The coffee cabinet also contained Jamaican Blue Mountain, Molokai Hawaiian Midnight Roast, and certified Kopi Luwak coffee, “wild and cage free.” Hell’s bells. Was that what I thought it was? I picked up the bag, read the back label. Yep. Zeke had a bag of that coffee that was eaten and digested by civets before it was roasted. I opened the bag. It did not look like regular coffee one bit.
I prowled through the rest of the cabinet and the drawers, finding nothing more interesting than colorful pottery coffee mugs. I scanned the room again.
There were two doors in the back wall. The one on the left stood slightly ajar. I walked over and pushed the door open. A bathroom. The door on the right appeared to be an exterior door. I opened it slowly and stepped outside. To my left was a small parking area. To my right was the driveway cars exiting the service bays used.
Zeke’s white Ford F-350 pickup was parked in the first spot. He’d typically driven the truck to work. This was common knowledge. Something—someone—had prevented him from leaving as usual last night.
There were three more parking spaces behind the building. A tow truck occupied the last spot. Two spaces sat empty between Zeke’s truck and the tow truck. A pair of mature magnolias screened the small parking area from the parking lot of the Baptist Church. Access to the back of the building was from Anchor Way on my right. To the left, the back of the bakery walled off the area. I walked to the edge of the lot. Someone could’ve accessed this area from behind the bakery, but they’d have gotten scratched up. A thick stand of bamboo grew close to the back of the building. If someone parked back here and loaded Zeke into a car or truck to move him, they would’ve had to’ve driven in from Anchor Way.
Had someone driven the Mustang over here? Or had Zeke been moved to the Lyerly home in another vehicle and then moved to the back of the Mustang? Why would anyone do that?
I needed to talk to Tammy Sue.
I looked into the window of Zeke’s truck. The glass was tinted, but I could see inside. It could’ve been sitting in a showroom—it looked that clean. A garage door opener was clipped to the sun visor. I tried the door, but it was locked.
I studied the asphalt.
Two faint scratches, maybe eighteen inches apart caught my eye. They trailed from near the door to the end of the second parking space.
I pulled out my phone and tapped Blake’s name in my favorites list.
He answered on the third ring. “Yeah, Sis.”
“I think Zeke’s shop was the crime scene. Looks like drag marks on the asphalt out back. Have forensics check the heels of Zeke’s boots.”
“Anyone there today?”
“Price Elliott.” I gave Blake the highlights of what Price had told me. “What did Doc Harper say?”
“He can’t tell anything yet, blah blah, but it could’ve been strychnine. He’s not going to say much until he’s done an autopsy, got his test results.”
“I’m heading back over there in a few minutes. Soon as I lock this place up, send Price home. We need to get forensics in here.”
“Sounds good. I’ll tack that way, bring the team from the Sheriff’s office when they finish here.”
“Any news?”
“Tammy came to, but then they had to sedate her. She’s still at Mom and Dad’s. I haven’t talked to her yet. Nate seemed to think you’d handle her better regardless. Mom’s got lunch ready, got trays of sandwiches, fruit, hell, I don’t know what all. I haven’t had time to eat myself.”
“Has Doc Harper taken custody of Zeke?”
“Yeah, they’re just leaving.”
“You going to have the car towed back to the station?”
“Thought I would, after the forensic team finishes up.”
“Should I see if Price can drive Zeke’s tow truck, or do you want to have Pete tow it?” Pete Carter ran the only other tow service in town.
“I’ll get Pete to do it. What’s your take on Price?”
“If he didn’t kill Zeke—and I don’t have any reason to think he did, yet—he was probably the last person to see him alive aside from the perpetrator.”
“Tell him not to leave town.”
“Roger that. See you soon.” I ended the call with Blake and walked around the building to avoid traipsing back through Zeke’s office.
As I rounded the corner, Colleen and Price came into view. Time to go. I threw the thought in her direction.
She said something I couldn’t hear, then started down the street. Price darted after her.
“Price?” I called out.
He ignored me, jogged a few steps to catch up with Colleen.
“Price, we need to talk,” I called.
He turned back to me with pure rage. “I don’t know what in the hell you want, but I’m done talking to you.”
And less than an hour ago, he’d gazed upon me with unambiguous lascivious notions. Another girl might be hurt at how fast he’d lost interest in her. “I’m afraid not.”
Colleen disappeared into thin air while his back was turned.
He snarled at me, then pivoted. “What the hell? Where’d she go?”
“You’ve got way bigger problems than that,” I said.
FOUR
I had to park two blocks away from Mamma and Daddy’s house on Sweetgrass Lane. Both sides of the street were lined with every emergency vehicle the town of Stella Maris owned, plus a white Tahoe with the Charleston County Sheriff’s Office emblem—the Crime Scene Forensics unit. Behind the official vehicles were those of curious island residents who didn’t live in the immediate area. I wended my way past huddled groups of somber-voiced friends and neighbors.
