I absorbed that for a moment. “They have a restaurant there. And two bars.”
“They do.”
“Where did she say she was?”
“She’d be somewhere else, and then on the way home she’d make a stop she forgot to mention.”
“Did you ever ask her about it?”
“No.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because in all the years I knew her, I never knew Shelby to lie. I was afraid I might not want to hear the truth.” His voice was tight with pain.
I gave him a moment. Shelby’s calendar was still open on her desk. The police hadn’t even taken it. I flipped through the pages. “Can I take this?”
He cleared his throat. “Sure. Her address book is in the top desk drawer. I think you needed that.”
I reached for the drawer handles, confirming permission with an asking glance.
He nodded.
I slid open the drawer and pulled the leather-bound address book that matched the calendar out. “I’ll get this back to you.”
“No rush.”
I stepped over to the french doors. The bookcases framed them, recessing them from the room. There was no balcony, only a window ledge and a wrought iron rail that came up to my waist. I tried hard to imagine how someone might accidentally fall out the doors and over the sturdy barrier. My imagination failed me.
“How tall was Shelby?” I asked.
“Five-seven. Not quite as tall as you, but almost.”
“Could we walk outside?” I asked.
“Of course.” He seemed to steel himself.
We went down the stairs, back through the kitchen, and into the courtyard. The pool was the focal point. A variety of green plants thrived in deep planters in each corner. Water splashing from the fountain into the pool made a soothing sound. Such a peaceful oasis. Such a horrible thing happened here.
The front end of the walled garden was grass. A wooden doghouse sat under a canvas sun shade.
“Only one doghouse?” I asked, thinking that could lead to fights.
“That’s Annabelle’s. All the pets sleep inside. But Annabelle needs more time outdoors during the day than the others.”
“Annabelle? You have another dog?”
“Belly isn’t a dog.” On cue, a large, black-and-white potbellied pig appeared from behind the house. “She’s dug a spot in the yard behind the house where she likes to sit during the day.”
I’m an animal lover from way back. But I took a moment to process two cats, five dogs, and a pot-bellied pig in a townhouse. Fraser was right. It was a petting zoo.
Belly meandered in our direction.
“She can be territorial where I’m concerned.” Clint took a step away from me. “She won’t bite you.”
Belly laid down in front of Clint and rolled over for a tummy rub, just like Socrates had done earlier in the kitchen. Clint knelt to oblige the pig. “Belly’s a sweet girl.”
“It’s good you have company.” I kept both eyes on Belly, who very likely outweighed me. “I’m just going to look around. Is there access from outside?”
“Yes.” He pointed to the kitchen corner of the house. “There’s a pathway around back that leads to the driveway. You can’t see it until you’re right in front of it.”
I took in the six-foot brick wall. If someone had come down to either verify that Shelby was dead or try to help her, they’d come through the kitchen or down the path. I walked over and peered behind the house. The space was only wide enough for the walkway. I meandered back towards Clint, scanned the courtyard again
“I’ve troubled you enough for one day,” I said. “May I call you if I have questions?”
“Of course.” He gave Belly a final pat and stood. He called out his number, and I typed it into my phone and added a contact. Then I gave him my number and Nate’s so he’d know who was calling and answer the phone.
He escorted me back to the front door and opened it.
I said, “For what it’s worth, you’ve got yourself one more believer.”
He met my gaze. “I appreciate that.”
I couldn’t get it out of my head how odd it was he hadn’t mentioned Sonny. One of Shelby’s friends—Delta Tisdale—gave his name to Paul Baker because Shelby talked about Sonny a lot. I was out the front door. In a moment Clint would close it behind me. I had to ask while I could see his face.
“One more thing,” I said. “Do you recall Shelby ever mentioning Sonny Ravenel?”
He pressed his lips together, shook his head. “The name is vaguely familiar. But he’s not one of Shelby’s friends far as I know. Why?” If he wasn’t being candid, he was a superb liar.
“He’s a friend of mine who volunteers at One80Place. I thought maybe they knew each other.” Sonny’s name would be familiar to many folks in Charleston from crime coverage in the news.
“She never mentioned him. Most people who volunteer serve meals in the community kitchen. I bet that’s what your friend does. Shelby was a long-term volunteer. She spent most of her time at the women and children’s shelter.”
I smiled. “That explains it.”
Except it didn’t. Why wouldn’t Shelby mention Sonny to her husband if he was her friend? Who all else had she failed to mention? What kind of secrets did Shelby have?
FIVE
Shelby’s best friend, Jane Kinloch, agreed to meet with me, but suggested lunch at The Park Café instead of me dropping by her Hampton Park Terrace home. I had mixed emotions about this arrangement. I would learn more about Jane and her husband, Charles, with a visit to their house, where family photos, mementos, and other artifacts of their lives would be on display.
But The Park Café was a pretty lunch spot. It was situated at the approximate intersection of three upper peninsula Charleston neighborhoods: Hampton Park Terrace, Wagener Terrace, and North Central. Big windows, lots of natural light, a crisp, white-on-white décor, and a plethora of plants made it comfortable and inviting. And the menu offered what Nate, Sonny, or Blake would’ve called girl food.
