scheduled for this afternoon at three. I guess I’d be there now.”

Sonny said, “You don’t mind my asking, exactly what did a reading entail?”

Oh for crying out loud. Why did he have to go there?

“Well, we went into her therapy sanctuary. She would light candles while I relaxed with a cup of tea and quieted my mind. There was a fountain in the room, and she had soft music on. After the candles were lit, she’d come sit by me and chant. Then she took my hands and looked at them very closely and we would talk. Sometimes she used cards. She was trying to help me see and overcome obstacles in my life. It was part of her integrated approach as my life coach. She was very thorough.”

Sonny had a poker face, but I knew exactly what he thought about Harmony’s integrated approach to life coaching. “When did she first mention this man you were in danger from?”

Calista put her hand to her temple. “About two months ago.”

“And you saw her every week?”

“That’s right.”

“So in roughly eight weeks, all she told you about this man was that he was from your past and he believed you owed him money?”

The bells at St. Matthew’s announced three o’clock.

“Well, she did say he had dark hair.”

Sonny nodded. “Any idea who this mysterious dark-haired man might be?”

“Yes. I’m certain it’s my ex-husband, James Davis. He lives in Los Angeles.”

“Any reason you believe it’s him?”

“Well, who else could it be?”

“And, instead of asking you for this money he thought you owed him, he was just going to kill you?”

“That was her impression.”

“Did she indicate how this would result in him getting his money?”

“No.”

Sonny brushed the pastry crumbs from his hands. He reached into his jacket pocket. “Here’s my card, Ms. McQueen. If you think of anything else that might help the investigation, please give me a call.”

“All right,” Calista said. “And would you do me a favor?”

Sonny stood. “I’ll do anything I can.”

“Try to keep an open mind. Just remember, ‘Those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.’ Your skepticism might cause you to miss the truth when you find it.”

My blonde client was quoting Nietzsche now?

“Yes, ma’am.” Sonny nodded. “Liz.” He raised his eyebrows at me and took a step towards the door.

“Hey, Sonny,” I said.

He turned and looked at me expectantly.

“Is there anything you can share about how the victim was killed, the crime scene?”

His look was all business. “The victim was shot twice in the back of the head, while seated at the desk in her private office. There were no signs of forced entry or struggle.”

“Do you know approximately what time it happened?”

“According to the security company, the alarm was disabled at nine-thirty-three a.m., which, according to her assistant, was about the time Harmony typically arrived. The assistant had an appointment this morning and didn’t arrive until twelve-fifteen. Harmony was deceased at that time.” 

“Was anything taken?”

“We don’t know yet. A full inventory hasn’t been taken, but according to her assistant, nothing appears to be missing.”

“Did Harmony keep any files in her…spa?”

“Not the paper kind. Tech guys are going over her computer.”

“Will you let me know if they find anything?”

“Open case, Liz.”

“I am well aware of that. But if you run across anything that pertains to Ms. McQueen’s safety, I would appreciate a heads-up.”

Sonny gave me his signature, tilted single-nod-with-a-grin. “I’ll give you anything I can.”

SEVEN

That night I made tortellini for dinner. Pasta helps me think. Between Calista and all of her assorted issues and Harmony’s murder, I had a lot to mull.

Gram had loved to cook for family and friends, and her kitchen—my kitchen—reflected that. Copper pots hung high over the black granite island and lined the shelves under the commercial-grade gas cooktop. Green painted cabinets and dark hardwood floors gave the room a homey feel.  Fresh herbs grew in the greenhouse window above one of two farmhouse-style sinks. I reached for some basil, chopped it, and set it aside.

I was expecting Michael. We’d been having dinner together about once a week. This was my compromise. He wanted to marry me in a hurry. I knew I would never feel that way about him again, but we had a lot of history, and I couldn’t cut him out of my life altogether.

And besides, no reason I should eat alone every night just because Nate Andrews was making a point by keeping himself in Greenville. That’s what I was thinking when the phone rang.

I glanced at the screen and picked up my phone. “Nate.” Could he hear the silly grin on my face?

“Slugger.”

“Slugger? You haven’t called me that in ages.”

“Last time I saw you, you’d just given your cousin Marci a new beauty mark. Reminded me of the time you cold-cocked that guy who went across the table after his wife during their settlement conference. I’m seeing a pattern emerge.”

“That was years ago, and if you’ll recall, that jerk may well have strangled his wife in front of us if I hadn’t intervened. And Marci had it coming.”

“I had him covered,” he said easily. “How’re things?”

“Things are good. How’re things with you?”

“They’re okay. But I think they’re about to get a lot better.”

“Do tell?” Was he trying to sound mysterious?

“I wrapped up the Donnelly case this morning. Gave my testimony. I think it contributed to the sizable alimony check Mrs. Donnelly was awarded.”

“That is good news. So, do you have a new case?”

“You could say that. How’s Michael?”

Hells bells. “I suppose he’s fine. Is there anyone else you’d like to inquire after?” I might have sounded a bit testy.

“No. It’s him I worry about most.”

“I’d say that was a pitiful waste of energy.”

“I hope that’s the case.”

“Nate Andrews, did you call to bait me?”

“No. I called to see what you were doing for dinner.”

I sighed. “I’m making pasta.”

“Sounds good. I was thinking we could go out. But if you’ve already started cooking…”

My stomach flipped so high it bumped my heart and set it to pounding. “Where are you?”

“I’m just driving off the ferry. Should be there in less than ten minutes.”

My mouth went dry. I couldn’t form words.

“Liz?”

“Well, I guess I’d better finish getting dinner ready.” I grabbed my hair with my free hand.

“See you in a few.”

Oh boy. Oh boy oh boy oh boy.

Call Michael. I had to call Michael. Nate could not find him here.

I fumbled with the phone. My fingers weren’t working right. I managed to tap Michael’s name. Thank Heavens I didn’t have to press all the numbers.

What did I look like? Okay. I had been out today. I had makeup on. I just needed to freshen up. The phone was ringing. Pick up. Pick up.
Pick up.

“Hey,” Michael answered. “I was just on my way over. You need me to bring anything?”

“No, thank you. No. Listen, Michael. I’m really sorry, but we’re going to have to make it another night.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Everything’s fine. It’s just—” What? What was I going to tell him? I would not lie. I sighed. “Michael, Nate’s in town. He’s just gotten in, and I haven’t seen him in a while. There’s just a lot we need to talk about.”

“I see.” Michael’s voice was tight. “When would you like to reschedule for?”

“Ahh…can I get back to you on that?”

“How about Friday? Let’s go out. Maybe someplace in Charleston. There’s something I want to give you.”

“Give me?” That sounded like trouble.

“Yes. It’s yours, actually. I need to return it.”

“What is it?”