Sunset in Old Savannah

by Mary Ellis

  “No, thanks. I prefer to watch you eat. I’m in training, remember?”

  Beth cut off a corner for a taste. “I would say your training is complete. Nothing about you needs improvement.”

  “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  She seemed to have trouble swallowing her mouthful of ice cream. “If that’s true, I need to mend my ways. And a birthday is the perfect time to start.”

  For several minutes, Michael sat back and watched Beth enjoy her ice cream. Then he picked up his spoon. Clouds thickened over the water while the warm breeze changed to a strong wind. In the distance, lightning lit up the sky and thunder rumbled, announcing the imminent storm. But the mini-tempest in their new romance was over. Michael refused to think too far into the future. He had learned his lesson with Rachel. Maybe things would work out with Beth and maybe they wouldn’t, but he refused to plan more than a few days into the future. He wasn’t making that mistake again.

  When they left Marlin Monroe’s, rain was just beginning to hit the windshield. “We made it just in time,” Beth said, ducking into his car.

  Michael started the engine and switched on the AC. Then he reached for the wrapped box in the backseat and handed it to her. “Why don’t you open this before we drive back to Savannah in a monsoon?”

  She sank lower in her seat. “Are you sure that’s for me? I wasn’t exactly Miss Cordiality tonight.”

  “I’m sure.” He bumped her with his elbow.

  “In that case…” Within seconds, she had ripped off the paper and opened the box. “It’s a purse! A Dooney and Bourke purse,” she added with almost reverential awe.

  “Do you like it? I hope it’s not too big or too small or the wrong color. Maxine helped me pick it out on the Internet, but my mom said buying a purse for a woman was a horrible idea.”

  “Not to disagree with Margo Preston, but I love it.” Beth lifted the purse from the box. “I can’t believe you remembered that I wanted one.”

  “The website said you could exchange it for something different if—”

  Beth stopped his ramblings with a kiss on his cheek. “It’s perfect. Thank you very much.”

  “If it’s so perfect, why are you crying?”

  “Maybe because I’m a year older.” She wiped away her tears. “Or because it’s the best birthday present I ever got.”

  Michael turned onto the beach road that would take them back to Savannah. Considering that Beth must have received many other gifts during the last twenty-eight years, he settled back and smiled, despite a storm raging all across the tiny island.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Beth awoke to the sweet fragrance of magnolia, crepe myrtle, and roses. And those were just the flowers she could easily identify. When she’d returned to her room last night, the hotel bellman knocked on her door within five minutes. The man walked in with an arrangement of flowers more in keeping with a major event than a non-milestone birthday. These couldn’t possibly be for me. The bouquet had to cost Michael a fortune, not twenty dollars from Peonies for Pennies.

  Michael. No matter how she tallied the score, she truly didn’t deserve a boyfriend like him. Dinner on the shore, the purse straight from her wish list, and now a botanical cornucopia? It wasn’t the expenditure—money didn’t mean that much to her. It was his ability to make her feel special, whether on the anniversary of her birth or an ordinary Tuesday. If it was the last thing she did, she would learn how to reciprocate his thoughtfulness. If he could learn to shoot straight at long last, she could learn how to be a girlfriend.

  Beth had just finished her floor exercises when her phone rang. She was hoping for her partner, but Tybee Island Police popped up on the caller ID. “Beth Kirby,” she said sweetly into the mouthpiece.

  “Diane Rossi, Tybee Police. I got a message that you wanted to talk to me. What’s up, Miss Kirby?”

  “Thanks for returning my call, Detective. I have new information on the Doyle homicide. I’m sure you noticed the man who delivered a rather poignant eulogy at Lamar’s funeral.”

  “Yeah, Curtis Doyle. Not a dry eye in the house when the younger brother sat down.”

  “Are you aware that younger brother has a strong motive for murder? When his father cut him out of the will, Curtis lost out on his share of a substantial estate—ten or twelve million dollars.” Beth tried not to sound gleeful over her news.

