LOWCOUNTRY BOOK CLUB (13 page)

Had Baker created some sort of corporation to own the truck and trailer, or did they belong to someone else, a friend maybe? If I was into something shady—like taking money to double-cross Fraser Rutledge on a murder case—I might plan for the possibility of having to disappear. That trailer was certainly big enough for the whole family. I'd wait for a while. Maybe he'd leave in the van. Then I could get the tag numbers easy enough, see where they led.

It was almost five o'clock when Baker approached on foot, alone, with a fishing rod. I'd passed a lake on the way in. I made him at under six feet tall, but not by much. In his mid-forties, he carried extra weight around the middle and had a receding hairline. He wore khaki shorts and a t-shirt and blended in well with the other campers I'd seen. His head slowly swiveled, scanning in all directions. This was the trouble with investigating investigators. It was impossible to tell if he was here surveilling someone else, or making himself scarce in case someone came looking for him.

No one came out to greet him. He put the fishing rod in the back of the truck and unlocked the trailer door. Had anyone been inside, at a campground, I doubted the door would've been locked. He didn't call out a greeting.

From behind me, a car approached.

Shit.

I stood, turned, and waved enthusiastically.

A family of four, Mom, Dad, and two preteen kids, got out of a Jeep Wrangler.

I plastered a surprised, ditzy blonde smile on my face. “Well, y'all aren't Aunt Jean and Uncle Buster.”

“No, honey, I'm afraid we're not,” said the mom.

I raised my hands to my cheeks in embarrassment. “I am so sorry. They were supposed to get in today, and their camper looks just like y'all's. I've been sitting here just waiting for them. I figured they'd gone over to the Publix to get groceries.”

“No problem,” said the dad. “We won't even charge a chair rental. Maybe you should check at the office and see which spot they're in.”

“Oh. That's what I should've done to start with. Y'all excuse me. I am just mortified to death.” I moved past them, towards my car.

“Hope you find your family,” the mom called out.

“Thank you,” I called over my shoulder. “Bye.”

ELEVEN

  

Colleen took the ferry ride back to Stella Maris with me. We sat on the upper deck to drink in the sunshine and salt air. I had my earbuds in so folks would assume I was on a phone call and not on the run from the nervous hospital.

“So fill me in. What did I miss at the business meeting and book discussion?” I said.

“The minutes from the last meeting, the treasurer's report. Delta reminding everyone they're reading
To Kill a Mockingbird
next month.
The theme for the year is southern classics. After that, there was a very ladylike cat fight over that waiting list.”

“Do tell?”

“Delta announced that Nerissa Long would be joining the club at the next meeting, pursuant to the well-established bylaws.”

“I bet Mary Bernard wasn't one bit happy.”

“Boy howdy. She tried to raise the issue of voting on letting Angela join as well, but Delta held her ground. She said the bylaws just wouldn't permit it, and she was very sorry, but Angela was next up, and she hoped she would be joining soon. Then Mary asked her if she was expecting any more sudden vacancies.”

“She didn't.”

“Yes, she did. There was a very tense back and forth between them. I'm giving you the Cliff's Notes version.”

“How did the other women respond?”

“They all just sat there, staring. No one wanted in the middle of that.”

“Could you get inside any of their heads?” I asked. “Delta's?”

“Her mind was occupied with the business at hand.”

“How about anyone else?”

“That Evelyn Izard is a piece of work. Of course she was riveted like the rest of them during the unpleasantness. I'd wager she's a talker—this will get out. Probably already has. Before that, though—during the minutes. Her head was a scramble of arranging her children's lives—I think they must be adults seeing as how she was wantin' grandbabies—critiquing everyone's outfits, who's gained weight—Delta has put on a few pounds, in case you're interested—wondering if Delta's off her meds, and planning cocktail hour. She's looking forward to that.”

“Any idea what kind of meds Delta's on?” I asked.

