1 Lowcountry Boil (27 page)

Clay squared his shoulders and strode across the lawn to our circle of Talbot women hovering around the slightly scuffed man-of-the-house. Clay cleared his throat. “Uh, Mr. Talbot, we seem to have a problem over at Marsh Point I’m going to have to go investigate. Now I know Blake didn’t want the ladies to leave the house, but I’ve got to believe that, given a choice, he’d rather me take y’all along than leave you here. This is a little out of the ordinary, sir, but if y’all wouldn’t mind…” He turned to Mamma. “Ma’am?” He moved quickly to the car and opened the door for her.

“Just a second, I have to get my purse.” Mamma dashed back towards the house.

His knee miraculously healed, Daddy hopped to his feet and retrieved his shotgun.

Chumley promptly stopped howling and scampered towards the car. He leaped into the patrol car and positioned himself squarely in the middle of the front seat. He barked once to indicate his impatience with the rest of us.

Clay’s eyes widened and he spun around. “Oh, ah, Mr. Talbot, that would be against regulations, sir. I’m afraid we’ll need to leave the, ah, dog here. There just wouldn’t be room.”

Daddy grimaced and addressed the hound in question. “Get out of there now. Come on.” He turned to Clay. “I’m afraid this might not be easy.”

Mamma returned with her purse. She looked at Clay apologetically as she slid into the backseat. “We can try to get him out, but it’s likely to take a while. I’ll have to go get a hot dog and lure him out.”

“I’ll just pick him up and sit him back on the front porch.” Clay reached for Chumley, who turned and locked eyes with his would-be captor and growled.

Daddy raised his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t recommend that. Chumley doesn’t normally bite, but all this excitement’s got him a little high-strung.”

Clay hesitated. “Oh, all right, everybody in, and let’s go.”

Merry and I climbed in the backseat with Mamma, and Daddy joined Clay and Chumley in the front.

Doors slammed and seat belts clicked. Mamma reached into her oversized purse and pulled out her cosmetics bag. She rummaged for a minute and then pulled out a tube of Estée Lauder Forward Fig and passed it to me. “Honey, put on a little lipstick, you look pale.”

I knew it was pointless to argue that no one at the crime scene would notice I hadn’t put on lipstick. I accepted the slender gold tube without a word of protest.

“Pass that on over to your sister when you’re finished.” Mamma patted me on the leg and faced front, ready to proceed now that a cosmetic emergency had been averted. Then her head swiveled back to Merry. Mamma’s hand came to her throat and a look of horror slid over her face. Merry was still clad in cows and pigs, her hair defying gravity.

As the car started moving, Chumley commenced woofing again. With Daddy in the front seat toting a shotgun in one hand, his other arm around his hound dog, and the three of us in the back primping, Clay headed towards the marsh.

THIRTY-EIGHT

When dead people are not turning up all over the place, my brother is as easy-going a guy as you’ll ever meet. The morning Willa found the body in the salt marsh, his stress level peaked. Mamma, Daddy, Merry and I were standing on the bank when Blake pulled the Tahoe to a stop behind Clay’s patrol car.

The look of relief on Clay Cooper’s face when he saw Blake was so dramatic it would have been comical in any other situation. He stood knee-deep in muck, about twenty feet out into the marsh on the western side of Stella Maris. I could tell by the way Blake worked his jaw he was biting back a curse. He pulled on his gloves to go to work as he walked across the grassy edge of the marsh, making efficient use of the time by chewing Clay out along the way.

“What were you thinking bringing my
mother
to a crime scene?” His eyes bored a hole through Clay. “I am a reasonable man, Coop, and I know there is no way you could’ve left my sisters at the house. I
understand
, having lived with them for thirty years, that
they…”
he motioned towards me and Merry with a sweeping gesture, “are as reasonable as a pair of mules. But what possessed you to put my mother in a patrol car and bring her out here to look at a corpse?”

Normally, I would’ve had plenty to say to Blake about his attitude, especially that mule remark. But I kept my mouth shut.

A mournful howl rose from the direction of Clay’s car. Blake stopped and stared in disbelief at Daddy. Chumley hopped up and hung his head out the window, paws on the doorframe. “Aw, for the love of Pete, the dog, too?
Dad
.”

