by Mary Ellis
‘Goodness, no. I’ll go change and meet you outside.’ Jill strode toward the steps. ‘Just don’t let anyone hiding behind the bougainvillea climb into your back seat.’
‘If we have to, we’ll jump into your car for a clean getaway.’
Eric turned off the cellar lights and followed her upstairs. After glancing down at his chinos and white shirt, he dug through his office closet until he found an old pair of cut-offs and T-shirt.
‘Is this too casual?’ he asked when she joined him in the courtyard.
‘You look just fine,’ she said, slipping a tiny purse over her head.
She, on the other hand, looked better than fine. In her black Capri pants and long white tank top, Jill looked heartbreakingly pretty.
During the one-hour drive from downtown Charleston to Kiawah Island, Eric talked about his life as the head chef of Bella Trattoria. Not that he thought balancing accounts and making shopping lists for the week’s daily specials and regular items was that interesting. But this way Jill would have no excuse not to open up to him later.
Once they turned on to the Kiawah Island Parkway, Jill started talking without prodding. ‘Gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve been anywhere like this. The best days of my childhood took place at the beach. Body-surfing, building sand castles, playing sand volleyball, I absolutely never wanted to go home.’
‘How close to water did you live?’
‘My adoptive parents lived about an hour from Panama City, so we went to the public beach every Saturday in the summer. After my parents died and I stayed with various foster families, I only got to the beach once in a while.’
‘But a passion for water never dies.’ Eric turned into the parking lot for the East Beach Town Center.
‘No, if anything absence only makes the heart grow fonder.’ Jill pointed to a sign for The Market. ‘Is that where we’re headed?’
‘It is – the best burgers on the island. I promised you nothing unpronounceable on the menu and plenty of American cheese.’
‘As long as we don’t have to cook the food ourselves, let’s go.’ Jill slipped her hand into his.
Eric savored the touch of her fingers on their way into the restaurant, but he waited until they were seated with menus before he asked another question. ‘You said you grew up in Panama City, but I thought you were from Mississippi?’
Jill shrugged. ‘Natchez is what’s on my business card, but I’ve only been to the home office once for some paperwork. I have such a convoluted history, I usually let people believe what they want until it becomes an issue.’
‘If you would prefer that I respect your privacy—’
‘No, this is our first official date, so it’s time the traveling queen tells all.’ Jill gave the waitress her order, which was exactly as she’d described in the cellar.
Eric duplicated the order for himself. ‘How did you manage to get hired by a Mississippi agency?’
‘At the time I was on a temporary job in Savannah. Beth and Michael were working a case on assignment. Thanks to referrals, they suddenly had more work than they could handle and started interviewing for another investigator. I was the lucky applicant.’
Eric could almost see wheels turning in Jill’s head, but he knew better than to push too hard.
‘When Beth and Michael finished their assignment, they decided to stay in Savannah. I became the roving agent and thus landed in Charleston.’ Jill took a gulp of Coke.
Eric couldn’t bring himself to ask the next question, since he didn’t want to hear her answer. ‘So that clears up the “where you’re from” mystery,’ he said instead.
‘There is something else I wanted to come clean about – something I wasn’t truthful about.’ Jill looked up with eyes full of regret. ‘When we were at your sister’s house, I told your mother I had no family. That was a lie.’
For a brief moment, Eric feared Jill was running from an abusive spouse. He’d been pinning his hopes on a woman who would one day reconcile and return home. ‘Are you married?’ he asked.
‘No, no, nothing like that, but I do have a brother I don’t like to talk about.’
Eric almost choked on his joy. ‘Is he a natural brother?’
‘No, Liam was adopted, same as me. But we were very close. Even after the county separated us into different foster homes, we stayed in touch.’
‘I’m surprised they didn’t place you together.’
Jill shook her head. ‘The county only tries to keep natural siblings together. In our case they didn’t bother, even though we were just as important to each other as blood relatives.’
‘Maybe more so. He was all you had and vice versa. Want to tell me why you’re not close any more?’ Eric asked after a short silence. ‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to.’