“Nah. I thought maybe it was something to help her lose weight, since Evelyn went straight from her weight to wondering if she's off her meds. But there may not be a connection. Like I said, Evelyn's head was a scramble. Oh, and here's a fun fact I picked up from Mariel Camp, who thinks Evelyn is a scatterbrained lush. Evelyn's husband is having an affair with a woman his daughter's age.”

“Ewww. Probably why he's decked out in the best running gear. He's got to stay fit for his sweet young thing. Anything else related to who killed Shelby?”

“I was able to get a peek inside Jane's head.”

“And?”

“She was a nervous wreck during the tussle. She purely hates drama. She wished Delta would just give Mary her way and move on. On the other hand, she was also nervous Delta might make a scene if Mary didn't let it go. But before all that started was the most interesting thing.”

“Colleen. Don't leave me hanging. What?”

“Jane just kept giving all these women little side glances, wondering if you could possibly be on to something. Could any of them have killed Shelby? She was all wound up about that.”

“Interesting,” I said. “That means I can mark her off the possible suspects list.” And not have to question her children, thank Heaven.

“You're welcome.” Colleen wore her smug look.

“Good job. Seriously. I appreciate it.”

“I'm sorry about the thing with Francina. I feel really bad about that. I shouldn't've materialized. It's just…as wonderful as it is where I am, sometimes I regret checking out early. I missed a lot. I've never been to a fancy lunch like that. And I know all that's so trivial in the big picture. But sometimes…”

My eyes misted over. “I've missed having you around for so many things. I regret every day not being there for you like I should've been. I hate that you felt that alone, that desperate.”

“It wasn't your fault. It was my choice and mine alone.”

“But would you've made that choice if I'd been a better friend?”

“You can't carry that burden. We each write the story of our lives one choice at a time. Sometimes those choices are terminal.”

We sat in silence with our regrets for a few moments. Then I said, “I had a nightmare last night.”

“I know.”

“Is that real? Is that our future?”

Colleen sighed. “Mortals have free will, and not all of them are on the side of the angels. The future is constantly changing based on decisions people make every day. Take Shelby for example. Because of one person's actions, things changed for so many people when Shelby died. Her family, of course, but also all the lives she would've touched if she'd lived. Sonya and Kelly…countless others.”

“Shelby's death was tragic for way more people than just her family.”

After a minute, Colleen said, “The painter who cut his ear off? Van Gogh…he was an Impressionist—that's what I was looking for. The dream was an Impressionist version of one scenario that could play out, depending on the choices many people, including you and Nate, make over the next few years.”

“And you're here to help us make the right choices?”

“You have free will. Who am I to say what the right choices are for you?”

“Seriously? Since when have you not interfered with my life? Once you showed back up, I mean?”

“Okay, fine.” She put on a fake hurt look. “I give you my opinion. But you make your own choices. Sometimes you'd be better off if you'd listen to me, but there you go.”

“Colleen,” I said. “Focus. The dream…”

“The unintended—but completely foreseeable—consequences of folks exploiting Stella Maris for profit would be a dangerous population level for an island only accessible by boat.”

“Don't misunderstand,” I said. “You know how I feel about resorts, condos, and all that. But we should be able to evacuate safely, right? The people who live here now, and with reasonable growth for a town this size? Blake has plans for all that. And modern forecasting is pretty accurate. We typically have at least a couple days' notice—plenty of time for everyone to get to safety.”

“Those computer models aren't always that accurate. The U.S. model for Hurricane Sandy was off. All the models make educated guesses on some things. They aren't infallible. They give people a false sense of safety. And living on an island you have to take a ferry to seems idyllic until you have to get a lot of folks off in a hurry. And then there's the real nightmare scenario.”

“There's one worse than in my dream?”

“Seismographs weren't around when the earthquake hit Charleston in 1886. But some folks figure it was more than a 7.0. I have it on good authority it was a 7.5. And it caused a slide in the ocean floor in Florida that triggered a small tsunami.”

