LOWCOUNTRY BOOK CLUB (11 page)

Angela smiled, gave a little wave.

Delta continued, “I think you've all been introduced to Liz Talbot, our other guest. Liz, would you stand, please, and tell everyone a little about yourself? Perhaps you'll have a chance to speak to some of the members individually during lunch.”

I grabbed a small stack of business cards from my purse and stood. Neither Jane nor Delta would make eye contact. Delta sat down, ceding me the floor. So be it.

They all looked at me with polite curiosity.

“Good morning. As Delta mentioned, I'm Liz Talbot. I'm a private investigator, hired by Clint Gerhardt's attorneys to assist in his defense. I know many of you were close to Shelby. I'm hoping to learn as much about her as possible. And I hope to discover if one or more of you has information important to the investigation that perhaps you don't realize is important. I'd love to talk with each of you today. But I'm going to pass around my business cards. If you think of something later, please call me.”

The nature of their gazes changed gradually as I spoke. By the time I'd finished, some were exchanging glances with each other. Others regarded me with avid interest.

Delta said, “Y'all please share with Liz anything that might be related, even if you don't think it's important. We of course want her to get to the bottom of what happened to our Shelby. Now, let's have some lunch, and then we'll have our business meeting, followed by our discussion of
The Prince of Tides
.”

Business meeting? What kind of business did book clubs have? The membership issues, but Clint mentioned something about a treasurer. What were these ladies up to that they needed a treasurer?

Delta made her way through the room and opened a set of pocket doors that revealed the dining room. She stepped back, inviting everyone to go in front of her. “There are tables set up on the side porch and in the front parlor. Please sit anywhere you like.”

We all stood, left our things at our chairs, and filed towards the dining room. The decor was similar to the foyer and the living room—intricate, white-painted woodwork, crystal chandelier, expensive-looking rug over gleaming wood floors.

I meandered towards Delta, who stood at the doorway to the dining room.

“I wanted to ask you about something,” I said. “Perhaps after we get our lunch we can find a quiet corner?”

“Of course.” Her eyes didn't express the same enthusiasm her voice did.

Slowly, the line moved along. As the ladies filled their plates and selected from urns of water infused with cucumber and mint and several varieties of tea, they made their way out of the dining room.

I waited to take the next-to-last place in line, in front of the hostess. The spread of food on the table and sideboard was a work of art. A variety of small sandwiches, salads, spreads, cheeses, fruit, cakes, tarts—this looked like something my mamma had done. My mouth watered.

“This food looks fabulous,” I said.

“Francina is a wonder.”

I picked up a china plate from the stack and selected food strategically. I was a guest, and needed to resist the urge to pile it full. I splurged on the peach tea, then waited for Delta. As we left the dining room, something in my peripheral vision caught my eye. I glanced over my shoulder to see Colleen, who had solidified in a kelly green shirtdress, fixing a plate.

Hell's bells, Colleen. What are you thinking? Behave.
I threw the thought over my shoulder.

“I'm starving,” she said. “They have ham biscuits—did you get one? No one will see me. Everyone's busy eating.”

If someone does, I don't have the first clue who you are.

“I'll tell them I'm here about that waiting list.”

Delta led me through the foyer into the parlor. Two ladies sat at one of three skirted tables. Otherwise, the room was empty.

“Most everyone's on the porch,” said Delta. “Let's sit back here.” She nodded towards the table on the far side of the room.

I took the back chair, facing the room. After we'd settled in and tasted a few bites, I said, “Clint told me Shelby was working on book club business in her library the night she was killed. You're president now. What kinds of things would she have been doing?”

“In December, she would likely have been typing up the list of books we'd decided on for the new year, and where we were going to purchase them. Since we never got it, I assume that's what she was working on.”

“So you choose your books a year in advance.”

“That's right. We have a meeting and everyone makes suggestions. We discuss them and take a vote.”

“What did you mean by ‘where you were going to purchase them?'” I asked.

