Lowcountry Boneyard (21 page)

“Nate Andrews. You are a rascal of the first order for saying such a thing. First and foremost, I am a professional.”

“You’re not denying he has a certain appeal to the fairer sex?”

“Oh good grief. So he’s good looking. What about it? Most of the sociopaths I’ve run across were quite attractive. His appearance has nothing to do with it. I just don’t see him hurting Kent.”

Nate laughed. “I’m just yanking your ponytail, Slugger.”

I rolled my eyes with as much flair as I could muster without pulling a muscle. “Well, what’s your read on him?”

Nate tilted his head, winced. “It’s hard to say. You’ve had a lot more interaction with him than I have. Nothing about him shouts guilty to me. Your instincts are usually good about these things.”

Our appetizers arrived. I was so engrossed in my tomato tarte I forgot all about having my professional objectivity called into question. Our entrees were equally fabulous, as were the chocolate crepes we shared for dessert.

After dinner we walked hand in hand back to the Hampton Inn. We’d both had cocktails and several glasses of wine, so we’d agreed to spend the night there. As the elevator door closed, Nate brushed my hair back and kissed my neck. “Intriguing as it might be to stop this thing between floors and have my way with you,” he murmured, “I’m afraid we’d be rescued far too soon.”

“Not to mention, there are likely cameras in here.”

“At a Hampton Inn? I doubt it.”

The doors opened on the third floor, ending the discussion. Nate put his hand on the small of my back. “Well then, let’s seek our entertainment in the privacy of my guestroom. I have a king-size bed and a do-not-disturb sign. I promise there are no cameras. And I confess I’ve been wondering all evening what you have on underneath that dress.”

He slid the key card in the door lock, opened the door, and held it for me.

I plugged my iPhone into the alarm clock and shuffled the playlist labeled “A Little Romance.” John Legend started singing “All of Me.” Nate came up behind me and wrapped me in his arms. He held me there, gently, but firmly, and bent to press his head against my neck. “I’m a lucky man.”

I shivered all the way down to my toes, which curled.

And then he proceeded to undress me and show his appreciation for my choice in lingerie.

Twenty

We slept in until after eight the next morning. More romping under the covers ensued, followed by showers, me first, because according to Nate, I spend forty-five minutes playing in the water, which is a flagrant exaggeration. When I’d dressed and combed the tangles from my wet hair, I unplugged my iPhone from the radio.

Sonovabitch
. I had ten missed calls and two voicemails from Ansley. And one from Colton Heyward. What the hell? How had I missed all those calls?

I listened to the first voicemail: “It’s Ansley. Matt’s been arrested. The police came early this morning. They barely even let him get dressed. Liz, they charged him with murder. They had a warrant to search the house. Some of them are still here. I called Charlie Condon.
Call me
.” She sounded like she was on the verge of hyperventilating. Hell’s bells. What on God’s green earth was that girl thinking that she’d be over at Matt’s again, apparently overnight?

Her second message was shorter, the frantic in her voice dialed to a new high: “Liz,
where are you
? Call me as soon as you get this.”

Colton’s message was to the point: “Miss Talbot, please come by this morning at ten.”

It was nine-thirty.

“
Nate
?”

He came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. “What’s wrong?”

“Matt’s been arrested. Ansley was apparently at his house when the police arrived this morning. Does that girl not have the first lick of sense? She’s already called his attorney. Colton Heyward wants us—well, me at least—at his house at ten.”

“I can be ready in five.” He pulled a shirt from the closet. “I think we should both go talk to Heyward.”

“We need to be rolling by ten ’til.” I was already dashing for the hair dryer. “I’ll call Ansley on the way and let her know we’ll be there as fast as we can.”

As Nate navigated the Explorer through tourist traffic, I examined my iPhone.

“How did the Do Not Disturb setting get turned on? I never turn that on when we’re working a case.”

“You know I didn’t do it.”

“I didn’t think that. It’s just very strange. I don’t see how that could happen by accident.” I made myself a note to chat with Colleen.

William Palmer escorted us to the living room in the Heyward home.

“Good morning,” I said as we entered the room.

Nate nodded his greeting.

