1 Lowcountry Boil (12 page)

FIFTEEN

Colleen made herself scarce right after lunch. She had a lot of explaining to do. I was frustrated, outraged, and baffled at the ghost. But I knew it would net me nothing to call for her. She’d pop back in when she jolly well felt like it, and not before.

Fine. I had things to do at home. I wasn’t kidding when I’d told Blake I was hoping the intruder came back. But I needed to be ready for him. I spent the next hour installing my router, Wi-Fi, and the network server. Thankfully, no one had cancelled Gram’s internet connection.

I love technology.

Next I installed my surveillance controller. I’d purchased this unit, along with eight wireless IP cameras, motion sensors, and an RF DVR receiver a year back when the disgruntled subject of a domestic investigation turned stalker on me. He’d planned to surprise me in my loft one night, but an alert sent to my iPhone notified me when he’d crossed the threshold. I met the police there and let them in to arrest him. The surveillance system had been quite expensive, but likely saved my life that night. The party favors the psycho brought with him included chloroform, handcuffs, an ugly knife, and some plastic sheeting.

I hid motion-activated cameras in the air vents inside the house, and covered the outside with three night-vision cameras aimed at all the entries. The only alarm would be sent to my phone. If my intruder came back, I didn’t want him to know he’d been caught. This likely wasn’t what Blake had in mind when he suggested I install a security system, but it served my purposes.

System work completed, I washed up, filled my water bottle, and settled in at my desk. I generated invoices for my last few clients in Greenville, paid a few bills, and called the local utility companies to transfer service into my name. I tried reaching Quincy Owen at The New Life Foundation, but got his voicemail. I left a message, then tried to contact someone at one of the five camps. Apparently, office help was not in the budget. I left messages at all five locations. The nagging voice in my head about David Morehead was getting more persistent.

Mildred was another loose end. After combing South Carolina records for a marriage license issued to Lincoln Sullivan and Mildred Knox with no results, I broadened my search. Queries of North Carolina, Georgia, and Florida produced nothing.

But in Las Vegas, I hit the jackpot.

Lincoln Elisha Sullivan married Mildred Kingsley Knox on December 24, 1978. A Christmas Eve wedding in Vegas. The Nevada Marriage Index listed South Carolina under residence for both. Now why no big wedding with friends and family in her hometown or here in Stella Maris? Though it was her second marriage; maybe she had the big deal the first time. Still, the Sullivans were a prominent family. Lincoln had been groomed to be mayor from the crib—well, that was my impression anyway. He was ten years older than my parents, so what did I know about him, really?

Mildred’s divorce record came up on the first try. Oh, hello. William Alexander James Knox was granted a divorce in Charleston County on December 23, 1978. One day before Mildred married the mayor. Moon Unit’s earlier statement echoed in my head. “Of course, he wasn’t mayor back then.”

In a town the size of Stella Maris, there had to be a juicy reason no one knew anything about Mildred’s background. Like a hound on the hunt, I’d caught a whiff of something. I didn’t know yet what it was, but I wouldn’t rest until I’d treed it. For the details, I’d have to go to the Clerk of Court’s office and pull the divorce file. I glanced at my watch. That would have to wait for another day.

I ran my fingers through my hair. Deanna kept popping into my head. Rationally, I knew Adam had likely been abusing her for years. Just because I was now aware of it didn’t make her danger any more imminent. But Colleen’s sense of urgency was contagious. Finally I gave into it, grabbed my keys and headed to the police department to find Blake.

When I arrived, Blake was on his way out to see Kate Devlin, Gram’s lifelong friend. Blake reasoned Kate might know something about Gram’s death she didn’t realize she knew. And hopefully she’d know if the locket belonged to Gram. Because he couldn’t get me out of his Tahoe without removing me bodily, he agreed to let me tag along.

“Did you find any usable prints on the locket?” I asked.

“None. The locket itself had been recently polished. The chain and clasp are too small.”

“Damnation.”

“Yep.”

I gazed out the window. “Adam Devlin is abusing Deanna.”

For a few moments, all I heard was the Tahoe’s engine and air blowing through the air conditioning vents. Finally, Blake said, “That doesn’t surprise me. How do you know?”

I recapped what I’d seen in the hardware store.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“If she won’t file a complaint, what can you do?”

“I’ll talk to Michael.”

