Sunset in Old Savannah

by Mary Ellis

  “What have you told her about us? Or told Nate, for that matter.”

  “Nothing yet, but I’ll cross that mountain soon.” Beth turned away from the scenery. “I had a nice time in Charleston. I had a nice time with you,” she added softly.

  “Me too, Beth. Let’s just hope the other shoe never drops.”

  “What shoe? What are you talking about?” Beth felt her mouth go dry.

  “When you discover I have three ex-wives and eleven children that I support. Or I find out you binge eat from the neighbor’s refrigerator when you’re sleepwalking.” Michael kept his features bland as he watched the road.

  “Ha-ha. Did you finally pick up my wry sense of humor? Stop it right now.”

  An amusing game of “What’s the weirdest thing you ever did on a date?” kept them busy for the rest of the drive. When Michael parked the Charger in Homewood’s private lot, Beth felt a rare spike of nerves.

  “Okay, then. Thanks again for a great time. I’ll touch base with you before I head to Mrs. Doyle’s tomorrow. I can use Uber if you need the car.” She reached for the door handle.

  “Wait, there’s one more thing.”

  When she turned to face him, Michael did the unimaginable. He kissed her squarely on her mouth—not too long or too short, and certainly not sloppy. As Goldilocks would say, it was just right.

  “Wow, I didn’t see that coming.” She blinked several times, as though waking from a long sleep.

  “Don’t go crazy on me, Beth. It was just one little kiss.” Michael climbed out of the car, grabbed both suitcases from the trunk, and strolled toward the entrance.

  She just sat in the car, struck by a fit of paralysis. Just one little kiss? Yeah, just like the Grand Canyon is a little river valley and Niagara just another waterfall.

  On Monday morning, Beth discussed the particulars of Kaitlyn’s employment with Nate Price. Then she swam laps and followed up with a grueling workout in the fitness room. Perhaps sore muscles would keep her mind off the rest of her life. One short weekend with a nice man and one little kiss had pulled the rug from beneath her feet. How could a dedicated professional investigator turn into wife material? Her culinary repertoire included ramen noodles, oatmeal, and spaghetti with sauce from a jar. Do men expect women to cook like Rachael Ray, decorate like Martha Stewart, and dance like J.Lo? How many tin cans can those gals shoot off a fence rail?

  Michael, however, wasn’t the least bit discombobulated when she picked up the file on Joseph Reynard. Because she would have the car, she would deliver the file to Detective Rossi on her way to lunch. Michael planned to run, have breakfast, and then do paperwork until their evening meeting with Kaitlyn. His parting words were reminders to roll up the windows and lock the doors on the Charger, even while parked in Mrs. Doyle’s driveway. Cloudbursts happened without warning, and car thieves were everywhere these days. So if Michael could be lackadaisical about an escalation in their relationship, so could she.

  I am a crazy woman. Beth burst into hysterical laughter as she turned onto the road to Tybee Island. And that simple acknowledgment gave her a sense of peace.

  Mrs. Doyle’s luncheon on the expansive deck overlooking the Atlantic Ocean provided the distraction she needed. Although the maid would serve the food, Evelyn and Charlotte had helped her cook the meal.

  “Do you like mulligatawny soup and Caprese salad?” asked Charlotte. “Harriett made the soup, but I baked the baguettes and Evelyn made the Caprese.”

  Before Beth could answer, Mrs. Doyle threw out a second query. “I hope this isn’t too morbid, but I brought home the African orchids someone had sent to the church. They were too pretty to toss on a grave.”

  “I’ve never heard of mulligatawny,” Beth said to Charlotte. “But since I eat anything, I’m sure it’ll be delicious.” And to her hostess, she said, “It’s sinful to waste, so enjoy the flowers as long as they last.”

  With that the three women sat down at a table right out of a magazine—crisp linens, sparkling crystal and china, gleaming silver, and, of course, the arrangement of orchids that probably cost a week’s salary. With the sound of crashing waves in the background and a soft breeze cooling their skin, Beth couldn’t imagine a prettier place to dine.

