LOWCOUNTRY BOOKSHOP

by Susan M. Boyer

  “Very good,” said the waiter. “I’ll get those started.”

  “Slugger, I hate to keep flogging this poor horse, but we still haven’t tied Anne Frances Drayton to Tess Hathaway and her…associates. Do you really think it’s worth our time to investigate this club?”

  “Honestly, I’m convinced Tess Hathaway is our client. Poppy has a very limited support system. Tess’s conversation with Poppy’s landlord, Aida Butler, proves she’s looking out for Poppy.”

  “I’d agree that’s likely,” said Nate. “But I don’t think it necessarily follows that Anne Frances was one of her clients—that Mrs. Hathaway knows anything whatsoever about what actually happened to Phillip Drayton. I think it’s just like Fraser and Eli told us—she wants to help her friend, Poppy, who’s in trouble. I think it’s as simple as that.”

  “You don’t think she was the woman who made the second call to 911. From the burner phone? The woman Sonny described as regal? A local matron whose extracurricular actives explain why a woman in her position would have a burner phone to begin with?”

  Nate winced. “I’ll grant you it’s possible. But we have no evidence to support that theory.”

  “Agreed. Which is why we need to keep investigating these women until we have enough on them that they have no choice but to tell us everything they know. I think they’re smart enough that there is no evidence. We have to make them talk.”

  “That’s a tall order,” said Nate. “My impression is, women dedicated to a cause like that, it will take a lot to get them to violate a confidence, endanger their operation.”

  I sighed. “I have no desire to endanger their operation. They’re clearly providing a service to women who need help.” I sliced off a bite of fried green tomato.

  “But what if, in the process of solving our case, we uncover information that incriminates one or more of these women? It’s possible one of them accidentally hit Phillip Drayton, panicked and left the scene. Are you going to be able to live with it if the unintended consequence of solving this case is that one of these women providing a necessary service to the vulnerable ends up in jail?”

  I sighed, pondered that. “I pray we don’t end up there. But I think we have to follow the evidence wherever it leads—to the truth, no matter how painful. We know Tess Hathaway has good attorneys and knows how to use them.”

  “That’s a fact.”

  After we’d eaten half of our appetizers, I put down my fork. “I want to be able to enjoy my steak.”

  “What say I ask the waiter to box these up? You may feel peckish later.”

  I smiled. “Indeed, I might.”

  Nate signaled the waiter, and in short order the appetizers were cleared, and our entrees arrived. After we’d each had a bite of our own food and each other’s, Nate asked, “You talk to your mamma today?”

  “I called her this morning while I was on the ferry. She was on a tear about the goats.”

  “But the goats are gone. They’re someone else’s problem now.”

  “She’s still dealing with the aftermath. Apparently in addition to the considerable issues in the backyard, and the neighbors’ yards, the goats feasted on Mamma’s hostas, among other things in the front yard.”

  Nate swirled the wine in his glass, watched it. “I hope you don’t feel neglected.”

  “Neglected? In what way?” I squinted at him, gave him a little grin over the top of my wine glass.

  “I don’t go to the same extravagant lengths to get your attention that you’re accustomed to observing your daddy employ in order to keep your mamma’s.”

  “Oh please. You do an excellent job of keeping my attention, and you well know it. And if you ever bring home farm animals, I won’t hesitate to send you straight over to Merry’s house.”

  “Noted.” He forked a bite of scallops, grinned at me. A wayward lock of hair had curled onto his forehead, the way it often did right before he got it cut.

  I resisted the urge to brush it back, just for the pleasure of touching him. I rather liked that blond curl, and if I called attention to it, he’d make sure to have his hair cut the next day.

  We ate inside our own little bubble for a few moments. Neither of us said anything, but the electric current that flowed between us was a palpable thing. My heart raced, my breathing went shallow.

  After a few minutes he said, “It’s a shame we have work to do yet this evening. I can think of much better ways to pass the time.”

  I smiled. “As can I.”

  The waiter refilled our wine glasses, asked if he could get us anything.

