LOWCOUNTRY BOOK CLUB (19 page)

The table erupted in congratulations, hugs for them both, admiring the ring—happy noises.

Finally, Mamma said, “Have you set a date? I need to reserve the church. We don't want to have to do things last minute.” She cast me a look. Our wedding had been much too hastily planned to suit her.

Merry got quiet. We all looked at her expectantly. She looked from one side to the other. “We've decided against a big wedding.”

Mamma said, “Well, of course. Whatever you want. We can keep it small. Family, friends…”

“We were thinking smaller,” Merry said.

Mamma looked confused, like Merry was speaking in tongues.

“Instead of having a huge wedding—which was so much fun when y'all got married.” She looked at me. “But we just did that, right? We're thinking we'll just go on a dream vacation and get married.”

“A destination wedding?” Mamma's face announced her displeasure. “I know those are popular, but…where did you have in mind?”

“Patagonia.”

Mamma was speechless. This happened so rarely, we all sat there and watched to see what would happen next.

“It's a bucket-list trip,” said Merry. “We'll spend three weeks in Argentina and Chile. We'll get to see the Andes, the glaciers—it's so beautiful there. And we're going to take the End of the World Train trip.”

I was stunned. “That's not a destination wedding. You're eloping.”

“Well…” she said. “It's not really eloping if we tell you we're going.”

Mamma found her voice. “How can you not want family at your wedding?”

“It's not that, Mamma,” said Merry. “It's just that we don't want all the fuss. We want this to be about us starting our life together, not how many people are going to be at a table.”

Merry had an up-close view of wedding planning when Nate and I had gotten married. She'd said then if she ever got married, she was going to run off and do it. It never crossed my mind that she was serious.

Mamma sat back in her chair. She looked profoundly unhappy.

Daddy cleared his throat. He looked at Merry with something approaching disapproval, which was nearly as rare as Mamma being struck mute. “You'd better get your mind on something sensible.”

Joe smiled, kept his eyes on Merry, waiting for her to handle us.

She was my baby sister. I sighed, did a mental eye roll. “I think if that's how they want to get married, that's exactly what they should do. Merry's only going to get married once.”

Daddy lower his chin and raised his eyebrows at me. “We hope that's how it works out anyway.”

“We don't expect you to pay for this.” Merry's patience was running threadbare.

Daddy said, “It's got nothing to with money. People with any common sense at all don't run off to the farthest corner of the earth to get married where nobody can come to the wedding except a bunch of pygmies you've never met before.”

“The pygmies are in Africa, Dad,” said Blake.

Daddy turned to Blake. “Whatever they are down there, they've never met your sister. But they'll be in her wedding pictures instead of us.”

I said, “Daddy, this is a trip of a lifetime. It's an adventure.”

His face looked like he'd eaten bad shrimp. He looked at Mamma, shook his head. “Where does she get this stuff?”

Mamma looked close to tears. I kicked Blake under the table. We needed a distraction, fast.

Blake said, “Mom, when I get married, we'll have another big to-do. You can invite the whole town.”

Every head turned to stare at my brother. This was a very un-Blake thing for him to say.

Innocently, Daddy said, “You got your eye on anyone in particular?”

Blake said, “As a matter of fact, I've been seeing someone I got to know at Liz and Nate's wedding.”

Mamma's head came up. “You have? Who?”

“Heather Wilder,” said Blake.

Daddy said, “Aww, she's a pretty girl.” He regained some of his natural jocularity.

“She's the—” Mamma moistened her lips. “Was she one of the young ladies who spent Christmas with us? From the…house on Church Street?”

“Yeah, that's right,” said Blake, like he had no clue this would be controversial.

“Now, Mamma,” I said. “There's no difference in what she was doing and what a lot of girls do these days. The circumstances were unusual, but—”

“Does she like children?” Mamma asked. She'd no doubt been worried she may never have grandchildren at the rate we were going.

Blake grinned. “She loves them. But now, let's don't get in too big of a hurry here. We've only known each other a few months. All I'm saying is that
if
I ever get married, you can plan as big a party as you like. Liz's wedding was a lot of fun.”