  The entrée with a strange name turned out to be a chicken soup with celery and apples, served cold. Caprese salad was just tomatoes and fresh mozzarella. And even she knew what a baguette was. But before she scraped the bottom of her bowl, Beth decided it was time for honest conversation.

  “I appreciate the delicious meal, but I know you asked me here for a reason.”

  Evelyn exchanged glances with Charlotte and cleared her throat. “My sister feels that for you to find who killed Lamar, you need to know why many on the island don’t like me.”

  “Why would you say that after so many people came to the funeral?”

  “They showed up because everyone loved Lamar. Me, they merely tolerated. Charlotte is right—I never tried very hard to fit in, to break through the invisible barrier. I was happy at home with my hobbies. As long as Lamar loved me, I didn’t need lots of friends or snobby country club folks. The women at my church accepted me—I suppose they had to—but I didn’t fit in anywhere else.”

  Beth glanced from sister to sister. “I don’t understand. I’ve seen your bank account. You were every bit as rich, if not richer, than any of them. Why would they be snobby to you?”

  Charlotte reached for her sister’s hand. “You’re doing well, my dear. Tell Beth the rest.”

  Evelyn pushed away her plate. “Lamar came from very old money, like most of the residents on this lovely island. Money isn’t money. Oftentimes it’s where it came from and how long it’s been in your family. As I told you, Lamar and I met in college. Charlotte and I had always been good students—Mama saw to that. We were there on full academic scholarships, or we wouldn’t have been there at all. I was the girl who loved cafeteria food and cleaned my plate every time.”

  Charlotte took over as Evelyn’s composure crumpled. “We were dirt poor, living in the mountains on my grandparents’ farm. But ‘farm’ is a euphemism for a tumbledown shack where no crops were ever planted. We survived on federal subsidies that my dad went through like water and whatever game he hunted. Mama earned what she could by selling honey to health food stores and taking handouts from people at church.”

  “We won’t bore you with unnecessary details, but going to college was a dream come true for both of us.” Evelyn squeezed Charlotte’s fingers. “Charlotte met her husband, and I found Lamar. Life has turned out well for us.”

  “Nobody should care where someone was born—” Beth began.

  “I’m afraid society people care a great deal, dear. Lamar often spoke first and thought later when we were first married. He told several friends in Charleston how proud he was of how far I’d come from my humble roots. Unfortunately, he also told Alfred Singleton, who was from Savannah.” Evelyn paused to let the significance sink in. “Alfred felt it was his duty to spread the word to his acquaintances on Tybee Island when we moved here. Even after we had been married for forty years, some women were still waiting for Lamar to come to his senses.” Evelyn released a bitter laugh.

  “You don’t need friends like that,” said Beth. “Good thing I didn’t know this yesterday, or some of those big-hatted shrews might have accidentally fallen into the koi pond.”

  This time Mrs. Doyle’s laughter was genuine. “You are a fireball, Beth. If anyone can get to the bottom of this, it’ll be you. Just don’t expect any of yesterday’s mourners to help you.”

  “At least your husband got a nice send-off. Those eulogies touched my heart, especially the one from his brother.” Beth scooted back as the maid cleared the table.

  Charlotte uttered a dismissive huff. “What a shock that was. Who would have figured Curtis to have a one-hundred-eighty-degree change of heart?”

  “Control yourself, sister,” Evelyn admonished. “Beth doesn’t need you to air the Do
yle family dirty laundry.”

  “Yes, I do. I need to hear everything. A person never knows what could be useful.”

  “Very well. Do you want to do the honors since you got this ball rolling?” Evelyn asked Charlotte while motioning for the maid to serve coffee and dessert.

  Charlotte blushed but jumped into the story nevertheless. “When John Doyle passed, his will didn’t divide the estate evenly between his sons, Lamar and Curtis. Their mother had died long ago. John had been on his third wife, who inherited the house and a few hundred thousand.”

  “That must have made her happy.”

  Evelyn shrugged. “Perhaps, but Lamar’s father had made a fortune with his import business. Both sons were already married at the time, and although his father didn’t care much for me, he’d had a major falling out with Curtis.”

  “How unevenly did Dad divide the estate?”

  “Lamar inherited everything. John Doyle cut his younger son out altogether.”