While I waited on the banquette side of a table in the corner, I opened the Voice Memo app on my iPhone, tapped the red button to record, then pressed the home button to return to the menu. I laid my phone on the table, the way I often did in restaurants to keep it handy. Jane would likely never notice the thin red bar at the top that said “Recording.” Typically I asked before recording a conversation. But in some cases, my instincts told me the subject might be skittish of such a thing. I would be asking Jane to talk candidly about her husband and her friends.
A trim blonde dressed in white slacks and a yellow blouse with a colorful scarf walked through the door, searching the room with her eyes. I waved. She nodded and headed my way. Her hair flipped up at the shoulder, a few bangs scattered across her forehead. She touched her pearls as she approached the table.
“Jane?” I asked.
“Yes. You must be Liz. So nice to meet you.” Her voice identified her as a card-carrying sweet Southern lady.
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “Thank you so much for coming on such short notice.”
“I hope you’ll forgive me for not having you to my home.” She slid into the chair across from me.
I was thinking how she’d wanted the option to end the conversation whenever she pleased without the stress of having to invent a sufficient excuse to get me out of her house or risk being impolite by asking me to leave.
Her voice dropped to a near whisper. Her hazel eyes shimmered. “It’s just that…I’ve done this several times now. The police, Clint’s attorney, his investigator—the first one. And now you. I would do anything I could to help Shelby. To help Clint. But I really don’t know anything helpful. And this brings it all back.”
“I am so sorry for asking you to do this. But I need to get up to speed fast. They�
�ll start picking a jury in two weeks.”
Jane pressed both sets of fingers to her lips, closed her eyes, and nodded.
“You said you wanted to help Clint. So you don’t believe he killed Shelby?” I asked.
“Oh good Heavens, no. Such a thing is simply not possible. I worry about him, you know? He positively cherished her.”
“But not to the point of obsession?”
“Was it healthy for him, how much his life revolved around hers? I wouldn’t presume to pass judgement on that. But I know this much. He’d sooner rip his heart out with his bare hands than hurt her. And you should know this. Shelby was like a sister to me. If I thought there was a remote possibility he’d done this, I’d pull the switch to fry him myself.”
The waitress stopped by to see if we were ready to order.
“I know what I want,” I said. “Do you?”
“Yes.” Jane turned to the waitress. “I’d like The Park Lettuces with chicken and an avocado toast. Unsweetened tea, please.”
I smiled. “I’ll have the same, but I’d also like the field pea hummus. Want to share?”
Jane smiled back. “I just love that stuff.”
The waitress collected our menus and slipped away.
I pulled the Purell out of my purse, pumped a generous pool into my left hand, set the sanitizer on the table, and rubbed my hands together, making sure to get my forearms. I looked up to see Jane watching me. “Would you like some?”
“No thank you,” she said. “I just washed my hands.”
I resisted the urge to tell her how many people had handled the menus, and changed the subject. “I had to give up sweet tea when I turned thirty.” There may have been longing in my voice.
Jane gave a little moan of despair. “Me too. The calories. Just wait ’til you turn forty.”
“You can’t possibly be forty.” Of course I knew exactly how old she was.
“I’m every day of it, and feeling it lately.” She gave me a long, searching look. “I have to tell you, if you’re thinking my husband was having an affair with Shelby, you’re barking up the wrong tree. That other detective, he just wouldn’t let go of that notion. It’s no wonder he never got anywhere.”
“We’ve already eliminated that so-called lead.” This was mostly true.
“Really?” She tilted her head. “Well, maybe you will find out what happened to Shelby. I tried to tell him Charles and Shelby were just friends. The three of us have known each other all our lives.”
“I’ve heard they had coffee a lot, Charles and Shelby. Anything in particular they needed to discuss? Were they working on some committee together?”
“No,” she said. “Nothing like that. We had a few rough spots, Charles and me. He…Charles grew up with money. But we’ve had to work for everything we have. Neither his parents nor mine handed us a trust. We have a good life. But it eats at Charles that some of our friends have homes South of Broad and we don’t. Shelby was a good friend to both of us. She spent extra time with him, tried to make him see how unimportant material things were.”
“So you never thought there was anything going on between them?” Aside from ruling Charles completely out, I needed to vet Jane.
“She was my best friend since childhood. It’s just not possible she would ever betray me like that.”
I nodded, held her gaze. I didn’t know her well enough to know how good a liar she was, but I was inclined to believe her. “This is purely a formality, you understand. For my files. Goodness gracious—all this paperwork. I have to check everyone off. Where were you the night Shelby was killed, at around nine o’clock?”
Jane flushed. Her hand fluttered up to her chest. “Now…now…you can’t possibly think—”
“Oh, of course not. Why, everyone knows you were her very best friend. I just have to document it. For the files.”
“Well, I was at home. With the children. We have a twelve-year-old boy and a ten-year-old girl.”
“And Charles was in London. What a shame he had to travel over the weekend, right there between Christmas and New Years. Is that typical?”