Another shrug. ‘Liam’s new friends were bad influences. They started breaking into cars for spare change and GPS units and stealing stuff from backyards to resell. All petty crimes. Then one day he wasn’t a juvenile any more and landed in county lockup where he met some very bad men. After his release he looked them up and together they robbed a bank. Unfortunately Liam was the only one caught. Now he’s in prison and will be for a long time.’ Jill lifted her teary gaze. ‘I’m so ashamed of him.’
‘Jill, you’re not your brother’s keeper. No one judges you based on his actions.’
Eric was thankful the waitress chose that moment to deliver their meals. He didn’t want to minimize her pain by saying the wrong thing. For several minutes they dipped fries in catsup and piled the toppings high on their burgers. After a few bites, he was ready to venture forth. ‘As sad as your brother’s story is, many families have a member who have fallen far short of expectations. Someday I’ll tell you about my Uncle Guido who’s doing time for selling moonshine from a hotdog pushcart. And this wasn’t his first bust for bootlegging.’
Jill smiled. ‘Is his name really Guido?’
Eric returned the smile. ‘Yes, it is. He’s incarcerated in upstate New York.’
‘Not to make light of poor Uncle Guido, but it’s not the same thing. You’re surrounded by loving family. I saw them at your dad’s homecoming party. Liam was all I had.’
‘No aunts, uncles, or cousins?’
‘None that I’m close with. I think they felt bad about not taking us in after my parents died.’
‘As they should.’
‘Everybody has their own problems. I don’t harbor any bad feelings.’
‘Maybe someday I can change your lack of family.’ When Eric reached for her hand, Jill immediately yanked back.
‘Maybe, but this is our first date, remember? Let’s focus on the food and not get ahead of ourselves.’ Jill picked up her burger.
So while they finished eating, Eric described snorkeling among hundreds of jellyfish and Jill shared being buried in sand infested with sand fleas. By the time he paid the check and they strolled back to the car, the evening had cooled off. ‘What’s next?’ he asked. ‘You’re in charge.’
‘Do you know where the Borellis live?’ Jill asked. ‘Is it close enough to walk?’
‘Definitely not. We’ll have to drive. And in order to get a good look we’ll also have a long walk ahead of us.’ Fifteen minutes later, Eric slowed down in front of a three-story house surrounded by a tall fence with an electronic gate. There was so much shrubbery and dense foliage the home was barely visible. ‘Voila, the Borellis.’
‘Hmmm, I see what you mean. Certainly is private.’
‘Let’s find a place to park and take one of the boardwalks over to the beach. Then we’ll walk along the water.’
Once on the boardwalk, they meandered along at a leisurely pace. But once they reached the sand, Jill pulled off her sandals and ran pell-mell toward the surf. With her long hair streaming down her back, Jill still looked like that child she described. Seagulls took flight, while sandpipers scurried as fast as their spindly legs would let them as she splashed through the swallow water. Finally Jill
stopped and stretched her arms over her head toward the sky.
‘Feel good to be back?’ he asked once he caught up.
‘You have no idea. Thank you, Eric. I forgot how much I missed this.’ Jill took his hand.
‘Should we sprint all the way to the Borellis’ or take it nice and slow?’
‘Nice and slow sounds good.’
With nothing but dunes on one side and pounding waves on the other, they both remained quiet for a while. Eric had forgotten how peaceful Kiawah Island was.
‘I gather you’ve been inside their house?’ she asked, finally breaking the silence. ‘How did you manage an invite? I thought the two families have hated each other a long time.’
‘They have. But when the Borellis moved in, Salvatore threw a huge party and invited hundreds of people. He spared no expense. Sal sent us an invitation because he wanted to show his house off. Of course, Dad refused to go, but Nonni and my mother insisted, so I got stuck driving them.’ Eric stared out at the horizon.
‘Your mother? That couldn’t have gone over well with Alfonzo.’
‘He didn’t talk to her for a week. Truth is she hated the house.’
‘Why? What’s wrong with it?’
‘Judge for yourself. It’s the next one but be careful, someone could be out on the deck.’
Jill didn’t listen. She ran to the next property, kicking up the soft sand as she went. Dissatisfied with the view, she kept running until she reached a lifeguard platform, mere yards from their pool compound.
