LOWCOUNTRY BOOK CLUB (20 page)

“Not a cent,” said Baker. “Not one damned cent.”

The door opened. Fraser stood there, looking like the Wrath of God. The speakerphone on the console had been on the entire time. “I ought to have your ass locked up, and I just might do that yet.”

Baker shook his head in disgust. “I shoulda known.”

Fraser sauntered into the room, Eli behind him.

Fraser said, “Paul, I always liked your wife. She is a good woman. You've got nice kids too.” He leaned on the conference room table, palms flat. “See precisely how helpful you can be to Miz Talbot and Mr. Andrews here. Be damned sure you do not fail to answer the phone one solitary time should they call.
If
they figure this out in spite of your disgraceful breach of trust which nearly allowed an innocent man to be tried for murder—put at risk of his very life—
if
they are able to accomplish this
before
the trial and
if
in fact there is no trial for Clint Gerhardt,
then
I will consider allowing you to keep your freedom. Now get your sorry ass the hell out of my sight.”

TWENTY-THREE

  

That afternoon, we went back to the case board. Nate paced and alternately squeezed and tossed a stress ball in the air. I sat on the sofa. Rhett alternated sitting by me and following Nate. I made some adjustments to our case board and we pondered the remaining possibilities.

Suspect
Motive

Unknown Lover Crime of Passion/Keep a secret

Unknown Wannabe Lover Jealousy

Spouse of Lover/Wannabe Jealousy

Girlfriend of Sonny's

Girlfriend of Unsub

Book Club Member Jealousy/Anger

Delta Tisdale

Evelyn or Edward Izard (Neighbors)

Nick or Margaret Venning (Neighbors)

Unknown Wannabe Lover (Clint)

  

“What about Ruth?” I said. “Her boyfriend may not have wanted her unborn child, but what if there was an emotional exchange between her and Shelby? Shelby would've let her in the house, no doubt. She likely would've welcomed a chance to spend more time with Ruth. Maybe Shelby thought she'd finally introduce her to Clint.”

I moved to the desk and pulled up the photo of Eli and Shelby, the original, uncropped version. To Eli's right was a woman whose head reached his shoulder. “I'll start a profile on her.”

“All due respect to your empathy for the woman, but my money is on Delta Tisdale,” said Nate.

I shook my head. “I just don't believe that.” I zoomed in and studied Ruth more closely. A lovely woman, she favored Eli.

And then I saw it. “Hell's. Bells.”

“What?” said Nate.

“Come look at this.”

He moved behind me.

“Look at this guy, two people back from Ruth, in the crowd. See those bright blue sunglasses with wings?”

“Yeah, but I can't make out who that is, can you?”

“Not clearly. And that's the point. He doesn't want to be recognized. But I've seen those sunglasses before. I have a strong suspicion that is Edward Izard. And the skinny redhead on his arm? Is most assuredly not his wife.”

Nate leaned over my shoulder and squinted at the screen. “Pull up another photo of Edward Izard.”

I Googled him and selected images. He appeared on the screen with Evelyn at a variety of events, and a few times with a young woman in her early twenties who was a younger version of Evelyn.

Nate said, “They just have the one daughter?”

“And one son.” I suddenly wished I hadn't zoned out while Evelyn had been chattering on and on at book club. “When Colleen stayed at book club after I left, Mariel Camp was thinking about how Edward was having an affair with a girl his daughter's age.”

“That could be him,” Nate said. “But with the sunglasses, and in a crowd…it's not a clear enough image to say for sure.”

I clicked back to the digital photo from the hotel lobby and studied it some more. “Oh, it's Edward all right. This explains everything.”

I called Delta.

She answered on the second ring.

“Delta,” I said, “I need to ask you something confidentially.”

“Of course,” she said. “Anything I can do to help.” The eagerness in her voice didn't escape me.

“Tell me about the Izards. Clearly they're wealthy. Was that her family money, his, or both?”

“Well, Evelyn was a Middleton,” she said, as if that explained everything.

“Okay, but that family tree has many branches, some leafier than others,” I said.

“Evelyn's parents left her several hundred million dollars. She was an only child.”

“And Edward?”