Daddy said, “Bring her around next Sunday, why don't you?”

Mamma looked at Merry. “This is what you really want?”

Merry reached for Joe's hand. He took it and stayed quiet. Joe was a smart man.

“It's what we really want,” said Merry.

“Well,” Mamma said, “then that's what you should do. A marriage is much more important than a wedding.” She didn't quite smile. But we all knew she would make her peace with whatever made Merry happy.

And whatever made Blake happy.

TWENTY-TWO

  

I steeled myself as Mercedes led us into Fraser Rutledge's office that Monday morning. This could get sticky.

“Miz Talbot, Mr. Andrews.” Fraser stood and walked around to the front of his desk.

Eli rose. He'd been sitting in the same chair as the first time we'd come here.

“Would it be all right if we sat over here?” I pointed to the conversation area in the corner across from Fraser's desk. “It looks so much more comfortable.”

I watched as Fraser's genetic code, which mandated hospitality and manners above all else, warred with his desire to have the power seat behind the desk. Eli watched as well. He would take his cue from Fraser.

Fraser extended an arm towards the sofa and chairs. “By all means. Let us be comfortable.”

Nate and I took seats on the sofa, Fraser in a leather chair at a right angle, and Eli across from him in a matching chair.

“I hope you have good news for me,” said Fraser.

“We have news,” said Nate.

Fraser leaned in. “Well, let's hear it.”

I took a deep breath. “Eli, now would be a good time for you to tell us all about your relationship with Shelby.”

Eli's head, slightly tilted in an expression of attention, straightened. “I don't know what you mean.”

Fraser's forehead creased. His eyes squinted.

I said, “We have photographs.” Okay, we had one photograph, but one was enough.

“Eli, what the devil is she talking about?” Fraser's voice coiled, like a snake preparing to strike.

Eli stared at me. “Photographs? Of what?”

“Of you,” I said. “At Market Pavilion Hotel. With Shelby. We know you were meeting her there every Tuesday.”

Fraser's eyes grew hard and dangerous. “Talk to me, Eli. Now, dammit.”

Eli turned his head to the left, rolled in his lips, shook his head. “It's not what they're making it look like.”

Fraser said, “Well then, what exactly is it, pray tell? I thought you did not know Shelby, Eli.”

Eli sat back, crossed his legs. “All right. All right…Fraser, you know I grew up poor. I killed myself working my way through college, law school.”

Fraser nodded, his countenance dark. “I am aware.”

“What you don't know about, what I don't talk about, is my sister. She didn't go to college. She, uhh…she's had a rough time. I've tried to help her. She'll do fine for a while, get a job. I'll help her get an apartment. But somehow things always go sideways for her. Her name is Ruth. My mother liked biblical names.

“Ruth has a two-year-old little boy. And she's expecting again. The, uhh…the father is a different man. A god-awful excuse of a man. He's been in and out of jail. He uses Ruth. Tries to get her to hit me up for more money.”

Eli paused, stared at the floor.

We waited.

“She's my little sister, Fraser. And this good-for-nothing piece of trash made her drive him to the store one night last April. She had no idea he was going to rob the place. He killed a man for less than a hundred dollars. Now my little sister is going to jail. There's a plea bargain. But she's going to do time. And I have no idea how to take care of two little children. We don't have anyone else.”

He cleared his throat. “Ruth is out on bail right now. I have a friend. A police detective.”

Nate and I exchanged a glance.

Eli said, “By the Grace of God, this was his case. I got her a good lawyer, of course. But we have to make arrangements for the children. I cannot. Let. Them. Go. Into. Foster. Care. My friend, the detective. He introduced me to Shelby. Said maybe she could help. Shelby was…like you said, Fraser. An angel. But Shelby couldn't have children. We'd been meeting at Market Pavilion so that Shelby could get to know Ruth. It was a private place, that's all. Shelby'd get a suite. We brought in lunch. Shelby wanted to adopt Ruth's children. Ruth was real close to saying yes. Real close.”

