“So it would seem.” His words came out bitter.
“Any thoughts on that?”
“None. Everyone we knew loved Shelby. It’s impossible for me to imagine any of them would hurt her under any circumstances.”
“Something unimaginable happened here,” I said. “I need the names of everyone you can think of who Shelby would’ve let in the front door.”
“All right…well, her parents. Williams and Tallulah.”
“Did she get along well with them? Do you?”
“Yeah. They’re great people, warm, down-to-earth. Like Shelby. She was close to them. So am I. We had dinner there most Sundays.”
“That Sunday?”
“No. Tallulah had a cold. She missed church. Seems like they had a church dinner planned that night anyway.”
“You all attended church together?”
“Well, we’re all members of the same church—St. Michael’s. And we typically sit together, so I guess, yeah.”
“What about Shelby’s brother, Thomas?”
“She wasn’t close to him. He’s all about power, position, money. He lives in San Francisco. Hasn’t been home in years. Until the funeral.”
“Are the family financial arrangements such that he would benefit from Shelby’s death?”
“No. They both have trusts. Shelby and I jointly owned hers. I’m the only one who benefits financially.”
“Who established the trusts originally?”
“Shelby’s parents. Hers was modified after we were married.”
“What about their estate?”
He took a long swig of coffee, then set his mug down, raised an eyebrow. “They’re both in good health. But when they pass, a chunk of the estate goes to various charities. The remainder is owned by a trust. Shelby and Thomas were beneficiaries. But Shelby’s share…I don’t see that going to Thomas. They’ll probably divert that to charities important to Shelby—One80Place. The church. Charleston Library Society. Animal Rescue.”
“Any other family?”
“Shelby’s grandparents are at Bishop Gadsden retirement home—her mom’s parents. Her dad’s parents passed five years ago.”
“That’s it?”
“She has a few cousins in Atlanta. Aunts, uncles. But they don’t stay in touch.”
“None of them ever asked her for money?” Family that didn’t stay in touch might reach out if they needed something.
“They all have plenty of their own.”
“There are no deep dark family secrets? I’m not going to find out that Shelby had a dramatic childhood incident with an uncle—nothing like that?”
“Oh God, no.”
“So in your opinion, no one in Shelby’s family had a motive to kill her?”
“I’d bet my life on it.”
I looked at him for a long time. I didn’t have to tell him that was exactly what he was doing. “What about your family?” I’d already profiled Clint and his family. But I wanted to hear what he had to say.
“What about them?” He took a long drink of coffee.
“Are they still in California?”
“My parents are. I have a brother, Cliff. He’s stationed at Fort Benning.”
“Are the two of you close?”
“Yeah. He has a wife and two daughters. They were all crazy about Shelby.”
“Did you see them at Christmas?”
“They were here for a week. Santa came here to see the kids.”
“You didn’t see your parents during the holidays, neither you nor your brother?” I asked.
“No.” His face went hard. “Shelby made damn sure my parents were taken care of. Against my wishes. But they aren’t much on family.” Clint’s parents, Bill and Brenda Gerhardt, had both been to prison on drug-related charges. He and his brother had been in and out of foster care growing up. I knew this. It was in the file.
“Any chance they would show up here looking to be taken care of better?”
He was quiet for a long moment. “I wouldn’t rule it out.”
“What about friends?”
“Shelby’s best friend is—was—Jane Kinloch.”
“Kinloch? She married to Charles Kinloch?”
“That’s right.” He looked away.
“Any idea where Paul Baker got the idea Shelby was having an affair with Charles?”
“That would’ve been me.” A pained look crept across his face. “They had coffee together a lot. And he had a way of watching her I didn’t care for. We had dinner with them about once a week.”
“He was in London when Shelby died. If he had anything to do with it, he would’ve had to’ve had an accomplice or hired it out. That doesn’t feel right to me. Do you disagree? Is there any reason I should give him a closer look?”
“No more or less than anyone else we knew,” he said.
“You socialize with Fraser Rutledge and his wife as well?”
“Yeah. Shelby and Fraser were tight since the schoolyard. His wife, Constance, I’m not sure she was happy about that, how close they were.”
“She the jealous type?”
Clint made a face. “I don’t know. Maybe. Fraser’s all talk. He acts like he’s always chasing something, but my take is he’s a family man. They have five kids. She would destroy him in a divorce. No one knows that better than Fraser.”
“Who were Shelby’s other friends?”
“Delta Tisdale. She’s the secretary of the book club. Mariel Camp, Anne Spence, Erin Guidici, Liz Bell, and Mary Bernard. They’re in the book club too. So’s the lady next door—Evelyn Izard. She and Shelby weren’t close, though. Evelyn is a notorious lush. The other women in that club I don’t know. Jane or Delta could tell you.”
“What about your neighbors on the other side?”
“The Vennings? Nick and Margaret. We don’t—we didn’t—spend much time with them.”