“An earthquake?”

“Charleston is in the bullseye for a major earthquake in the next fifty years. A slide along the Continental Shelf a hundred miles offshore could trigger a major tsunami with little warning.”

“You're scaring me. Are you saying this is going to happen? This is not about men and free will. This is a God thing.”

“You think God sends earthquakes and tsunamis?”

“No…I mean…Well, of course not.”

Colleen sighed. “God set the world in motion. He doesn't use nature to punish us. That's Old Testament thinking. This is a New Testament world.”

“No, I didn't mean that.”

“Look, I never said there would be a hurricane, an earthquake, or a tsunami. But all of those things will happen at some point. It could be hundreds or thousands of years from now. The last time a major tsunami hit the Charleston area was eighteen thousand years ago. All you can do is keep your hurricane kit ready, watch the forecasts, and make sure building codes are what they ought to be. And don't let the island get overpopulated.”

TWELVE

  

I got home early, feeling pent up. Colleen's talk of all manner of natural disasters had left me unsettled, to say the least. I took Rhett for a short run on the beach. Sun-shot waves splashed playfully on the sand. Shore birds rose and dove in formation, calling out to me. The heady scent of the Atlantic worked its magic on me and my tension eased. I slowed to a walk, breathed in and out in rhythm with my steps. What was I supposed to do about a catastrophe that may or may not happen within my lifetime? A person could drive herself crazy worrying about such things.

A bubble bath. That's what I needed. “Come on, boy.”

Rhett had more beach romping in mind.

“Want a cookie bone?”

Turns out he did. He scampered happily beside me back to the house.

I gave him his treat, then went upstairs and prepared my stress-relief bath—the one where I threw in lavender oil, a fizz ball, and half a dozen other things and turned on the jets. An hour later, I towel dried and wrapped in my fluffy green robe. Nate would be home soon. I could hear Mamma in my head admonishing me not to let my appearance go just because I had a ring on my finger.

I grinned, slipped into my favorite jeans and an off-the-shoulder summer sweater that was nearly the same blue as my eyes. I dried my hair, moisturized, and put on some mascara and lip gloss. My current favorite sandals, cream colored with a row of daisies on top, a simple chain at my neck, and a pair of silver hoops completed my carefully constructed I-just-threw-something-on look.

Nate pulled into the drive just as I finished dressing. I looked out the bedroom window and admired my husband as he walked towards the steps. If a man alive looked finer in jeans and a white button-down with rolled-up sleeves, I've never run across him. And mine had Chinese takeout.

I headed downstairs as he opened the front door.

“Slugger?” he called up the stairs.

“On my way down.”

When I turned the corner and took the last half-flight down, he was waiting, smiling up at me. That smile never failed to set my heart to racing and wake a warm glow inside.

“Hey, how was your day?” I returned the smile.

“Productive. How about yours?”

“Productive and…stressful.”

“We can't have that. What say we open a bottle of wine? Want to eat on the deck?”

“Let's.” I went to gather utensils, napkins, glasses, and a bottle of La Crema from the kitchen.

I met Nate on the deck, where he had unpacked the food on the teak outdoor table. He opened the wine, and we fixed plates. We traded banter and devoured spring rolls, sesame chicken, and beef fried rice.

“Don't forget your fortune cookie, now,” he said when we'd finished eating.

We each grabbed one.

I unwrapped mine and broke it open.
Be on the lookout for coming events. They cast their shadows beforehand.
Hell's bells. Colleen was into my fortune cookies now. I wadded up the slip of paper.

“What did it say?” asked Nate.

“It said be wary of handsome blue-eyed men. They have dishonorable intent.”

“Why, that's entirely wrong. And I have the wedding band to prove it. Mine said, ‘You will soon dance with your true love in the moonlight.' Now see? That's what a fortune cookie is supposed to be, right there. We need a refund on yours.”

I stood and started to clear the table. “We have a lot of work to do. I've got several names we can erase from that ridiculous case board.”