  “Yeow! That had to sting.”

  “It did. Curtis blamed Lamar and accused him of poisoning their dad against him. Lamar wanted to make things right, so he sent his brother a check for half the estate.”

  “Which Curtis promptly tore up and mailed back the pieces,” Charlotte added. “That man should have been on medication under a doctor’s care.”

  Beth’s gaze shifted between the sisters. “How long ago was this?”

  Evelyn pondered for a moment. “I’ll bet it’s been fifteen years since their falling out.”

  “So why the change of heart now?”

  “That’s a very good question,” Charlotte said. “I was shocked when that loose cannon stood up during the service and approached the pulpit. I held my breath the entire time he talked.”

  “They hadn’t spoken to each other the entire time?” Beth asked.

  Evelyn grimaced as though suddenly hit with indigestion. “That’s what everyone thinks, but it’s not exactly true.” She inhaled a deep breath. “Curtis’s silence lasted a few years, and then he called Lamar. He was in deep financial trouble—his home in foreclosure, his wages garnished, his credit cards canceled. When Curtis asked for money, Lamar gave it to him.” Evelyn locked eyes with her astonished sister. Apparently, this was all news to Charlotte. “Curtis didn’t want his family to suffer because of his rash act. He allowed them to continue spending money as though he still had a generous salary at the import company. I’m afraid their debt spiraled out of control.”

  “Was this bailout a onetime occurrence?” Beth asked.

  “No. Lamar bailed him out three times, as far as I know.”

  “Why, that little varmint!” Charlotte’s opinion of Curtis seemed to have dropped lower. “Pretending to be the poor, mistreated son while letting Lamar secretly bankroll him.”

  Evelyn patted her sister’s hand. “Easy, Charlotte. Curtis never received his full share of the estate, not even after the third bailout.”

  “Let’s hope he learned his lesson, because that gravy train has run off the rails.”

  “No, not exactly,” Evelyn said softly. “Lamar named Curtis a one-third beneficiary of his estate, the other two-thirds going to me. Curtis is to receive the share that would have gone to our son.”

  Charlotte covered her mouth with her hand, momentarily speechless.

  “If the younger brother still hadn’t learned how to handle money, then he had a motive for murder.” Beth watched both women for their reactions.

  Charlotte’s lip furled. “I would say anything is possible, since he’s probably gone through every dime Lamar gave him.”

  Evelyn shook her head dismissively. “I don’t believe Curtis is capable of murder. The man has no focus and no initiative, but there isn’t a ruthless or cruel bone in his body. That’s why John Doyle disinherited him. Curtis wasn’t cut out for the cutthroat import world.”

  “If you don’t mind, Mrs. Doyle, I’d like to look into Curtis and any other disgruntled Doyles you can think of.”

  “I don’t mind at all. I’ll get whatever photographs and information I have, but I hope everything I just told you will remain confidential. Curtis begged Lamar years ago to keep all this secret, and my husband agreed. There’s no reason the family shame should come out now.” Evelyn looked from Charlotte to Beth, waiting, until they both nodded in agreement.

  “Now that that’s settled, I want you to start calling me Evelyn. I feel we’re more than client and employer now. You said we were friends.” The woman’s eyes lit with hope.

  “Absolutely we are, Evelyn.”

  “Good, so we’ll have no more talk about sad subjects. Why don’t I share some fond memories of Lamar?”

  Picking up her fork, Beth cut into her key lime pie. “I am so ready for some happy stories.”

  There would be time to fixate on her brand-new murder suspect later.

  TWENTY-ONE

  For someone who only recently started believing in miracles, Kaitlyn Webb experienced a minor one firsthand thirty minutes before quitting time. She’d been watching a man for five days now on behalf of the Industrial Commission of Georgia. He claimed he had hurt his back on the loading docks at the freight terminal. Millions of tons of freight manufactured in the United States were loaded into containers at the port of Savannah and would make their way across the sea to the United Kingdom, other parts of Europe, and the Near East. Those containers would be emptied and then refilled with foreign goods destined for American consumers. The shipping industry employed thousands of people who safely performed their tasks without injury. However, accidents did happen, and when they did, injured employees were entitled to benefits while they were unable to work. And if their disabilities were total and permanent, the benefits should last for their lifetimes.

