Sunset in Old Savannah

by Mary Ellis

  With a shrug, Kaitlyn shifted her weight between hips. “If it’s just the same to you, I’d rather not get pulled into a family feud, especially since I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Amy got to her feet as Jason carried another load of dishes into the kitchen. “Not much foot traffic on the street,” he said. “We might as well shut down early. I turned off the outdoor lights so people know we’re closed.”

  With a nod to her brother, Amy pushed the stool back to the other station. “You keep rolling, Kate, while Jason and I clean up. I’m sorry if I upset you. I just needed to vent a little steam.”

  “No problem.” Kaitlyn tried to sound earnest.

  “We love our parents, but sometimes it’s tough work for people of their generation.” Amy carried the dish tote back into the restaurant.

  Maybe because you’re spoiled rotten, Kaitlyn thought.

  For the next twenty minutes, she rolled sushi. At seven o’clock, the Tanaka siblings escorted her out the door with the assurance she’d be paid for her full shift. After all, I’ve fallen on hard times and can’t pay my bills.

  As Kaitlyn left Tanaka’s Culinary Creations, she couldn’t help noticing the siblings drove very nice hybrid sports cars that, although fuel efficient, hadn’t been purchased from minimum-wage paychecks. Something was going on, just as Mrs. Tanaka thought, but she wouldn’t discover what that was rolling sushi in the kitchen.

  By tomorrow she would have a battle plan to help her client stop the silver-spoon crybabies in their tracks.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Having left all the snacks in Michael’s room, Beth wandered around hers with nothing to do. She planned to leave a message on Kaitlyn’s voice mail, but their new hire picked up the phone on the first ring.

  “Kaitlyn Webb,” she said. The loud music in the background suddenly ceased.

  “Hi, this is Beth Kirby. Did you get fired already? I thought your shift at Culinary Creations ended at eight.” Beth laughed so there would be no doubt that she was teasing.

  “It’s only a matter of time,” said Kaitlyn. “The brother and sister shut the place an hour early and sent me home. I’m going to pull over so we can talk. I don’t have Bluetooth.”

  Beth waited a few moments. “Give me your first impression. Are they about to clean out the cash register and head for the border?”

  “Jason Tanaka mans the register and updates the computer software. If he’s skimming money, you’ll need a forensic accountant with access to the books. I’ve only been taught to roll sushi.”

  “It’s food that’s disappearing, not money. Notice any musclemen carrying crates of seafood to a truck in the alley?”

  Kaitlyn chuckled. “Not yet, but those two spoiled brats are up to something. They threw a fit about Mrs. Tanaka hiring me, as though she’s not entitled to run her restaurant how she sees fit.”

  “Hmm, sounds like battle lines have been drawn.” As they talked, Beth walked around her room putting things away.

  “You got that right. Jason and Amy think I’m in league with Mama Tanaka, so building trust will take more time than Mr. Price has for this case. Tomorrow I’ll come up with an excuse to leave early and then double back and spy on them. If they’re selling smoked salmon on the corner, I’ll catch them red-handed.”

  Beth grinned at the woman’s enthusiasm. “Sounds like you have this slippery eel by the tail. How about joining me for supper tonight? We can share case notes. Privacy laws don’t apply inside the agency.”

  Kaitlyn answered without hesitation. “Absolutely, as long as it’s not raw meat or seafood. Where should I meet you?”

  Beth quickly concocted a plan. “Would you mind picking me up at my hotel? We can buy supper at the City Market and eat while surveilling suspect number one in our murder investigation.”

  “Perfect! I’ll get to observe an ace investigator in action.”

  Beth’s stomach tightened. After her latest misstep, she didn’t feel much like anyone’s idea of an “ace,” but she wanted to encourage Kaitlyn any way she could. Beth described the valet area and headed downstairs to the lobby to wait.

  Forty minutes later, with take-out boxes in hand, Beth and Kaitlyn parked under a moss-shrouded oak in front of Cool Beans. Kaitlyn’s old Mustang wouldn’t draw the kind of attention Michael’s flashy Charger would.