  “I wouldn’t be earning my huge paycheck if I didn’t check out all family members and close friends. We’re well aware Curtis irritated John Doyle so thoroughly he didn’t get a dime in the will. But that was twelve years ago. Homicidal rage should have kicked in well before now. Why wait this long? And anybody listening to Curtis wouldn’t describe him as a loose cannon, ready to explode.”

  Beth didn’t have an easy answer to the detective’s logic. Not without betraying the confidence Evelyn had placed in her. Was it better to keep a dark family secret at her expense? If Detective Rossi didn’t come up with a reasonable possibility, eventually the DA would formally charge the one suspect they already had. For several moments, Beth pondered the conundrum of whether to remain loyal to Evelyn—a woman who needed friends she could trust—or to get the woman absolved of a murder she didn’t commit.

  Rossi terminated her woolgathering. “If that’s all you wanted to talk about, I need to appear in court soon.”

  Beth made a hasty decision. “There is one more thing, Detective. It wasn’t the bequest of John Doyle that has me worried. Are you aware of the contents of Lamar’s will?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Nope. It hasn’t been filed in probate court yet.”

  “Curtis was named as a beneficiary of one-third of Lamar’s estate, with the other two-thirds going to his widow, Evelyn. Curtis will receive the share that would have gone to their son, who was killed in Afghanistan. Mrs. Doyle indicated Curtis managed money like an eight-year-old. He was always in foreclosure, with a horrible credit rating and garnished wages.”

  “That’s true for half of the American population.”

  “Yes, but most people won’t inherit millions should one of their siblings meet with an untimely death.”

  “Maybe that’s why Curtis had such nice things to say even though they hadn’t seen each other in years,” said Rossi, no longer sounding in a big hurry.

  Beth bit the inside of her mouth. “The two actually had occasional contact. Lamar had bailed out his brother several times, but for some reason Curtis didn’t want his family to know. And he didn’t want them to know he was one of Lamar’s beneficiaries.”

  “My, my. Mrs. Doyle has really taken you under her wing.”

  “Yes, and that’s why I’m not happy about spilling the beans. Please keep everything I told you in confidence.”

  Rossi clucked her tongue. “I’m not the type to call the Savannah Post gossip page, if there still is such a thing. Besides, the moment the will is filed in probate court, it becomes public record. The world will soon know the ne’er-do-well brother is a rich man.”

  “The whole thing sounds fishy to me. If your husband was heir to a fortune, wouldn’t he tell you?”

  “Sure, if he knew what was good for him.” Rossi chuckled on the other end. “All right, Beth, I’ll look into Curtis Doyle. But right now I need to get to the courthouse and testify, or a bad guy could walk if I don’t. I wasn’t making that up.”

  “Will you keep me in the loop, Detective?”

  “Yes, if your lead turns into something concrete. Otherwise, my conversation with Mr. Spendthrift will remain confidential. I’m not the gossipy type, remember?” Rossi clicked off, leaving Beth oddly disconcerted.

  What if I’m wrong? What if Curtis isn’t on the brink of destitution? Or what if he has a solid alibi for the night Lamar died? She would have betrayed Evelyn’s trust for no reason.

  Beth headed to the shower, hoping soap and hot water would wash away remorse. But a second phone call postponed any absolution.

  “Go
od morning, sunshine. Did I wake you?” Michael asked.

  “Not at all. I was just about to thank you for the flowers. Twenty bucks goes much further at Savannah florists than those back home. Your extravagance is much appreciated.”

  “I’ve been saving money for a long time, and I don’t want to anymore. Live life to the fullest—that’s what I always say. Or maybe I just read it on a billboard.”

  His humor lifted Beth’s spirits. “Where are you? Could we meet for breakfast? There’s something about the case I want to discuss.”

  “Sure, but I’m over by Fort Pulaski on a training run. Give me an hour to get back and twenty minutes for a shower. How about ten thirty in the Lodge?”

  Beth’s heart sank. The last thing she needed was to sit around brooding for ninety minutes. “No, I’ll grab something now and then follow a new lead. We’ll talk this afternoon. In the meantime, why don’t you look into Curtis Doyle’s background?”

