by Bill Noel
“That’s not the kind of secret people keep without bragging.”
“I’ll admit if she’s lying, she’s excellent at it. I still think she’s the number one suspect. Treasure map or not, she has motive.”
“Insurance?”
“Yes.”
Charles looked out the windshield and tapped his hand on the armrest. “If she’s guilty, how do you explain someone taking potshots at her?”
“She could’ve taken the first one herself. Remember, she told us a different version of where she was than she told the police. There were no witnesses.”
“She couldn’t have taken the second shot. We were there.”
“That, I can’t explain.”
“See, it ain’t her,” Charles said, once again tapped his hand on the armrest. “What about other suspects? How about the story going around that Anthony stumbled on a drug transfer from a boat? That’d be an isolated spot for a transfer, especially since no one was supposed to be there after dark. It’s easy to see how Anthony might’ve seen them and been awarded with a bullet.”
“It’s possible. It seems unlikely that the killer would wait days to take shots at Laurie. The odds she saw him at the Preserve would’ve been slim.”
“Abraham Gant?”
“He’d talked to Anthony a few days before the murder. From what’s been said, Anthony talked about a buried treasure more than was wise, so he could’ve told Gant. Everyone knows Gant goes bananas when there’s talks about digging up things from the past, be it treasure, or Civil War uniform buttons.”
“With him being a retired cop, he’d have a gun, and know how to use it,” Charles said.
“Add to that, he knew about the murder before it was widespread knowledge. He didn’t have qualms about saying he was glad Anthony was dead. Cindy questioned him. He didn’t have a solid alibi for the time of the murder.”
Charles turned to me as I pulled in his parking lot. “How are we going to prove he killed Anthony?”
“Charles, the police are aware of everything we know about Gant. I’m sure they’re looking at him.”
“Didn’t Cindy tell you Detective Callahan is up to his coiffured hair with other cases? When’s he going to have time to investigate Gant?”
“What do you propose?”
“Hey, you’re the brains of our crime fighting duo. I’m the one who goes along then stumbles into catching bad guys.”
I’ve worked hard over the years ignoring Charles’s remarks about us being a crime fighting duo, or that he’s a private detective. I was clueless about what to do to uncover Gant as the killer, so I ignored his comment.
Charles stared at me and must’ve figured a solution wasn’t forthcoming. “Here’s another thought. What about Gail?”
“What about her?”
“Think about it. She could’ve known about the treasure map since she was such good friends with Laurie. When someone first shot at Laurie, Gail was here. Allegedly, she’d gone to the grocery. It doesn’t take a genius to figure she could’ve been the shooter.”
That reminded me of the first time I talked with Gail when she’d said that she and Dean were supposed to be visiting Anthony and Laurie to search for relics. They knew about the search. Did they know about the treasure map?
“Charles, she was four hours away in Jacksonville when Anthony was shot.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t. Do you think she and her never-speaking husband are in it together?”
“Probably not. Didn’t you tell me Dean was somewhere other than Jacksonville? That was the reason they hadn’t gone to visit Anthony and Laurie?”
“A tire retailers’ meeting in Tallahassee.”
Charles held out his arms and smiled, “Aha. Dean didn’t know where Gail was. Her alibi about being in Jacksonville has more holes than a block of Swiss cheese.”
Charles had a point, although I wasn’t ready to move Gail to the top of the list. Time to throw out another possibility.
“What about Stanley Kremitz?”
Charles lowered his arms. “Stanley? You think he killed Anthony with a cliché?”
I grinned. “No. That would’ve been a slower, much more painful death. Think about it. Stanley knew Harnell Levi. According to Stanley, Levi told him about a map. Each time I’ve seen him since the murder, he’s asked if I’ve heard anything about the killer then he pushes the theory it’s Gant.”
“I haven’t given Stanley a speck of thought. I can’t picture him shooting anyone.”
“That doesn’t mean he didn’t.”
