Merry said, “He just thought he could handle you.” She smothered a grin.
Blake shook his head. “They were looking to develop Devlin land. If they weren’t after Gram’s vote, why would they kill her?”
I set down my glass. “I’m not sure they did.”
“You think somebody else had a completely different motive?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I said. I didn’t want to get into that just then. I was still processing the possibilities. “But if her murder wasn’t part of their scheme, by process of elimination, the other council member being blackmailed would have to be Robert.”
The table was quite for a few moments while we chewed on that thought along with our shrimp. Casey arrived to take our dinner orders. Craving comfort food, I ordered my favorite, shrimp and grits. Most everyone else went with the lowcountry boil, a regional concoction of shrimp, andouille sausage, corn on the cob, potatoes and whatever else John felt like throwing in the pot, cooked in beer and spices. One of the house specialties.
“What I don’t get is who killed Adam?” Michael said. “It doesn’t make sense it was one of his partners.”
“Sure it does,” I said. I stopped myself. I was too tired to filter my mouth. Anything related to Deanna’s involvement with Troy and everything Colleen was off limits.
Blake said, “It could’ve been one of them. Everyone he was blackmailing also had a motive, but I’d bet my last dollar none of them are killers.” He raised an eyebrow at John. “I’m also betting they have alibis.”
John set down his glass. “I was here until after 2:00 a.m. It takes a while to put this place to bed. A couple of the boys who work in the kitchen were here. Besides, I told you, I wasn’t playing his game.”
“No offense,” Blake said. “I’m just checking off my list. That’s what they pay me for.”
John nodded.
“So.” Michael stared at his margarita. “Looks like the three remaining mysteries are: Did Adam and Scott have your grandmother killed, what did they have on Robert, and who killed my brother? I swear it wasn’t me, my solid motive and lack of alibi notwithstanding.”
Michael picked up his drink, then paused, glass midair, and met Blake’s gaze. “Another thing I don’t get is how he thought he was going to get this by Mamma. I mean, after she donated the land, was he just going to turn around and say, ‘Guess what, you’ve been had?’ Mamma was dead-set against any resort. She would’ve had twenty lawyers on top of that, screaming fraud.”
I said, “Adam must’ve thought of that. No doubt he had a contingency plan. Whatever it was, we may never know.”
Michael shrugged. “True.”
Casey delivered dinner. We were all famished, and a contented silence settled over the table while we dug into our entrées. When I came up for air, I nudged Blake. “I know the whole state is looking for Troy by now, but what about Scott?”
“I had Sam swing by the hotel an hour ago. He wasn’t there, but he hadn’t checked out, either. Alicia’s supposed to call if he comes back. I had Nell send out an APB on him, too. At the least, he’s involved in a conspiracy to commit murder, attempted murder, and blackmail.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “He was still on the island as of early this afternoon, and he had no reason to leave. He had no clue we were on to him.”
Merry smirked. “Yeah, Liz did a good job of convincing him of that.”
Merry was fortunate I had not yet developed the ability to fire death rays from my eyes.
“He’ll turn up,” Blake said. “He’s too arrogant to believe us backwoods yokels would figure out what he’s up to.”
“What about his flunky?” I asked. “David Morehead.”
“We have an APB out on him, too. But no one’s seen him since Tuesday night. He could be anywhere by now.”
Michael put down his fork and napkin and looked at Blake. “Liz and I were going to head back to Mamma’s. Check on her and Deanna and the girls. You want to come along, see if Deanna is up to talking?”
“Are you about ready?” Blake glanced at Michael.
“Whenever you are.”
John stood and gathered a tray full of dishes. “I’m just going to check on things in the kitchen.”
As soon as John was out of earshot, Merry turned to Michael. “Michael, would you ride with us over to Blake’s office for a minute, please?”
“What?” Blake scowled.
“Merry,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’ve already spoken to Michael about this.”
Michael looked from me to Merry. “I don’t understand.”
“I wondered if you’d take a look at my grandmother’s locket, at the picture inside,” Merry said.
“Why?” Michael and Blake spoke at the same time.
I put my hand on Michael’s arm. “This is what I started to tell you. We think the man in the picture is your father.”
“What?”
“This is too much, even from the two of you.” Blake slid back his chair.
“Just listen. Merry and I went over to Gram’s this afternoon. We were looking for something that would give us an idea of who this man in the locket is. What we found was…most unexpected. There was a large box filled with letters. Love letters, going back about fifteen years.”
“From who?” Michael asked.
“They were each signed ‘All my love, Stuart.’”
Michael shrugged. “That’s a common name.”
“Yes, but…well, we read a few of the letters.” I pulled one of the letters from my purse and offered it to Michael.
Michael stared at me wordlessly. He did not reach for letter.
Merry plowed ahead. “Unless there was another Stuart who lived on Stella Maris until twenty-five years ago, who knew Gram, and had children named Adam and Michael, who was married to a Kate, then your father is alive.”
