Zeke
“He loved you so much, Tammy.” That was quite clear to me. I tried to fit that knowledge with the other thing I knew for a stone-cold fact: Zeke had cheated on Tammy. Was it as simple as a mid-life crisis?
“He did, didn’t he? When he wrote that letter, he really did love me. I just hope he still did.”
“Of course he did.”
“Do you think some spy came here and killed him?”
I pondered that for a moment. “I don’t. Someone must’ve used Zeke’s key fob or the garage door opener in his truck to open the garage door and put him in the trunk of the Mustang. This is not how spies do things. They would’ve been in and out, quick and clean.”
“Should I call April?”
“Are you scared?”
“No. I mean to let her know. She and Zeke were married, after all. She was his partner. It probably won’t be in the Charleston paper.”
“Robert probably had an envelope for her too,” I said. “Do you want me to make sure of that?”
“Yes, please. Thank you, Liz. I don’t know what I’d do without you and your Mamma and Daddy.” She sat quietly for a moment. “What do I do now?”
“Get a shower and get dressed.”
“What for?”
“Because that will be quicker than getting a power of attorney so I can open the safe deposit box.”
TEN
Nate headed over to the hardware store to get the skinny on locally available rat and gopher poisons. I figured it was going to take Tammy the better part of two hours to shower, wash all that hair, and get dressed. I used the time to zip over to The Pirates’ Den to have a chat with Coy Watson, who typically worked the day shift on Wednesdays. On the way, I spoke with Robert Pearson again.
“Tammy and I were thinking how it’s likely you have another envelope for April Fox, Zeke’s first wife?”
“Now, Liz. You know if I did that would be a confidential matter,” said Robert.
“But Zeke is dead, and Tammy is your client now, right?”
“Well, yes. But I have to follow Zeke’s wishes.”
“And based on the contents of the letter he left her, Zeke was most concerned with Tammy’s comfort and welfare,” I said. “He wanted Tammy to rely on April if she needed her. Tammy wants me to make sure April is notified of Zeke’s death, and to make that introduction—you know, smooth things over between the two wives. Really, Robert, do you want to be in the middle of two of Zeke Lyerly’s wives?”
He was quiet for a moment, seemed to ponder all that might entail. He sighed. “As much as I might rather delegate this, I feel like I have to handle it.”
“Why on earth? The important thing here is what Tammy wants. What Tammy is comfortable with. Isn’t that what Zeke would want you to do?”
“Zeke gave me explicit instructions. I don’t have to wonder what he wanted me to do,” he said.
I changed tactics. “Look, Robert. You know Nate and I are helping investigate Zeke’s death, right?”
“I recall the contract the town entered into with your agency. I didn’t know Blake had retained you on this specific case.”
“Well,” I said, “he did. And I need to speak with April. This gives me an entree with her. I could use your help here.”
“I suppose if you are operating as an arm of local law enforcement, I would need to cooperate with you,” he said.
“Exactly. And I truly do appreciate your cooperation.”
“I’ll leave the letter with my receptionist.” He sounded worn down, but relieved.
I ended the call just as I pulled into a parking place at The Pirates’ Den.
Coy Watson grew up in West Virginia. Like Crystal, he’d come down with friends and fell in love with the area. He’d been in Stella Maris since the summer he turned eighteen. He’d started out as a line cook, but was now a bartender for John and Alma Glendawn who owned The Pirates’ Den. I’d known him for years.
The air conditioning was on refrigerate, but it felt good when I walked inside. Between the wall of aquariums on the far end of the room and the varnished wood on the floors and the remaining walls, the inside of the local favorite bar and restaurant seemed a sanctuary from the oppressive heat. Jimmy Buffet sang “Cheeseburger in Paradise” over the speakers.
I climbed onto one of the high-backed barstools.
“Hey, Liz,” Coy said. “What can I get for you?”
Tanned, muscled, with sun-drenched brown hair and an easy smile, he was a favorite with the local ladies of all ages. He was well aware of it.
“A Cheerwine please.”
He set a bottle on the counter, opened it, and poured it over a glass of ice.
I took a sip. “I need to talk to you about Zeke.”
He blanched. “What about him? I mean, I heard what happened.”
“Tell me about the drone.”
“Ah, man. I knew that was going to jam me up. Look. I did not do anything to Zeke. Whatever somebody did to him, it wasn’t me that did it, okay?”
“Just tell me about the drone.”
He clutched at his hair, shook his head. “I bought it from Sharper Image. It cost me three thousand dollars. It was a hobby. I took pictures with it. Nature pictures. Birds and shit. Yeah, I aggravated Zeke with it. But only because it riled him up so bad.”
“And he destroyed it?”
“Blew it right out of the sky.”
“I bet that made you mad,” I said.
“Of course it did. I told you. It cost me three grand.”
“And you threatened to kill him.”
“Man, that was never meant as a real threat. I told you—I was mad. I said that in the heat of the moment. Come on now. Everybody has said that before, but they don’t go around actually killing people.”