‘Jill,’ he hissed. ‘Stay out of sight. The Borellis will recognize you.’ Eric caught up to her, but four upright posts and a ladder didn’t create a good hiding place for two people.
‘Oh my goodness.’ Jill covered her mouth with both hands yet couldn’t stem her laughter. ‘It’s ghastly. It’s like the designer started with a good idea but didn’t know when to stop. Are those statues of Roman gods?’
‘Yes – Zeus, Neptune, Venus, and Mars.’
‘How does their priest feel about that?’
‘This was Sal’s end of the garden. On Sofia’s end, there’s a lovely meditation garden with a statue of the Blessed Virgin. The inside of the house has the same over-the-top excessiveness.’
‘Uh-oh,’ Jill whispered. ‘Looks like we’ve attracted attention. What should we do?’
Eric peeked between the slats. ‘Sure enough Renaldo Manfredi was leaning over the deck rail, staring in their direction. Although they both stood very still, Renny headed toward the steps leading to the garden and pool.
‘Run!’ Eric ordered. And so they ran. They didn’t stop running until they were back at the car.
Jill collapsed against his side, breathless and panting. ‘I haven’t felt like that in a long time. Do you think Renny recognized us?’
Eric unlocked the doors. ‘Most likely. You and I make a recognizable pair.’
Jill leaned her head back and closed her eyes. ‘So much for subtle, unobtrusive surveillance. I sure hope Renny doesn’t call Lieutenant Schott.’
‘Renaldo would be more likely to call you, thinking you have a crush on him.’
She slouched down in the seat. ‘That’s even worse. Take me home, Manfredi. I’ve done enough damage for one day.’
Home. Eric knew it didn’t mean anything but nevertheless, coming from Jill, he liked the sound of it.
‘Yes, ma’am.’
TWENTY
Jill woke up refreshed after sleeping like a baby. Funny what an enjoyable evening will do for a gal’s outlook on life. But after her second cup of coffee, she remembered she wasn’t on vacation. And wasn’t being paid to date the client paying her expenses. She had work to do and started by calling David Sugarman and Ralph Norris. Although neither of them picked up the phone, Jill learned from the University Medical Center that nothing had changed – neither Emma nor Charlotte could have visitors other than immediate family.
When Jill entered the kitchen, Mrs Donatella Angelica Manfredi was already sitting at the family table, and carpenters were installing the last of the cabinets, appliances, and fixtures. Soon Bella Trattoria would be ready to reopen.
‘Nonni, you’re up bright and early for a Monday morning.’
‘That’s because I have big plans today, mia piccola. And I was hoping you could join me.’
‘Thank you, but I need to go to the courthouse. I’m hot on the tail of my next suspect.’ Flashing a smile at the older woman, Jill headed for the door.
‘My plans might help your case more than yours.’
That stopped Jill dead in her tracks. ‘What’s up? You’ve got my attention.’
‘I’m having lunch with Francesca Borelli. Care to join us? Just think how many questions you could get answered.’ Nonni took a sip from her mug.
It didn’t take Jill long to decide. ‘I will try. Where are you dining?’
‘Husk, on Queen Street,’ said Nonni. ‘They serve delicious Southern food and we’re meeting at twelve o’clock.’
‘Is Eric around? Will he be able to drive you? Because I’m not sure how long I’ll be at the courthouse.’
With the dignity of a queen, Nonni rose to her feet. ‘Not to worry. Eric was up early too. He made some calls and then Alfonzo sent him on a wild-goose chase for the grand reopening. He said he’ll see you later. And me? I plan to take an Uber.’ The lines in her face deepened. ‘Eric was whistling when he went to bed in his cramped office last night. Anything you care to share with your new Nonni?’
‘No, ma’am. You’ll have to wait to read it in the Post and Courier, same as everyone else.’
Nonni’s laughter startled one carpenter and his supervisor. ‘Come to lunch. I have a feeling you’ll be able to get plenty out of Francesca.’
‘Why?’ Jill asked, remaining in place.
‘Huh?’ The question took Nonni by surprise.
‘Why would Francesca Borelli help me? Salvatore was her son.’