Nate looked at me with a tilt to his head. “Is everything all right?”

“I just didn't get enough sleep last night is all.”

“Let's get done what we need to and get you into bed.” His voice was husky.

“Why does that sound like you don't have sleeping on your mind?”

“I'm afraid I can't help myself. You're beautiful, Mrs. Andrews.”

I smiled. “And you are a constant source of temptation, Mr. Andrews.”

“Now that's good to hear.” He grinned wide.

We finished straightening up, took our wineglasses into the living room, and settled into the sofa. I brought him up to speed on Paul Baker.

“Interesting,” he said. “It's quite the quandary, because we don't want to step all over an active investigation he's conducting based on an unsubstantiated suspicion. But if he's in hiding because of something related to our case, then that's another matter entirely, and we need to confront him.”

“Agreed. But my instincts say he's laying low because he's nervous. He sent his wife and kids out of town to protect them—he wouldn't've taken the kids out of school this close to the end of the year for a vacation, especially not one he isn't participating in. And if it was something else—a death or illness in his wife's family—she would've simply told them that at work.”

“You're right. It smells wrong.”

“We need to ponder what to do about him.” I sipped my wine. “Let's get to the case board. Shall I go first, or do you want to?”

“You go ahead,” said Nate.

I approached the board, set my wineglass on one of the tables we'd spread the file boxes out on, took out my iPhone, and snapped a photo. If we needed to revisit anyone, we could. I picked up the eraser. “First, neither Williams nor Tallulah Poinsett killed their daughter. It's a travesty having their names up here.” I erased them and told Nate about my conversation with Tallulah.

“And honestly,” I said, “I feel silly having the entire congregation of a church on here. Yes, it's true, Shelby would've let any one of them in. But Tallulah said there was nothing controversial going on, Clint's crack about women in groups notwithstanding. I say we get rid of that silliness.”

“As you wish.”

I erased Members of St. Michael's Church. “And I told you what Tallulah said about the college friends.” I erased Lark Littleton, other college friends, and anyone unaccounted for in the address book.

“Now, to the book club ladies.” I filled him in on all I'd learned while I was at the meeting, the note someone had slipped me, and what Colleen had picked up on after. “You know what? I'm just tickled pink that I can simply tell you what Colleen said, without having to make up some way I know what was going on in people's heads.”

“I can see how that would be a relief,” said Nate. “The Angela McConnell incident sounds promising. And we need to take a much closer look at Delta Tisdale.”

Something twisted in my stomach. I was afraid of where Angela McConnell might lead us. “Agreed. But I want to erase everyone we can before we start talking about what's left. I'll feel less overwhelmed that way. We can focus. Though I am going to add Angela McConnell and erase ‘nine other members' of the book club. If it was book club related, it was Angela or possibly Delta. I would've said Mary Bernard as well, but she has an alibi. And Colleen said not a single person objected to Nerissa Long joining next month, so the only book club drama was related to Angela.”

“Sounds right. Erase away.”

I made the Angela change. I erased Jane Kinloch, then Erin, Anne, and Liz, who were at a dinner party at Erin's house. Then Mary Bernard and Mariel Camp, who were at a dinner party at the Bernard home.

“Did you verify with Mary Bernard that everyone who was supposed to be there was present?” asked Nate.

“I did. Though she wasn't in a very good mood this afternoon.” Mary Bernard impressed me as a woman accustomed to having her way. The book club business likely caused her to take to her bed.

“Are you finished with your erasures?” asked Nate.

I erased Evelyn Izard from under the book club heading. We'd actually had her on the list twice.

“Yes, and that felt so good.”

“Well, you're about to feel even better. I've eliminated the folks at the two remaining charities, Charleston Library Society and Charleston Animal Society. That didn't take long. There's just not a whiff of a motive. And I have alibis for Cliff and Lisa Gerhardt, Bill and Brenda Gerhardt, Thomas and Deirdre Poinsett, Fraser and Constance Rutledge, and all Clint's army buddies.”