He looked at me expectantly, waited for my agreement.
“The photographs you took. Your ‘nature pictures’? Where are they?”
“On my computer.”
“I’ll need to see those.”
“No problem. I probably have a thousand. I’ll put them in a cloud folder. Send you a link.”
“Any of them have people in them? Maybe Zeke and Tammy Sue?” Or Zeke and Crystal.
“Nah. I might’ve looked at people on my live feed. But I didn’t take pictures of them.”
“You ever see anything unusual on your live feed that I need to know about? When you were harassing Zeke?”
“You mean like him arguing with somebody?” he asked.
“Yeah. Like that.”
“Nah.” He rolled his lips in and out, shook his head.
“Tell me about Crystal Chapman,” I said.
“Crystal? What about her?”
“You and she date much?”
He shrugged. “Occasionally. It’s not serious. We have fun. Why are you asking me about Crystal?”
“Did you take her to a party at Skip and Margie Robinson’s back in March?” I asked.
“The bonfire. Yeah. What about it?”
“Bonfire?”
“The party was a bonfire on the beach.”
“And you took Crystal as your date?”
“That’s right.”
“Did you leave with her?”
“Yeah. I took her home about three in the morning. Why? What’s she saying?” He narrowed his eyes.
“Did the two of you have a good time at the party?”
“I guess. Yeah.”
“Have you seen her since then?”
“No. She’s been busy lately.”
I waited to see if he’d elaborate on that. He didn’t.
“Do you think she’s seeing someone else?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t care much to tell you the truth. I told you. It’s not serious.”
“Are you seeing anyone else?” I asked.
“Not at the moment. I’ve been working a lot. Trying to make enough money to replace my drone.”
“Where were you Monday late afternoon, early evening?”
“Monday’s my day off. I was at the beach.”
“Alone?”
“Yeah. Mostly.”
“What does that mean?”
“There were other people at the beach. But I went there by myself.”
“Did you talk to anyone you knew?”
“Sure.”
“Who?”
He rattled off half a dozen names.
“What time did you see these folks?”
“Different times. I was there all afternoon.”
“Exactly where were you on the beach?”
“Right at the north point, a hundred feet or so down from the inlet.”
Not far from our house. It was a popular spot. “What time did you leave?”
“A little after five.”
“Did you go straight home?”
“Yeah. I showered, then met some friends at Poe’s on Sullivan’s for drinks and dinner.”
“What time did you meet them?”
“Seven o’clock.”
He still would’ve had time to kill Zeke and leave his body in the trunk of the Mustang. It would’ve been tight. “I need their names and phone numbers.” I slid my notebook and pencil towards him. “The names of everyone who saw you at the beach too.”
“You think I killed Zeke?” His tone was accusing.
“Did you?”
“No way. Over a drone?”
“And then there’s Crystal.”
“I don’t see the connection between Zeke and Crystal. You’re going to have to explain that one to me.”
“You didn’t notice her flirting with him at Skip and Margie’s?”
Coy blinked. “No. We don’t keep tabs on each other at parties, okay? We were both having a good time.”
“Who did you spend time with, aside from Crystal?”
“We were all sitting around the fire talking. I had a conversation with Connie Hicks, for one.”
“Connie?”
“Yeah. She’s nice. Intelligent. I like that in a woman.”
“Are you planning to ask Connie out?”
He scratched behind his ear. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“She’s a nice girl. If you’re just playing around, pass her on by.”
“What are you now, the love police?”
That was a good question. I paid for my Cheerwine and left.
ELEVEN
Tammy Sue had undergone a miraculous transformation. In a pink linen sleeveless dress and matching sandals, she looked nothing like the woman I’d last seen under a pile of quilts. Oversized dark sunglasses hid her swollen eyes.
I parked behind the bank, which was right on the square in town, across Main Street from the police department and fire station. Tammy took a deep breath and we went inside.
Winter Simmons, the bank manager, spotted us seconds after we walked through the door. Her heels clicked on the marble floor as she approached. Winter was five nine flat-footed, six feet two in nude peep-toe pumps that I’d bet were Louboutins. The contrast between her cafe au lait complexion and cornflower blue eyes was startling. Her well-tailored black suit hugged her curves but no more than was ladylike.
“Tammy Sue.” She clasped Tammy’s hand with both of hers. “I’m so sorry for your loss. How are you holding up?”
Tammy drew a ragged breath. “As well as can be expected, I suppose.”
Winter’s gaze flicked my way. “Hello, Liz.” Her voice wasn’t cool, but it didn’t ooze warmth either. She could’ve been holding a teensy grudge.
“Hey, Winter.” I smiled sweetly.
“Tammy, how can we help you today?” She sounded compassionate—like she sincerely wanted to do something for Tammy.
“I need to get into my safe deposit box.”
“I see,” said Winter. “Let me check our records. Please have a seat.” She gestured towards a seating area, then turned and clicked away. Yep. Those shoes were Louboutins all right. They had red soles.
