Twenty-Two
UNCONVENTIONAL? WHAT DOES that mean? Was there a partner-swapping situation and someone became upset? Could Jean be right about that? How would Echo figure into that?
Again, Meg had more questions than answers. The only thing she knew for certain was that she must have lived a dull life. There certainly were a lot of people who were promiscuous, committing adultery, and addicted to drugs and alcohol. Had she been sheltered?
“I don’t get it, LaRue. Where’s their conscience? Well, I met two people today who might have some moral fiber, Ginny and I can’t remember the other woman’s name.”
LaRue rolled over on her back and kept her eyes shut. The heat might be too much for her. Meg opened the door and LaRue skittered inside, dropping down on the cool tile floor in the kitchen. Meg considered doing the same. Instead, she made a glass of iced tea and took a seat at the island facing out the kitchen window toward the Charles house. It was becoming a habit, like the house might tell her something.
Thinking back on the night she watched a car arrive for the first time across the road, there were things she hadn’t thought about before. While Echo made a nuisance of herself, Meg hadn’t seen or met Leon. Could he have been the body carried out of the Charles house recently? She didn’t even know for sure that she’d seen him running toward the water at night when she and Jean peered through the telescope. The images were fleeting, fuzzy, and it had been dark. They all had longish hair and thin bodies. She couldn’t swear to whether they were women or men. Had any of them been Leon?
Tom had taken the cigarette butts he’d bagged to Hendrix to maintain the chain of evidence. He told Meg he’d do it on his way out of town. He was hesitant to deliver it to Jamaica Beach, and Meg assured him she had a good feeling about Hendrix, even though she wasn’t as professional as Crawford had been.
Tom had laughed. “Not many officers are as stoic as Crawford. I love her, but she’s always professional, never letting her guard down, even with other officers.”
“I love her too,” Meg had told him. “I’m sure it’s harder for a female in that line of work. Cut her some slack, Tom.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, with his wide boyish grin and a salute.
Tom had texted to let her know Hendrix was thankful for the evidence and promised to handle it from there. There was no guarantee Meg would ever know any more about it; Hendrix wasn’t as communicative as Crawford and Tom had been in the Hillard case.
Meg already missed Tom, even though he’d only been gone a short while. He felt like a younger brother to her, someone she’d known in another life. Her older brother was watchful and bossy, always taking charge. Tom was easygoing and playful, once she got to know him as an FBI agent and not his persona at the foundation. He listened and genuinely considered her input. She enjoyed his company and thought they would always be friends.
Thoughts of Tom made Meg think of her own family, her mother’s family. More and more she had thoughts about them, questions. She couldn’t remember her mother’s maiden name, wasn’t sure she’d ever known it to begin with. Isn’t that something everyone knows? It’s always a security question, and I never choose it because I don’t know the answer. It wasn’t the first time Meg had had questions about her mother’s family recently. It meant something, but she wasn’t sure what.
“Am I naïve, LaRue? Is the whole world screwing each other and I know nothing about it? I am, after all, a product of the ’60s. I might’ve gone skinny-dipping a time or two. I didn’t believe it when my brother told me I’d go blind if I had sex, but still, what are people playing at? Both of these situations seem to hinge on lifestyle choices. Maybe they all do? What do I know?”
A car was barreling down the sandy drive toward the cottage. Meg watched until it was almost to the house. Scraping the bar stool back across the tile, waking LaRue, Meg went onto the deck as an SUV pulled up close to the walkway. Two women exited the car. One looked up and waved.
“It is you. I’d hoped we’d found the right house. Evie thought it might be one of those on the other side of the road.” It was Ginny.
Meg inhaled, thankful for another opportunity to talk to the women. She noted Evie’s name, not wanting to forget it again. “Hello there. It’s me. Come on up.”
Serving tea in the living area, Meg was anxious to resume their earlier conversation. Ginny wore a polo and white shorts, a clue that she’d most likely played golf earlier. “Are you a golfer?” Meg asked.