“Well, he hopped up in the car and wouldn’t get out. Coop needed to get over here lickety-split, and well…” Daddy shrugged.

Mamma chimed in. “For heaven’s sake, son. We don’t have much experience dealing with dead people showing up like uninvited relatives. I’m fine, Liz and Merry are fine, and your daddy and his hound dog are just peachy-keen. Don’t bother about us.” She gave him a look that clearly indicated the subject was closed.

Blake flashed Mamma an exasperated look as he passed the crowd of onlookers gathered at the edge of the marsh. I felt sorry for my brother. He didn’t have time to deal with us. For the second time in one morning, a dead body required his attention.

Blake waded out to where Clay and Sam watched Doc Harper examine the body. Thankfully, Doc had made a makeshift screen from a sheet and nearby bushes, shielding the gruesome sight.

Clay found his voice. “Look Chief, it was a judgment call. It appeared to me, with all hell breaking loose, it’d be best for your mamma to be here with me and Sam and your Daddy, than back at the house with just your Daddy. I’m real sorry you don’t see it that way.”

Blake held up his hand. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Doc, what’ve we got here?”

Doc Harper looked up. “Couple of gunshot wounds to the head. Point-blank. Probably been dead eight to ten hours. Face is pretty messed up, but I’ve been treating him ever since I got my medical license. It’s Adam Devlin.”

Adam Devlin?
Lightning seared me in the chest and radiated through my body.

“Oh my sweet Lord,” Mamma said.

“He got his wallet on him?” Blake asked.

“Yeah. A couple hundred bucks and three credit cards in it,” Sam said.

Troy. It had to’ve been Troy. He’d been following Adam for Deanna. Maybe Adam caught him and things went bad. Troy shot Adam and I did nothing to stop it. I stood quietly and watched as Blake and Sam taped off the scene and pored over the area. Coop took pictures of the drag marks from the road to the marsh, and made shoe impressions. Doc Harper ministered to the body.

After what seemed like hours, Blake stepped back from the yellow ribbon. “Coop, you and Sam finish up here with the Doc. Then head back to your posts. I’m going to take my family home and then go talk to the Devlins.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna be necessary.” Clay looked over Blake’s shoulder.

I followed Clay’s gaze to see Michael slogging through the marsh towards them. I quashed the urge to run to him. We had all the drama we could handle.

“New plan,” Blake said. “I’ll stay here with Doc and Sam. You take Mom, Dad, and the girls home and stay with them. When we finish up here, I’ll go with Michael to see Deanna and the rest of the family.”

“Okay, Chief.” Clay turned to round us up.

“And Coop?”

“Yeah, Chief?”

“Get your car cleaned up. That hound dog of my daddy’s is an awful drooler.”

THIRTY-NINE

Clay took us back to Mamma and Daddy’s around ten that morning. As we piled out of the car, Mamma said, “I think I’ll make some chicken salad and devil up some eggs. Anybody want a glass of iced tea?”

“Mamma,” I said, “what I need is a nap. I haven’t slept much all week.”

“I’m wound up,” Merry said. “How can you possibly sleep, after…that?”

Mamma patted my cheek and looked at me, eyes filled with concern. “You go straight upstairs. I’ll fix us some lunch, and you eat when you’re ready. Merry, you can help me in the kitchen.”

“Thanks, Mamma,” I hugged her.

Behind Mamma’s back, Merry cut me a look that said she suspected I was up to something.

Mamma said, “Frank, now you be quiet and let her sleep.”

I headed for the stairs, feeling guilty as a whore at a tent revival. I locked my bedroom door and crammed the essentials—iPhone, Sig, water bottle, sanitizer, and a USB drive—into a small backpack. Just in case Mamma made Daddy break down the door if I didn’t answer her knock, I scribbled a note. Then I climbed out my window onto the screened porch roof. I crept down to the edge and grabbed a limb of the nearest oak. Merry waved at me from the kitchen window as I swung down. I dropped to the ground and offered her a pleading look. She made a shooing motion with her hands. I brushed my hands off and scampered away.