“Tell me again how y’all are related?” said Tammy Sue as we settled into upholstered chairs.
“She married Spencer Simmons. He’s my first cousin once removed.” I didn’t add that she’d married him fast, six months before their son was born. I’d only been fourteen at the time, but it was hard to keep these things quiet in a town our size.
“Isn’t her sister Willa into voodoo and all such as that?” Tammy asked.
I sighed. “She is. She’s also a gifted surgeon. But people tend to think of the voodoo first.” Willa was our local Voodoo priestess. The story was that she put a spell on Spencer when she thought he wasn’t going to marry Winter. Not everyone in my family was open-minded about spells and such, hence Winter’s frosty disposition.
Winter walked back across the bank lobby. “We have a safe deposit box in Zeke’s name. But I’m afraid you are not listed as co-owner. The box was sealed upon his death. The procedures for opening it are quite specific.”
“Tammy Sue is Zeke’s executor,” I said.
“And as soon as the probate court has appointed her, I can let her in to inventory the box. The inventory will have to be notarized. Then we send it to the State for a tax waiver. Nothing other than a will, burial plot deed, or insurance policy can be removed until then.”
“Hang on a second. Tammy, can I see that envelope please?”
“Sure.” She handed me the large manila envelope Robert had given her. I slid out the papers, flipped through them, and handed Winter the order Hank Johnson had signed that morning.
Winter scanned the document. “Well that was fast. Come with me.”
She led us into the vault and pulled out a large metal box. Tammy used her key, and Winter put in the bank’s copy. Winter lifted the lid. Her eyes grew slightly, but she maintained her professional composure.
Inside was a stack of passports and two more straps, plus a partial strap of hundred dollar bills. I picked up the passport on top. It was British, in the name of William Grant, with Zeke’s photo. All of the passports had photos of Zeke, some with glasses and different hair. Some with a beard and mustache. All the names were different. Two were U.S. passports. The others were from all over.
Winter logged each of the passports into her form and counted the cash twice. “I count twenty-five thousand dollars. Do you want me to count it again?”
“No,” said Tammy Sue. “That’s right.”
Winter didn’t ask any questions, and we didn’t offer any explanations. After everything was logged, Winter called Connie Hicks away from the teller window to notarize the inventory.
We climbed into the Escape, and I rolled down the windows to blow out the hot air.
“Why on earth would Zeke have all those passports?” Tammy’s eyes were round and anxious. “Is that legal? Am I in trouble?”
“No, of course not.” I couldn’t imagine she’d be in legal trouble. Though there were all kinds of trouble, and I had a sinking suspicion it lurked close by. “Whatever Zeke was into, those were his passports, not yours.”
“Why do you suppose he left those passports in a safe deposit box?” asked Tammy. “It looks to me like he’d have hidden them, not put them someplace where they’d be logged. What will Winter do with that log?”
I mulled that for a minute. I wondered if Winter had to report finding the passports, but didn’t want to worry Tammy. “I imagine all Winter cares about is complying with probate laws. The State wants its cut of the cash. Maybe Zeke wanted an official record of those passports in case his past came hunting. If he had been killed in a way that made us suspect some foreign spy was responsible, maybe the passpor
ts would be a clue.”
“But you don’t think that’s what happened?”
“No,” I said. “But maybe after I talk to April I’ll change my mind. She knows more about the spy game than I do.”
“And the money? Why put that in the safe deposit box? Why not just deposit it in the bank?”
“It could be he did that because banks have to report deposits of more than ten thousand dollars. It’s a transaction. But money in the safe deposit box hasn’t crossed the counter, so there’s no transaction to report.”
“But why would he be hiding money like that?”
“My guess is in case he needed money to disappear for some reason. He may have more money stashed somewhere else. When you’re up to it you should read through the will. Everything must be listed out there, except maybe cash stashed at the house. He gave you a heads up about that in the letter.” I told her about the ten thousand dollars we’d found in the garage.
“I always knew there were things Zeke didn’t tell me,” she said. “But I thought he was making things sound more exciting than they were, not the other way around. I thought he was happy running the shop. But that must’ve been such a different life than what he led for all those years.”
“He chose to change careers, Tammy. He chose to run that auto shop. And with his education, he could’ve done most anything he wanted to do. It seems to me Zeke was one of the lucky ones who figured out what made him happy and changed his life to suit him.”
“Then tell me this,” she said. “Was he about to change it again, with Crystal? Would he have divorced me if he’d lived?”
I drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I don’t know about that. Only Zeke knew what was in his heart. But everything I’ve seen indicates Zeke loved you very much.”
“But was that old news? This is going to eat me up inside. Not knowing.”
“There’s no sense in torturing yourself this way. Hold on to what he told you in that letter. That’s a solid, real love. This thing with Crystal was most likely a mid-life crisis type fling. Forgive him if you can.”
She pressed her lips together, nodded, and sniffled.
“Did Zeke ever mention Harold Yates to you? He was a plumber in town.”
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