Not Quite Clear (A Lowcountry Mystery) (20 page)

I cast a wary glance behind me, but the ghost has stayed put. Apparently he’s going to stand guard or something, and anyway, Daria has said more than once that Mama Lottie is special. Powerful.

A shiver zips down my spine that could be a result of the chilly rain. Or not.

When I get back to the car, Amelia is waiting, shivering on a bench-length concrete slab. She’s alone. No pirates.
No Anne Bonny. No ghosts at all. No people, either. Just my cousin and her unborn baby.

I unlock the car, and we both throw ourselves inside. I turn the ignition and crank the heat, rubbing my hands together. Millie digs around in the backseat and comes up with a chamois and an old T-shirt from a rock concert. She takes the shirt and tosses the other to me, and we spend a few minutes wringing
out our hair as best as we can.

“Well?” I ask once that’s done and my teeth stop chattering. “Did you go on an adventure?”

“Anne…and I’m guessing your other pirates?” She looks to me for confirmation.

I nod. “Two of them.”

“We went on a little walkabout. Stopped at a couple different houses in town—I wrote down the addresses—and then came back.”

“Did they want you to go inside?”

“Anne didn’t
point or anything, and I have no idea why we were there.”

I tell her about my trek and how the ghost stayed behind as though on some kind of assignment. I figure maybe the two with her were dropped off at a couple of locations, though why, it’s hard to say.

“When did Anne leave?”

“On my way back to the car. I was talking to her and she just disappeared.” Amelia snorts. “All these months telling
you not to talk to yourself and there I was, in the middle of Broad Street babbling like a loon.”

“Hmm.” I’m not listening to her, instead turning this over in my mind. “We need to get home and look up these addresses.”

“Duh. Why are we still sitting here, then?”

Chapter Fourteen

There’s leftover pizza, which makes grabbing our laptops easier after we get home and shower off the rainy chill. No one knows we were basically abducted after work, which means there are no explanations to be made. For the first time in days, Millie ignores her cell phone as it buzzes on the coffee table by her feet, choosing to focus, instead.

Finding names to go
along with the addresses is easy enough with the white pages online, but none of the names ring a bell. The pizza burns the roof of my mouth so I set it to the side, brushing crumbs off my fingers and putting to use all of the tricks I’ve learned through years of digging up long-buried secrets.

Even so, Amelia is the first one to look up. “I think I’ve got something.”

“Hmm?”

“Eyes on me, Grace.
Just for a minute.” She nods, excitement making her sparkle. “One of the addresses we stopped at belongs to a woman named Maria Sanchez.”

“Who’s Maria Sanchez?”

“She has a resume on LinkedIn. It says she worked as a housekeeper and nanny for the Middletons for a few years. While Jake was growing up.”

“So if there’s something to know, she probably knows it.”

“Sure. I’m guessing they also had
her sign some kind of nondisclosure, but that doesn’t mean she might not talk to us if we explain the situation.” Amelia shrugs. “Based on how I’ve seen that woman treat her help, there’s a good chance Maria despises them.”

We keep looking, inspired now. Anne seems to be intent on helping Amelia keep her baby, and it’s not hard to guess why it’s important to her. First, we’re family. Second,
when we first learned about the curse, it was clear that it could take any form, use any person, to get the job done. Jake tried to kill my pregnant cousin…because he was a douche? Because of the curse? Both? There’s no way to know for sure, just like there’s no way to be sure the curse won’t use the Middletons to accomplish its goal—ending our male line before it can ever mature into adulthood.

A search result displays on my screen, making my heart stop beating for a second. “Got something. The address where I left my guy was a kindergarten teacher at Jake’s school while he went there. She quit teaching soon afterward.”

“Didn’t Clete say there were rumors about teachers making complaints that were later retracted?” I nod, and her lips press into a grim line. “If she’s one of them, she
knows something.”

The third address belongs to an ex-employee of Randall Middleton’s. He worked in the pharmaceutical division at one of his larger conglomerates back in the eighties—which means he’s not going to have any goods on Jake or how they raised him, but maybe he’ll have…something better?