FORTY-EIGHT
The storm that had threatened all evening settled in just after dark. Blake, Michael, Merry and I dashed across the parking lot of The Pirates’ Den through the driving rain and jumped into Michael’s Jeep Cherokee. Michael grasped the steering wheel tightly with both hands for a moment, and then started the engine and turned on the headlights and windshield wipers.
From out of nowhere, a figure covered from head to toe in a hooded, yellow rain slicker appeared on a bicycle in front of the Jeep. The rider skidded to a stop just before Michael put the car in gear. “What the devil?” He rolled down his window as the figure abandoned his bike where it lay and ran up to the side of the Jeep.
“Michael,” Elvis yelled. “Where’s Chief Blake?”
Blake leaned across the console. “Right here, Elvis. What’s wrong?”
“I almost missed you,” Elvis said. “Miss Nell told me you were over here having dinner. I couldn’t get you on the radio.”
“I guess I didn’t hear it in the restaurant, Elvis. What’s wrong?”
“It’s the Phantom. I trailed him back to where he lives. I just saw him. He’s on this pretty boat down at the marina. I had him staked out. But Miss Nell wouldn’t call you. Hurry, before he leaves.” Elvis started moving back towards his bike.
“That’s him.” I reached around the seat and grabbed Michael’s arm. “That’s the guy I had coffee with this morning. That’s Stuart Devlin. It’s got to be. Go, Michael.”
Merry reached over and slapped Michael several times on the shoulder for emphasis.
Blake said, “Elvis, go inside and get dry. Your mamma will skin me alive if I let you go chasing off in this rain.”
“But Chief Blake—” Elvis protested.
“I’ll go over there right now and check it out, okay? Good job, buddy. You did a real good job. Now go inside.”
“You’ll go right now?” Elvis asked.
&
nbsp; “I’m on my way,” Blake said.
Michael rolled up the window. We waited long enough to see Elvis pick up his bike and head towards the front door of the restaurant.
“Will you please step on it?” Merry slapped Michael’s shoulder again.
“Esmerelda, if you don’t stop beating Michael like your mule I will get out of this car and open your door and physically remove you from the backseat and place you, none too gently, on the asphalt.” Even as Blake said the words, Michael backed out of the parking place and headed towards the marina.
“No.” Colleen appeared between Merry and me. “Deanna’s in trouble. She went home. You have to go there now. ” As suddenly as she had appeared, she vanished.
“I think we should see about Deanna first,” I said. “She might have decided to go home. We should go on over there now, before it gets any later. Then we can go by the marina.”
Michael didn’t take his eyes off the road. “No,” he said. “We settle this now.”
“Michael, please. I’ve got a bad feeling—”
Blake started dialing his phone. “I’ll call and check on things.” He spoke to Grace for a few moments, and then hung up. “Deanna got Sam to take her home an hour ago. Said she needed to be alone.”
“That’s odd she’d leave Holly and Isabella tonight.”
Blake shrugged. “The girls are asleep at Kate’s. Doc gave them a sedative.” He pressed the talk button on his radio. “Sam?”
“Yeah, Blake?” Static distorted Sam’s voice.
“You at Adam Devlin’s?”
“Right out front.”
“Stay there. Call me if you see anyone near that house.”
“Roger that.”
We drove silently for a few moments, the air inside the car electric with the anticipation. I tried calling Deanna. I knew if Colleen said she was in trouble I needed to get over there fast. But how to make Michael and Blake believe me? “Deanna’s not answering, and voicemail didn’t pick up. Please, can we just swing by there?”
Michael didn’t answer. There was someplace else he had a compelling need to go.
FORTY-NINE
Only moments before, the rain had been coming down so hard the windshield wipers didn’t improve visibility. Gradually it subsided to a drizzle. Michael pulled the Jeep into a parking space as close to the dock as possible.
Blake said, “Do you think there’s any chance it’s him?”
“Oh, I’m dead certain it’s him,” Michael said simply.
We all stared at him, stunned, for a moment. The windshield wipers squawked across the glass.
“What changed your mind?” I found my voice.
“It’s his boat. That’s the same boat he left on twenty-five years ago,” Michael said. He opened the car door. “Stay here. All of you. For right now, at least, this is between him and me.”
Blake, Merry and I were uncharacteristically quiet for a minute after Michael slammed the door and ran down the dock.
Finally, I said, “That’s pretty brazen. Stuart must not have been too concerned about being found out if he sailed back home on the same boat that was supposedly lost at sea.”
Blake shrugged. “Not many people would recognize it after all this time.”
I thought about it. “Someone might have thought there was a boat in the marina that looked a lot like Stuart’s old boat, but who would dream it was really him?”
“Let me see that letter.” Blake cracked his door to turn on the interior light.
I handed it to him. He read for a few moments.
“I don’t know which I’m more shocked about,” Blake said. “That Stuart Devlin is alive, or that Gram had a love affair with him for what, fifteen years?”
“Here comes Michael,” I said.
Michael climbed back into the Jeep. “We missed him.”
“What now?” Blake asked.
“Let’s go check on Deanna.” I remembered the urgency in Colleen’s voice. I had to get to Deanna’s house.
