04 Lowcountry Bordello

by Boyer, Susan M.

  “No.” I chuckled. “Mamma would not understand this situation, and she would definitely not countenance Daddy being any part of it. I’m out of here. You know the alarm codes if you need them. Call me if anything comes up.”

  I gave Merry another hug, holding onto her longer this time. Then I patted Rhett and asked him to hold down the fort, and I was out the door.

  I checked in with Nate once I was in the car. “Did you get some rest?” I asked.

  “Not as much as I would’ve liked. We had drama here.”

  “What happened?”

  “After I got the cameras out, I decided to keep an eye on things for a while, see if anyone came to call well past normal visiting hours.”

  “And?”

  “Lo and behold, at ten after two, a gentleman approached from up towards Atlantic. He was dressed all in black athletic clothes. Had a ski mask over his head.”

  “What? Please tell me you didn’t go down there,” I said.

  “He went in with a key. I called 911 from a burner and reported a burglary in progress.”

  “And then you went down there, didn’t you?”

  “Miss Dean was there by herself, Slugger. I wasn’t sure how long it would take the police to arrive. So, yes, I went down there. Don’t even pretend you would’ve done anything different.”

  I stayed quiet.

  “When I went in, I heard someone walking around upstairs, so I went straight up. But I stepped down the back staircase towards the kitchen a few steps and watched to see what he would do. This guy went from room to room. He wasn’t just looking for his woman, he was doing a bed check. Just as he headed for Miss Dean’s room…” He sighed.

  “What happened?”

  “Well, I ran up the back stairs, which put me between him and her. He wasn’t expecting me, of course. I had the element of surprise. I tackled him—”

  “Wait. Why didn’t you just pull out your weapon and hold him until the police got there?”

  “I didn’t think it was a good idea to carry my weapon into a situation where I could end up in a face-to-face with the police, explaining how I’d followed a burglar inside. Miss Dean doesn’t know me. I could’ve ended up looking like an armed intruder.”

  “You went in there unarmed?”

  “Yes, and I lived to tell. Stay with me. Like I was saying, I tackled him. Tried like hell to pull that mask off. But he was scrappy. And he was carrying a sizable knife strapped to his leg. He didn’t pull it, though. He wriggled away and took off down the front stairs. Of course, he didn’t know the police were on their way. I figured I’d best slip out the back before Charleston PD showed up and thought I was the burglar. Seemed prudent to avoid getting tangled up in a police report. I went over to the landing above the garage and down the steps to the parking pad. There was a police cruiser on the street, but the officers were on the front porch trying to raise Miss Dean. I hopped the picket fence to the sidewalk, headed towards Atlantic trying to get a bead on the guy in the ski mask, but there was no sign of him. I walked around the block and came back to the bed and breakfast.”

  “Thank God you’re all right.”

  “Nothing to worry about.”

  “So the guy must’ve slipped past the police?”

  “He may’ve gone out the keeping room door, or through the garage. But they didn’t put anyone in the back of the patrol car.”

  “How long were the police there?” I asked.

  “Not long. I suspect Miss Dean convinced them it was a prank. She didn’t know at the time that she was alone in the house, and her default setting is to keep the law from coming inside.”

  “And then what happened?” I asked.

  “I went to bed. I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too. That guy…he likely meant to kill everyone in that house.”

  “I imagine you’re right,” said Nate. “It’s a good thing you got most of them out.”

  “It’s a good thing he didn’t pull that knife with you unarmed. I can’t help but wonder why he didn’t.”

  “My guess is me turning up dead in that house would’ve focused attention on it before he had a chance to find and tie up all his loose ends. That would’ve been contrary to his goals.”

  “I suppose that makes sense,” I said. “Before the episode with the intruder, when you were getting the equipment, were you able to get the camera out of Miss Dean’s room?”

  “I cracked the door. She was snoring like a rusty chainsaw. I got the camera—she snored through the whole thing. I’m amazed the police got her awake.”

  “So we’re out clean?” I asked.

  “Roger that.”

  “That’s a relief. I’m going to run by and talk to Blake, then I’ll be on my way back.”

  “See you soon.”

  Colleen appeared in the passenger seat. “He would’ve killed them all. Miss Dean, too.”

  “But couldn’t Roxanne have just scared him off?”

  “Roxanne’s a lingering spirit. She doesn’t have the tools I have to work with, and she has a very narrow worldview. She only knew what to do and when because I told her. Ghosts can only manifest for so long. She couldn’t have protected them. Besides, scaring him off once wouldn’t solve the problem. Removing them from harm’s way did.”

  “And you could lend a hand for a while last night, but couldn’t stand guard because that’s not part of your mission.”

  “Exactly,” she said. “Humans have free will. I can only intervene on behalf of people directly relevant to my mission. We’ve been over this a time or three.” She faded out.

  I walked through the door of The Cracked Pot at eight.

  Moon Unit Glendawn, who owned the place, pounced on me straightaway. “There’s the bride! How are you, sweetie? I can’t wait ’til Friday night. We are going to close The Pirates’ Den down.” My bachelorette party was scheduled for Friday night, after the rehearsal dinner.