“Well, we generally try to support independent book stores. Each of us adopts one of the SIBA stores—that's Southern Independent Booksellers Alliance—and for that year we order our books from that store. This year I'm ordering from Quail Ridge Books and Music in Raleigh.”

“Was there anything controversial about the books or stores? Anything anyone might've been upset about?”

“No, not at all. The only controversy we have is over the waiting list.” She sighed heavily, moved food around on her plate. “That's going to be an ugly mess. I had hoped not to deal with it today. But with Shelby gone, someone moves off the wait list and joins the club. I've put off dealing with this as long as I can. Mary wants that person to be Angela, and of course she's here, which makes it awkward.”

“Angela's not at the top of the list, is she?”

“No.” Delta shook her head. “That's Mariel's friend, Nerissa Long. She's sweet as sugar and has been waiting years. But she's heartbroken that she's taking Shelby's place. She offered to give her spot to Angela just to avoid taking Shelby's spot. And of course she knows about the controversy. But we just can't do that.”

“Why not, if that's what Nerissa wants?”

Delta sipped her tea. “Because Nerissa will be our first black member. I will not have our club even appear to be anything less than welcoming to Nerissa.”

“Does that bother anyone?” I asked.

“You mean that she's black? No, of course not. We're all friends with Nerissa. But if we skip over her, even at her request, some people would see it as racist.”

“Just to be clear, before there was an opening—when Shelby planned to bring it to a vote to allow Angela to come off the waiting list—Shelby wasn't in favor of skipping over Nerissa, was she?”

“Oh my goodness, no. Shelby would never have allowed that. She agreed to entertain a motion from Mary to allow the next two people on the waiting list, Nerissa and Angela to join the club. Someone would've had to have seconded the motion, and then there would've been a vote.”

“You said Nerissa has been on the waiting list for years.”

“That's right.”

“How long has Angela been on it?”

“About as long—several years.”

“So she was on the waiting list for the club before she was engaged to Mary Bernard's son?”

“Oh my, yes, long before that.”

“Then this isn't something she's doing to please her future mother-in-law?”

“No, no.”

“And you're not going to have a vote on letting Angela join as well?”

“No. I know that's what Shelby had planned. I loved Shelby, but I didn't agree with her on this. Our book club is more than a hundred years old. Several of our great-grandmothers started it. We have traditions. If we start changing things, some people will like some of the things, but others won't. There will be drama. The only way to keep us from quarreling is to leave things as they are.”

“But won't there be a quarrel about that?” I asked.

“Mary won't agree with it, but as long as we don't change anything else, she'll let it go. I hope. Shelby was more open to change than most of our members. Mary knew that, and I personally think she was taking advantage of her. I'm just trying to keep the peace and do the right thing.”

“I wish you luck with that,” I said. “If it had come to a vote, would Mary have gotten her way?”

Delta raised both shoulders. “Who knows? Mary has friends who she may have persuaded to vote her way. Or it may have just ended up embarrassing poor Angela because it didn't pass. It's better to just leave things as they are.”

I said, “Your book club is fascinating. I confess I've never been to one quite like it. I'm very impressed. Someone mentioned you have a treasurer. Do you all pay dues?”

“We do, and we have quarterly fundraisers. Usually it's a wine auction or a vacation raffle—something like that. We donate the money to various groups that support literacy.”

“What a fabulous idea. You all are very industrious. Have you had any issues with the money—who to give it to, some going missing—anything like that?” Money was a reliable troublemaker.

“Never.”

I took a bite of a cucumber sandwich. We ate for a few minutes, and then I said, “There's one other thing I wanted to ask you about. I understand you mentioned to the previous investigators that Shelby spoke a lot about Sonny Ravenel. Do you have any ideas as to the nature of their relationship?”

