1 Lowcountry Boil (34 page)

“My worst fears were confirmed. I overheard enough of the conversations between him and his partner, Scott Andrews, to know they conspired to either kill or blackmail everyone who stood in their way.”

I couldn’t help myself. “It was you who broke out of the hardware store, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. When you and Deanna left, I was locked in.”

“And you broke in to Gram’s, looking for the letters.”

“I’m sorry I gave the dog Benadryl. At first I wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t bite. But I’d never hurt him.”

Michael asked, “How is it Adam never recognized you hanging around?”

“It’s been twenty-five years, son. I’ve changed. Would you have recognized me? If you didn’t know first that I was alive? If you weren’t looking for me?”

Michael shrugged, then looked away.

“As far as those two were concerned, I was just a scruffy old man in a ball cap hanging around The Pirates’ Den. John’s a different story.”

“John knows you’re alive?” Michael asked.

Stuart nodded. “He pegged me the second time I showed up at The Den.”

“They talked about this scheme of theirs in public?” Michael asked.

Stuart shrugged. “Some. Sometimes I slipped into the backroom at the hardware store. Sometimes I listened when they talked on Adam’s boat. Got me one of those earpieces they give to old people that helps pick up conversations. Like I said, they were going to kill or blackmail everyone who stood in their way.”

He leaned back in his chair and watched Kate’s face. “Even your mother.”

Kate gasped. “How can you say such a thing? Adam would never hurt me. I am his mother. I raised him—”

Stuart said, “What would you have done, Katherine, when you found out Adam conned you, that you signed two hundred acres over to him to build a resort on Devlin’s Point?”

Kate looked nauseous. “Michael told me all about that yesterday. I—I simply won’t donate the land is all.” She straightened and pulled her shoulders back.

“Ah,” Stuart said. “And did you speak to Adam about that?”

“I never had the chance. I tried calling him. I would have spoken to him. What difference does it make now?”

“Probably none,” Stuart said. “But what do you think his plan was? Adam had to have known you’d fight him. He would have planned ahead for that.”

Like a billboard, the word “Benazepril” flashed in my brain. Could Adam kill his own mother?

“Kate,” I said.

She turned her head towards me, ever so slowly. Hate radiated in my direction.

“What medication did Doc Harper prescribe for your heart?”

She drew her shoulders even further back. “What concern is that of yours?”

“Was it Benazepril?”

“My personal trials are none of your affair.”

“Where’s the medicine cabinet?” I started to stand, but Colleen patted my leg. I glanced at her and back at Kate. “We need to check your medications. Make sure you’re taking what you think you’re taking. Your vitamins, too. If I were you, I’d throw out everything in the house and buy new bottles.”

“What are you saying?” Her hand fluttered up to her face.

A silver aura appeared around Colleen.

“Adam tampered with your pills.”

Kate’s eyes bulged, and her hand fell to her heart. “I don’t believe you.”

I shrugged. “You don’t have to take my word for it. Have it checked out.”

Stuart shook his head in disgust. “I knew he’d have killed you, just like he killed Emma Rae.”

The light around Colleen shimmered.

Kate bowed back like a cobra. “You don’t know everything you think you do, Stuart.”

I found my voice. “Adam didn’t kill Gram, did he, Kate?”

“Here it comes.” Colleen held on tight.

“Why, whatever do you mean?” Kate’s voice dripped glee.

My stomach roiled. “It was happening all over again, wasn’t it?”

Michael turned to me. “Liz? What…”

“Phoebe showed you Gram’s locket, didn’t she? When Gram lost it at the day spa? Phoebe didn’t know who it belonged to, so she asked all her customers.”

Kate narrowed her eyes at me.

“You knew immediately once you saw the picture. And you knew that after all these years Gram and Stuart were back together. She’d won.”

Kate’s skin took on a blue-white cast. Her breathing became labored.

“And now,” I said, “you have to decide.”

“Decide what?” she hissed.

“Whether your grandchildren grow up thinking their father was a murderer, or you tell the truth.” There was no way to prove what I knew she’d done, and it was not something people would want to believe. She’d have to confess.