Mr. Heyward sat in the wingback by the fireplace that Abigail Bounetheau had occupied the first time I’d visited this room. His face looked haggard, like he hadn’t slept in a very long time. Mrs. Heyward was on the end of the sofa to his right. Both of them were immaculately groomed. Neither stood.

“Please, have a seat.”

Mr. Heyward directed us to the sofa across from his wife.

When we were settled, Mr. Heyward said, “I suppose you’ve heard the police arrested Matthew Thomas this morning.”

“Yes,” I said. “Though I am far from convinced he harmed Kent.”

Mrs. Heyward looked at me as if I were her lifeline. She still held out hope her daughter was alive and well. My heart hurt for her.

“Be that as it may,” said Mr. Heyward, “the police are now actively working the case. I hired you because they had stopped doing that. It seems to me at this juncture the best course is to let them do their job.”

“With all due respect,” I said, “I don’t believe they can establish anything beyond a trumped up motive for the charge they’ve filed.” I avoided saying the word “murder” in front of Mrs. Heyward. “I’m shocked that they jumped straight from finding the car to arresting Matt on so little evidence.”

“Have they shared whatever evidence they have?” Mr. Heyward asked.

“No,” Nate said. “They have not. And I think it’s worth mentioning here that the only break they’ve had in the case is the one Liz handed them—the car.”

“The only break you know about,” said Mr. Heyward.

“Have they shared any new information with you?” I asked.

He exhaled slowly, looked away. “No. They have not.”

Nate said, “There’s a very good reason for that. They don’t have anything new. If they had a shred of an idea they could stretch into something resembling a lead, they’d be rushing over here to serve it up on a silver platter.”

“Mr. Heyward, you shared with them what we told you about the baby,” I said.

“Yes, as we discussed.”

“Sir, did you, perhaps inadvertently, give them the idea that you had concluded Matt was guilty?”

“Absolutely not,” he said.

“Because I believe they likely feel an immense amount of pressure to solve this case.”

“As they damn well should,” he said.

“Agreed, of course,” I said. “But sometimes operating under a great deal of pressure can lead to a rush to judgment.”

“What other leads are you pursuing?” Mr. Heyward asked.

Oh boy. I needed to give him something, but I didn’t even have a suspect yet connected to my Talitha Ingle puzzle. I grabbed the only thing I could think of fast. “We’ve uncovered a possible connection to alleged illegal activities involving other family members.”

I could feel Nate tense beside me.

Colleen popped in and perched on the mantle. “Do
not
name names.”

Mr. Heyward straightened. “Members of our family?”

Mrs. Heyward’s voice was low and filled with dread. “She’s talking about Peyton and Peter.”

“Is that true?” Mr. Heyward asked.

Colleen hopped off the mantle and went to sit by Mrs. Heyward. She wrapped her arms around her, comforting her.

I’d experienced Colleen’s hugs for myself, and they were truly soothing.

Nate and I looked at each other.

He shook his head indicating how bad an idea he thought this was. “There are very good reasons why we don’t share every detail of a case until we either solve it or exhaust all of our leads. One of those reasons is that a few days into an investigation, we might have a lead that doesn’t pan out. That’s where we are right now. We have several leads, some of which will prove either invalid or unrelated, or both.”

I picked up on where he was headed.

“The last thing we would ever want to do is cast aspersions on the good character of any family member. We just need more time.”

Mrs. Heyward said, “I’ve always suspected they were up to no good. Daddy has bailed those boys out of more trouble than you can possibly imagine. And kept it quiet, of course.”

Nate said, “We have no evidence that your brothers are connected in any way to Kent’s disappearance.”

“However,” I said, “we would like to further pursue several avenues of investigation. Until Kent is found, the case hasn’t been resolved.”

A silver aura glowed around Colleen. It shimmered, and sparks of gold radiated from her fingertips. She brushed back Mrs. Heyward’s hair, and spoke to her soothingly. “Matt didn’t hurt Kent. He doesn’t have that in him. If Liz and Nate stop investigating, Matt will go to jail—or worse.”

I had seen Colleen do this before. She was planting thoughts in Virginia Heyward’s head. No one spoke for a few moments. I cocked my head at Colleen and threw her a question, since she could read my mind so well:
Is this a fact, or more of your hopeful intuition?