“Some of the neighbors told the police detectives they’d heard you and Shelby arguing.”
“Fraser mentioned that. Honestly, I don’t know what they were talking about. Maybe they heard the TV. Shelby and I didn’t yell at each other—ever. And the Izards…it’s as likely as anything the Vennings heard the Izards fighting and thought it was us. But who knows? The most likely way any of us could overhear any of the others would be outside in the courtyards.”
I mulled that for a minute. “Does your courtyard back up to the lot behind you?”
“Yeah. There’s an old carriage house on the other side of our courtyard wall. I don’t think anyone’s living there.”
I made myself a note to follow up to be sure. “Any other friends you can think of?” Had he known Shelby was close to Sonny?
He shook his head slowly. “That’s it. The staff at One80Place—that’s all online. Shelby talked about most of them at one time or another.”
“How about folks she knew at church?”
“There’s overlap there. Jane and several of the book club ladies go to our church. Shelby had so many friends. But the one she spent most of her time with, that would be Jane.”
“Was Shelby a member of a gym?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No.”
“Was she a part of any other group that you can think of? Did she stay in touch with friends from college?”
Skepticism twisted Clint’s face into a scowl. “Not really. She exchanged Christmas and birthday cards with a few of them. Emails, an occasional phone call. But for one of them to show up here, that would really be out of the blue.”
“But possible?”
“Highly improbable, but possible, I suppose.”
“I need every name you can recall.”
“Her roommate was Lark Littleton. The other names are in her address book. I’ll get it for you before you leave.”
“W
hat about friends from Georgia? Your Army buddies?”
“We were close with the guys in my unit and their wives. But I’ve been out for nearly eight years. We see them all once or twice a year.” He shook his head, drew back his lips in something that approached a sneer. “No. Just, no.”
“Are they still active duty?”
“Two of them are.”
“May I please have their names, phone numbers, and current cities just so I can eliminate them?” Military records—recent ones—were virtually impossible for me to access legally. I had no inclination to access them illegally.
“It’s pointless, but fine.” He called out five names, looked up the phone numbers in his phone. I took everything down.
“Can you think of anyone else Shelby would’ve opened the door to without coming to get you?”
He was silent for a long time, stared at nothing over my right shoulder. “No. That’s it. But you’ll never convince me one of our friends or someone in our family killed her.”
“I really hope you’re wrong about that. Let’s switch channels for a moment. Why would she’ve had the french doors open in December, do you suppose?”
“It had been a warm day—in the low seventies. Shelby’s hot natured. She was always opening those doors to let in fresh air,” he said.
“Are the library doors not tied into the alarm system?”
“Yeah,” he said. “She punched in her code and bypassed them.”
“Is it possible she just turned the alarm off before she opened the doors?” I asked.
“No. Every time one of us types in a code, it’s recorded at the alarm company. She bypassed the library doors right after I went upstairs. She disarmed the system at 8:55 to let someone in.”
“I know this is obvious, but I have to make sure I’m asking the right questions, which means I need to ask them all. Was Shelby having trouble with anyone?”
He looked at his coffee, shook his head. “No. Nothing serious.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m about to step into it, I know. Women…you get a group of them together, and there’s always squabbles.”
I raised an eyebrow at him.
“You know exactly what I mean.” He sounded exasperated.
I did know what he meant. “Okay, so who was squabbling?”
“The book club ladies. Minor stuff. You’ll have to ask Jane.”
“Do you have her cell number?”
He pulled out his phone, looked it up, and rattled it off.
“What about you?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Were you having trouble with anyone? Is there anyone from your past who might have a grudge? I know this is far-fetched, but is there anyone who might bear you animosity from your time in the military?”
“Plenty of people. But they’re on other continents and don’t know my name or how to find me.”
“How about from California? People you knew years ago?”
“No,” he said. “No one. But it doesn’t matter. Because these are folks Shelby never laid eyes on. She wouldn’t have disarmed the alarm system, released the floor barricade, and opened the door. She would’ve come straight upstairs to get me.”
“Okay. I think I have what I need, except I’d like to take a look around if you don’t mind.”
“Sure. I’ll give you the tour. You came in through the front.” He stood and headed through the butler’s pantry and into the dining room. It was furnished with what I’d bet were expensive antiques, but like the living room beyond, nothing about it was ostentatious. The rooms were uncluttered, with only framed family photos on the occasional chest or table.
I followed him to the third floor. On the front of the house overlooking the street, his study was all dark woods and leather, with a sofa floated near the center of the room, its back to the door. A desk in front of the window faced the sofa, and shelving for countless vinyl record albums lined the walls. Beside the desk was a stout-looking metal stand which held a turntable the likes of which I’d never seen. It appeared both futuristic and antique, retro shiny metal with a glossy wood-grained top and an actual spinning platform that looked at least four inches thick. I must’ve been staring at it.