  “I can’t wait,” I said. I spotted Blake at the counter.

  “Me either. We have all kinds of things planned for you. Merry hasn’t let on, has she?”

  “She hasn’t told me a thing, I promise.”

  “She’d better not.”

  “Moon, I need to talk to Blake for a minute. Could I get some breakfast?”

  “Sure thing, sweetie. You want the usual?”

  “Cheese eggs, ham, grits with red eye gravy, and biscuits.”

  “I’m glad you’re not starving yourself the week before the wedding like some brides do,” said Moon. “It’s just not healthy. Makes ’em mean as snakes, too.”

  Colleen must’ve heard the word biscuits. She popped in beside me. “And two ham biscuits to go.”

  “And two ham biscuits to go, please,” I said to Moon Unit.

  She’d become accustomed to my add-on takeout order and given up questioning it. “Coming right up.”

  I slid onto the stool beside Blake. “Any chance I can get you to move to a booth so we can talk?”

  He looked at his breakfast, identical to the one I’d ordered, except his eggs were over medium. “Grab my coffee.”

  He picked up his plate and the biscuit basket and moved to the back booth.

  Colleen took the opposite side and moved over next to the window.

  I set his coffee down and slid in across from him, beside Colleen. “What’s the sit rep on Seth?”

  “He’s still locked up. Asked for an attorney. Called one—I have no idea who. No one’s shown up yet. Nell’s supposed to let me know if someone does.”

  “Did he say anything?” I asked.

  Moon Unit set a coffee cup in front of me and filled it. “You want juice this mornin’?”

  “No thanks, Moon. Water would be great.”

  “Al
l righty. I tried on my bridesmaid’s dress again last night just for fun. It’s the most gorgeous thing. I feel so pretty in it—all that lace. And such a pretty color. I love the name of the color: smoked pearl.”

  Blake said, “Moony, I need to talk to my sister in private. I’m giving her brotherly advice on being a good wife, seeing to the needs of a man. You know, things didn’t work out for her the first time.”

  Colleen broke out into an uproar of bray-snorting.

  I kicked my brother under the table.

  Moon froze, speechless, which happens about as often as Venus and Jupiter align. She reddened, did an about face, and hurried away.

  Blake cracked up.

  “What is wrong with you?” I asked.

  “You wanted to talk in private—talk.” He dug into his breakfast, still grinning.

  I shook my head, sighed. “Did Seth say anything when you arrested him?”

  “He cursed me and all my ancestors real good. Robert and Olivia, too. That’s about it.”

  “He’ll be Sonny’s problem soon enough. Do you mind if I talk to him?”

  Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “Because I want to know what he knows.”

  “About the whorehouse, or about Thurston Middleton?”

  “Thurston Middleton. I won’t get a chance to talk to him after Sonny picks him up.”

  “If I let you talk to him, that could screw up Sonny’s interrogation. You’ll ask him questions. He’ll have more time to make up answers. This is not a good idea.”

  “Damnation, Blake,” I said, “I’m trying to help out Robert and Olivia.”

  Moon Unit set my breakfast and a glass of water in front of me, but she didn’t hang around.

  I was starving. I picked up my fork and dug in.

  This was fine with Blake. He wanted his turn at talking. “What else do you need to do to help out Robert and Olivia? I charged Seth with blackmail and communicating threats. The Pearson family is safe. The judge is out of town until tomorrow. Even when Seth’s attorney shows up, he’s not going anywhere until tomorrow morning soonest. If Sonny is waiting on him after he makes bail, so much the better. But I’m unclear on what else needs to be done to help out Robert and Olivia.”

  I sipped my coffee. Blake was a sworn officer of the law. I had to be careful I didn’t tell him anything I wasn’t ready to tell Sonny. And I needed to talk to Nate before we made that decision.

  “Fine,” I said, in the universal female tone signaling things were far from fine. I put together a perfect bite of eggs, grits, and gravy.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about all the stuff you’re not telling me,” he said.

  The doorbells jangled. Blake looked up. “Raylan,” he said to me. He threw a chin lift of acknowledgement in Raylan’s direction. “Here he comes.”

  Raylan slid in beside me. I slid over towards Colleen.

  “Hey,” she said.

  I threw her a look that said, Oh please.

  She switched sides of the booth. “I’d rather sit by Blake anyway.”

  “I have no doubt.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her. She’d had a crush on Blake as a teenager.

  Blake and Raylan looked at me.

  “You have no doubt about what?” asked Blake.

  Colleen commenced bray-snorting.

  I purely hated it when that happened—when she baited me into speaking to her outloud when others were present.

  I smiled sweetly at Blake. “I have no doubt that you have Seth all taken care of.”

  His look held a threat.

  Raylan said, “I’m really glad to hear that. Can you keep him locked up?”

  “As long as necessary,” Blake said.

  I turned to Raylan. “I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Shoot,” he said.

  “Monday night, at the house on Church Street, tell me exactly how you entered and left.”

  Blake’s eyes narrowed.