I stared at him. “I thought I had a busy day.”

“As much as I love impressing you, it wasn't as awe-inspiring as it sounds. Most of them were a short phone call, followed by two other short phone calls to verify. I spent odd moments between everything else on the phone.”

“Nevertheless, your efficiency is remarkable. I declare, if you weren't my partner, I'd hire you and pay you good money.” I took my eraser to the case board.

“Good to know. Maybe we could work out a bonus structure.” His suggestive tone left no doubt what he had in mind.

“You're incorrigible. Tell me about the ‘everything else' part of your day.”

“I spoke to Sonya, and she says her husband was in jail on December 28 for violating an order of protection.”

“Okay, so it wasn't Sonya's angry husband. But it could've been someone else's.”

“I honestly don't think so. I've talked with everyone there is to talk to at One80Place. I've snooped around. There is simply nothing that leads me to believe anyone there was involved with this. I say we cut bait on that avenue of investigation. I'd erase that line as well.”

“Happily.” I erased Angry Shelter Husband and Board, Staff, Volunteers, Clients at One80Place.

“Now, let's see what we have left.” I picked up my wine glass and joined Nate on the sofa. We surveyed our remaining possibilities:

  

Suspect
Motives

Unknown Lover Crime of Passion/Keep a secret

Charles Kinloch

Sonny Ravenel

Unknown Wannabe Lover Jealousy

Spouse of Lover/Wannabe Jealousy

Girlfriend of Sonny's

Girlfriend of Unsub

Book Club Member Jealousy/Anger

Delta Tisdale

Angela McConnell

Evelyn or Edward Izard (Neighbors)

Nick or Margaret Venning (Neighbors)

Resident of Tent City

  

I said, “I need to add the new possible motive we have courtesy of whoever left the note in my purse. Well, maybe not. If it was Delta it was jealousy or anger, either over Clint or the book club.”

“True enough. But Delta's not the only woman in Charleston who might've coveted Shelby's husband.”

“Damnation. I'll add Unsub Pining for Clint later.”

“But,” Nate said, “our most plausible scenarios are, it was related to an affair Shelby had, this book club melodrama, or an unbalanced Delta and her ‘crush' on Clint.”

“For now I'll work the Angela McConnell angle and the other book club business, which crosses over to the Delta angle with Clint. Do you mind taking over Charles Kinloch and monitoring Paul Baker until we decide how to handle him?”

“Sounds like a plan. Then we can divvy up anything left standing.”

“If I have enough time tomorrow, I'll take one set of the neighbors. We haven't spoken to either of them yet.”

“Did you talk to Sonny today?”

“No,” I said, “but not for lack of trying. I'm scared to death of where this Angela business is going to lead us.”

“No sense worrying about it. If she knew Shelby was having an affair, that doesn't mean it was with Sonny.”

“I know,” I said, “but until we have another viable candidate for ‘lover,' I'm going to worry. Sonny's my friend.”

“He's my friend too. Let's not borrow trouble.”

I sighed. “He's also our best resource to find out if Shelby ventured into Tent City, I think. I doubt Shelby would've told Clint she did that. He was very protective. And he was very forthcoming. I think he would've mentioned it if she went there and he knew about it.”

“You're probably right.”

“Wait. I know what to do about Paul Baker. What if we ask Fraser to call and tell him that he has to come pick up his last check? I seriously doubt Fraser's gonna pay that final bill, but I'm sure Baker's hoping he will. He could ask him to come to the conference room, where we could be waiting. That way, if he is working a case, we don't blow his cover. And we have leverage. If Baker doesn't have satisfactory answers to our questions about the Shelby Poinsett case, we explain to Fraser how we verify trips to London. Which we'll likely do anyway, but Baker doesn't know that.”

“Have I told you how sexy you are when you're brilliant? Come outside and dance with me in the moonlight.”

And I did just that.