“Yes I am,” Ginny said. “How did you know?”
“You have such a nice even tan. Do you play every day?”
Ginny gave a broad smile, showing perfectly straight white teeth. “I’d like to play that much, but I still have a real estate business to tend to. If I ever get to retire, I’ll play every day.”
“I’m glad you two found me,” Meg admitted. “Our conversation ended so suddenly earlier. You were telling me about Linda’s unconventional lifestyle.”
“Yes,” Evie said. “That’s why we wanted to clarify what we were saying. We’ve heard you’re talking with the police in Galveston, or the sheriff, whoever’s doing the investigation. Someone said they questioned you the day Echo’s body was found.”
“That’s true. In a way, I identified the body. Echo came over here several times, and I was able to see her various tattoos and confirm the clothing I’d observed, things like that,” Meg said.
“There are some things we think law enforcement should be aware of, but we have no idea how to go about letting them know. Neither of us wants to be seen providing information. We have to live here, and I have the business to think of,” Ginny confided.
“I see. But if you have information, you need to talk to them yourself. Anything you say to me would be hearsay and of no use,” Meg explained, offering to pour more tea.
Ginny held her glass up to accept. “Here’s the thing. It’s not evidence or facts, but if the investigators believe one thing and in fact a person is something else, they might miss looking at something. That’s the deal. Not really like we know who did the crime, but people aren’t always what they seem.”
Meg moved toward Evie, filling her glass also. “I’m confused. Explain what you mean by that.” She placed the pitcher on a tray on the coffee table.
Ginny looked to Evie. “You want to explain it?”
“Sure, I don’t mind.” Evie sat forward, moving to the edge of the sofa. “Linda is bisexual.” She dropped her head, her lips a straight line across her face. “We went to high school with her. She’s always lived that way, and most people don’t know it. She kept her girlfriends a secret because it just wasn’t accepted back then, but she had boyfriends, mainly for show. Linda’s still a pretty woman, but back then, when she was young, she was drop-dead gorgeous. She could’ve had any boy on the island.”
“I see, but what does that have to do with anything?” Meg asked.
Ginny turned her body toward Meg. “It significantly complicates the jealousies. It’s followed Linda her entire life. We’re not judging her lifestyle. She can be a lesbian, bisexual, whatever, that makes no difference. Her promiscuity, manipulation, deceit, hysterics, alcoholism, and maybe mental illness—she is a Charles, after all—contribute to this complicated game she plays with her sexual partners. She might settle down for a year or two and seem to be satisfied with a man, but it never lasts long and the building tension erupts, taking whoever is around her down with her.”
Ginny set her glass on a shell-shaped coaster. “The sad thing is Jeffery always ends up picking up the pieces. He’s followed his mother and tried to monitor her, but there’s no way he can. She’ll call him to come rescue her and make promises, but she can’t keep them.”
Evie leaned back into the sofa, nodding. “Yeah, Jeffery’s the real victim in Linda’s dramas now. The rest of the family has written her off, but Jeff’s still loyal and stands by her, no matter what.”
“Do you think he’d do anything to sabotage an investigation?” M
eg asked.
“Why would you say that?” Evie snapped. “I would seriously doubt that, but I’d also doubt anyone would let him be in that position. That kid is the salt of the earth.”
“Okay, so are there specific people besides Tony she’s been involved with?”
Ginny tilted her head toward the ceiling. “How long do you have, sugar?”
Twenty-Three
STEPPING OVER LARUE to get to the kitchen sink, Meg placed the used glasses in the basin. As she washed them, she thought about the conversation with Evie and Ginny.
Evie had been protective of Jeffery. She’d barked at Meg when she hinted at sabotage of evidence. There could be a relationship there—nephew, stepson, cousin, who knew? She said no one would allow him to be in a position to sabotage. Who else protected Jeffery?
The only thing that was certain was there were possibly two bodies, and according to Hendrix, Echo’s might’ve been purposefully disfigured.
“Jealousies,” the women had said.