“Does Cindy know your harebrained theory about the cliché king?”
“No.”
“This is where if I told you what you told me you’d pat me on the back, then say it was none of our business, that I should take my ideas, regardless how stupid, to the police.”
I hated it when Charles was right. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do once I leave your parking lot.”
I called Cindy on my way home. She was with Larry at a plumbing supply house in Charleston. I said that I could call her when she got back to Folly. She said my call was a gift from heaven. It would give her an excuse to not “ooh and ah” when Larry showed her the latest, greatest, high-tech toilets. I shared my ideas about possible suspects. When I finished, she said looking at toilets may not have been the worse idea after all.
Despite her faux lack of enthusiasm about my ideas, she’d take me seriously.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Theo called the next afternoon to share news about Grace’s food truck. He’d talked to several local restaurant owners to explain what happened. Even though they competed for dining dollars, the owners were a tightknit group that helped each other in times of need. This was no exception. They pitched in to loan Grace the equipment needed to open Hot Diggity Dog!
Additionally, she had received her permit so, by the next day, she would be serving the best hot dogs found anywhere east of the Mississippi. Theo had done a taste test and couldn’t swear hers were the best east of the Mississippi, but said it was the best he’d eaten. He ended by inviting me to a celebratory dinner with him and Grace the next evening at Magnolias, one of Charleston’s finest restaurants. He was driving and buying. I asked what time.
Theo didn’t have Charles’s obsession about being early. He pulled in my drive at 6:00, the time he’d said he’d be there. I slid onto the soft leather backseat in his Mercedes. Grace rewarded me with a charming smile, while Theo thanked me for joining them. I told him I was honored to have been invited. Theo had on a navy sport coat and gray slacks, dressed more formally than I’d ever seen him. Grace wore a pale-yellow silk blouse and black linen slacks. I felt underdressed in a long-sleeve, blue striped shirt and tan chinos.
“Where’s Sal?” I asked as we pulled off the island.
“I invited him. He declined, thank goodness. The night will be better without a joke machine with us. Said he’d met a couple of Folly old-timers who meet at the Crab Shack nearly every night to swap tall tales, share opinions on everything from the mayor to the president, while putting away a beverage or two. Sal said they love, he put air quotes around love, his jokes and stories from the comedy circuit.
They’d get over it, I thought, then lied saying I was sorry he couldn’t make it.
I’d never been in Theo’s car and was mesmerized by its smooth ride as we weaved through Charleston’s streets lined with stately mansions and years of history on our way to the East Bay Street restaurant. I could get used to being chauffeured. A valet met us at the door, whisked the car off while another employee held the door of the restaurant known for its contemporary Lowcountry cuisine. I wasn’t certain what that meant but, from everything I’d heard about the white-tablecloth restaurant, the food was outstanding. Besides, for once, someone else was paying.
We were seated by a window, overlooking the street, and greeted by a server who, with great flourish, handed Theo the wine list. I got a glimmer of Theo’s l
ife as a successful businessman before he retired in bohemian comfort on Folly when he ordered a bottle of expensive Champaign pronouncing its French name correctly, or so I assumed. Theo told the server we were celebrating the opening of another fine restaurant in the Lowcountry. Like the professional he was, the waiter said congratulations. He didn’t enquire about what he could have perceived to be a new competitor.
“Grace,” I said, “how was your first day of business?” I’d asked the same question on the ride over, but Theo said for us to wait until we were at the restaurant.
She gave me a high-wattage smile. “Exhilarating, and exhausting. I underestimated the quest for gourmet hot dogs on Folly.”
Gourmet was not a word often bandied around on Folly, but I knew what she’d meant. “I’m thrilled for you.”
The server returned with our bubbly, adroitly uncorked it, then poured a taste in Theo’s flute. Theo waved it off saying he was certain it was acceptable. The server poured each glass to a third full then continued pouring until each flute was near full.
Theo raised his glass. “Here’s to Folly’s newest eating establishment and its lovely proprietress.”