He looked at me. “I was the last person on the planet who would've hurt Shelby. She was the answer to my prayers. Now I'm going to have to figure out how to raise a two-year-old and a newborn. And it's not that I don't want them. I've just never had to take care of kids, and Simone…” He looked away. “My wife. She doesn't want to take the kids. We have a different kind of life. Two careers. It's not ideal, for sure. But we'll be okay.” He nodded like he was trying to convince himself.

“Let's see these pictures you have,” Eli said.

I pulled out the blown-up image of Eli and Shelby walking through the hotel lobby. Eli took it, looked at it, then pointed to the edge, to something I'd cropped out. “That's Ruth's head.”

Fraser snatched the picture from Eli, stared at it. “Eli, why in God's name did you not tell me any of this? I could have helped.”

“Because I'm an officer of the court, just like you. We have clients who care about our image. This firm…we've worked damn hard for where we are. I wanted to keep this mess quiet. I didn't want it to touch us. No one connects me with Ruth, and God help me, I wanted to keep it that way.”

“Your friend, the police detective,” I said. “Sonny Ravenel, right?”

He looked at me. “That's right. Sonny didn't—”

“No.” I shook my head. “Sonny didn't say a word. Did he ever meet with you and Ruth and Shelby?”

“Yes,” Eli said. “A couple of times. He's helped a lot with getting Ruth a decent deal. He knows the solicitor assigned to the case. He spoke up for her, said how she was helpful, told the truth right off.”

I nodded. “Sonny's a good guy. I've known him most of my life. Did you know someone shot at him Friday night? A drive-by.”

“I hadn't heard,” said Eli. “Is he all right?”

“He's fine,” said Nate. “So is Liz. Someone took a few shots at her Saturday evening. Same MO.”

“Now that is interesting,” said Fraser. “Thank the Good Lord you are both unharmed.”

Nate said, “The only connection—the only thing they are both involved with—is Shelby's case and the people around it. Is there any way, Eli, your sister's boyfriend is upset that y'all were planning to have his child adopted?”

Eli made a face. “I can't see it. He didn't want the child. Tried to force my sister into an abortion. Would his friends go after Sonny? Absolutely. But Shelby? No.”

“You have sure as hell rattled somebody's cage,” said Fraser. “And that's progress. The first progress we've had in a while. Good work.”

“There's just one thing that troubles me,” I said. “Surely Shelby would've discussed a subject as serious as adopting children with Clint. But he had no clue what she was doing at Market Pavilion.”

Eli closed his eyes, sighed heavily. “Shelby said she wanted to wait until Ruth agreed, or was close to agreeing, before she mentioned it to Clint. Apparently they'd discussed adoption before, and he had some reservations. You see, this is why I didn't want this case. Fraser, I know you believe Clint is innocent. But all along, I've had it in my gut that Shelby finally spoke to Clint about adopting Ruth's children the night she died. My suspicion, my burden, is that they argued, and either accidentally or on purpose, he sent her out those french doors.”

Fraser's eyes glittered. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. He glared at Eli. “Rest your worried mind, my friend. Like I told you, Clint did not kill Shelby. Not because she wanted to adopt your sister's children. Not for any reason.”

  

Mercedes escorted us to the conference room. The massive Palladium windows looked out over Broad Street. Paul Baker sat at the conference table. He was dressed in a golf shirt and khakis. He looked up as we came in. An expression of distaste slid over his face.

“The hell is this?” Baker stood.

Mercedes made the introductions.

Nate said, “Relax, Mr. Baker. We just need a few moments of your time.”

I smiled sweetly. “You must be real busy. We've tried and tried to get a hold of you. I'm so happy business is good. Mercedes, we'll holler if we need Fraser.”

Mercedes nodded, backed out, and closed the door.

Baker sat back down.

Nate and I took seats across from him, facing out the windows.

“Now,” I said, “perhaps you could explain to us how it is an experienced, highly regarded detective such as yourself could spend four months on a case, bill a trip to
London
to verify an alibi, and not come up with anything better than the victim must've been having an affair with one of Charleston's best police detectives?”

Baker's face slid into neutral. His tone went all casual like. “I got nothing against Sonny. But the evidence leads where the evidence leads.”

Nate said, “Exactly what suggested to you that Sonny was having an affair with Mrs. Gerhardt?”

