1 Lowcountry Boil

by Susan M. Boyer

  “With her?”

  “Maybe. I hope not. Just wait.”

  I vacillated. I understood Colleen’s instinct to protect her sister, but Troy was a killer. “Let’s see what he wants with her.” I pulled out my eavesdropping equipment, put on the headphones, and positioned the receiver. Then I raised the binoculars again.

  Troy chewed a toothpick in the corner of his mouth and watched Deanna. He was hiding in plain sight—who would look for him in the park with tourists and college kids? I couldn’t make up my mind if he was the dumbest hit man in the history of the world or crazy like a fox. We’d been there ten minutes when he crossed East Battery and sauntered over to the park bench where Deanna waited. He flashed her a smile. “Mind if I sit down?”

  She stared up at him for a ten count, but said nothing.

  “Mrs. Devlin?” he said.

  “Yes, please sit down. Mr. ah…”

  “It’s better you don’t know my name. Why don’t you just call me Mr. Exterminator?”

  Deanna didn’t look at Troy, didn’t turn her head. “I’m sure I’d feel quite silly doing that.”

  Colleen asked, “Are you recording this?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “She doesn’t recognize Troy Causby?” Colleen asked.

  “Deanna’s four years older than us. Troy’s, what? Two years younger? Their paths probably never crossed.”

  He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “Lady, you’re wasting my time. You called me, remember? And while we’re on that, please tell me you didn’t call me from the hardware store again.”

  “Of course not. As soon as I realized who…what you were, I…I’ve watched enough Law and Order to know better than to use my home, business, or cell phone. I used a pay phone, and remembered to wipe both the phone and the coins I used free of fingerprints.”

  He laughed out loud.

  She blushed bright red. “My husband is not going to be giving you any more money.”

  He leaned in closer to her and lowered his voice. “Is that a fact?”

  She raised her chin. “Yes, it is. He doesn’t have it to give. His funds have been…confiscated.”

  “By who?” he asked.

  “If you want the rest of your money, you’ll have to deal with me.”

  He leaned back on the bench, stretching his arms across the back. “Your old man said you were too dumb to figure out what was what. Guess he was wrong. But it might notta been too smart for you to call me. What’s to stop me from telling him about this little meeting?”

  “Money. I told you. I have it. He doesn’t.”

  Colleen whistled. “Jeez-Louise. Do you believe her?”

  “Shhh,” I said.

  Troy said, “And what do you want?”

  “I want my life back and my children safe.”

  “What’s that got to do with me?”

  “First of all, I want to know what he was paying you to do,” Deanna said.

  “No way, lady. You could be wired eight different ways.”

  She hugged her purse tighter. “I believe I know what he wanted you to do. It’s the to whom and why I’m interested in.”

  Troy said, “I don’t have any idea about the why. The boss don’t confide in me.”

  “Liar,” Colleen said.

  “Shhh,” I hissed.

  Deanna sat silently.

  Troy said, “You’ll have to figure why yourself. Are you saying you’ll give me the rest of the money just for the who?”

  “Not exactly,” Deanna said. “I want the who right now. And I want your word that you will not do anything to this person. As a matter of fact, I want you to guarantee his or her safety.”

  “Now how am I supposed to do that? I’m not a freakin’ guardian angel.”

  She locked eyes with him. “Let’s just say that this person had better not suffer any unusual misfortune while you’re still around, mmm-kay?”

  “Who the hell do you think you are? Angelina Freakin’ Jolie?” He looked away, then back. “Assuming I agree to this, what else do you want? And when do I get my money?”

  “I want you to follow my husband, find out what he’s up to. I know he’s having an affair. I want to know with whom and I want pictures. I also want to know what else he’s mixed up in that involves the need of your…services.”

  “The why?”

  She stared him down. “Exactly, the why. Beyond that… I’m sure my husband will get his just desserts. As soon as I get the results I need, you will get your money.”

  “I’m not a private detective.”

  Deanna said, “I imagine you’ll make do. There has to be a certain amount of skulking about in your line of work.”

  I shook my head. I could not believe how cool Deanna was. Adam must have hit her one too many times. Something pushed her over the edge.

  Troy said, “Okay, I understand what you want. All I want is enough money to get out of this place and never come back.”

  “I think that would be a very good idea.” She turned away and looked across the harbor. “Now, why don’t you tell me who you think should be in the dunk tank this year at the Fourth of July celebration?”

  “What?” He scowled at her.

  “I said…” she turned her head and looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Who do you think we should have in the dunk tank this year?” She winked at him.

  Colleen rolled her eyes. “Dear heavens.”

  Troy said, “Oh, ah…I think you should get that lady from the bed and breakfast, Grace Sullivan.” Without another word, he tipped his imaginary hat, stood, and left.

  “Grace. Grace was the target.” I laid down the binoculars and started the car. “We need to tail him while I get ahold of Blake.”

  “No need,” Colleen said. “He’s going back to Stella Maris. Besides, we’ll lose him in the crowd. And Grace is safe now. Deanna told Troy she has the money. He’s not going to kill Grace if there’s nothing in it for him.”