Michael said, “Liz, I don’t like what you’re suggesting.”

“Kate?” I said. “What’s it going to be? Will Holly and Isabella—and everyone else on this island—remember Adam, your first born, as a murderer?”

She wheezed and turned away. Her shoulders rose and fell.

Michael leaned towards Kate. “Mamma? Are you all right?”

Stuart said, “I’m almost certain it was Adam. He was abusive to his own family. He was certainly capable of murder. He had motive, means, opportunity. I’m sure after I tell Blake everything I know, he’ll have no trouble finding evidence.”

Kate jerked her head towards Stuart. She stared at him for a moment. “Adam is not a murderer. He did not kill your whore. I did.”

I felt like I’d had the breath knocked out of me. “How did you get her outside?”

“I went there that night and knocked on the back door. Told her I’d seen a dog limp down her driveway and crawl up under the deck. Stupid bitch. Always had a soft spot for animals. She grabbed a flashlight and followed me out there, into the gale. She looked for the dog, and I grabbed a piece of firewood off the pile. I dragged her over to the bottom of the steps and smoothed out the sand. Then I remembered that cursed locket, but I couldn’t find it. I wasn’t sure she’d been wearing it, so I left.” She looked into the fireplace. “Brought the log home with me and burned it right there.”

“That’s why you came by my house the day I came home.” I said. “You were going to look for the locket. You weren’t sure if I’d be there or not, so you brought that chicken potpie as an excuse.”

The look in her eyes was pure evil. “Too bad I didn’t slip some arsenic in that pie.”

Stuart’s face was a mixture of pain and disgust. “I knew you were capable of many things. But not murder. I’m sure Adam would have killed Emma, or tried. She stood in his way. But you did his dirty work for him, just like always.”

Kate rubbed her arm. Fear leapt into her eyes. She blinked at Michael. “My arm’s gone numb.”

Michael reached for the phone on the table beside him, dialing as he went to his mother’s side. “I’m calling Doc Harper.”

“He’s at Deanna’s, remember?” I said. “Try his cell. Deanna’s landline was down when we left.”

“Why are you being so helpful?” Kate spat. “Why would you care?”

“I don’t want you dead,” I said in a soothing voice.

Kate stared at me, hatred and a question in her eyes.

“I want to see you in prison.”

Kate’s eyes bulged. She clutched her chest and fell face forward onto the sofa.

FIFTY-THREE

Doc Harper declared Kate dead shortly after one that morning. He and Blake processed a body in one Devlin home and came straight to another. We told Blake how Kate killed Gram and how Adam had surprised Kate with a trip to the hereafter via pharmaceuticals. I hoped they were keeping each other company in hell.

If it had been just my word and Stuart’s, I’m not sure Blake would’ve believed Kate killed Gram. But he believed Michael. No one would invent such a thing about his own mother.

Michael stayed at his mother’s house to navigate the aftermath. He tried to get me to stick around, but I’ve never wanted to leave anywhere as badly as I wanted to bolt that morning.

I prevailed upon Sam Manigault to run me home. Halfway down my drive, his headlights shone on Nate’s rental Fusion. A feeling of peace warmed me. I thanked Sam for the ride, shut the car door, and stepped towards the porch. Nate appeared at the top of the steps, Rhett beside him.

“I am so happy to see you.” I started up the steps.

“Likewise. What happened here that resulted in a police cruiser bringing you home at one-thirty in the morning looking half-drowned?”

I stopped one step below him. “I’m exhausted. Can I tell you everything in the morning?”

He moved back to let me up on the porch. “Sure.”

I unlocked the door and switched on the foyer light. “There’s a guestroom next to mine. I haven’t checked it since I’ve been home, but Gram usually kept it ready for company.” I started up the stairs.

Nate didn’t say anything.

I stopped and turned. He stood at the bottom of the steps, duffle bag in hand, with an odd look on his face.

“You coming?”

“Sure.” He glanced away, then moved towards the stairs.

My adrenalin depleted, I fell into bed around two. All systems shut down and I slept hard.