  “We’re good, thank you.” Nate didn’t take his eyes off me. “I was serious about taking some time off. Once we wrap this case up, let’s get away for a while. We can go to Greenville, or anywhere you like.”

  “Greenville maybe,” I said. “But I don’t think we should spend the money on a vacation right now. There’s too much we need to do at home.” I wouldn’t trade our beach house for anything. But upkeep on oceanfront property was expensive, especially when the home was more than fifty years old.

  “Greenville then,” said Nate. “It’ll be a little cooler there, maybe.”

  I knew what he was thinking. Maybe I’d sleep better away from the coast. “Anything else interesting happen at the funeral?” I asked. “Besides James Huger being a pall bearer?”

  “Mallory—the redhead from last night—was demonstrably upset.”

  “Was Daniel comforting her?”

  “Not at all,” said Nate. “She steered well clear of the family. The thin blonde woman, long straight hair, you put her picture on the board this morning along with Jacynthe’s, Mallory’s, and Sofia’s. She was at the funeral.”

  “Emma Williams. The woman in the older Honda. Software developer. I’m not sure what her connection to any of this is. Could be she simply knew Phillip somehow, could be a number of ways. The only odd thing was the first—possibly second—time I saw her, she was staring at Poppy and me out the window of her car.”

  Nate shrugged. “Poppy have her hair up in those pigtails?”

  I grinned, nodded. “Yeah. She did. It could be as simple as that. Any of Anne Frances’s family turn up at the funeral?”

  “If they did, they didn’t sit with her in the church, or accompany her and Daniel to the gravesite. Very small crowd there. The minister, the pall bearers, Anne Frances, and Daniel.”

  “How did they act towards each other?” I asked. “Anne Frances and Daniel?”

  “They were civil, I’d say. Certainly not leaning on each other for comfort or anything like that. About the same as at the funeral home.”

  I sipped my wine. “Do you think she knows that he told Sonny he suspects her of killing his brother? Surely if there’s that much animosity between them she isn’t oblivious to it.”

  “I’d say at least she knows he suspects her. She’s likely thinking if he hasn’t told the police that he will at some point.”

  “Speaking of Sonny, did you talk to him today?” I asked.

  “Yeah, he came to the funeral. We watched the graveside service together from my car. Parked a safe distance away at Magnolia and used the binoculars.”

  “He have anything new?”

  “No, and I’m afraid he’s going to go with the simplest explanation if another one doesn’t surface soon. The simplest thing being that Poppy hit Phillip Drayton by accident due to poor visibility and then she was afraid to admit it. I’m not saying he believes that. I think he suspects Poppy of something much more sinister, but realizes he may be unable to prove it.”

  “Do you get the sense he’s going to arrest her soon?”

  Nate rolled his lips in and out. “He isn’t exploring alternative theories. Forensics has nearly exhausted what they can do with the car. He’s close. I asked him for more time.”

  “What did he say?�
�

  “Because he doesn’t see Poppy as a danger to others, or a flight risk, and because I assured him we were keeping a close eye on her, he agreed to one week, but he was very clear that would be the end of it.”

  “Good thing we work well under pressure.”

  FOURTEEN

  We popped back into the hotel after dinner. Suzanne had been a brown-eyed brunette Monday night at the funeral home. I skipped the extra layer of makeup and the wardrobe change. Daniel Drayton had clearly been drinking when we met him. Besides, few men paid that much attention to the style details of a woman, especially given the circumstances.

  Number Forty-Two Tradd Street was situated between Meeting and Church. It was only a few blocks from the hotel, so we walked.

  “It’s purely too hot out here for this wig,” I said.

  “I would imagine,” said Nate. “Perhaps we’ll feel like a swim when we get back to the hotel. That will cool us off.”

  “That sounds heavenly. I think I have a suit in the car.”

  “Let’s hope so. I doubt you can get away with skinny dipping in that pool, as much as I would enjoy that.”

  The pool at the Mills House was on the second-floor deck, surrounded by guest rooms with porches overlooking the water.