Nate’s Explorer was still in the driveway. My Godmother’s, Grace Sullivan’s, Cadillac was parked behind Blake’s dark green Tahoe. I didn’t recognize the other cars crowded in behind them. I climbed the steps and crossed the deep front porch of Mamma and Daddy’s rambling Lowcountry cottage.
“Mamma,” I called out as I opened the door.
“I’m in the kitchen,” she said.
I headed down the hall towards the back of the house. As I stepped into the kitchen, Grace lowered a platter of sandwiches onto the island. She wore her signature St. John pantsuit. Not a single hair in her platinum bob was out of place, and her understated makeup looked freshly applied. She looked awfully spiffy for someone who’d been working in the kitchen, is what I’m saying. Her and Mamma both.
“I’m starved.” I moved towards the sink to wash up.
“Hey, Sugar,” said Grace. “These are chicken salad. I just finished pulling things out.”
“There’s tomato sandwiches, pimento cheese, deviled eggs, potato salad, shrimp salad, and fruit salad,” said Mamma. “Watch that water now. You’re going to scald yourself. My gracious. What do you want to drink?”
“I’ll get some tea.” I dried my hands and slathered on some Purell. Then I picked up a blue stoneware plate and commenced piling it high. “Only you could pull together this kind of spread spur of the moment.”
“I couldn’t’ve done it without Grace,” Mamma said.
“That’s nonsense,” said Grace. “All I’ve done is get in the way.”
They argued the point while I settled onto a counter-height stool and tucked into lunch. I savored my first bite of home grown tomatoes, thinly sliced sweet onion, and Duke’s mayonnaise on soft white bread. “Mamma, are these your June Pinks?” June Pinks are my favorite heirloom tomato.
“Yes. I only had a few. It’s early yet.” She set a glass of iced tea by my plate.
“Thanks, Mamma,” I said. “Let’s hide those tomato sandwiches, why don’t we? How’s Tammy Sue?”
Mamma and Grace shook their heads in unison.
“That poor thing,” said Mamma. “She’s in a bad way, bless her heart.”
“Where is she?” I asked.
“On the sofa in the den,” said Mamma. “I wanted her close by where I could hear if she called.”
“Did she say anything more about what happened?” I asked. “Anything I need to know?”
“No.” Mamma shook her head. “She’s beside herself, quite naturally.”
I took a bite of chicken salad sandwich.
“You’re not going to try and ask her questions now are you?” asked Mamma.
“I have to,” I said. “There’s not going to be a good time, and I want to keep her from having to endure legal problems on top of losing Zeke.”
Grace said, “Really, Sugar, can’t that wait a day or two?”
“Unfortunately not,” I said.
They both frowned at me.
“Grace, are you getting any kind of a read on this?” I asked. Grace was our island psychic—not the kind with a sign out front. Grace ran the bed and breakfast. But after a near-drowning in her teens, she had the gift.
“Well, I can tell you that poor child didn’t kill anyone, if that’s what you mean,” said Grace.
I nodded. That “poor child” was somewhere north of forty. “I figured. Has Nate had lunch?”
“Why yes, of course,” said Mamma. “I insisted. I took him and Blake both plates out. Your brother hadn’t touched his last I looked. Surely you can’t talk to Tammy after she’s been sedated.”
I wanted to linger over lunch, but made short work of it while Mamma and Grace continued to make their case for me letting Tammy sleep. It wasn’t that I disagreed with them. In the best of all perfect worlds, Tammy should have time to grieve before we started asking her questions. But she couldn’t grieve properly from jail, and I needed to keep her from being further traumatized.
I set up the voice memo app, then took my tea and a glass for Tammy into the adjoining den. She was stretched out under a quilt on Mamma’s buttery yellow leather sofa. Chumley, Daddy’s Bassett Hound, slept on the floor beside her.
“Tammy?” I set the tea down on the coffee table and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Tammy Sue?”
She blinked, stirred.
I took the wing back closest to her.
Tammy gasped, as if remembering her loss. Her lips trembled.
Chumley woofed a soft bark.
I patted him on the head, then spoke softly. “Tammy, honey, I need to talk to you.”
She squeezed her eyes closed. “I can’t.”
“It’s important. You want to help me find out what happened, don’t you?”
“I just can’t.” Her voice was a shaky whisper.
“You’ve got to be strong, now. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. But I need your help to get justice for Zeke.”
“What am I going to do?” She pulled the quilt closer, up around her ears.
“You’re going to take this one day at a time. Right now, we need to figure out who might have meant Zeke harm. Do you have any ideas at all?”
“All I can think of is maybe Crystal, you know, if she was pressuring Zeke to divorce me, but he wouldn’t. Maybe she got angry.”
“Did you and Zeke ever talk about divorce?” I asked.
“Never. Zeke loved me. I know he did. This was…I don’t know what this was. But he did love me.”
“Of course he did.” I pulled the clear plastic bag with the iPhone I’d found out of my purse. “Do you recognize this phone?”
She nodded. “It looks like Zeke’s case. I mean, I guess there are a lot of iPhones with black cases. Where did you find it?”
“On the counter in his office. Do you know the passcode?”