“Charles works all the time. We were lucky he was home Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.”
“What does he do?” Of course I knew the answer. But I wanted to hear how she would characterize his job.
“He’s a photojournalist. He does freelance work for newspapers, magazines…all like that.”
“I bet he does have crazy hours.” His photo credits suggested paparazzi might be a more accurate term than photojournalist. The shot he’d taken of one of the Kardashians the night of Shelby’s murder was date and time stamped. It was his alibi—unless he’d had an accomplice. I wanted to believe the Kinlochs were innocent. But until we uncovered the truth, everything was a possibility.
“What about Sonny Ravenel?” I asked.
Jane stilled. “What about him?”
“How well did Shelby know him?”
“They were friends. Shelby met him at One80Place.”
The waitress placed our iced teas in front of us.
“Did she talk about him a lot?”
Jane lifted a shoulder. “She mentioned him sometimes.”
“Were Shelby and Clint happily married?”
“Very. They were devoted to each other.”
“Do you think it’s possible Shelby was having an affair, not with Charles, but with anyone? And before you answer, remember that Clint’s very life depends on us getting to the truth. We’re way past protecting reputations here.”
Jane sipped her tea. She set the glass down and smoothed the edges of the napkin under it. “It’s possible.” The words were almost a whisper.
“Tell me what you know and what you suspect.” I kept my voice gentle.
“You have to understand who Shelby was. She had such a big heart. But she never lived by anyone’s rules but her own. She was a free spirit, a bit of a wild child when we were younger.”
I kept quiet, let her talk.
“She was crazy about Clint, would never have left him. But Clint kept Shelby on a pedestal. He treated her like a china doll. There was a side of her that craved excitement. If someone pursued her…maybe someone a little dangerous…she might’ve had a fling.”
“Did you ever know her to do this?” A meaningless affair seemed inconsistent with the nearly angelic image of Shelby I had so far.
Jane shook her head. “She wouldn’t have told me. It’s not the kind of thing she would’ve told anyone. Shelby would’ve seen that as disloyal to Clint, the telling.”
Interesting. I sipped my tea. Either Shelby had been a complex woman, or Jane had an agenda of her own.
“I’m not saying she had an affair,” said Jane. “I’m saying it’s possible. And if she did, it wasn’t anything serious.”
“But the other person involved might not have felt the same way,” I said.
“Exactly. That’s the only reason I’m telling you. It feels like a disgraceful breach of her trust. But I know she’d want me to help Clint if I can.”
“If she were having an affair, could you venture a guess as to who it might’ve been with?”
Jane mulled that for a moment. “The only person I’ve heard her talk about who isn’t a part of our circle is Sonny. That’s the thing. It would never have been someone from inside our circle. That would’ve been a violation of family almost.”
Something grabbed my insides and twisted. Sonny just couldn’t be a part of this. I tried mightily to wrap my brain around Shelby’s code.
Jane said, “I’m afraid I’ve explained things badly. I wouldn’t want you to think poorly of Shelby. She was a beautiful spirit.”
I nodded, sipped my tea. “Do you think Clint knew Shelby had this wild streak?”
Jane was quiet for a moment. “He probably saw it. Maybe sometimes she
’d want to kick up her heels—dance in the rain in her evening gown, or skinny dip late at night in a hotel pool—harmless things. Sometimes he went along with her. Sometimes she pushed him past his comfort zone, I think. But yeah, he knew her very well.”
“How do you think he would’ve responded if she did have an affair and he found out about it?” I asked.
“I think it would’ve killed him. But he still would never have hurt her. I don’t care what she did.”
“What if he confronted her, they fought, and it was an accident?” I asked.
“Honestly? I don’t think he would’ve confronted her. I think he would’ve known it was just her on a tear. Talking about it would’ve made it real. As long as he never mentioned it, he could pretend it never happened. But that’s assuming she had an affair to begin with. I’m not convinced she did.”
The waitress set our lunch in front of us. We oohed over it—men just don’t appreciate pretty food the way women do—then commenced tasting.
After a few bites, I asked, “How did Shelby get along with her parents? Her brother?”
“She was very close to her parents. They’re such sweet folks. Like second parents to me. Thomas has been an insufferable ass his entire life. As much as Thomas has, he always wants more. More money. More power. Friends in high places—he’s a shameless name-dropper. I suppose Shelby loved him. He was her brother, after all. But they just lived separate lives.”
“Can you think of any family rift that might’ve escalated? Sometimes money makes folks act out of character.”
“Not at all. In fact, if you didn’t know the Poinsetts had money, you’d never guess it from the way they act. Well, except for Thomas and his wife, Deirdre. And Shelby never mentioned them at all. There wasn’t anything to fight over, really. Williams and Tallulah were smart. Or maybe they had good advisors. Everything to do with the money was decided years ago. If there was a way for Thomas to get more of it, I wouldn’t put it past him to try. I’m not saying he’d kill Shelby, now. But he’s a manipulator. My sense is that Williams and Tallulah understood money can corrupt people. They took steps early on to make sure it never came between their family.”
LOWCOUNTRY BOOK CLUB Page 6
