The Cast Net

by Mille West

  Marian met them at the kitchen door with hugs. “I hope you had a good time.”

  “Yes, ma’am, we did. I thought we would make dinner for Cooper this evening. He’s been so good to us.”

  “I think that’s a splendid idea. Cooper said he’d be home around seven.”

  “Are there any cookbooks we could look through?”

  “Most of Miss Julia’s cookbooks are in the attic. I’ll get a flashlight, and we’ll go take a look.”

  They went upstairs and Marian opened a door off the upstairs hallway. “I can never find the light switch—oh, yes, here it is.” She turned on the light, revealing a room full of storage containers.

  “I’m not sure which container they’re in, so you might have to go through several to find the books. Do you want me to look with you?”

  “Thank you, but we’ll be all right.”

  She handed the sisters the flashlight and went downstairs.

  “Let’s start over here.”

  They opened the top of one of the containers and found it to be filled with awards and honors for Cooper and his brother. There were championship trophies in athletic competitions, which included swimming, diving, and football. Another container held awards for excellence in piano. “Look at this medal. Cooper Heath—it’s a first place in the junior competition at the Juilliard School of Music.”

  One container was filled with sailing trophies; some included Jeff’s name.

  “Look at this gavel. It says: Cooper Heath, Student Body President, Porter-Gaud.”

  Mills noticed some hatboxes stored on top of a trunk; they contained formal wool chapeaus, and some contained several stylish straw hats. “Wow, I didn’t see hats this sophisticated in New York.”

  “Well, these came from Paris,” Vivien added, as she glanced at the labels. Mills opened the lid of a large trunk and inside were old letters, a wooden jewelry box, and what appeared to be daily journals. She looked inside one of the journals. “Years ago, people used such careful penmanship.”

  “They had more time to write.”

  “Come on; let’s get back to finding the cookbooks.”

  The next container they opened was filled with cookbooks, and Mills looked through them. “This one looks interesting—Julia Child, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume One.”

  As Mills looked through the cookbook, she saw a recipe that she knew Julia Child was famous for, “Coq au vin.”

  “We can purchase the items we need at Dawkins’s Market, and Cooper will have the wine and cognac.”

  When they returned to the kitchen, Marian listened with keen interest to their dinner plans and smiled in approval. “I know Cooper will be thrilled by your gesture. I’m about to leave for the day, so I’ll leave the kitchen door unlocked. The canoe equipment has been unloaded for you.”

  The sisters thanked Marian and prepared to drive to the market for the recipe items. There were just a few cars in the parking lot when they arrived, and Mills parked the Suburban near the base of the front steps. Mr. Dawkins greeted them when they came inside, and Mills introduced him to Vivien.

  She showed him the recipe they planned to prepare for dinner, and he responded, “Julia Child. I’m sure you’ll do a fine job. Fresh cut-up chicken is in the meat section, and let me know if you need help finding anything else.”

  They made quick work of collecting the required items, and after checking out, they walked toward the end of the porch, discussing their plans. They did not notice that someone had come around the corner of the building until they reached the bottom of the steps.

  “Well, now,” a nasal voice said.

  Mills had heard that voice before. She had heard it on the day she witnessed legal documents for Cooper in his study. The voice belonged to Lee Roy Mullinax.

  Lee Roy wore construction boots and dusty blue jeans. His unbuttoned shirt revealed a chest tattoo of a white-tailed deer holding a Confederate flag.

  He had an offensive body odor of sweat, urine, and alcohol, and in a low, raspy voice he said, “I didn’t know there was two of you. That Mr. Heath he is one lucky man . . . I’d like to have both of you at the same time, myself.”

  “Get away from us!” Vivien exclaimed.

  Mr. Dawkins called out from the porch, “Lee Roy, I believe the police are looking for you. I’m on my way to call them right now!”

  “I was just coming inside, and I thought I recognized one of these young ladies.”

  “Then you can wait for the police in here.”

  “I don’t believe I will,” he said, and returned to his car, his tires throwing sand and gravel into the air as he sped from the parking lot.

  Mr. Dawkins walked down the steps to where the sisters were standing. “Girls, I’m sorry he bothered you. Please excuse me. I’m going to phone the police.”

  “Who was that?” Vivien asked.

  “That was Lee Roy Mullinax. He’s being sought by the police for assaulting his wife, and the people in this community have been helping her family.”

  Mills and Vivien went to Williston’s clinic to advise her that Lee Roy was back in town. She was busy with a patient, but the receptionist said she’d give her the message.