  I looked over my shoulder. He was walking fast in the opposite direction, and I was headed down a one-way street. I sighed, picked up my iPhone and dialed 911.

  “What’s your emergency?”

  “You have an APB on Troy Causby of Mount Pleasant. He’s walking away from White Point Gardens on East Bay. Send help.”

  “What’s your name, please?”

  “That’s East Bay, just north of The Battery. Troy Causby. Please hurry.”

  I hung up. I was sure the operator had my name and number on the screen. I couldn’t tell her anything else, and I needed to call Blake. If the Charleston PD called me on it, which I doubted, I’d explain later.

  I dialed Blake and got his voicemail. “Blake, Grace was the next target. Make sure she’s got protection.”

  I stowed my eavesdropping equipment. “Colleen, I know Adam abuses Deanna. I’ve seen the bruises,” I said. “Deanna told Troy she wanted her children safe. He abuses the girls, too, doesn’t he?”

  Colleen’s lip trembled. “They’re family. If I interfere, I’ll be reassigned. Please don’t ask me about that.”

  “But you sent me to the hardware store because Deanna was in trouble.”

  “That’s what I told you. But Adam was there, too. And stopping his plans is part of my assignment. And if he’s in jail for fraud or something, everything will be okay. There are gray areas. I just can’t cross the line.”

  “Okay, let’s don’t talk about it anymore.” But I had my answer. And I knew why Deanna had been pushed to the point where she would deal with a hit man. She was protecting her children the only way she knew how.

  And she was less afraid of Troy than she was of Adam.

  Colleen seemed calmer, but still sad.

  “Hey,” I said
. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get Adam’s ass locked up.”

  She smiled.

  I slipped my phone into its mount on the console.

  Colleen stared at the iPhone. “Got any Michael Jackson on that thing?”

  “Sure.” I glanced at her sideways. “Have you seen him since he passed?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” There was that smirk again.

  TWENTY-NINE

  I had another stop to make while on the peninsula. Colleen listened to the end of Man in the Mirror then faded out. I parked in the Cumberland Street garage and strode down Meeting Street. The Charleston County Courthouse is a Georgian white-brick-and-stucco edifice built before the Revolutionary War as the South Carolina Statehouse. The Declaration of Independence was read from a balcony overlooking Meeting Street. In the late 1700’s when the state’s capitol was moved to Columbia, the building was converted to a courthouse. Through Herculean preservation efforts, it has survived fires, hurricanes, and earthquakes to preside over the heart of downtown Charleston.

  I popped in the Meeting Street entrance and made my way to room 143, the Family Court Clerk’s office. With the case number in hand, I didn’t have to scroll through rolls of microfilm to locate the file I needed. I gave the case number to the twenty-something clerk with an educated manner that raised my suspicion she was overqualified for her job. Who knows what she suspected about me? My drab, meter-reader ensemble is not my best look. Five minutes later, she handed me a tape with instructions on how to print the pages I needed. I thanked her and hurried over to the film reader. I resisted the urge to read while I pulled up each page and pressed print. I paid my fifty cents per page and took the copied file back to the car.

  I lowered the windows, then scanned through the wherefores and whereases until I found what I was looking for. The dirt. The divorce itself was a no-fault divorce, based on a year’s separation. More interesting were the reasons enumerated by William Alexander James Knox as to why Mildred should receive none of his considerable assets.

  Mr. Knox alleged that Mildred had entered into the marriage in a fraudulent manner, not informing him of her past employment as an exotic dancer at The Pussycat Gentlemen’s Club in Myrtle Beach. Her stage name was Miller Dawn. Additionally, Mr. Knox made note of Mildred’s extramarital affair with one Lincoln Sullivan.

  Holy shit. Mildred the Moral, the Stella Maris authority on social decorum, had been a stripper? If the file had said Mildred was from the constellation Draco, I could not have been more shocked. I laid the file on the passenger seat, exited the parking garage and drove back to the ferry, pondering Mildred and her colorful background.

  Everyone has secrets. Most people have reinvented themselves a time or three. And I’m a firm believer in leaving skeletons in their closets. Unless those skeletons bear directly on my case. I didn’t know yet if Mildred’s dancing days were relevant or not.

  But here’s what I did know: Mildred’s past had the potential to embarrass the mayor. Mackie’s gambling had the potential to embarrass—and financially harm—the Sullivan family, including Grace. Any number of things in Marci’s past or present might embarrass Michael. John Glendawn’s past with Hayden Causby and Stuart Devlin was common knowledge, but there was still plenty I didn’t know about what happened back then. The common denominator for the names in column B on Gram’s list seemed to be that they made a council member vulnerable. Had Gram suspected someone of attempting to blackmail council members?

  Had someone tried to blackmail her?

  THIRTY

  I went back to Gram’s to change. Mamma would’ve given me the always-dress-like-a-lady lecture for sure if she’d gotten a look at my frumpy work clothes. Besides, I needed to unload Adam and Deanna’s garbage from the back of the Escape. Typically, for a garbage grab to net me anything, I had to lift it for several weeks. Taking Adam and Deanna’s that morning had been an impulse, and I wasn’t expecting much. But you never know.