Grace looked around like she didn’t know who Theo was referring to, then she said, “If, dear sir, you are referring to me, I’m honored.”
I was pleased to see Theo and Grace on better terms than when they’d met.
Theo asked if we wanted an appetizer.
I said I’d get anything that the two of them wanted.
Grace took a sip of Champaign and tilted her flute to Theo. “Anything but hot dogs.”
Theo laughed and said that he didn’t think Magnolias was that fine a dining establishment. He waved the server over and ordered house-made potato chips and pimento cheese with Charleston flatbread.
“Did anything surprise you?” I asked the proprietress.
“California is known for its laid-back citizens. I wasn’t certain what to expect on this side of the country. Mon, was I surprised. As dad would say, ‘Gi laugh fi peas soup.’ ”
“Which means?” I said.
“The literal translation is, ‘Give laughs for peas soup.’ ”
Theo tilted his head. “Which means?”
Grace laughed. “To joke around, to have a good time. Everyone, okay, nearly everyone, who stepped up to the service window seemed happy. They joked. They laughed, smiled, were cheerful. It was, how shall I say it, umm energizing to feel so welcomed. Two men came back to buy more hot dogs. They said they would tell everyone how great they were.”
Appetizers arrived and, while Grace and Theo grabbed a potato chip each, I said, “Are you going to hire someone to help?”
Grace put her hand in front of her mouth as she finished the chip. “That would be preferable although, with my expenses, plus the need to replace the damaged equipment, I’m afraid it will be a long time. That’s what I told two young gentlemen who stopped by to see if I was hiring. It was the second time one of them stopped to ask. I told him to check back in a few weeks.”
Theo nodded, “If business continues like today, that day might come sooner rather than later.”
Grace raised her flute. “I’ll drink to that.”
Theo and I did as well.
A half hour later, Grace was eating blue crab stuffed rainbow trout, while Theo and I were savoring grilled fillets of beef. The festive conversation bounced around from the fantastic weather of the last week; Grace wondering how many hours the carriage horses worked in a day; Theo sharing stories from his world of work; and, I told how Charles and I managed to catch not one, but two murderers because of the walking group that Theo, Charles, and I were in. Grace’s laughter was interspersed with yawns. I was amazed she’d managed to stay awake. I attributed it to my charm and winning personality. I suspected it was due to her being able to relax around her father-in-law.
Grace’s phone interrupted a humorous story about one of her customers who wanted to pay with a fifty-euro banknote. She apologized for the interruption then answered.
Her face turned from a frown to a look of shock as she listened to whoever was on the other end. She put her hand over the phone and asked Theo, “How long will it take us to get to Folly?”
Theo said a half hour. Grace repeated that in the phone, then hit end call. She put her hand over her face and shook her head.
Theo put his arm around her shoulder. “What’s wrong, dear?”
She threw her napkin on the table. “That was Chief LaMond. My truck’s ablaze.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Theo may be one of the slowest walkers above ground. He may need police to stop traffic on Folly when he crosses streets with the walking group. Throw all that out the window when he’s faced with a crisis. In fewer than five minutes, he’d paid the tab and summoned the valet to pull the Mercedes to the side of the building. Twenty minutes later, after running two yellow lights and, don’t tell anyone, one red, we were crossing the bridge to Folly. Off to the left, I saw the flashing red lights from one of Folly’s fire vehicles and blue lights from a police cruiser beside Theo’s house.
Grace gasped.
Theo put his free hand on her arm as he turned on his street before skidding to a stop in his neighbors’ gravel drive. Spotlights from the fire engine focused on the cab of the food truck backed into Theo’s drive.
Two firefighters were rolling up hoses, one from a hydrant across the street, the other from the side of the fire apparatus. A wisp of smoke rose from the truck’s blackened, cracked windshield.