“Not tonight,” Michael said.
“Agreed,” said Blake. “I say we wait for your Dad to show up.”
I opened the door and hopped out. “Y’all wait here if you like. I’m going to Deanna’s.” I took off running while they were still deciding if I was serious.
FIFTY
I hesitated at the edge of the marina parking lot. The marina is on the northwest side of the island. Sea Farm, Deanna’s neighborhood, is on the southeast point. I was roughly seven miles from her. Even if I ran through yards and hopped hedges, it would take me at least an hour to run it—the town was an obstacle course between us. My car was at Mamma and Daddy’s house. It would be quicker to run home and get Gram’s Caddy.
I darted up Marsh View drive as the rain began to grow heavier. Within five minutes I was on the front porch. I retrieved my spare key from inside the bell of a wind chime and let myself in. Rhett trotted out to meet me and I ran right past him. I pulled up short in the hall. Stuart had taken Gram’s spare set of keys from the kitchen drawer. My keys were in my purse, in the back of Michael’s Jeep. Damnation.
I’d violated my own cardinal rule: I’d left my gun, my phone and my keys behind. I had no means of protection, and no means of communication once I left Gram’s house. Dammit. Think. Think.
The van. The keys to Granddad’s van were in his desk. My desk. I bolted into the office and flipped on the light. Rhett chased after me. The keys were in the top drawer. I grabbed them and headed towards the kitchen. Through the mudroom and down the steps I flew. Rhett followed, barking admonishments.
I climbed into the van with a prayer it would start. After a little encouragement, it roared to life. I pressed the button on the remote clipped to the visor to open the garage door. When it was high enough to clear the van, I backed out, threw the van in drive, and hit the accelerator.
Rain now poured from the sky in buckets. I fumbled for the windshield wipers. When they came on, I swerved to miss a palm tree. Even with the wipers on, I could barely see ten feet in front of me. At the end of the driveway, I turned left down Ocean Boulevard. Palmetto would have been a shorter route, but would have had more traffic, and several stoplights I didn’t dare run in this weather.
At the end of Ocean Boulevard, just before Devlin’s Point, I turned right and navigated through a series of side streets towards Pearson’s Point—the point of the island where Sea Farm had been built. I was almost halfway down Pitt Street when a Jack Russell terrier bolted in front of the van. I slammed on brakes.
A blinding white bolt split the oak on the corner. Thunder, combined with the simultaneous crack of the lightning strike nearly deafened me. The oak exploded, branches flying in every direction. The trunk split, half of it falling directly in front of the van, the other half landing in someone’s front yard. In the headlights, debris fluttered to the ground. The end of a sizeable limb rested inches from my windshield.
Had I not braked for the dog, the van and I would have been under the shattered tree trunk.
To stave off hyperventilation, I took slow, measured breaths.
I couldn’t drive around it. I backed up to try another route. The van sputtered and stalled, as if on cue. Hopping in the seat to encourage it, I turned the key. The engine made a grinding noise, then fell silent. I climbed out. I was close enough now to make a run for it.
The quickest route was straight down the beach to Sea Farm, then into the neighborhood. Deanna’s house was only three blocks off the water. When I hit the beach, I took off my shoes and ran as hard as I could, staying close to the water where the sand was firm. Lightning split the night sky, severing it from pole to pole, and rendering me momentarily blind. I kept running. The rain soaked my clothes. By the time I turned off the beach, my knit top and jeans had absorbed so much water I felt like I
was weighted down by chains.
I stopped to catch my breath, hands on my knees and breathing hard, under the porch of the first house I came to. I wrung as much water as I could out of my shirt and darted up the street.
Colleen waited for me on Deanna’s back porch. “Troy.” She pointed at the broken pane in the back door.
I shivered. The last time Colleen and I encountered Troy in a house at night someone ended up dead.
I darted off the porch and around to the front of the house. Sam Manigault should’ve been parked out front. But he wasn’t. Michael, Blake and Merry should’ve beaten me here in the car. Clearly, Michael didn’t start the Jeep and peel out right behind me, or he’d have caught up with me before I got out of the marina parking lot. But surely they eventually followed me. But the street in front of the house and the driveway were empty. I pulled up short. No time to think about it. I doubled back, slipped in the back door, and closed it silently behind me.
The shrill ring of the phone startled me.
Footsteps. Someone was in the foyer.
I tiptoed from the kitchen, through the dining room, and stopped at the edge of the foyer. I leaned back sharply. Troy was just ahead of me. He stood at the entrance to the living room. Beyond him, Deanna sat calmly on the sofa, sipping tea. She didn’t look surprised to see Troy.
The phone rang again. She sat her teacup down and reached for the portable phone on the coffee table.
“Don’t answer that.” He waved his gun at her.
Damnation. I needed my gun.
She shrugged. “If I don’t, the police will be here in five minutes. You tripped the alarm when you broke the window.”
“D—”
“Don’t swear in my home,” she ordered calmly, like she was talking to a sassy kid.
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