I couldn’t take my car—Mamma and Daddy would’ve known I’d left. They were traumatized enough already without having to worry about me again today. If Troy had killed Adam, he’d want money from Deanna sooner rather than later. I headed towards the Atlantic. I’d run on the beach, then cut through the park at Devlin’s Point. Fortunately, I hadn’t changed out of my running clothes.

I picked up a bike trail at the edge of the park. Colleen appeared beside me, jogging along in a snappy green running suit.

“I’ve never known you to run before,” I said.

“It’s easier when you don’t have to actually breathe. Cut through here.” She darted down a dirt path to the left.

I rolled my eyes and followed. She was the guardian spirit.

After a minute she slowed and held a finger to her lips. She tiptoed off the path. Wood smoke lingered in the air. Colleen crept up to a sprawling live oak with branches that nearly touched the ground. Ivy clumped around the base, its tendrils climbing partway up the trunk. Colleen faded out and reappeared on a limb about thirty feet up. She motioned for me to join her. I fisted my hands on my hips and cocked my head at her. She flashed me a look of exaggerated patience.

I approached the tree, avoiding the ivy as much as possible. “This better not be anything that makes me itch,” I hissed. I grabbed the lowest limb. It wasn’t all that difficult. Moments later, I was perched on an adjacent branch on the other side of the trunk.

“Where are we?” I murmured.

“Ground Zero for a youth camp,” Colleen said. “Or a fancy resort.”

In a small clearing below us, someone had put up a tent. A canvas chair sat near the front flap.

“Who’s camping out?” I asked. 

“Troy. I’ve been looking for him everywhere. Finally found him while you were at the marsh.”

“Did he kill Adam?”

“I don’t know. Shhh.”

We waited. A few minutes later, we heard him stirring inside the tent, then he emerged. He wobbled, almost fell. He’d taken to drinking Crown Royal directly from the bottle, and the bottle shook as he raised it to his mouth. He took a generous gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

He leaned forward and squinted through the trees. Patches of burgundy were visible between the oaks and pines. A car was wedged into the woods on a path that led from a dirt road in the park. Troy nodded, apparently satisfied. Evidently, he’d parked the car in the woods.

He pulled out a cell phone and tapped in a number. While he waited for someone to answer, he took another swig of Crown. After a few moments, he cursed the phone and pressed a button. “That’s fine, old man. You get home, go ahead and report your truck stolen. Cops’ll find the fucker next time they dredge the fuckin’ Cooper River. Commandeered me a new ride. Ida left your piece-of-shit truck on the street, that woulda tipped ’em off to what I’m driving. So I
rolllled
it into the river. I’m a thinker.” He tapped his temple with a finger from the hand holding the cell phone. “That’s my
edge
over all you losers. Slavin’ your lives away catching little bitty shrimp in a great big net. I’ma make a shit-load of money in Hollywood.”

Colleen and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes. It was getting easier and easier to visualize Troy on an episode of
World’s Dumbest Criminals.
How had Adam come to hire this genius to kill someone? It was obvious he wasn’t a professional hit man. More like an inept thug willing to kill for money.

He set down the bottle of Crown, held the phone close to his face and selected a stored number. He put the phone to his ear and waited. After a minute, he screwed up his face like he was about to cry. “Kristen, I don’t know where you are, but when you get this call me, okay?”

Troy hiccupped into the phone. “Sugar, I’da never hurt Merry. That was an assident. I coulda smoothed everything over. Hatten I always smoothed things over? If she hatten fell and hit her head. Call me. Hollywood won’t be the same without you.” He pressed a button to end the call.

So Troy didn’t know Kristen was dead. He thought he buried Merry at that construction site. That was a blessing. As long as he kept on thinking that, Merry was safe.

Troy sat there staring at the phone for a minute. Then, he squinted at it and selected another number.

He pulled the phone back up to his ear. “It’s me.”

He scowled. “What the hell you crying for? It’s done.”

“Deanna,” said Colleen.

Troy said, “Quit your blubbering and lissen. I need to collect
pret-ty
damn quick. I got no idea who he was screwin’. But it don’t make a damn any more. The rat is dead. Get me my money and I’m outta here.”