  Several tarps lay folded neatly on wire shelves in the corner of the garage. I spread one of them over the workbench. Then I pulled on a pair of latex gloves and a dust mask and went to work. One by one, I sifted through the Devlin household trash bags. I detest this part of my job. That afternoon, I missed Nate something fierce. More often than not in Greenville, he’d taken pity on me and done the garbage sorting.

  Of course, Adam was a shredder—or maybe it was Deanna. Either way, coffee grounds, shredded documents, and tissues were the biggest volume items in the bags. There were two empty prescription bottles, an antibiotic for Holly and Xanax for Deanna. That explained how she coped, anyway. The only other pharmaceuticals were an empty blister pack of antacid and an almost-full bottle of something called “Ephed-Dream,” which promised to make you very thin very quickly. According to the label, the primary ingredient was Ephedra extract. Wasn’t that stuff illegal? Deanna had always been obsessed with her weight. I hoped she wasn’t taking this stuff along with Xanax.

  I tossed everything except the empty Xanax bottle and the Ephedra. Those, I placed in a plastic bag. Then, I cleaned up my mess and went upstairs.

  I needed a bubble bath.

  I started the water running and lit a few stress-relief candles. I poured in lavender bubble bath and some Lancôme Aroma Calm bath oil. Then I threw in a fizz ball. The more products you put in the tub, the better. After digging through all that trash, I considered pouring in some Clorox. I sank into the water and closed my eyes. I rested my head on a bath pillow and let my arms and legs float.

  The doorbell was ringing when I stepped out of the tub. I pulled on my robe and peered out of the second-story window. In the driveway was an unfamiliar Jeep Cherokee. I tensed. It couldn’t be Nate. He hadn’t even left Chicago yet. Surely when Scott told Adam he’d handle me, he hadn’t meant he’d send someone on over to kill me.

  The doorbell rang again, three times in rapid succession. I reached for the phone.

  Then, Michael stepped off the front porch and looked up at my bedroom window. I waited about a nanosecond. I fumbled with the plantation shutter, the curtain, and the window. He waited patiently, hands on hips, while I raised the sash.

  “Let me in,” he said.

  I was safe up in my perch, and unsure what waited downstairs. I hesitated.

  “Liz.” Even from that distance, I could read that look. It matched the yearning in the pit of my stomach. Oh, God, how I wanted him. How long I had wanted him. But…surely he didn’t think he could crook his little finger and I’d come running just because he’d suddenly discovered what I’d figured out when I was six years old—that Marci was not to be trusted.

  I wrestled with the urge to run down the stairs and fling myself into his arms. “What do you want?”

  “I saw Robert Pearson this afternoon.”

  I waited.

  “Can I please come in?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Fine. We can do this your way. As soon as Robert can get me out of this mess, you and I are getting married.”

  “Is that a fact?” I felt lightheaded, but somehow it wasn’t with a pure joy.

  “Yes. The last time I let you decide something, everything went straight to hell.”

  He had me there. But there were things I needed to know. “Why did you stay married to her?”

  “For stupid reasons. The problem, for both of us, is that Marci doesn’t make enough money as a bank teller to support herself. She has no immediate family and no close friends. I couldn’t bring myself to set her out by the curb, but I didn’t want to give her the house I built myself and half of my business, either. Those reasons have recently become less compelling.”

  I persisted. “But why are you here now?” As much as I wanted him, I didn’t want him only because she’d cheated.

  His shoulders rose and fell. He looked down, then u
p at me, a pleading look in his eyes. “Ever since I saw you at your grandmother’s funeral, I’ve been fighting the urge to kidnap you and run away. When you stayed in Greenville, I figured you’d made your choice. Even if you didn’t want Scott, you still didn’t want me.”

  “But—”

  “Let me get this out.”

  I gestured for him to continue.

  “I know you didn’t come back home because of me. But I looked in your eyes Tuesday night and knew that you still felt something for me. I came here to find out what.”

  “But why this afternoon? Why not yesterday or tomorrow?”

  He hesitated. “This is not why. This is not about her. It’s about us, okay?”

  I raised an eyebrow and tilted my head.

  “She’s been having an affair with Adam for the last year.”

  I pressed my hand to my throat and tried hard to look shocked. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. I found his wallet under my bed this morning.”

  “I see. And you ran straight over here, did you? Tell me something, Michael. Where would you be right now if you hadn’t discovered your brother’s wallet under your bed this morning?”

  He had no answer ready for that.

  The longer we talked, the happier I was I hadn’t let him in. Just who did he think he was dealing with, anyway? Did I look like a backup plan? Had he even confronted her yet? “Does she know you know?”

  “No. I just left. I found the wallet, packed a bag, and left before she woke up.”

  “What did you do with the wallet?”

  “I gave it back to Adam.”

  “I’ll bet you did. Did Adam admit the affair?” Of course, I already knew the answer, but I was trying to get him to tell me as much of what I already knew as possible. That would simplify things.

  “Yeah. But, like I told Robert, I don’t want to drag this out in court. I don’t want my mother embarrassed by a scandal. I just want to use it to bargain with Marci.”