At five a.m. I slammed into wide awake with one thought in my brain: What had Stuart meant when he asked Troy why he was trying to collect payment for a murder he didn’t commit? If Troy didn’t kill Adam, who did?

Surely not Scott. He was capable of a great many things, but murder? I just couldn’t see it. Hiring someone else to do it, yes. But Troy was the hired killer. If there was another hit man on the island, we were over quota.

Definitely not Michael. Although, he was mad enough at Adam to punch him out less than twenty-four hours before Adam was murdered. Many people might consider he had a damn fine motive. Not going there. Will not think that thought.

I looked in on Nate. He was still sleeping soundly. He rested on his stomach, with a pillow clutched under his tanned bicep. The covers had slid down to just below his waist, revealing broad shoulders and a muscled back that narrowed where it met the coverlet. I watched him breathe, mesmerized. How was it that I had never stopped to appreciate how amazingly handsome Nate was? Because he was Scott’s brother? No, it wasn’t that. Merry’s words from a few nights before came back to me,
Damn waste. You’re still pinning after Michael, aren’t you?

I shook myself. I had to get moving. I splashed cold water on my face, slid into my running clothes, and put my hair in a ponytail.

The morning was clear, the wind nearly calm. I sprinted up the beach and around North Point to the marina, then slowed as I headed across the dock. Stuart was on the forward deck of the
Gypsy Wind
, doing his stretches. He was facing the open ocean, but turned towards me as I approached.

“You couldn’t sleep, either,” he said. “Come aboard. I’ll make coffee.”

I didn’t move from the dock. “Who killed Adam?”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Here is what I know. Adam left on the ferry at seven Thursday evening and returned on the last ferry at nearly midnight. As he pulled out of the parking lot and up to the stoplight, someone in dark clothes and a ski mask forced Adam over to the passenger side at gunpoint.”

Stuart heaved a sigh. “The car turned down Marsh View Drive, followed pretty obviously by Troy Causby in a Honda. I ran after them, but by the time I caught up, the shooter was dragging Adam into the marsh. Troy drove on past, rubber-necking.”

I pondered that. The eastern sky was getting lighter. Three kingfishers sailed by, low to the water, looking for breakfast. “So you couldn’t tell who it was, but the only person you know it wasn’t is Troy.”

“It was dark.” Stuart closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “It was a smallish man. I could’ve followed the killer. But I went to see if there was any help for Adam. It was obvious he was gone. I should have called for help, but Adam was in the hands of a higher power, and I wasn’t ready to reveal myself.”

A small man. Not Scott.

And not Michael. I knew in my core Michael wasn’t a killer, but people who aren’t by nature killers do it every day of the week.

Then it hit me. A small man.
Or a woman.

Deanna? She’d been acting way out of character all week. Had she snapped? Possibly. But there was a far more likely suspect. Marci the Schemer. I shuddered. Had my sociopathic cousin graduated to murder?

I felt my phone vibrate in my sports bra. I turned and discreetly pulled it out. I had a text from Blake: MC returning car now.

Mike Cooper was bringing my car home. I’d given Blake the code to the keyless entry pad the night before. I kept a spare key in the false bottom of the console for emergencies. Bless both their hearts. I needed my car.

When I turned back around, Colleen appeared on the side of the
Gypsy Wind
, legs dangling. “Morning sickness.” She yawned.

I squinted at her and thought back to Thursday morning. I’d been spying on Marci while she talked to Adam on the phone. Something made her throw up.

And Wednesday I’d passed her going into Dr. Lombard’s. An OB-GYN. Was she really pregnant
now
? When was the last time I’d seen her? Thursday morning. Adam was killed around midnight. She’d told Adam she was going to Savannah. Was that the truth? If so, when did she leave?

“Changed horses,” Colleen said.

“Why the hell you being cryptic again all of a sudden?” I shouted.

Stuart stared at me. “Liz, are you all right?” He stepped closer to the edge of the deck and peered down at me.

I looked up into those familiar brown eyes for a long moment. “Yes. I’m fine. Gotta run. Coffee tomorrow? You’re not leaving soon are you?”

“No.  No longer any reason I must leave.”

Colleen faded out.

I smothered a curse.