A flock of butterflies tried to escape my stomach through my throat. “Michael? What can he do?”

“Well, he’s not a town employee. If he talks to Adam, lets him know folks are noticing he’s a wife beater, it won’t be official. I won’t have to listen to him carry on about suing the town for slander and whatnot. Michael can tell Adam that Deanna didn’t say anything, but it doesn’t look good, et cetera.”

“I still think Adam will take it out on Deanna.”

“Maybe,” Blake said. “But Michael can keep a closer eye on things. Maybe he can convince Deanna to file a complaint—or kick the bastard out.”

“Or both.”

Kate Devlin led us through the house, out to the oceanfront screened porch. “You all have a seat, won’t you?” She gestured to the wicker sofa. “I’ll be right back.”

We sat as directed. Moments later she returned with a tray holding tall crystal glasses of ice, a matching pitcher of tea, and dishes of lemon and mint. After we’d been served, she settled into a large rocker.  “It’s awfully hot for April, don’t you think?”

Kate appeared as if the unusually warm day hadn’t touched her. Her crisp linen skirt and blouse were unwrinkled. Every hair lay in place, her makeup was fresh. The years had not been good to Kate, but the scars were internal. She was widowed when Adam was eleven, Michael seven. Stuart Devlin went sailing one Sunday afternoon and never returned, his sailboat lost at sea during a summer squall. Kate never remarried. She devoted herself to her boys and the coastal preservation efforts she and Stuart had held dear.

Blake shifted on the sofa and the wicker creaked. He smiled one of those closed-lip smiles that told me he was uncomfortable.

Kate was practiced at the art of small talk. “Nice having Liz home again, isn’t it, Blake?”

“Yes, ma’am.” His eyes danced past hers. He glanced around the porch, at his shoe, and across the Atlantic at Africa. “Ah, Kate, I need to ask you some questions, if you don’t mind.”

Kate stopped rocking. “Oh my, this isn’t a social call then, is it? You are here in your
professional
capacity. How exciting.”

“I’m looking into Gram’s death.” Blake rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not convinced it was an accident.”

“Blake, darlin’, that’s nonsense.” Kate looked horrified. “Who in this world would want to hurt Emma Rae?”

“That’s what I can’t figure. You knew her, her entire life. I hoped you could help me sort things out.”

Kate shook her head slowly and emphatically. “I am sorry. It was a freak accident, to be sure. But I can’t believe it was anything but an accident.”

Blake paused a moment as he reached inside his pocket. “Kate, have you ever seen this
locket?” He handed her the plastic evidence bag and pulled on a pair of Latex gloves.

For a long moment she stared at the piece of jewelry. “No,” she said. “I don’t believe I have. Was it Emma Rae’s?”

“I’m not sure.” Blake retrieved the bag, pulled out the locket and opened it so she could see the picture.

Kate covered her mouth with her hand.

Lines appeared in Blake’s forehead. “Kate?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Kate lowered her hand to her chest and brought the other to her throat.

“Do you recognize this man?” asked Blake.

“You all don’t know who he is?”

“Do you?” Blake asked again.

“Well, no. I don’t think so. This is all so very strange. Emma Rae was like a sister to me, and I know after Ben died, well, there just wasn’t anybody else for her. There must be some explanation.”

“I’m sure there is,” he said. “I just wish I knew where to look for it.”

Kate rose abruptly. “Blake, Elizabeth, I do apologize, but I really must lie down now. It was good of you to stop by and I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help. Do come again soon, won’t you?”

“Of course, Kate. Are you all right?” He closed the locket, replaced it in the bag and dropped it into his pocket.

“Yes, yes. I’m fine. Don’t make a fuss now. I’m just going to take a nap.” She glided into the house, her exit quick for someone who needed to lie down.

“We’ll see ourselves out,” I called to her back.

In the Tahoe, Blake sat a moment without starting the engine.

“That was odd,” I said. “Very un-Kate of her to bolt and leave company sitting on the porch.”

“What do you think upset her so much about that locket?”

“Well, it was one of two things. Either the shock of finding out Gram had a beau, or Kate recognized the person in that picture.”

SIXTEEN

Blake brought the Tahoe to a stop in the station parking lot.