  When they returned from the market, the first item on the agenda was to pick out a bottle of wine to use in the recipe. “It says a full-bodied red wine such as Burgundy, Beaujolais, Côtes du Rhône, or Chianti.”

  They descended the stairwell into the cellar and Vivien was impressed by Cooper’s collection. “How are we going to decide what wine to pick?”

  “The wines are arranged by country and region.”

  “Cooper is the most organized man I’ve ever known.”

  “Jeff called him anal retentive.”

  “Sounds like someone’s jealous.”

  Mills concentrated on the wines from France. “I hope I don’t pick out a fifty-dollar bottle of wine.” She removed one from the bin. “This one says Petrus, 1961, Cru Exceptional, Pomerol Grand Cru.” She returned the bottle to the shelf, and took down a 1961 Chateau Margaux. “Something tells me that he’s holding these.”

  After looking in another area of the French section, she picked a Côtes du Rhône, and they commenced dinner preparation. As they were browning the chicken, the phone rang and it was Williston. She had reached Eula and informed her that her estranged husband was in town.

  “Did Lee Roy threaten you?”

  “No, ma’am, but his language was vulgar.”

  “I hope the police find him.”

  After they finished the conversation, Mills returned to the stove to flame the pan with cognac. “I think we should cook like this more often.”

  “It’s having the time to cook like this that’s the problem.”

  When Cooper came home, they surprised him with their dinner preparation. He beamed with a radiant smile. “What’s on the menu? It smells wonderful.”

  “Coq au vin. Julia Child’s recipe. We went up to the attic and found the cookbook.”

  Mills held up the empty wine bottle and confessed, “I had a difficult t
ime choosing the wine to go in the recipe. I saw a 1961 Chateau Margaux and a Petrus, but I thought you might be saving them.”

  “You did just fine.”

  Cooper quickly showered and returned in blue jeans and a linen shirt. He stood next to Mills while he sampled the sauce in the pan. He smells so good—I can smell citrus.

  Over dinner, they discussed his business trip. He explained that a number of Heath Brothers’ shipping clients were foreign-based and had operations in the upstate of South Carolina. “I prefer to visit our clients in person. There’s no substitute for face-to-face meetings, but you both understand that from your work.”

  Cooper complimented them on their cooking skills and Mills brought up their trip to the Combahee. “Thank you for arranging for Vivien and me to visit your cabin. Mr. and Mrs. Adams were very kind to us and we had a wonderful time. Why didn’t you tell us about the ghost that haunts the old house?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “A ghost haunts the old house?”

  “Mr. Adams said the previous owner had an experience with a ghost that hums and washes clothes at night.”

  He laughed before saying, “Mr. Hawkins disclosed that before we settled on the transaction, but those fellows were probably indulging in bourbon. Anyone who indulges in bourbon can hear voices.”

  They laughed at his observation and then Mills thought to tell him about their encounter with Lee Roy. “We went to Dawkins’s Market to purchase the ingredients for dinner. When we were leaving, we ran into Lee Roy Mullinax, and I’m afraid he recognized me. We went by the clinic to tell Williston and she spoke to Eula.”

  “Did he say anything to you?”

  “Yes, he was vulgar.”

  “I’d like for you to tell me what he said.”

  “He insinuated that you were having relations with Vivien and me, and told us he’d like to have us both at the same time.”

  An expression of anger crossed Cooper’s face and then he rose from the table, saying that he was going to open more wine. Mills followed him into the kitchen. “Cooper, should we have done anything different?”

  “No, not you, Mills. I should have done something about him when I had the chance.”

  The final two days of Vivien’s visit were spent in a whirlwind of activities. Cooper took them flying along the coast in his airplane and Mills sat in the right seat in the cockpit and listened with headphones to pilots speaking with air traffic controllers. Cooper even gave her instructions on how to fly the airplane.

  They passed over rivers and marshes and he pointed out the blackness of the Edisto from the air. He circled the beachfront property of Mrs. Salter, where they had picnicked on Mills’s birthday, and she marveled at the beauty of the late afternoon sky, the sunset, a gleaming shade of gold in the west, and the Atlantic Ocean, which turned a dark shade of blue-green with the fading light.

  On Friday, Cooper’s uncle arranged for the sisters to have private access to the gardens of his friends and neighbors. Several of the gardens were on Church Street, and they passed a home at 94 Church Street, which displayed a historical plaque. The home had belonged to Theodosia Burr Alston and her husband, Joseph. The plaque confirmed what Cooper had already told them; Theodosia had mysteriously vanished at sea.

  “I don’t understand Jeff naming his sailboat after a person that disappeared—it sounds like he’s challenging the fates,” Vivien remarked.