“Yes. It’s 8764. It stands for ‘Tammy Sue is My Girl.’” Her voice trailed off into a keen.
“Stay strong, now,” I said. “When was the last time you saw Zeke?”
She took a deep breath, gathered herself. “Yesterday at lunch time.”
“Did you speak with him after that?”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. She shook her head. “Normally we talked several times during the day. But things have been tense these last few weeks.”
“Walk me through this. We gave you the pictures yesterday morning at ten. Did you confront Zeke at lunch?”
“That’s right. I was very upset, naturally.”
“Naturally. What did he have to say for himself?”
Tammy negotiated herself into an upright position. “The usual things men say. It didn’t mean anything. He loved me. He was sorry. He promised not to see her anymore.”
“Did you believe him?”
“That he loved me, yes. And I believed he was sorry. He seemed very…subdued. Which was unusual for Zeke, as you know. I’m not sure I believed it didn’t mean anything. It meant a lot to me. If you love someone, really love someone, you’re not drawn to other people in that way. You know what I mean?”
“I do,” I said. “But these things are complicated. The important thing to remember now is that he loved you. Tammy, did the two of you have an argument at lunch?”
“Boy, did we ever. You know we’re both—we were both—passionate people.” She dissolved into noisy tears.
“I know, Tammy. Now, focus for me. What time did Zeke come home, and what time did he leave?”
“I called him right after you and Nate left. I told him I needed him to come straight home. He did. He arrived about eleven fifteen. I confronted him. He admitted he and Crystal had been having an affair for the last couple of months. He begged me to forgive him. I…I needed to work out my anger.”
“How did you go about that?”
“I hit him a couple of times. He let me at first. Then he grabbed my wrists. We struggled. I scratched his cheek. It wasn’t my finest moment.”
Fresh scratches on the victim’s face. Not good. “How long did this argument last?”
“He left to go back to the shop a little after one.”
“And you didn’t speak to him after that?”
She sobbed, shook her head.
I patted her arm. “What time does he normally come home?”
“About six thirty.”
“Did you try to call him when he didn’t come home?”
“No. I thought he’d picked her. Gone to her house. I never thought—” She dissolved into sobs and heaves.
I gave her a minute. “I bet you were up all night.”
“I was. How could I sleep? I thought he loved her more than me. But the whole time, he was already gone.” The sobs got louder.
Mamma and Grace peeked in from the kitchen. Their expressions announced their grave disappointment in me. Mamma crossed her arms. I stroked Tammy Sue’s hair.
“When did it come to you to light a fire in the car?” I asked.
“When it started getting daylight, I suppose. He loved that car so much. It was his very first car. He hardly ever drove it, kept it in the garage all the time. I wanted to hurt him.”
“It was in the garage last night?”
“Yes.”
“How many sets of keys to the Mustang are there?” I asked.
“Two. We each had a set on our keychains.”
“You were up all night? You didn’t doze off at all?”
“I didn’t close my eyes, not once.”
“Did you hear anything in the garage at all?”
She was quiet for a moment, thinking. “No. Nothing. But I did have the music on pretty loud. I was hurting. I was listening to Johnny Cash.”
“Were you maybe sipping a little something for the pain?” I asked.
“Well, yes. Who wouldn’t?”
“You make an excellent point. Is there any way someone could’ve taken the Mustang from the garage without you knowing?”
She shook her head. “I would’ve heard something or seen something if anyone took it out of the garage. That car is loud.�
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“But you had the music up and you’d had a drink or two…”
“I’m telling you, that car is loud. The whole house shakes when Zeke starts the engine.”
“Okay. About what time did you pull the Mustang out into the driveway this morning?”
“I guess it was a little after six.”
“Did you notice anything amiss in the garage?”
“No, but I was too distracted to care about anything like that.”
“Was the top already down?”
“No, I put the top down after I moved it outside.”
“And then what did you do?” I asked.
“Well, I put a pile of his clothes in the backseat and lit a match. Then I went inside and got more clothes. I made several trips. I filled up the back and started on the front seats. I had to relight the fire several times. It didn’t catch right off. We didn’t have lighter fluid, anything like that. It had just started burning good when your daddy showed up. Not long after that, here came your mamma, then Blake. I guess you know the rest of the story.”
“Tammy, can you think of anyone who Zeke had bad blood with? Anyone who had a reason to hurt him?”
“No one who would have done this.”
“But he did have a falling out with someone?”
“Well, he nearly fired Price Elliott.”
“When?”
“Maybe a week ago. Price was always late. And he was always wanting to leave early, had some excuse. His work ethic isn’t what it should be. Zeke took him on as a favor to Grant and Glenda when Price failed out of college. Zeke’s been very frustrated with him. Finally Zeke told him if he wanted to keep his job he’d have to show up on time and act like he wanted a job there. Price was angry. They argued. But I can’t see him doing this thing.”
“Is there anyone you could see doing it?”
“Well, no, of course not.”
“Nevertheless, someone did. Was there anyone else Zeke had trouble with?”
Lowcountry Bonfire Page 4