Rage seized his face.

Colleen said, “She hung up on him.”

He threw back his head and roared. “Aaahhh!” He threw the phone on the ground. “Will some damn thing just go like is s’posed to?”

He paced the campsite, kicking pinecones. He picked up the bottle of Crown and took a swig, then he stumbled towards the car. He stopped, backtracked, and picked up the phone, muttering curses. Then he weaved in the general direction of the car.

He was leaving. I needed to stop him. I turned on the tree limb and reached with my leg for the next lower branch.

“What are you doing?” asked Colleen.

“I’m going to detain him and call Blake,” I hissed.

“Ummm…” Colleen apparently weighed the wisdom of this plan.

The car door squeaked when he opened it.

I navigated the tree limbs as quickly as I dared, not looking down. I’m not a big fan of heights, mostly because I have this pressing urge to fling myself to the ground. I’ve always wondered what that was all about.

The engine started.

I moved faster, slipped, grabbed a limb and hung on.

“Be careful,” Colleen said, her voice tense.

“I am.” I growled. “Find out what kind of car that is.” I dangled, not daring to look down. I stretched my right leg and reached for a branch I thought would bear my weight. My foot caught hold. I focused hard on the limb above the one my foot rested on, let go with my right hand, and swung for it.

I felt the tree bark under my palm and held on tight. I looked down. I was spread-eagled twenty-feet above the ground.

I clamped my eyes shut. I turned, let go with my left hand, and threw all of my weight towards the near-parallel limbs that supported the right side of my body. I teetered, steadied myself. Three deep breaths later, I continued my descent. A mere six feet off the ground, I slipped and hit the sand flat on my stomach.

The wind knocked out of me, I laid there a moment. Then I braced my palms under me, preparing to push myself up.

That’s when I saw the snake.

It was a pinkish-tan with darker brown bands. A copperhead. It had frozen in its path through the ivy at the base of the oak.

My face was six inches away from its tail, which started to shake.    

I launched myself backwards, away from the tree, landing on my ass not nearly far enough away to suit me. I scrambled to my feet and backed off into the clearing where the tent stood. Had Troy been looking in his rearview as he drove away, he would’ve seen me. I did not care.

Colleen appeared beside me. “It’s a Honda Accord.”

I stared at her, breathing hard and shaking.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked. “You’re eyes look sorta scary, like maybe you’ve snapped.”

“Snake.” I pointed to the tree.

“Eeeww.” She took a step backwards.

I shuddered. After a long breath, I pulled out my phone. It was eleven o’clock. I tried calling Blake three times, and paged him. He didn’t answer, likely because he was in the middle of doing notifications. I left him a voice mail telling him where Troy was camped, what he was driving, and that he wanted Deanna’s twenty-five grand. I’d explain that later. Somehow.

Damnation. Someone needed to nab Troy. Since I had no car in which to give chase, I called Nell Cooper. Maybe Clay or Sam could intercept Troy. When Nell asked how I’d come by this new information, the call got staticky, then dropped. Damn cell phones.

I checked the tent. Nothing but a sleeping bag and some McDonald’s trash. “I’m going over to Deanna’s,” I said. “Odds are that’s where Troy’s headed.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Colleen said. She disappeared.

I took off at a run, giving the ivy-floored live oak a wide berth. On the way to Deanna’s, I mulled how I’d been headed there to begin with, before Colleen made me take a detour through the woods, fall out of a tree, and nearly get bitten by a snake. Seemed Colleen’s involvement was sometimes more helpful than others. She’d told me herself that she wasn’t omniscient. Sure, she knew some things I didn’t, but I was learning that simply following her directions wasn’t always the best course. But how to know which to follow?

A block into Sea Farm, I slowed to a walk. Surveillance would be difficult without a car. Protecting Deanna from inside the house seemed the best option. Hopefully, there wasn’t a crowd. As I approached the house, I noted there were no cars in the driveway or in the street out front. If Troy was at Deanna’s, he’d likely parked a street or two over. I didn’t see his car, but I didn’t have time to search the entire neighborhood either.