  “As you wish. You know where the car is parked, and you have a set of keys. Just don’t solve the Doyle murder without me.” Michael ended the call, his laughter ringing in Beth’s ears as she considered her next move.

  The more she thought about her conversation with Detective Rossi, the more she wanted to talk to Curtis first. He might open up to one of his sister-in-law’s friends, but if Tybee Island police showed up flashing badges, Curtis would call his attorney faster than a jackrabbit. After all, just like Lamar’s boss, Curtis could afford the best these days, leaving Evelyn still in the bull’s-eye.

  The long-lost brother wasn’t hard to find. Curtis had signed the funeral guest book with his complete address down to his zip code, along with his cell phone number. He certainly didn’t want to make it hard for the executor to deliver his share of the inheritance. Thanks to the photocopy Beth had made of the guest book, she punched the address into GPS and headed out of town. The drive would give her plenty of time to contemplate her job performance lately.

  What happened to Nate Price’s ace detective—the one entrusted with Michael’s training not long ago? If she didn’t get her head on straight, she would be the one needing supervision when they returned to Natchez. Is this why dating coworkers is a bad idea? Falling for Christopher McNeil had ruined her career on the police force, but Chris hadn’t been in love with her. Only time would tell what Michael’s true feelings were.

  Beth arrived in Jessup long before she could sort out her relationship issues. The GPS directed her to a medium-sized colonial on a suburban lot. The house might be a comfortable place to raise a family, but it couldn’t compare to Lamar’s beach house. Her subject was in the front yard, sparing Beth the effort of knocking on the door. Curtis Doyle wielded an electric hedge trimmer along the privet hedge, dragging a heavy extension cord behind him. With his thick safety goggles and ear protectors, he remained oblivious to her approach.

  “Mr. Doyle?” Beth said, tapping him on the arm.

  Curtis spun the trimmer in a wild arc. “Good grief, young lady! You could have lost a finger.”

  “Sorry about that. I’m Beth Kirby, a friend of Evelyn’s. Could I have a word with you?”

  Curtis turned off the trimmer and set it down in the grass. “I remember you from the funeral.” Stripping off his gloves, he extended a hand. With his goggles pushed up his forehead, Curtis looked like a four-eyed creature from outer space.

  Beth shook halfheartedly. “Since her husband’s passing, I’m working on Evelyn’s behalf on several matters. Of course, her attorney will handle Lamar’s estate, but I would like to ask you a few questions.”

  “What can I help you with?”

  “Some questions will be rather personal since Evelyn allowed me access to family history.”

  Curtis glanced back at the house. “Ask what you like, but be quick about it.”

  “You shared some lovely memories of your brother, so I’m curious why you were estranged for a number of years.”

  “If you are in Evelyn’s confidence, then you know the reason.”

  “Losing your share of the Doyle fortune must have been hard to take.”

  Curtis wiped sweat from his brow with his sleeve. “It was. I blamed Lamar for turning Dad against me, but eventually I had to face the truth.”

  “What truth is that?” Beth asked, stepping into the shade of the hedge.

  “That Dad was right—I couldn’t handle the responsibility he’d given me. I wasn’t cut out for the family business. Neither was Lamar, for that matter. But my brother bowed out more gracefully than I did.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “I can’t imagine how any of this is cogent to Evelyn’s tying up loose ends.” Curtis stepped behind an overgrown bougainvillea bush to be out of sight from the living room window.

  “Humor me, please, if you don’t mind.”

  Curtis swept his safety glasses from his head. “My grandfather started a shipping corporation that my father built into one of the largest in the world. I’m sure you’ve seen those colorful containers piled high on the Savannah River.”

  Beth nodded to keep him talking.

  “Those containers contain American-made goods bound for Europe, the Near East, and South America. They will be refilled with French wines, Swiss chocolates, English wool—world trade at its best. Even during recessions, people can’t seem to live without coffee.”

  “So what was the problem? As the boss’s sons, you and Lamar probably had cherry-picked positions.”