  Every now and then a worker tried to defraud the system by inventing an injury or exaggerating the severity. Kendall Blankenship applied for permanent total disability after falling from a loading platform twenty feet onto the vessel below. However, no one witnessed the fall, which Kendall neglected to report to his supervisor. Only that evening, long after his shift ended, did Blankenship seek medical attention for his back. However, his wife took him to a clinic in the next county instead of choosing the emergency room six blocks from their home. All very suspicious. Kendall claimed he didn’t want to jeopardize his standing with the boss until he realized the severity of the injury much later. His wife claimed the hospital nearby didn’t accept their insurance, and she feared an exorbitant bill they wouldn’t be able to pay. Both assertions could be valid. It wasn’t Kaitlyn’s job to determine fact from fiction. An independent doctor paid for by the Industrial Commission would examine the patient several times before issuing a report. Evidence would be presented at trial by attorneys for both the defendant and the state. Kaitlyn was to watch Blankenship for any activity not in keeping with the designation “permanently unable to work at any job.” Thus far the claimant’s activities outside the home provided nothing useful in the state’s case. Blankenship arrived at his son’s soccer game in a motorized wheelchair, driven there by his wife in a leased van with an electric lift.

  About the time Kaitlyn decided to pull the plug on today’s spy games, she got the break she needed to wrap up the Blankenship case in her final week on the job. Following his son’s victory and a pizza celebration on the sidelines, Kendall waited while his wife struggled to raise the chair into the van using the controls on the electric lift. For ten minutes, she repeatedly pressed the control button and then banged on the gears with a wrench. Next, she manually tried to crank up the chair containing her husband, all to no avail. All the other parents and team members had dispersed, giving the Blankenships a false assumption they were alone at the soccer field. But hidden in the trees, Kaitlyn watched with amazement as Kendall uttered a foul word, pushed himself up, and stood. He grabbed the tool from his wife’s hand and ratcheted up the lift with the chair inside. Then he walked around the van and climbed in, unaided by his wife. Maybe Bl
ankenship would never jog or work the docks again, but the man could indeed walk and function in a less strenuous type of career. And Kaitlyn had the video proof on her camera.

  She returned to her apartment with just enough time to shower and meet her new coworkers at Price Investigations. At 6:00, Kaitlyn walked into Panera Bread dressed in cotton slacks, a long white tunic, and espadrilles. She hoped a second miracle would take place today—this one not so minor. She would get the fresh start she’d been praying for ever since someone taught her how to pray.

  Beth and Michael arrived at the entrance at precisely the same moment—a good sign if ever there was one—and they both looked happy to see her.

  “Good evening, Miss Webb,” said Michael.

  “Hey, Kaitlyn.” Beth greeted their new employee with a big smile. “Let’s grab a quiet table in the back. Should we order before we get down to business?”

  “Absolutely. You picked one of my favorite places. I can’t decide which of the combos to have.”

  “Sorry, Kaitlyn, something came up that requires Beth and me to eat later. But you should go ahead now so you’ll be ready for your assignment.”

  “Okay, then,” said Kaitlyn, stepping up to the counter. She noticed Beth flashing him a confused expression.

  For a while they talked about national news, pro sports, and the lovely weather while she ate soup and a sandwich. Michael seemed reserved, as though he’d learned his manners and intended to use them. Beth was friendlier and more open, yet when they started discussing the role of a PI, Beth’s confidence spoke volumes as to how well she performed her job. The partners were as different as sugar and salt, yet their regard for each other was almost palpable.

  Are they dating? So not my business. But curious was a woman’s natural state.

  “Ready to get down to specifics?” Beth drew a sheet of notes from her purse.

  “Ready, willing, and able,” Kaitlyn said, stacking her plates out of the way.

  “I spoke with Nate this morning. You will be paid with a 1099 as an independent contractor during your trial period. That means you will be responsible for your taxes and health insurance. After the trial period, you’ll be placed on the payroll with our mediocre hospitalization plan, two weeks paid vacation, and five days sick time. Our company benefits might be a disappointment after working for a government agency.”