“Well, of course the Izards had money. But the story is that his father lost it all in one failed business venture after another. My understanding is that Evelyn and Edward have an ironclad prenup. If they divorce, he gets nothing. If anything happens to Evelyn, a sizable portion of it goes to charity. Evelyn didn't tell me that herself, you understand. But it's common knowledge.”

TWENTY-FOUR

  

Sonny agreed to meet us at The Pirates' Den for dinner. Stella Maris was safer for all of us. It was a Monday night, so the island's favorite restaurant/bar/hangout wasn't crowded. We grabbed a table by the window overlooking the ocean and ordered a pound of boiled shrimp and a pitcher of margaritas to start. The owner, and customary bartender, John Glendawn—Moon Unit's father—delivered the margaritas himself.

“Shrimp and grits is the special tonight,” said John. “Y'all ready to order or you want to work on this a while?”

My mouth started watering. “Shrimp and grits for me.”

Sonny and Nate both echoed my order, and John headed back to the kitchen.

“Sonny? I get that you felt you couldn't betray Eli's confidence,” I said. “And I admire that. But now that he's told us the whole sad story about Ruth and how Shelby wanted to adopt her children, we can talk freely amongst ourselves, right?”

Sonny seemed to mull that for a minute, then said, “It looks that way.”

I showed him the photo I'd printed out of the man I believed was Edward Izard. “Have you ever seen this man before?”

Sonny took the photo and the magnifying glass I handed him. “It's hard to say for sure it's the same guy from this photo. But one Tuesday right before Christmas, Shelby and I were coming down in the elevator. Eli stayed behind to spend some time with Ruth and his nephew. Most of the time Ruth stayed overnight in the room Shelby had already paid for. She was taking advantage of the luxury, knowing what lay ahead for her.

“Anyway, Shelby and I walked out of the elevator and this guy with a redhead—her I recognize—came off the other elevator. I guess they were involved with each other, not looking where they were going. They ran right into us. Literally. They started apologizing, then Shelby and the guy recognized each other. Both of them looked shocked. It was a little awkward. She introduced him as her neighbor. I don't recall the name. He introduced the redhead as his niece in from out of town. We all said hello. They apologized again for bumping into us. Shelby was afraid he would think there was something inappropriate going on between us. And that was that.”

“Except it wasn't,” I said.

“Explain,” said Sonny.

A waitress set a platter of boiled shrimp on ice with slices of lemon on the table. We all reached for shrimp, but kept talking.

“Did Shelby mention anything else to you about the incident?” I asked.

Sonny shook his head. “I wouldn't call it an incident. Some guy and his niece bumped into us. They apologized. That was all.”

“Sonny.” I cocked my head to one side. “Did you buy that was his niece?”

Sonny shrugged. “I never gave it any thought. Shelby didn't contradict it.”

“I'd bet Gram's silver that was his mistress,” I said.

Sonny mulled that a minute, chewed on a shrimp.

Nate said, “You and Shelby felt awkward, you said. You were thinking how it looked for y'all. But Edward Izard—that's Shelby's neighbor—he was worried about how it looked
to
y'all.”

I explained the rumors about the Izard prenup. “We need to get ahold of a copy of that document.”

Sonny's forehead creased. “You're thinking Edward killed Shelby because she saw him with another woman and might tell his wife?”

“Exactly,” I said. “And now he's taking shots at you.”

“But why wouldn't he have done that months ago?” asked Sonny.

“My theory is that he likely tried. He's not a very adept criminal. Shelby was easy. If my theory is right, he rings the bell, she sees her neighbor, maybe is a little nervous because she hasn't told Clint yet what she's been doing at Market Pavilion hotel. She lets him in. Either she invites him up to the library where she's already having wine, or she goes to get her glass and offers to bring him one. Either way, he follows her upstairs and pushes her out the window. She never saw it coming because it either never occurred to her that he was having an affair, or she just figured it was none of her business.”

Nate said, “With you, it would've been much harder because you didn't have a relationship with him. Also, it would've taken a lot more nerve to directly attack you than Shelby. He would've used an entirely different method. Do you remember anything unusual happening around that time?”

Sonny squinted. “Like what?”

Nate said, “Anyone following you. Maybe a break-in.”

“He would've preferred it to look like an accident, I'm thinking,” I said. “Especially coming right around the same time as Shelby's death.”

