LOWCOUNTRY BOOMERANG

by Susan M. Boyer

  All the photos of Trina Lynn on his walls. They were best friends, but even her mother said she wouldn’t’ve been surprised to learn they were seeing each other.

  Nate moved towards the sofa.

  “Wait,” I said.

  Nate stopped, looked at me expectantly.

  “Auggie and Trina’s relationship was close,” I said. “What if someone who has designs on Auggie misunderstood the situation? Thought he and Trina Lynn were lovers?”

  “Could’ve been any of the members of his harem. Except Jaelyn White. She’s black. Vicki was nearly certain the woman she saw was white, and the woman the twins saw—the same woman—was definitely white. Then again, all those girls were with Auggie the night of the murder, at the fire pit. His alibi alibis them as well.”

  “There’s that.” I bit my lip, chewed on it just a little. “But there’s a pathology there. Something about him and those women is off.”

  “I’ll give you that much. But right now my money is on one of Darius’s ex-wives.” Nate returned to the sofa and propped up his feet, commenced studying the case board.

  I turned back to Captain Olympia Price. But on paper she was as upstanding as they come. She was married, with three grown children and two grandchildren. She and her husband had lived in the same West Ashley neighborhood for more than twenty-five years, and she’d worked at the Charleston Police Department for nearly that long. She volunteered with a long list of charitable organizations. And I could find no connection between her and anyone related to our case.

  “Whatever is going on with Captain Price, we’re not going to find it with a computer,” I said.

  “Why don’t we walk through our current theory of the crime,” said Nate. “I think that would be helpful.”

  “Okay,” I said, “our perpetrator lured Trina Lynn to the alley on the pretext of giving her information regarding the petty officer’s case. This person was not connected to that particular story, but could’ve had a connection to another story.”

  “This person knew Trina Lynn had a history with Darius,” said Nate.

  “Right. She waits for Trina Lynn in the alley, or perhaps Trina got there first. Either way, they met in the alley around 10:00. They argued. And the woman shot Trina. Then she ran out the alley on the Queen Street end, crossed Queen, and walked left towards East Bay.”

  “She may have walked around a bit to see if anyone followed her. But pretty soon after that she must’ve headed down to White Point Garden. She was somewhere in that immediate area when Darius walked up and threw the bag in the trash can.”

  “Which had to have been pure luck—no one could’ve predicted he would even take a walk, much less discard a bag,” I said.

  “Right. But she’s a fast thinker. She saw him discard the bag, sign an autograph, take a photo, and she waited for a moment when no one else was around, then she dug the bag out and put the gun inside,” said Nate.

  “And Margie Sue and Mary-Lou saw her, and at that point she had changed clothes, but it had to have been the same person.”

  “The shopping bag she had with her. She probably stashed that somewhere with the long skirt and big shirt, then just pulled on the skirt and switched the hoodie for the shirt,” said Nate.

  “But Mo and Jim still had to be close enough that she could catch up to them and follow them back to 86 Cannon,” I said.

  “Right. She waits until their backs are to her, digs out the bag, sticks the gun inside, and hurries to catch up to them,” said Nate.

  “As soon as she sees where they’re staying, she calls the tip line and reports that she has witnessed Darius Baker dispose of a gun at White Point Garden, gives Mo Heedles’s name—she probably overheard her telling Darius her name for the autograph.”

  “The police run ballistics on the gun. It’s the murder weapon, but there are no prints on it, I’m guessing. Sonny knows the tip doesn’t smell right, but his bosses’ boss is sold,” said Nate.

  “The other thing we know about our culprit is that we have recently rattled them enough that they would try to blow us up,” I said.

  Nate rolled his lips in and out. “You know, you’re right. And that rules out a lot of people right there. We haven’t had enough time yet to rattle that many cages.” He took the eraser to the case board and rubbed off everyone we hadn’t had any contact with at all.

  “My gut tells me this is one of Auggie’s entourage. I’m going to vet those alibis some more,” I said. “They saw me driving the Explorer. They thought that was my car. Whoever it was, it was me they were trying to kill. They saw me going in and out of Auggie’s apartment twice in two days and saw me as a new threat on two fronts.”

  “I don’t know…that feels thin to me,” said Nate.

  “You just don’t know how devious women can be,” I said.

  “Is that a fact?”

  “Not me, of course.” I rolled my eyes at him. “I don’t have a devious bone in my body. Well, except in the line of duty.”

  “I’ll bear in mind you have those skills in your arsenal,” said Nate.

  “I’m going to start profiles on every one of Auggie’s entourage—except Jaelyn. And I want to know more about Olympia Price.”

  “I’ll verify arrivals for all of Darius’s ex-wives,” said Nate. “If one of them hired someone, the shooter has already left the country. That’s going to be hard to prove. We need access to banking records to trace payments, that sort of thing. That’s technology we don’t have. We’d need someone in law enforcement to get a warrant.”

  “Let’s put that in the contingency pile,” I said. “For after we’ve eliminated all the other possibilities.”

  I moved back to the sofa, curled up beside him, and mulled our revised case board. We’d deleted most of the men, but added Auggie’s women.