It’s late, and with the addresses exhausted and the pizza demolished, Amelia goes back to her phone.
A small smile plays on her lips as she reads through the messages she’s missed. Instead of dying in silent curiosity, I pick up my own phone. There’s a text from Beau, and one from Mel asking whether Clete came up with anything because LeighAnn called and said she saw him at the library earlier today.

I’ll call her tomorrow. The thought of typing out that long of an answer is too much. Beau’s
text makes me smile, though, makes me feel light the way only he could at the end of a day like this.

Hey. I hear there’s this beautiful new librarian/archivist in Heron Creek but I swear, I never see her around. Any idea where a lonely mayor could catch a glimpse?

You’re a goof. I miss you, too. Lunch tomorrow?

He’s either still awake or my text woke him because I get a message back
right away.
I will agree to lunch but not to any sort of inappropriate glimpses while we’re at the Wreck.

You’d definitely get reelected if you started giving glimpses all over town.

I only want to give glimpses to you.
He adds a cheesy emoticon of a smiley face with hearts for eyeballs, which would be sweeter if it didn’t sort of remind me of the eyeless pirate that somehow led me around
Charleston earlier tonight.

I’ll take it. Any night.
 

Goodnight, gorgeous. I know you’re worried about your cousin, and I’m not trying to pressure you or pout like I’m not getting enough attention…I just miss you, too.

I know. You’re a perfect blend of attentive and chill. I love you.

I love
you.

“I think we should ask Will and Mel to help us visit these people. Maybe Leo,
too,” Amelia says. Her phone is dark and she twirls it between her fingers. “Will’s always been good at getting people to talk, and Mel’s way better than I am at making up stories. Besides, they might have heard about me in the papers and stuff, and it will freak them out.”

“You don’t have to convince me. I think it’s a good idea. The more heads the better, and we all have jobs. It’s not like
we can spend a whole day interrogating people.”

“I’ll text Mel and see if she can stop by the library during lunch tomorrow.”

“Oh, I’m meeting Beau for lunch.”

Amelia makes an impatient noise. “Well, then I’ll tell her to take lunch at a different time than you’re taking lunch.”

“Fine, sheesh. You don’t have to get all testy about it.”

“Grace, tonight I’ve been surprised by a ghost who insisted
I wander around in a thunderstorm after
other
ghosts I couldn’t see. Even if Anne’s trying to help us, it’s been one hell of an evening.” She struggles out of the chair, and I hide a smile. “I’m going to bed.”

“Me, too.”

I take the trash to the kitchen while Millie switches off the lights and double-checks the lock on the front door, then sets the alarm. We head up the stairs together at eleven
p.m. like two old spinsters who have been running through the same routine for years. It could be that we’re practicing for when that day arrives, but I don’t think that will be us. Amelia’s damaged, but she’s got too much love underneath the scars to trap it forever. I came back to Heron Creek washing my hands of men and relationships and all those old dreams of marriage and children, but Beau
has flipped everything about my life on its head.
 

I don’t know where we’re headed or how long it will take us to get there, but two things are for sure: nothing will ever tear my cousin and me apart again, and we’re not ever giving up on the idea of being happy.

Mel blows into the library the next day around eleven with an expectant expression and a waterlogged umbrella. Of
course
she’s
adult enough to keep one with her. She has been since we were twelve. Mel was born old. Like George Bailey.

“So? What’s the big news? Did Clete’s moles come up with something huge? Are the Middletons going away for a long, long time?”

“I don’t know how you find the time to watch so much television,” I tell her, amused.

“Twice a night feedings and Netflix.” She tosses a meaningful look toward
my cousin. “You’ll see soon enough.”

“I hope so.”

“Let’s sit over there.” I’m tired of the chair at my desk, tired of my desk, tired of coming in here like a zombie five days a week. My pregnant entourage waddles after me to one of the square reading tables that dot the lobby area and we sit, each folding our hands on top as if we arranged it beforehand. “I feel like I’m supposed to be calling
some secret meeting to order or something.”

“Yes! Our old gang versus Leo’s old gang, and the two of you have hashed out some new treaty that outlines how far we can go up the creek and how many trees they’re allowed to climb in the park.”

“Those were the days.”

“I don’t know. You and Leo seem like you’re closer than ever.” Mel gives me a look like she’s hoping for juicy gossip. She shrugs
at my blank stare. “Well, you can’t blame an old married gal for trying.”