“The friend—Delta what's-her-name,” said Baker.

I nodded. “We spoke to Delta as well. But she told us that you bullied her into giving a name.”

Baker raised a shoulder. “I don't bully. She said what she said.”

“And exactly what was that?” asked Nate.

Baker spread his hands, tilted his head. “She said Mrs. Gerhardt talked about Sonny a lot.”

“And from that you extrapolated an affair?” I asked.

“Process of elimination,” said Baker.

“Did you find any evidence that Sonny was having an affair with Mrs. Gerhardt?” Nate asked.

“I was pursuing several leads,” said Baker, “when I was removed from the case.”

“Do tell?” I said. “What might they be?”

Baker said, “Nun-uh. This is your case now. Find your own damn leads, if you're so damned smart.”

“Here's what I think,” I said. “I think you felt comfortable throwing Sonny under the bus because you knew that would never stick.”

“Why the hell would I do that?” asked Baker.

“Because someone paid you not to investigate this case,” I said.

He stilled. After a minute, Baker screwed up his face. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Nate said, “The only question remaining is, are you also performing drive-by shooting services for your client? Are you missing on purpose? Trying to scare Sonny and Liz?”

Baker said, “You're outta your freakin' minds. I don't shoot at people for anyone. And that's a hell of a thing for you to suggest.”

“Well then,” I said, “if it wasn't you, based on your knowledge of the case, who do you suppose it was? Because I assure you, Sonny and I both narrowly escaped being shot.”

Baker stared at a spot on the wall above our heads.

I said, “Is there a reason, Mr. Baker, why your wife and children have left town two weeks before the end of the school year and you are living in an Airstream trailer less than ten miles from your house?”

He looked startled. “You've been following me?”

“Of course we have,” said Nate.

I could see the wheels spinning in Baker's head. If we could find him, so could someone else. We were all quiet for a few moments, waiting each other out.

Finally, Nate said, “Here is how this is going to go. You're going to tell us who was paying you—aside from Fraser—to work, or not work, this case and why. You're going to tell us everything you know, and what you suspect. Because if you should fail to do that in the next five minutes, I'll call Mercedes, and she'll get Fraser in here. And we'll tell him how we verify alibis in London—how any competent investigator would. And then you can explain to him why you spent three nights in London in regards to a murder that happened right here in Charleston. Then we're going to call Sonny. And you can imagine how he's not feeling kindly towards you right now. And we're going to explain to him our theory about how maybe you fired shots at him Friday night.”

Baker raised a lip, huffed out a breath. “If I'da shot him, I wouldn'ta missed.”

“Then tell us who might have,” I said. “Save your career.”

Baker gave me a look that said
puh-leez
. “There's no way you're not telling Fraser everything we say.”

I lifted a shoulder. “Maybe he won't press charges if you help us. You took his money to do a job, then took someone else's to
not
do a job. Fraser's a very good attorney. Want to see how many charges he can spin out of that?”

“You don't have a damn thing on me,” Baker said.

Nate looked at him levelly. “Is that a fact? Are you willing to bet your freedom on that?”

We both stared him down.

Finally, Baker shook his head. “I never liked this to begin with. Fraser and Eli have given me a lot of business. I'm done. People are getting shot at. If he'd been able to find me, I'da been the first one to go. I'm a loose end. That's why I sent the wife and kids to her sister. Keep them safe.”

“If who had been able to find you?” asked Nate.

“Right after I caught the case, I got a call. No idea who it was. God's truth. It was a burner phone. Sold at a convenience store in Summerville, but no camera. Guy says he wants me to make sure I don't look hard enough to find anything. Offers me a hundred grand. I got kids headed to college in a few years.”

“And did he pay you?” I asked.

“Fifty grand up front. The other fifty after the trial,” said Baker. “Only reason I haven't left town.”

“How was the money delivered?” asked Nate.

“He told me to be on Meeting Street, near the Circular Church, at six p.m. and wait for a call. Called at six fifteen and told me to check behind the
Hutson-Peronneau Vault
in the graveyard. Money was there in a duffle.”

“How much have you spent?” I asked.