  Suspect Motives

  Spouse of Lover/WannabeJealousy

  - Julia Nance

  - August Lockwood’s admirers

  - Bailey Hart

  - Camille Shaw

  - Finn Weathers

  - Saige Martin

  - Yeats Collins

  Family

  - Georgia Causby Unknown

  - Laura Beth Causby Unknown

  - Sister-in-law Unknown

  Darius’s Ex-Wives Jealousy/Financial

  - Arianna English

  - Vivianne Whitley

  - Lily McAdams

  “We still have way too many unknown motives on this case board,” I said.

  “All we can do is eliminate the knowns one by one.”

  “Julia Nance didn’t know I was spying on her,” I said. “We can strike her because she has no idea who we are. She certainly didn’t try to kill us.”

  “Good point. I missed her.”

  “I hope it’s not one of Darius’s ex-wives,” I said. “I like him. I think he sincerely believes none of them are capable of murder. For his sake, I want him to be right. But all that money…Darius has giraffe money. That kind of money changes people. It doesn’t seem to have changed him though, not really.”

  An odd look passed across Nate’s face.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked.

  “Huh? Oh…nothing. I like Darius too. You think Colleen has him slotted for the empty council seat?”

  I scrutinized him. For the second time in the last few days, I had the feeling something was off with my husband. Something was bothering him, but he wasn’t ready to talk about it just yet.

  I said, “Of course she does. Otherwise she wouldn’t have spent three nights at the county jail.”

  Nate looked towards the ceiling. “Do you hear that?”

  “What?”

  “Sounds like a helicopter,” he said.

  I listened. It was unmistakable. I shrugged. “Could be. It’s after midnight. You ready fo
r bed?”

  “Why, Mrs. Andrews, I’m happy to escort you upstairs whenever you’re ready and tuck you in.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Nate, Rhett, and I were in the middle of our morning run on the beach when Mamma called. We slowed to a walk so I could answer.

  “Elizabeth, have you seen your father?” She was distraught.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “It’s 5:30 in the morning. Isn’t he at home?”

  “I woke up and he was gone. There’s no note. I have no idea what’s happened to him. He wasn’t feeling well yesterday. I told him it was because he was out in the night air riding around in the golf cart Thursday night like he didn’t have a lick of sense. His temperature was back up. I’m afraid he’s wandering around the town in a feverish state or something.”

  “Have you called Blake?”

  “Of course. He hasn’t seen him either. Neither has your sister.”

  “Mamma, try not to worry. He’s got to be on the island somewhere. We’ll find him. I’ll call you back.” I ended the call.

  “Daddy—”

  “I heard. You want to check in with Blake?”

  I’d already tapped the line in my favorites list. “I am.”

  Blake answered on the first ring. “I’m just walking into the station. I’ll get Sam and Rodney doing a grid search. Call me if you find him.”

  “We’ll be right there,” I said. “We can cover more territory if we divvy up the island into smaller chunks. We’ll help.”

  “Makes sense.”

  We ran back to the house, hopped in my car and zipped over to the police station, speeding and running red lights. I had barely stopped the car before we hopped out and ran into the police station.

  Blake stood by Nell’s desk with Rodney Murphy and Sam Manigault. Rodney was talking, stopped in mid-sentence. Blake massaged his temples, his eyes closed. They all looked at us when we rushed in.

  “Blake?” Just then I needed him to tell me Daddy was all right.

  “He’s at MUSC,” said Blake.

  “What? How?” The ferry was destroyed. Mamma had no idea where he was.

  Rodney said, “Blake, again, I swear it never occurred to me that your mamma didn’t know.”

  “He called 911 just before midnight. MUSC sent a helicopter.”

  Nate and I exchanged a glance.

  “He went to the hospital in a helicopter without Mamma?” I said. “Why on earth would he do that? How could that even happen?”

  “I don’t know,” said Blake. “We’ll have to ask him.”

  We borrowed Darius’s boat. Every other available boat that seated more than four people was in the rotation at the marina keeping people shuttled back and forth to the Isle of Palms Marina. Mamma, Nate and I, Blake, and Merry and Joe piled in. Blake drove the Chris Craft 36, which I might have enjoyed in other circumstances, to Ripley Light Marina off the Ashley River. I ordered an Uber to meet us and take us to the hospital. Poppy met us there.

  Mamma inquired at the desk and learned that Daddy had been admitted. We all went straight up to his room. Mamma pushed the door open and we all crowded in. He was sleeping. Tears slipped down Mamma’s face.

  She walked up to the left-hand side of the bed and laid her hand gently on his.

  He opened his eyes. “Red bird,” he said. “What are you doing here?” He blinked, looked around and saw the rest of us. He started to say something, then stopped and just laid there with his mouth open slightly.

  “Frank,” said Mamma. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, uh…I didn’t expect them to make such a fuss, really,” he said.

  “What happened? Why didn’t you wake me up?” Mamma asked.