Sonny was quiet for a long moment. “Two things, now that I think about it. Son of a bitch. I had a gas leak the night before Shelby died. Fortunately, I smelled the stuff they put in natural gas to make it stink when I opened the door. Never flipped the light switch. Called the fire department, later a plumber. I figured old house, old pipes. A potential disaster I was lucky to avoid.

“Two nights later, I was coming home from work and my brakes failed. Fluid leak. I thought it was just a run of bad luck. But if it was Edward, why would he stop there?”

I said, “My guess is when no one questioned him regarding Shelby's death, he figured you didn't remember the incident in the hotel, or you didn't think it was significant.”

“Which was in fact the case,” said Sonny.

“This feels right to me,” I said. “Edward would've had the resources to bribe Paul Baker. After he was fired and we were hired, maybe Edward decided he needed to clean up his loose ends. Probably went looking for Baker, but couldn't find him. Edward escalates, takes a few shots at you. After I came to his home, he figured maybe I suspected him, so he decided I was a risk as well. The guy's a fanatical runner. My guess is, he stole cars from depressed neighborhoods, did quick drive-bys, ditched the cars, and ran home. Guy like him out jogging at night doesn't fit the profile of a shooter.”

“We have a workable theory of the crime—crimes,” said Nate. “Now all we have to do is prove it.”

TWENTY-FIVE

  

Nate dressed in running togs and followed Edward when he left the house at one that Tuesday afternoon. We had in earpieces to communicate.

I waited in the lobby of Market Pavilion Hotel wearing a grey wig, stage makeup, granny glasses, a frumpy dress, and sensible shoes.

At 1:05, Nate said, “He ran to the end of Tradd. Now he's barely jogging. I'm having to walk to stay far enough behind him.”

At 1:10, Nate said, “He's slowed to a walk. Now he's headed in the door. Yeah. Runner my ass. He's just running around. Handing him off to you.”

I looked up as Edward walked in the door. Surreptitiously, I took several photos as he checked in and walked towards the elevator. Then I stood and followed him.

“Oh, could you hold the elevator, please?” My voice was feeble.

“Yes, ma'am.” He pressed a button, and the doors stayed open.

I stepped onto the elevator.

“What floor?” he asked.

“Oh, I'm going up to the rooftop to meet my granddaughter for lunch,” I said.

“Lovely day for it,” Edward said.

“It is, isn't it? She's such a sweetheart.”

When he got off on the third floor, he said, “Have a nice lunch.”

“Thank you so much, young man.” I pressed the button to go back to the lobby. I glanced toward the front as I made a U-turn off the elevator and moved quickly towards the ladies' room. Nate sat at a table in the lobby bar by the window. “He got off on three,” I said into my mic.

I passed through the elegant vestibule and into the bathroom. Inside a stall, I removed my wig and changed clothes. Then I moved to the mirror and used makeup remover wipes to clean the little old lady off my face.

“Here's the redhead,” Nate said into my earpiece. “I'm headed to the elevator. She's picking up a key.”

A few minutes later, I heard him say, “Ladies first,” and then, “Three please.” He'd let her on before him so she'd swipe her key, then asked for the floor he knew she'd press before she pressed it. At least that was the plan.

I listened as they rode in silence.

A few minutes later, Nate said, “I slipped the transmitter into her purse. She went into 326. It's at the end of the hall. Any number above 320 will work.”

I rolled up my granny outfit, stuffed it into my purse, and went to check in. “Could I please have room 326? My husband and I stayed there the weekend we got engaged. It has sentimental value. He's meeting me this evening.”

“I'm so sorry, ma'am.” The fresh-faced, eager-to-help clerk today was a young man. “That room is taken.”

I gave him my best distressed female look. “Oh no. Well, what's the next closest room available?”

“I could offer you 328 or 301. I'm afraid that's all we have on the third floor.”

“Three twenty-eight, please.”

I gave him my ID and credit card, and a few minutes later I had a key. I took the elevator to the third floor, and Nate and I went into room 328 and set up our receiving and recording station.

In case we ever needed it, we recorded what went on in room 326 that afternoon. Nate put on the headphones and listened so I didn't have to. We needed to know when they were leaving.

An hour later, Nate laid down the headphones and picked up the camera. We listened as the door to the next room closed. I quietly opened our door, and Nate stepped out into the hall long enough to snap a picture of the two of them cuddling and sucking face as they walked towards the elevators.