  The sisters spent hours studying the magnificent garden designs and plants that composed them. A few people had left notes for them about the history of their properties, and the sisters learned that a landscape architect named Loutrel Briggs had designed several gardens.

  “I’m inspired to create a beautiful garden around my cottage,” Mills said.

  “We’ve seen some fine examples today.”

  Saturday arrived and Mills hated to see Vivien leave. They had enjoyed a wonderful week together, and before she went down the jetway to the airplane, Vivien gave Mills a big hug and told her to thank Cooper again for his gracious hospitality. She wrapped her arms around Mills and kissed her. “Don’t forget what I told you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Mills waved goodbye and watched from the terminal as the airliner took flight.

  “I had a wonderful time too,” Mills said aloud.

  Before she returned to Edisto, she stopped at a plant shop on James Island and made selections of perennials and annuals to set out around her cottage. She filled her car with impatiens, ferns, lantana, and begonias. When Vivien said goodbye to Cooper, Mills told him she had been inspired by the gardens she had seen around Charleston and she wanted to plant flowers around her cottage that afternoon.

  To her surprise, the beds around her cottage had been freshly tended with mushroom compost. She set out the plants and then stood back to admire her creation. At dusk, she heard the tractor shut down in the equipment barn and Cooper passed the corridor to her cottage.

  “Come and look at my garden,” she called to him. “Some very kind person tended the beds with fresh compost. Do you know who it might have been?”

  “I know him personally, and he was glad to do it.”

  “You did it, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. I thought they could use some enrichment.”

  He sat down on the steps to her cottage and patted dirt off his pants. “When Vivien and I were in the attic looking for the cookbooks, we found treasures. Why don’t you display your awards?”

  “I suppose I don’t like to look at them. They remind me of Beau.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What else interested you?”

  “There were some old letters and journals in one of the trunks. They were over a hundred years old!”

  “The correspondence in the trunk dates to the Civil War period. When we both have time, we’ll read them.”

  “There were several stylish chapeaus. I especially liked the straw hats from Paris.”

  “Then, let me get a flashlight and we’ll go retrieve them from the attic. They belonged to Julia, and I expect she’d like for you to have them.”

  I’m not sure I should take his mother’s possessions.

  “Are you sure you want me to take remembrances of your mother?”

  “Yes, absolutely.” Once they reached the attic, Cooper turned on the light and made his way to the stacks of hatboxes. One by one, they examined the hats, and Mills chose three for herself.

  “Julia wore these hats for hunting and fishing, and you can put them to good use. Besides, you’ll look lovely in her hats with your riding boots.” When they returned downstairs, Cooper’s Labrador, Sam, barked with determination. Mills carried the hatboxes to the front porch and listened to the dog. His bark intensified—it was now ferocious. Sam’s near the azalea bushes—must be barking at a wild animal. When Cooper joined her on the porch, he stopped her from descending the steps any further. “I forgot something. Stay right here.”

  The floodlights on the front of the house came on and Cooper returned to the porch. She thought it odd that he did not offer to help with the hatboxes, but together they descended the steps and walked toward her cottage.

 
Suddenly, Cooper charged into the stand of azalea bushes and grabbed a man who hid among the vegetation. He ran the man headfirst into an oak tree and then turned him around for a face-to-face meeting. Mills watched in a state of shock, unable to speak, and the hatboxes fell from her hands to the ground. Oh dear God!

  Cooper pushed him hard against the tree and then placed a handgun a few inches from his face and cocked the trigger. “Who are you and what are you doing on my property?”

  The intruder did not speak. A look of confusion was on his face, and blood spilled from his nose.

  “I’ll give you to the count of three, and then I’m going to shoot you. One, two—”

  “Stop,” said the intruder. “I’m a private investigator. Let me show you my ID.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In the front pocket of my coat. In my wallet.”

  “Turn around and spread your legs. Put your hands against the tree.” Cooper patted him down and removed a gun that was in a holster inside his coat. He threw the gun into the bushes and then reached for the man’s wallet.

  He looked at his credentials. “Private investigator. Who are you working for?”

  “That’s confidential.”

  “If I were in your shoes, I think I’d forget about the confidentiality clause.”

  Cooper rammed his face into the tree again, and the man sank to his knees and begged him to stop. “I was hired by Carl Monroe. He thinks that you’re going to make a mistake, and his daughter—whatever’s left of her—will be recovered.”

  “You have exactly five minutes to get off my property. Tell your employer that whoever he hires next had better stay off my land. Don’t come back here.” The man was shaking with fear and pain, and he stumbled twice to the ground as he ran away from Cooper.