Linda had been drop-dead gorgeous, according to them. Meg found all the women in the Charles family attractive, even Wanda, Katie’s grandmother. Linda’s good looks probably came from her mother. Jeffery was handsome, and during his visit to pick up Linda at the cottage, he had been polite and considerate of Meg. What do looks have to do with anything? But they do, Meg supposed. In this case, they certainly do. Especially if Echo’s murderer intended to disfigure her. Could that be a motive?
Drying the glasses she’d just washed, Meg stared out the window. The slant of the setting sun highlighted the tall grasses, and she could make out three dark figures at the edge of the road. She grabbed Paul’s binoculars from the top of the refrigerator and went out on the deck, bypassing the stairs to the wraparound porch toward the road.
“Coyotes,” she whispered as she watched through the lenses. There were three different sizes, maybe a family. She had heard them some nights howling after dark. It made her think of Echo’s body on the beach. She shuddered, not wanting to picture those wolf-like creatures pawing and sniffing at Echo, a gruesome thought. But wasn’t a human mutilating her even worse? Who could do that?
Meg stood in the light of the refrigerator, the door standing open, looking at the almost bare racks. There was leftover shrimp salad, part of a quart of milk and a hunk of cheese. No wine. Her heart had been set on a glass of white wine.
She swung the door closed and scooped up her purse from the counter to head to the liquor store in Jamaica Beach. Meg’s mouth watered at the thought of the gourmet crackers and chocolate-covered nuts they sold.
LaRue ran inside as Meg left, locking the door this time. There was a murderer out there somewhere, coyotes prowling behind the grasses, and unexpected guests periodically driving up the road. She didn’t want to take any chances. It would be a quick trip.
When Meg pulled into the parking lot in the strip center, there was only one other car there, a white Camaro. There was someone seated in the passenger seat. A slender female arm hung out the window, a cigarette dangling from thin fingers. Meg parked a space down on the driver side. The closer she walked toward the entrance, the surer she was that the passenger was Linda.
Meg approached the window. “Hello, Linda. How are you doing? Tony said you’ve been under the weather.”
Linda was jolted by Meg’s voice, as if she’d been daydreaming and hadn’t seen her approach. She squinted up, studying Meg’s face as if she was trying to remember something.
Drunk.
“Oh, hey, yeah. How are you?” Her speech was sluggish, the way it’d been when Meg had to call Jeff to pick Linda up from her house. The arm continued to dangle out the window. Meg didn’t want to stare, but there were bruises. When Linda turned her head toward the window, Meg almost gasped aloud. There was a long gash down her jawline from her ear to her chin.
“What happened, Linda?” Meg asked. “That’s a terrible cut on your face.”
Linda tilted her head back as her eyelids drooped and then jerked her head forward, like a child falling asleep at the table. Her hand went to her cheek. “Yeah, it hurts.” The ash on the cigarette fell to the ground, and Linda dropped the butt as the glow almost touched her fingers. “I’m not going to fight with anyone anymore. I’m over….”
Any coherence she may have had was gone. Her eyes closed and her head lolled to the side. Meg was concerned that she might not be breathing. She reached through the window and shook Linda’s shoulder, causing her to open her eyes briefly.
Continuing into the store, Meg glanced around, trying to determine who Linda was with. She spotted Rene’s head above a shelf near the wall cooler.
“Rene,” Meg said, rounding the corner of an aisle. “I just saw Linda. Is she okay?”
Rene jerked her head toward Meg. “Oh, hey. Linda’s drunk. She’s been drunk most of the day. It’s not uncommon.”
“I think she just passed out as I was talking to her. Scared me a little. There’s a nasty-looking cut on her face.”
Rene continued to gaze into the cooler. “Yeah, she’s been falling lately. We go through this with her off and on. It’s sad, really.”
“You doing all right?” Meg asked, looking at Rene’s bandaged arm. “What happened to your arm?”
“Dog bite,” Rene said, grabbing her arm and rubbing it. “It’s happened before. I have a cocker spaniel. She’s moody. Your friend still here?”