“It’s a Continuum Audio Labs Caliburn,” he said. “Shelby bought it for me for Christmas years ago. It was unlike her, the extravagance. That system probably cost a hundred grand. She’d never spend that on herself for something purely for entertainment.”
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
He almost smiled. “It is that.”
His study, like the rest of the house, was immaculate. “Is someone coming to clean for you? Cook?” We moved down the hall.
“Nah. I don’t mind cleaning. Gives me something to do. The women from the church keep my freezer stocked. Two or three of them are by here every week to check on me. Tallulah too. I don’t have much of an appetite.”
One of the guest rooms was open. I peeked in as he passed towards the closed door at the back of the house. The dogs barked louder.
“Do you want to meet the dogs?” he asked.
“Sure.”
He tilted his head, raised an eyebrow, and opened the door. Five dogs, one small, three medium, and one very large, all of mixed breeds, rushed Clint. The small one, who likely had some Yorkshire terrier in her, ran around Clint in a circle. Two others jumped up and put their front paws on his legs. The large dog, which might have been part English Mastiff, part St. Bernard, sat with his tongue hanging out and watched the others.
Clint ruffled heads, patted sides. “Hey buddies. Good boy. Good girl. This is Scooter, Gertie, Gladys, Blue, and Bear.”
The Jack Russell Terrier mix sprang from the floor straight up in the air repeatedly, like a bouncing ball.
“Scooter, you rascal. You’ll get to go outside soon.” For the first time that day, Clint smiled.
Bear woofed once. He wanted attention too.
They were all so happy to see Clint, they barely noticed me.
Finally, a shepherd mix cocked his head at me as if to say, “Who are you?” Then they all came to say hello.
“Okay now, don’t jump on her.”
“They’re fine.” I laughed, patted heads, and scratched them behind their ears. Bear lumbered over and pushed his way through the crowd. “Sweet puppies.”
After a few moments, Clint gentled them back into the bedroom and closed the door.
“Someone come to walk the dogs?” I doubted his ankle monitor allowed him to do that.
“I hired a service.”
We went back to the second floor. I followed him into the master suite. Done in shades of white, ivory, and taupe, it was luxurious and restful. Scattered across Shelby’s skirted dressing table were things she likely held precious: framed photos, perfume bottles, a silver ring holder with a pair of diamond earrings, a pressed flower. On the tufted chair was a sleeping striped cat that might’ve been a Maine Coon.
“That’s Plato,” said Clint.
The Gerhardts each had a walk-in closet.
“Have you gone through her things?” I asked. “For any clue as to someone who might have meant her harm?”
“That’s all I’ve done. There’s nothing here.”
I pondered that. If other leads didn’t materialize, I would come back and repeat the search.
We stopped at the door to the library. “You don’t have to come in here,” I said.
“I don’t mind. I feel close to Shelby in here. This was her space. Her books, her things.” He sat in a buttery leather chair by the fireplace and put his feet up on a matching ottoman. “This was her reading spot.”
Built-in bookcases lined the walls from floor to ceiling, wrapping over the doors. A large writing desk sat several feet inside the french doors, facing the room. The space had the
feel of a traditional library, but with feminine touches. Fresh-cut yellow tulips in a crystal vase brightened the corner of the desk.
“Yellow tulips were her favorite,” he said. “They’ve delivered them once a week ever since we settled here permanently after I got out of the army. I can’t bring myself to stop the delivery.”
I swallowed hard and nodded. “Where were the dogs?”
“With me. They like jazz. They were sprawled all over the rug.”
“Was anything in here disturbed?”
“Only one thing I could find.”
I turned towards him.
“Her desk calendar. The page for that Sunday was torn out.”
“That seems important. She didn’t mention she was expecting anyone?”
“No. But just that one page was gone.”
“Did the police follow up on that?”
“Honestly, I think they would’ve if they’d thought of a way. They seem like decent guys. But things looked cut and dried from their perspective. Can’t say I blame them. In the end, they said I probably destroyed it in an attempt to throw suspicion somewhere else. I did not.”
“Did she keep an electronic calendar?”
“No. Shelby led an unplugged life. She had an iPhone for safety because I insisted. She would’ve carried the simplest model of phone you can still buy. She didn’t use her phone for email. She didn’t use social media at all. But I wanted her to have access to directions when she needed them. And the Find My Friends app so I could locate her. Shelby habited parts of town that could be dangerous. I wanted to keep her safe.”
“And keep tabs on her?”
He scowled. “No.”
“But you did, didn’t you? When you were in one of your cycles? It would’ve been very tempting.”
“Okay, so maybe I did.” His voice was soft, sounded like regret. “But that’s not why I wanted her to have the phone.”
“Did you ever find her somewhere other than where she said she was going to be?”
He stared at his hands. “Yes, I did.”
“More than once?”
He nodded.
“Where was she?”
“Several different restaurants around town. And Market Pavilion Hotel.”
LOWCOUNTRY BOOK CLUB Page 5