Colleen glanced at me, but continued ministering to Mrs. Heyward. “Matt is innocent.”

Mrs. Heyward’s voice was stronger than it had been moments before.

“Colton, let them continue their work.”

“My dear,” Mr. Heyward said, “what can they possibly do that the police can’t?”

“It’s not a matter of can’t. It’s won’t. I’m afraid this poor boy will be sent to jail and we still won’t ever know what’s become of Kent.”

“They will get the truth out of him,” Mr. Heyward said.

“Only if he knows the truth,” said Mrs. Heyward. “What if he doesn’t?”

Mr. Heyward nodded. “Very well. I think the police are on the right track. However, if Mr. Andrews and Miss Talbot are exploring other possibilities, well, there’s no harm in that, is there? Until Kent is found, we should leave no stone unturned, as it were.”

“Thank you, Colton,” Mrs. Heyward said.

“Is there anything else?” Nate asked.

“No.” Mr. Heyward stood.

The rest of us followed suit.

“Just please let us know the moment you have news,” said Mrs. Heyward.

“Of course,” I said. “We’ll show ourselves out.”

Colleen followed us into the wide front hall.

Mr. Palmer was nowhere to be seen.

I glared at Colleen.
I need to talk to you.

She gave me a solemn look. “Remember what I told you a long time ago. There’s only one battle, and it’s good versus evil. I didn’t touch your phone. Entities who aren’t on the side of the angels may have wanted you out of the way this morning. If you hadn’t shown up at ten, you’d be off the case.” She faded out.

Nate and I continued to the car. Had Colleen gone to check in with Sue Ellen?

When we were turning left on Legare, from the backseat, Colleen said, “Mr. William Palmer was on an important phone call.”

I glanced over my shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Nate asked.

“Nothing. Just admiring the garden.”

Nate gave me a look that said
fine, if you don’t want to talk about it
.

Colleen said, “He was reporting to Abigail Bounetheau that you and Nate think Peyton and Peter are involved in something illegal, and may be responsible for Kent’s disappearance. I have the distinct impression that he is in the habit of reporting all manner of things to her.”

“
Damnation
,” I said.

“Yeah, that could’ve gone better,” Nate said.

“What?”

“We should not have mentioned Peyton and Peter,” said Nate.

“
We
didn’t.”

“Apparently, Mrs. Heyward is under no illusions about her brothers. Maybe we’ll get lucky and they won’t mention that to the rest of the family.”

“Abigail Bounetheau already knows.”
Sonavabitch
. How was I going to explain this? I needed a drink already and it wasn’t even noon.

“How can you know that?” Nate asked.

“I overheard William Palmer, the house manager, talking to her on the phone when we were walking out. Didn’t you?”

Nate pulled to a stop at the intersection of Legare and Lamboll.

“There’s no stop sign. Why’d you stop?”

“Because I want you to look at me and tell me how you could hear both ends of a phone conversation that I didn’t hear at all. Even if you overheard William Palmer telling tales on the phone—and I did not—how could you know who he was talking to?”

“He had the call on speaker. I can’t believe you couldn’t hear it. I recognized Abigail’s voice immediately. Maybe you had your mind on something else?” I reached for an innocent look and prayed I pulled it off.

For her part, Colleen bray-snorted exuberantly in the back seat.

Nate stared at me for an endless moment. “Why would he have a call he presumably wanted to make surreptitiously on speaker?”

“That is a very good question.” I pointed at Nate with emphasis to underscore how I was every bit as mystified as he was by this whole episode. “Looks like he’d have gone way in the back—that’s a huge house—and been careful to keep that quiet. Maybe he had the maid or the cook on the line making reports, too.” Oh my sweet Lord, how I hated lying to Nate.

He shook his head. “Dammit, Liz. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

I made my eyes bigger.

“What could that possibly be? We were right there together the whole time. I simply heard something you didn’t. I think we need to focus on our bigger problem. Colton and Virginia would maybe have kept it to themselves. But Abigail Bounetheau will surely tell her sons we suspect them. She just doesn’t know we’re not investigating them.”

Nate cursed under his breath. He drove through the intersection. “How do I get to Matt’s house from here?”