Grace was already out of the car and being restrained by one of the firefighters after she tried to enter the truck. The logo wrap on the side had warped from the heat. A front tire was flat, melted rubber oozed from the door.
Theo and I approached the vehicle as the words total loss came to mind. I was heartbroken for Grace.
Chief LaMond came around the back of the vehicle and saw us standing with the distraught owner. She approached Grace. “I’m sorry.”
Grace stared at the truck, her fists were balled, her shoulders sagged. I couldn’t tell if she’d heard Cindy.
Theo moved to Grace’s side then Cindy came over to where I was.
“We were fortunate,” she said as she looked at the totaled vehicle.
Fortunate wouldn’t have been a word I would’ve chosen to describe what I saw. The smell of burning rubber, mixed with a whiff of burnt meat, filled the air. “Fortunate?”
“The fire didn’t reach the propane tank on the back of the truck avoiding an eruption, or explosion, which could’ve been catastrophic.”
I shook my head.
“And,” she continued, “when we got here the flames were pouring out the side of the truck, coming within a hair of Theo’s house. If our guys hadn’t gotten water on the house when they did, we’d be looking at a crispy McMansion.”
Theo was still comforting Grace.
I said, “Cindy, any idea what caused it?”
“I’ll let the arson investigator figure that out, but I’d guess it was set. It got too hot too quick. We were fortunate to contain the damage.”
“Hot Diggity Dog! has been on Folly mere days and already broken in twice, now this,” I said, more to myself than to Cindy.
She looked at the vehicle. “Don’t guess we’ll worry about more break ins.”
“You may not want to comfort Grace with that insight.”
Cindy rolled her eyes, then asked where Theo, Grace, and I had been when she called.
I explained where we were and why. Cindy muttered a profanity, then said, “Did Grace say anything about being afraid of anyone, or anything, strange happening to her?”
“Like someone telling her he was going to torch her truck?”
“That’d be a clue.”
“The opposite,” I said. “Her first day was a tremendous success. She was thrilled by the reception she’d received.”
“I heard the same thing. I was planning on stopping by tomorrow for lunch. Suppose I�
��ll have to change plans.”
“Anyone see anybody around the truck?”
“None I know about. My guys canvassed the neighbors, who said that they hadn’t seen anyone. Somebody driving by might have but, unless they do their civic duty and come forward, we’ll never know.”
The chief looked at her men loading the remaining fire-equipment on the truck. “I’ll talk to Grace tomorrow after I have more information from the arson investigator, and she has time to get over the initial shock.” She turned to head to her vehicle then stopped. “One more thing, Chris. I talked to Detective Callahan this afternoon. He said one of the other guys in his office was telling him there’s been an uptick in drugs being offloaded from boats along the coast. One was caught last weekend near Edisto. He thinks there’s a better than even chance the Fitzsimmonses were in the wrong place at the wrong time with Anthony stumbling on a drug deal.”
“So Callahan’s back on the case?”
“He’s swamped. His drug guys are looking at it.”
Anthony may’ve stumbled on a drug deal, but that didn’t explain two attempts on Laurie’s life. I asked Cindy to let me know if she learned anything. She said that she lived for the sole purpose of sharing everything law-enforcement related with me. I grinned as I thanked her. She mumbled another profanity then left to talk to Grace.
I looked in the truck where the smell of burnt rubber, incinerated hot dogs, and melted plastic was so strong that I had to step away from the vehicle. I couldn’t fathom how Hot Diggity Dog! would serve another meal.
“Holy hot dog!” screamed Sal.
I turned to see him shuffle down the drive toward Theo and Grace.
He put his hand on his forehead psychic-style and said, “I see a fire sale in the future.”
Theo waved his hand in Sal’s face. “Sal, can it.”
Sal stopped in front of Grace, leaned from side to side, possibly a result of hours sharing whatever he’d been sharing with his new buddies at the Crab Shack. He lowered his head. “Sorry, Grace. Sometimes, I’d like to smack myself for being so insensitive.”