His handheld chirped. “Chief?” Nell said. Blake’s administrative assistant and dispatcher, Nell Cooper, belonged to one of a handful of families who had lived on Stella Maris as long as ours. She allowed Blake the illusion he was in charge of their tiny office. Nell was a formidable woman—two hundred fifty pounds of groomed-to-the-nines African-American church lady with a thick veneer of Southern sass. She was also Clay Cooper’s mother.

Blake fumbled with the phone. “Yeah, Nell.”

“Mackie’s waiting in your office. You have a five-o’clock with him about Zeke Lyerly shooting squirrels inside the town limits again.”

He closed his eyes and banged his head on the steering wheel, then lifted the phone back to his ear. “On my way in the door.”

He climbed out of the Tahoe, and I scrambled behind him. “Blake, while you meet with Mackie, can I just look through Gram’s file? Two sets of eyes—”

“Forget it.” He kept walking, the way folks do when they’re shouting “no comment” to the reporters on the way into the courthouse.

Since he felt that way about it, I stopped and watched him disappear inside. I bit back a handful of words that weren’t filled with sisterly love and got in my own car. As I shut the door to the Escape, I noticed a maroon Mazda across the street in the bank parking lot. The top of someone’s head was barely visible in front of the steering wheel, as if they’d slid down to hide. I do this myself sometimes. I pulled across the street into a spot one row back from the Mazda. I opened my laptop and logged on to the database I subscribe to for motor vehicle information. The Mazda was registered to Deanna’s dad. It was a cinch that wasn’t him slouched behind the wheel. Deanna. What in blazes was she doing?

From our respective surveillance positions, Deanna and I watched as Adam walked out of the town offices, crossed Palmetto Boulevard, and headed down the sidewalk.

“This is ridiculous.” I got out of the Escape, opened the passenger door to the Mazda, and slid low into the passenger seat.

Deanna squealed and reached for the door handle, then froze. “
Liz
?”

“What are you doing?”

“Minding my own business, unlike some folks.”

Colleen poked her head between the front seats. Great. I bit my lip and focused on Deanna.

“I’m worried about you,” I said. “I want to help. What are you doing in your daddy’s car?”

“You’ve been home three days. How do you know this is my daddy’s car and not mine?”

“We’re wasting time. You’re tailing Adam, right?”

She peered over the steering wheel. “He’s headed back to the hardware store. He said he’d be gone the rest of the day. Half the time, when he’s
supposed
to come back, he doesn’t. I rounded up one of the stock boys to watch the store, but he left a half hour ago.” She covered her face with her hands. “And Adam won’t find me there.”

“So what? Tell him you had errands to run.”

She lowered her hands. “I’ll run back in and say I just stepped out to the bank.” She turned away from me. “Another lie. I’ve been lying to people I love all day. I lied to Mamma—I couldn’t tell her the real reason I needed her to pick up the girls, now could I? You’d be amazed how easy the lie about my car giving me trouble rolled off my tongue.” Her eyes met mine. They were wide and wet. “I’m not normally a liar, you know.”

“Why are you following him?”

Emotions wrestled on her face. Pissed-off won. “He’s having an affair.”

“Who is she?” Colleen snarled.

I tried making Colleen vaporize with a look. It didn’t work. “So, who is she?” I asked Deanna.

She swiped at a tear. “I don’t know. Unless he rendezvoused with his mistress while I was picking up Daddy’s car, he hasn’t seen the hussy today. He made the deliveries, and then he stopped at the bank—which is odd, because I normally do the banking—then the professional building next to the courthouse. His last stop was the town administrative offices. I didn’t dare get out of the car to see whose office he’d gone into. He might’ve caught me on his way out. He was in there for nearly an hour and a half. Just as I was about to leave, he came out and headed up Palmetto on foot.”

Deanna grabbed the steering wheel and peered over it again. Adam tried the front door of the hardware store. It didn’t open. He stepped back, scowled at the door, then tried again. He appeared to be spitting curses as he pulled out his keys, unlocked the door, and went inside.

Deanna started the engine. She turned down the alley and into the small parking lot behind the hardware store. Adam had left his car in front of the professional building, and there was only one car in the lot: a dark blue BMW with a vanity plate on the front.

Thornblade—a high-dollar country club in Greenville.

I sucked in a lungful of air. I knew exactly who owned that car.

What in the name of sweet reason was Scott doing in Stella Maris? I could count on one hand the times he’d come home with me when we were married.