“No, Jean left last Friday and we finished off the wine, so I need to get another bottle.” Meg opened the cooler and removed two bottles of chardonnay. “Good to see you,” she called over her shoulder as she headed to the crackers.
“Oh, hey.” Rene approached her, lowering her head and her voice. “You know they’re looking at Katie for that murder?”
“What? Echo’s murder?” Meg whispered.
“Yeah. Linda’s torn up about it.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Meg said, stunned.
“Makes all the sense in the world.” Rene squinted with a rigid smile.
Meg gathered the crackers, chocolate-covered nuts, a log of soft cheese and a package of gum and put them all on the counter. She was numb as she moved in slow motion to pay for her selections, not believing that Katie could ever murder anyone. It made no sense.
She shot past Linda in the Camaro. The woman’s head slumped forward. Meg would let Rene deal with her friend; it was apparently a routine they were accustomed to.
As she drove back to the cottage, she thought about the injuries she’d witnessed on Linda, Rene, and Tony. Although Tony had claimed his stitches were due to the dermatologist, Meg didn’t believe it.
What’s going on? It was possible Linda had a recent fall. She’d seen her since Echo’s murder and she’d looked fine.
When Meg pulled off the main road to her long lane, she could see the taillights of a car parked near the cottage. As she got closer, she saw it was Ginny’s Lexus. Meg waved as she pulled around the car and under the cottage to the parking area. She could see two heads.
No one got out of the Lexus, so Meg walked toward it, wondering if it was wise, but she couldn’t think of anything else to do and not be rude.
“You okay?” Meg asked when Evie rolled down the window. The women were dressed in what the country club called smart casual.
“We’re fine,” Evie said, “but we left without explaining and it’s bothered us. Well, me.”
Ginny leaned forward, watching Meg’s face, but not saying anything.
“Would you like to come in? I just bought a bottle of wine. Two bottles, actually.”
“Just for a minute,” Evie replied. “We don’t need wine. We’re on our way to a party. I just asked Ginny to stop by so I could say something to you. We don’t have your phone number.”
“Sure. Pull up under the house next to my car. There’s no need to get sand in your shoes.”
Meg waited behind her car as Ginny pulled forward. They stood between the two cars as Evie spoke. “I might’ve been a
little snappy about Jeff when you mentioned him earlier. He’s a good boy. I have a daughter, and she and Jeff have been friends for a long time. He’s close to our family. I’m not fond of Linda, but that boy has been through a lot. I’m a little protective.”
“There’s something else we eluded to, but I want to make sure you understand.” Evie looked toward the dunes and inhaled, then puffed her cheeks. “It’s not just Linda and her lifestyle or her relationship with Tony. There’s something weird going on between her and Rene, though none of us can put our finger on it exactly. People make their own decisions about the way they live their lives, and far be it from me to judge that, but when it hurts other people, it’s just not right. I can close my eyes to some things and ignore it, but when a person continues to harm people I care about, I have to speak up.”
“You’re talking about Jeff?” Meg said.
“Yes.” Evie nodded. “He’s protective of his mother. Lord knows why, but he is.”
“If you suspect he may do something that would interfere with this investigation, you’re obligated to go to Detective Hendrix or someone in the sheriff’s department and tell them.” Meg leaned against her car. “I’m not someone who can do anything about any of this.”
“I know. I just didn’t want you to think negatively about Jeff.”
“I’ve met him once. I found him to be polite and respectful. That’s all I know about him. It’s just a little odd that he’s related to so many people involved here. Maybe it would be better if he wasn’t part of the investigation.” Meg shifted the bag in her arms. “I just saw Rene in the liquor store. She mentioned they may have a suspect, but I don’t think she knows for sure.” Meg was still reeling from what Rene had told her.
“I’m sure they’re looking at family,” Ginny said. “Who else could it be? Surely that boyfriend of Echo’s is the other dead person.”
Pelican Beach Murder Page 15