  “Well, I woke up feeling hot,” Daddy said. “I was afraid my fever had gone back up even more. But…” He gestured with both hands. “Well, you were mad at me to begin with. I just thought I’d have the doctor take my temperature and I’d be straight back home. I didn’t expect to be drug across to the hospital in a helicopter.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Poppy. “Why did they bring you in the helicopter?”

  “Dad,” said Blake. “You called 911.”

  “Well, I thought it would ring over to the station, and Rodney would carry me over to Warren Harper’s,” said Daddy. “I felt a little disoriented, didn’t want to drive.”

  “Dad, you know we’re part of Charleston County’s centralized 911 now,” said Blake.

  “Well, I forgot about that,” said Daddy. “It was the middle of the night. I didn’t want to disturb your mamma. I thought I’d be right back. But when Rodney came to get me, the helicopter was already on the way. He carried me over to the high school and they had me strapped down on a stretcher and up in the air before I could explain.”

  Blake closed his eyes, massaged his temples.

  “The doctors here checked you over good, right?” I asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said. “They’ve run all kinds of tests.”

  “Why have they admitted you?” asked Mamma.

  “Well, you know how I’m afraid of heights,” said Daddy. “I really, really didn’t want to get in that helicopter. I had some kind of anxiety attack, they think it was. But at the time, they thought it was my heart.” Daddy chuckled. “They admitted me for observation.”

  For a minute we all just stared at him.

  Mamma said, “So in the middle of the night, you woke up, didn’t feel good, and instead of waking me up, you called 911.”

  “I didn’t want to disturb you. You’d had a bad day. You’d just got to sleep good,” said Daddy. “And you were still mad at me for going off in the golf cart.”

  “You scared me to death.” Mamma’s eyes were large. She was working on a good head of steam.

  “Well, Carolyn, I was just trying to be considerate,” said Daddy.

  “But you’re all right,” Merry confirmed.

  “I still have a fever, but the doctor said it’s nothing to worry about,” said Daddy.

  “That’s good,” said Mamma. She brushed his hair back from his face. “Because when you get home, I’m am going to cheerfully kill you. And I would be sorely disappointed to be robbed of that pleasure.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Poppy dropped everyone but me off at the marina. I called an Uber and went to the airport to rent a car. By 7:30, I was headed out of the airport and back towards Charleston in a cream-colored Ford Edge. I drove back to the marina and waited for Nate to return in Darius’s boat with our laptops and some basic equipment. We’d lost tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of equipment in the back of the Explorer. It would take weeks—and lots of money—to replace it all. Just then I was pondering the deductible on our insurance.

  It was almost 9:00 when Nate called and said he was pulling into the marina. I met him at the dock and helped move equipment to the back of the Edge.

  “Maybe we should both stay in town today,” said Nate. “I can work on my laptop from the passenger seat while you do your thing.”

  I tilted my head, flashed him a look that said, Give me a break.

  “Okay, fine. I’m headed back to the house then.” He kissed me goodbye. “Call me when you’re ready for me to pick you up.”

  Auggie agreed to meet me in the clubhouse at Cooper River Farms. I had no desire whatsoever to go back to his apartment. His entourage might well all have some sort of pathological attachment to him. But in my personal experience, he invited attention from any woman handy. They could likely all benefit from the counsel of a high-dollar therapist. The question was, which one of them was a killer?

  Architecturally, the clubhouse resembled a large farmhouse attached to a barn with a metal grain bin with huge windows in between the two. As I climbed the steps to the wide front porch, I scanned the area for any of Auggie’s groupies. If they were there, they were
well-hidden.

  The main room of the clubhouse had soaring ceilings and exposed beams. Auggie waited in a leather chair facing the stone fireplace. I took a seat on the cream-colored sofa to his right.

  “Thanks for seeing me again,” I said.

  His gaze seemed fixated on the fireplace. He looked up after a few seconds. “Have you found anything?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m hoping you can help me sort it out,” I said.

  “I’ll do my best.” His eyes returned to the fireplace.

  “The night Trina Lynn was killed, you were at the fire pit here, with your friends, right?”

  “You know I was. Your husband has spoken to all of them.”

  “Right. It’s not your alibi I’m questioning,” I said.

  He turned his head, looked at me directly, gave me a look that said, What kind of bullshit is this?

  “You have a lot of girlfriends,” I said.

  “I have friends who are girls,” he said tiredly, like maybe he had defended this before.

  “Is that what happened to your long-term relationship? Your girlfriend didn’t care for you spending so much time in the company of women?”

  “That was part of it,” said Auggie. “But we parted friends. It was actually Camille. We were engaged.”

  “Who broke it off?” I was pretty sure I knew the answer.

  “I did,” he said. “We want different things. It’s good we recognized it before we were married.”

  “Was Trina Lynn part of your…circle of friends?” I asked.

  “Trina? No. She enjoyed her own company. And she spent time with Grey. And Walker. Her family.”

  “Did you spend a lot of time with her one on one?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I guess. We worked together. We discussed work. We were best friends.”

  “You have coffee with her alone, dinner, like that?”

  “Sure. A couple times a week,” he said.

  “How did your other friends like that?”