“Amelia and I found a few people who live nearby—ex-employees of Randall Middleton, an old teacher at Jake’s school, and one of his former nannies—who might be able to give us something we can use against them in court. We were wondering if you and Will wanted to get all nostalgic and help us interview them.”

Her brown
eyes light up, sparkling with mischief. “Of course. What’s the plan?”

Will probably wouldn’t be quite so enthusiastic but he’d go along. Will always went along unless the potential consequences tended toward pretty darn serious.
 

“We were thinking at first that we should come up with stories or something but I don’t know.” I pick at a fraying piece of cuticle on my thumb, wondering again when
someone will take over the beauty salon after Hadley Renee was arrested. The chances of it being someone who knows how to cut hair and do nails doesn’t seem huge unless we get another transplant.

No one has moved in or out of Heron Creek since I returned. Except for Hadley Renee going to jail and Lindsay Boone coming
back
from jail, but those don’t exactly count.

“You don’t know what?” Amelia
asks, watching me with her typical patience.

“Your story is pretty sad,” I clarify. “No offense. These are people who have plenty of reasons to either dislike the Middletons or know what kind of people they are behind the shiny curtain of money and influence. So maybe the truth is what’s going to get us answers.”

“The truth.” Mel nods. “Their son tried to kill you. They’re trying to steal your
baby.”

“Right. Anyone in their right mind is going to be on your side, Millie.”

My cousin thinks about this for a minute, pursing her lips and staring toward the front door. No one has been in here since Mrs. Walters came for a new Debbie Macomber novel right after we opened this morning.

“Okay. We tell them the truth. Maybe we can split up, act like we’re on a fact-finding mission for my case.”

“We don’t have to act,” I remind her.
 

“Oh! I meant to tell you two! Will said the autopsy report came back on Mrs. LaBadie. Did Travis call you?”
 

“No. Did he say what they found?” I sit up, not sure whether I want to know or not.

“It’s pretty wild. She didn’t drown, since there was no water in her lungs. But she doesn’t have a single visible injury. Guess what killed her?” Mel’s almost bouncing
in her seat, desperate to spill, which is odd considering the topic of conversation. Then again, the woman had very nearly killed her husband. “Snakebite. From a viper like the one that bit Beau last month, and the doctors are baffled.”

The doctors might be baffled but I’m not. We thought the one we found that night at Drayton belonged to the serpentarium on Edisto since they’d recently had one
go missing, but now that I’ve seen Mama Lottie with a second snake—or a ghost of the first one, maybe—it doesn’t surprise me. Maybe she’s got a whole legion of them to do her bidding.

“It was Mama Lottie. She controls them somehow.”

Mel’s eyes go wide as she falls still. “But where is she
getting
them?”

“How should I know? Africa? Hell?” Renewed fear, dredged up by the certainty that there’s
something about Mama Lottie and this whole thing that I’m missing, besets my hands with tremors. “At least we know it was her. LaBadie’s death is our sign that she can do what she says. Break the curse.”

“You’d better get cracking on your creepy collection, then,” my cousin suggests, as though the reminder is necessary. “Before she decides she’s tired of waiting.”

We’re quiet for a while, letting
that sink in. Or trying to pretend Amelia didn’t say it. One or the other. But Mel’s lunch break is almost over, I’m supposed to meet Beau in twenty minutes, and the truth is that Millie and I don’t have time to pretend the world isn’t burning right now.

“When do you want to go visit those people?” Mel asks, shouldering her purse and tossing out the trash from her brown-bag lunch. “Tonight?”

I check with Amelia, who shrugs, then nods. I take a deep breath. “Sooner the better.”

Beau’s going to have to wait at least one more night for his alone time. The stray thought makes my heart hurt, but it takes a moment to realize it’s because there’s no way to know how many more of those we’re going to get.

The rest of the day went quickly between lunch with Beau and Mr. Freedman calling
me back to his office to discuss giving me a raise. The amount of money I make would be laughable anywhere else, but with a free house, a boyfriend who buys dinner, and Amelia’s mom paying for a cleaning woman, I’ll be able to bank the extra cash.