  Curtis issued a bitter laugh. “That’s how it works at other corporations, but not at ours. My father was a tyrant. He drove his employees hard and his sons harder. He said he was bound and determined to turn his sissy college boys into men. Dad had insisted we go to college, and then he held it against us.” He shook his head. “We were paid commissions only on freight we contracted. So in order to earn a decent wage, I had to work seven days a week, ten-hour days, never sitting down to a meal or attending church with my family or seeing my son play soccer. Lamar took a leave of absence after his son was killed and signed up for insurance classes at the community college. He never came back to the docks.”

  “Your father couldn’t have been too happy about that.”

  “He wasn’t, but he wrote it off to grief over Jamie’s death.” Curtis looked at his watch. “Look, Miss Kirby, my shift at the lumberyard starts in an hour. I still need to take a shower.”

  “Please tell me the rest,” she said softly. “What happened between you and your father?”

  Curtis focused on children playing across the street. “One day I witnessed him berating a female employee and I became unhinged. The woman didn’t understand a new procedure, and that madman humiliated her in front of everyone. I called him a sadistic bully whose cruelty masked his own ineptness, along with a few other profane adjectives.”

  “And he fired you.”

  “Oh, yeah. Right then and there. Unfortunately, my family had grown accustomed to a seventy-hour paycheck. I found another job, but I only made half the salary. With so much lost time to make up for, I insisted my wife buy whatever she wanted on the credit cards. The kids were already in private schools, and we continued to give them whatever they wanted. Problem is, kids never stop changing their minds as to what they want.”

  “That’s why you asked Lamar to bail you out.” Beth made sure her voice contained no recrimination.

  Curtis nodded. “I begged him not to say anything. I was afraid my wife would be ashamed of me. Finally, when I could no longer look myself in the mirror, I told Amy how close we were to financial meltdown. She’d suspected something was wrong but was afraid to ask.”

  Beth took a step closer. “What did you do?”

  “We sold our big house and bought this one. We put the kids in public school and started to live on what I earned. It wasn’t easy, but we made the adjustment. Now I have a real family and work I enjoy. My wife actually likes having me around. Imagine that.” Curtis began wrapping up his extension cord.

  “
You never told Amy about Lamar bailing you out three times.” Beth took a chance, but it paid off.

  “Not until Evelyn called to say Lamar was dead. I was so ashamed.” His gray eyes clouded with moisture. “I told Amy on the way to Savannah.”

  “Your family’s situation is about to change, isn’t it, Mr. Doyle?”

  “And you think that pleases me?” His tone grew shrill. “If I didn’t have three kids to put through college, I would refuse Lamar’s legacy. But I won’t be selfish.” He picked up his gloves and trimmer and marched away. “Now you must excuse me.”

  But he didn’t get halfway to the garage before a sedan with Chatham County plates pulled into the driveway. “What now?” he demanded.

  “Uh-oh,” Beth murmured as Detective Rossi and two uniformed officers stepped from the car. “That woman is with the Tybee Island Police Department. Just tell the truth, Mr. Doyle, and you’ll be all right.”

  Curtis’s head snapped around. “Is that what this is about—you think I had something to do with Lamar’s death? I loved my brother and owed him more than I could ever repay.”

  Beth didn’t know which angry face to look at—the one in front of her or the one headed her way. “Um…good afternoon, Detective. I thought you had to appear in court.”

  “The defense lawyer requested a continuance.” Rossi placed her hands on her hips. “You had better have a good reason for being here, Kirby, or I might think you’re interfering in a police investigation.”

  “No, ma’am. I was just checking on Curtis on behalf of Mrs. Doyle.” Beth walked backward to her car, while Curtis headed in the opposite direction into the garage.

  “Curtis Doyle, would you come with us, please? We’d like to ask you a few questions in regard to your brother’s murder.”

  “You tell Evelyn she’s got this wrong!” Curtis addressed Beth instead of the three officers closing in around him. “I didn’t want Lamar’s money. My life was just fine without it.”