  As we approached the lovely Georgian brick town home with black shutters, Nate said, “I didn’t have a chance to speak to Daniel at the funeral, but he may have noticed me. If he did, he noticed you weren’t there.”

  “I had a migraine, but I’m feeling better now.”

  “All right then. Show time.” Nate kissed me and rang the bell.

  “Coming.” Daniel called from inside the house.

  The double doors swung open. He wore a black shirt, sleeves rolled up, with a richly hued brocade vest, and jeans. In mid-sip of his drink, he finished, then raised his glass higher in greeting. “Great then. So glad you could come.”

  He stepped back, opened the doors wider. “Come in, come in. Hot as hell out there. What can I get you to drink?”

  We stepped inside, and he closed the doors behind us. The house was quiet. No snippets of conversation floated into the entryway from another room. Did I just assume there would be other guests?

  “Let’s head back to the keeping room, shall we? S’cooler back there. Closer to the liquor too.” Off the foyer to our left was the dining room. He led us through it, across wide plank pine floors. “Watch your step here.”

  We stepped down into the kitchen, which had exposed brick walls. The house was clearly quite old, but it had been completely modernized. To our left was a nook with several sets of glass doors leading to a courtyard.

  “You have a lovely home,” I said.

  “S’ great, isn’t it? Built before the Revolutionary War. No one knows exactly when. Would you like to see it? We could take a tour.”

  “Thank you, maybe later,” I said. “To be honest, I had a migraine earlier. The heat outside must’ve gotten to me.”

  “Horrible. And the bloody humidity. You just about have to be a fish to go outside. Here, please sit down.” He pointed to a sitting area at the far end of the kitchen. “I’m having bourbon, but I haven’t found that it’s particularly helpful with a headache, to be perfectly honest. What can I get you?”

  “I think I’ll start with club soda if you have it. Just until I’m hydrated a bit.” I sat on the far end of the sofa facing the fireplace. An upholstered bench in front of it served as an ottoman.

  Daniel looked at Nate, lifted his chin.

  “Bourbon sounds great,” said Nate. “Rocks, please.”

  Daniel walked between the bench and the fireplace to a wet bar beyond it. Nate sat beside me on the sofa, leaving Daniel his choice of matching leather chairs on opposite sides of the sofa.

  “D’you remember the night Phillip got stopped on the way back from Raleigh?” asked Daniel.

  Nate didn’t miss a beat. “Which time?”

  Daniel roared with laughter. “Right. Of course. Senior year. Funny thing was, he hadn’t been drinking at all. The rest of us were drunk as Cooter Brown. Car smelled like a brewery. Phillip thought it would be fun to act as if he were drunk, too.”

  “I remember it well.” Nate shook his head, laughed. “I was a junior, by the way.”

  “And I was a sophomore. It was Phillip’s senior year. Thought that cop would blow a gasket when Phillip passed the breathalyzer. D’you remember what he said?”

  “Phillip, or the cop?” Nate laughed.

  Daniel howled, handed us our drinks. “Phillip said, I can try again if you’d like.”

  We all laughed, sipped our drinks. Daniel dropped into the chair closest to the wet bar. “Suzy, you let me know when you’re ready for something stronger. Vodka, I believe, is your drink.”

  I offered him my sunniest smile. “I cannot believe you remember that.”

  “Hey, I may have killed a few brain cells since college, but I remember the important things, like what beautiful women like to drink.” He toasted the sentiment.

  Nate raised his glass. “Hear, hear.”

  “Daniel,” I said, “I’m terribly sorry to have missed the service. I declare those migraines lay me low. I understand it was quite touching. Please forgive me.”

  “Nothing to forgive, Suzy,” he said. “Phillip wouldn’t have wanted you to be out in that awful heat not feeling well. He was a gentleman, my brother, above all else.”

  Was he really? I honestly wanted to believe that, not the least because we could erase several possibilities from our case board if Phillip were not in fact a man who abused his wife.

  “Hear, hear.” Nate raised his glass. He and Daniel drank.