  Raylan said, “I went in the door to the porch, walked to the end of it and down the steps and around back to the guesthouse. Left the same way.”

  “And that was at seven twenty?”

  “About that. I can’t say exactly.”

  “Did you see anyone else, coming or going?” I asked.

  Raylan cocked his head. After a moment, he said, “Now that you mention it, I thought I heard footsteps on the front porch after I turned the corner around back. I didn’t think anything about it at the time. Honestly, I was glad not to run into anyone, knowing what all goes on there. Someone might’ve thought I was involved in that.”

  “What about when you left?” I asked.

  Raylan looked over his shoulder, leaned in. “When I came out of the guesthouse, I saw someone walking across the yard, between the garage and the guesthouse. His back was to me. He went around the side of the garage and climbed over that little brick wall into the neighbor’s driveway. I figured it was one of the…you know, the men who keep women there.”

  “Could you see what he looked like?”

  Raylan pressed his lips together, shook his head. “It was too dark. It was a man, that’s all I can say for sure. Probably about my height. He had on light colored pants, probably khakis, and a jacket.”

  “Like a sport coat, or a bomber jacket?” I asked.

  “Looked more like a sport coat to me,” said Raylan.

  Blake said, “You need to let Sonny do his job. Don’t you need to meet with Mom and that wedding planner about seating charts or something?”

  “Are you and the guys still going to play a set when the band takes a break?”

  Blake, Sonny, and a few of their friends had a band—The Back Porch Prophets. Blake played pedal steel guitar and keyboards. He also wrote some of their music. They played most Friday nights at The Pirates’ Den, and the occasional other bar in the area. I’d asked them to play a set or two at the reception.

  Blake scowled. “People don’t want to hear original music at a wedding. They want stuff they can dance to. We don’t do that many covers.”

  “Raylan, could I trouble you to let me out, please?”

  He complied.

  I stood. “Blake, folks’ll have plenty of opportunities to dance. Haven’t you heard? Mamma and Nicolette hired Big Ray and the Kool Kats. But I’m the bride. And I want my big brother to play.” I leaned down to hug him bye.

  He submitted, but muttered something under his breath that sounded like, “God, why couldn’t you have given me brothers?”

  Seventeen

  Arthur Russell, notorious philanderer, owned a King Street antiques shop. He came from money and had the luxury of spending his days as he chose. The store had only been open five minutes that Wednesday morning when I walked inside.

  “Good morning.” He smiled and walked towards me from a roll-top desk in the middle of the store. Nate was right. Something about him was sleazy, though he was handsome and well-groomed.

  “Good morning,” I said.

  “Are in you in the market for a Christmas present, perhaps?” he asked.

  I had no time for pleasantries, though I did still need a Christmas gift for Daddy. I wouldn’t be buying it from Arthur. “Not today, thank you.”

  “Can I offer you a cup of coffee while you browse? I just made a fresh pot.” His smile was more than a Charleston-friendly smile.

  Was he flirting with me? Eeew.

  “No thank you.” I pulled out my PI license and photo id. “My name is Liz Talbot. I’m a private investigator.”

  His expression changed to one more guarded. “What can I do for you, Miss Talbot?”

  “I have some questions regarding the house at 12 Church Street.”

  “Willowdean Beauthorpe lives
there. Sweet lady. She’s in her eighties, I believe. Her sister lived there with her until a few years back when she passed.”

  “And you had the occasion to visit someone in the house on Monday evening and again on Tuesday evening of this week.”

  “I drop by occasionally to check on Miss Dean. It’s the neighborly thing to do.”

  “Did you see anyone else while you were there?”

  He squinted at me for a moment. “Who, for example?”

  “Did you run into Thurston Middleton?”

  “Thurston? No, I most certainly did not. What would give you such a wild idea?” He either was practiced at looking bewildered or the expression was genuine.

  “Who else, besides yourself, was aware that Thurston Middleton was investigating the house on Church Street?”

  “Thurston. Such a shame—ugly mess, that. What have you to do with Thurston? Are the police not adequately investigating his unfortunate demise?”

  “I’ve been retained on another matter. It’s my understanding that before his death, Mr. Middleton was investigating the house on Church Street, and that you were made aware of his line of inquiry.”

  Arthur stared at me for a long moment.

  I stared back.

  Presently, he said, “I don’t believe I’m obliged to speak with you, Miss Talbot.”

  I lifted a shoulder. “You’re not. I can always turn what I have over to the Charleston police detectives investigating Mr. Middleton’s murder. They can swing by.” Of course I would give Sonny everything anyway. But Arthur didn’t know that.

  I meandered farther back into the store, letting my hand glide across the top of a mahogany chest. “How long have you kept a room at Miss Dean’s house? Lori isn’t your first girlfriend to live there, is she? The one before her—what was her name?”

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but what business is it of yours if I have a harem?”

  “None whatsoever. And frankly, I couldn’t care less. But I wonder…does your wife know? I’m guessing she does. But she likely prefers your infidelities not provide fodder for the local gossips. It would be a shame for all this nonsense to get tied up in with Thurston’s murder investigation and come out in the newspaper.”