Delta's cheeks went pink. “All I know is that Shelby mentioned his name often. She'd repeat things he said—funny things. Sometimes she'd tell me stories about how he'd helped someone. I know they both volunteered at One80Place. That was Shelby's favorite charity. I guess that gave them a lot in common.”

“Do you think there was more to their relationship than a common interest?” I asked.

“I don't know.” Delta's voice held frustration and despair. “If I did know, I would tell you. Shelby was very private. I can tell you they had lunch together regularly. She admired him. Beyond that, I have no idea.”

“Did she talk about Sonny as much as she talked about Clint?”

Delta's brow wrinkled. “No, not at all. Shelby talked about Clint all the time. My impression is that she loved him very much.”

“So you didn't suggest to Paul Baker that Shelby was having an affair with Sonny?”

“Good Heavens, no. I would never imply such a thing. That pesky vulgarian kept at me until I came up with the name of a man Shelby knew. I probably shouldn't have said anything.”

Interesting. Had Baker stretched what Delta said to justify chasing the affair theory?

“One more thing, Delta,” I said. “Please don't take offense, but for my files, I need to check everyone off. Where were you the night Shelby died?”

“Me?” Delta leaned back and blinked. “Why, I was here at home with my boys.”

“Oh, you have children. How old are they?”

“Fourteen and fifteen.”

“How nice to have family time over the holidays. I hope your husband didn't have to travel like poor Jane's.”

Delta flushed. “My former husband's affairs are no concern of mine.”

“I'm terribly sorry. I didn't know.” I would've found out, given another day to research all these people.

“Don't give it a thought. How would you have known?”

I smiled a small sheepish smile.

Erin Guidici entered the room, scanned it with her eyes, then approached our table. “Excuse me, y'all. Liz, could I have a word with you in private?”

“Certainly.” I looked at Delta. “I'll be right back.”

I followed Erin through the foyer, up three steps to a landing, then up a half-flight of stairs to a second landing. Anne and the other Liz waited there.

I joined their huddle.

Erin said, “We hate to mention this. It could be nothing.”

Anne looked doubtful. “It's not nothing.”

“Just tell her,” said the other Liz.

Erin said, “There was something going on between Angela McConnell and Shelby.”

I scrunched my face at her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you know,” Anne said. “Angela is dying to join book club. And I guess she wanted to talk to Shelby about it. We had book club at Shelby's house in December, in the evening. That was our tradition. Shelby loved Christmas, and she loved having lots of candlelight.”

“Most everyone had left,” said Liz. “We were saying goodbye to the dogs and Belly—she's a potbellied pig. They were in the guest room up on the third floor. Jane told us later that as she was leaving, Angela came by and asked to speak with Shelby privately. We'd already gone upstairs at that point.”

Erin and Anne looked at Liz, as if to encourage her to finish the story.

Liz threw up both hands, fingers spread. “When we were coming back down to the second floor, we overheard Angela and Shelby arguing in the library. We stopped on the stairs.”

“What were they arguing about?” I asked.

The other Liz said, “We couldn't make out what they were saying at first. Then we heard Shelby say, ‘How could you?' She sounded real hurt. Maybe crying.”

Anne jumped in. “Then Angela said, ‘No one has to know your dirty little secret. How, and with
who
, you've been spending your afternoons. My, my, Shelby Poinsett. What would people say?' Her voice was all hateful. She was taunting Shelby.”

Erin said, “And then she said, ‘All you have to do is bring this thing to a vote. And, naturally, vote in favor of letting me in. Convince the others it's the right thing to do. Like I said, no one has to know. It's all in your hands.'”

Damnation. Definitely blackmail. An affair. Please don't let it be Sonny.

Erin said, “Then Angela came stalking out of the room, ran down the steps, and blew out the front door. She never even looked our way.”

Anne said, “We slipped back up the stairs into the guest room with the pets. We didn't want to embarrass Shelby by letting on we'd overheard. After a few minutes we came back out and said bye to her. We could tell something was wrong, but of course we didn't mention anything.”