  “I surely remember him that way,” I said. “His poor wife. She must be positively devastated. I can’t even imagine.” I shook my head.

  Daniel made a noise. It was something akin to “Hannnff.” Clearly, he intended it as a scoff.

  I paused, my glass partway to my lips, looked at him.

  His face was a mask of rage. “You don’t know my sister-in-law, do you?”

  “Why, no,” I said. “We only met her Monday night.”

  “No.” Nate shook his head.

  “Ha,” said Daniel. “You’re better off for it. She’s a cold bitch, that one. Phillip worshipped her. It was obvious from the beginning she married him for his money.”

  “Oh no,” I said. “You don’t mean it.”

  “Hell, I don’t,” said Daniel. “I told the police. They’re looking into it. I’d bet my last nickel she killed him.”

  “It’s always the wife,” said Nate.

  Daniel nodded, pointed to Nate with the hand holding the highball glass as his proof. “Exactly right.”

  “Would she have run over him with her car?” I asked. “Is she that cold-blooded?”

  “Oh, she’s cold-blooded all right,” said Daniel. “But calculating as well. She wouldn’t get her hands dirty, oh no. Not that one. She’d have used her wiles. Gotten someone to do it for her.”

  “Do you think she was having an affair?” asked Nate.

  “I know she was,” said Daniel. “Phillip told me.”

  I wondered what the statistics were on that. If she were abused, how likely was it that she had the personal freedom to conduct an extramarital affair? Wouldn’t a woman bold enough to cheat leave a man who hurt her? Were those two things mutually exclusive or did the affair trigger the abuse? “That’s horrible,” I said. “Did you tell the police who she was having an affair with?”

  “Don’t know who it was.” Daniel drained his glass. “Phillip didn’t know. But he said he knew for certain she was seeing someone.” He stood, looked at Nate. “Another?”

  Nate nodded, handed Daniel his glass.

  “Did he tell you how he knew that?” I asked. “That would probably help the police,
any detail, wouldn’t you think?”

  Daniel had his back to us, filled the glasses. “It was odd. He wouldn’t say how he knew. I had the impression something was really bothering him. Aside from his wife being unfaithful, I mean. Something about the whole thing had him shook up.”

  “Well, I certainly hope the police catch her and whoever her accomplice is,” I said.

  Daniel handed Nate his glass, then returned to the leather chair.

  “How did he meet her, anyway?” asked Nate. “You can tell to hear her talk she’s not from here. I know he didn’t date her in school.”

  “Naples. Remember the house in Naples?” asked Daniel.

  Nate laughed. “I do.”

  “Phillip went down to make arrangements to have it redecorated. Some tart he’d been dating told him it needed updating. He dumped the tart but decided maybe she was right. I thought it was perfect just the way it was.”

  “I’d have to agree with you,” said Nate.

  Daniel gave him an odd look. “Did you ever go there? I don’t recall that. I know Phillip and I talked a lot about spending holidays there.”

  “Once.” Nate nodded. “We snuck down just him and me. We were supposed to be studying for finals.”

  “Bastards, both of you, to go without me.” Daniel still wore a slightly confused face. He shook his head as if to clear it.

  “So, Phillip met Anne Frances there?” I asked. “In Naples?”

  “She was the bloody interior decorator,” said Daniel. “He barely dated her ten minutes. Insisted she was the love of his life. His soul mate, if you can imagine that.”

  We both waited for him to go on.

  “Beautiful woman, I’ll give her that.” Daniel looked at his glass. “Seemed nice enough at first. Made a good show of being affectionate. But there was always something off.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Most beautiful women want a big wedding. Phillip—he loved throwing a party better than anything. Well, until he met her. I guess he loved her more. But he wanted to have a huge wedding, invite the whole town. She wouldn’t have any of it. In the end, he said it wouldn’t be fair to her because we knew a lot of people and she’d have a terribly small guest list. Everyone would sit on the groom’s side of the church. Poor form to embarrass the bride. So, they got married quietly in Naples. I was a witness, and there was a girlfriend of hers. What was her name? Sasha something. It was a sad little affair.”