Nonni lifted and dropped her shoulders and then met Jill’s eye. ‘I’m not sure she will. I just know she loved Salvatore. And she doesn’t believe for one moment that my Alfonzo murdered him.’
Jill smiled. ‘I’ll see you at noon.’
On her laptop in the courtyard, Jill learned that liens were filed at the Charleston County Building on Meeting Street. The RMC’s Office recorded all land titles and claims by unpaid contractors, called mechanic’s liens, and made sure the information was available to the public. Quite impressively, their record books dated back to 1719.
Once Jill arrived on site, she soon discovered a total of ten liens had been filed against Salvatore Borelli’s property on Kiawah Island. The unpaid debts involved everything from foundation masonry to roofing materials to imported brass hardware. Five had been removed after Sal submitted proof of payment. Of the five remaining, four were under eight thousand dollars – a sum Jill figured no one would kill somebody over. The fifth was for sixty-four thousand, eight hundred and some odd dollars. Winner, winner, chicken dinner.
At the time of his death, Sal Borelli owed Robert Johnson of Johnson Landscaping for work on his quarter-acre Roman garden, including stone retention walls, fountains, fish pond, installation of statuary, and the horticulture around the pool and throughout the backyard. Sixty-five grand? Jill imagined that kind of unpaid debt could cause homicidal rage in some small contractors. She jotted down Johnson’s address from the lien, thanked the helpful people in the RMC’s office, and checked her watch. With just enough time to walk to Husk, she left her car where it was and avoided paying for parking twice.
When Jill arrived at the Victorian mansion converted into a restaurant, Donatella and Francesca were already seated with glasses of lemonade. ‘Am I late, ladies?’ she asked.
‘You are not. Jill, this is Francesca Borelli, my BFF. Francesca, this is Jill Wyatt, Enrique’s girlfriend.’
She didn’t know what to respond to first. ‘How do you do, Mrs Borelli.’ Jill extended her hand politely.
‘I am well,
thank you. But my grandson, Renny, will be sorry to hear that you’re spoken for,’ said Francesca. The full-figured woman wore an expensive outfit and had bright auburn hair. She would still turn heads at a senior citizen center.
‘I didn’t know I was, ma’am. And who taught you about BFFs?’ Jill directed this question at Nonni.
‘Danielle, who else? And of course, you’re spoken for. You’re dating Enrique, aren’t you?’
Jill chose not to explain dating in the current century. Instead she sipped water and listened to Francesca bemoan her daughter-in-law’s lack of restraint following Salvatore’s death. Apparently, Sofia packed up his clothes for charity the next day after the funeral. It didn’t take long to realize Francesca didn’t care much for the other woman living in the mansion.
Nonni tried to placate her friend. ‘Ach, maybe Sofia doesn’t like the constant reminder.’
‘All she had to do is close Salvatore’s closet doors.’
After placing their lunch orders, Jill decided to take the lead. ‘Eric said you lived on Kiawah Island with the most beautiful garden in the world.’
Nonni barely batted an eyelash at Jill’s fib, while Francesca’s face glowed. ‘Yes, parts of the yard are quite serene. I will miss reading under the grape arbor if I decide to move.’
‘Do all of your grandsons live there?’ Jill asked.
‘Renaldo has an apartment near our restaurant for workdays, but he does come out to swim and relax on his days off. We eat lunch together. However, John lives in Columbia and Dominic – who knows? Dom comes and goes. Half the time he probably sleeps in his car.’ Francesca’s mouth twisted into a frown.
‘Getting back to your lovely yard, Eric is thinking about redoing the courtyard behind Bella Trattoria. Would you mind sharing the name of your landscaper? That is, if you can still remember.’
Francesca snorted. ‘You bet I remember who built Sal’s Roman garden – Bob Johnson. He came to see my son a day or two before he died and they had an awful row. I couldn’t hear everything said, but apparently Sal still owed him a lot of money.’ She dabbed her eyes. ‘Sal had been getting so forgetful. I told him to give the checkbook to Renaldo. After all, Renny does a fine job of running Tuscan Gardens. But no, Sal turned their personal account over to Sofia.’