  “Wow, I can’t believe people drink coffee this late in the day.” Kaitlyn pulled the lid off her plastic tub of chef salad.

  “Plenty of stockbrokers and investment bankers work and live in the area. When dealing with world financial markets, morning and evening is a matter of perspective. I believe the woman serving up vanilla lattes and cappuccinos murdered my client’s husband in cold blood.” Beth glanced at Kaitlyn’s salad as she poured dressing over her lettuce, cucumbers, ham, cheese, and croutons. “What? No anchovies?”

  “Please, no more fish jokes until I crack this case.” Kaitlyn winked and popped a cherry tomato in her mouth. “Tell me about the murder and what we hope to see here.”

  In between bites of salad, Beth delivered an abbreviated version of the Doyle homicide, including the fact that their client was the police’s chief suspect. “Rest assured, our agency would never help anyone get away with murder. I’m absolutely positive Evelyn didn’t kill her husband.”

  Kaitlyn studied the employees milling behind the counter. “I take it her husband’s mistress has an alibi for the night of the murder.”

  “One that my gut tells me is bogus. The alibi for Lamar’s boss turned out to be ironclad. Lamar’s brother has money problems and stands to inherit from the estate, but is he a murderer? I no longer think so. So I’m back to Bonnie Mulroney. Maybe she was blackmailing Lamar, and when he said ‘no more,’ she lost her temper.”

  “A woman scorned. Isn’t that the oldest motive in the world?” Kaitlyn speared a pile of sliced ham and cheese. “But how did she get into a house with a high-tech security system? Finding the gun she used sure would come in handy. Then there is that pesky alibi Bonnie has for Saturday night.”

  Beth peered out the window through light rain. “A minor technicality, since I don’t believe a word Crystal said. Or maybe I just don’t trust people with purple hair.”

  “I’m dyin’ to get a look at these two. Let’s go inside. I’m sure they sell decaf.”

  “Both women know me, but you can have a look-see.” Beth handed her a ten-dollar bill. “Your drink will be on Price Investigations, but make sure you get a receipt. Our Natchez bookkeeper is a stickler about such things. Look for a skinny blonde with a ponytail—that’s Bonnie. Crystal has black hair with purple streaks.”

  Kaitlyn snatched the bill and jumped out. She soon returned with a caramel-swirled concoction covered with whipped cream. “Here’s what I learned. First, Crystal can’t make change without help from the cash register.” She held up two fingers. “Second, Bonnie smiles at every male patron but avoids eye contact with women.” Up popped a third finger. “And charging almost six bucks for this should be a second-degree misdemeanor.” Kaitlyn placed the change in the console and took a noisy slurp of her drink.

  Beth took an even noisier slurp of iced tea. “Something tells me you’re going to fit in well with us, Miss Webb.”

  “I hope so, although I never would do that in front of Mr. Preston. Is it okay if I call him Michael?”

  “He would like that better than Bob or Frank or Mike, for that matter.”

  Kaitlyn covered her mouth with her hand. “Good to know. I asked because I don’t want to overstep any boundaries. He seems more formal than you.”

  “He is, but he’s also very nice. I’m the one who should be worried about overstepping,” Beth added softly.

  “Where is he tonight? Unless that’s none of my business. In which case, just say so.” Kaitlyn pivoted toward her on the seat.

  “Relax. We don’t have anything top-secret planned until the weekend. Tonight Michael is in South Carolina. Some rich lady hired us to find her miss
ing poodle. Michael tracked him down with help from his microchip.”

  “Someone hired a PI to find a dog?” Kaitlyn shoved her empty cup into the trash bag.

  “Yep. The boss picks the cases, and we go wherever we’re sent.” Beth switched on the AC to clear the windows. “A vet in Hilton Head found the dog, but he won’t release the dog to Michael without the owner’s signature. Our client doesn’t know how to scan and email a document, so tomorrow she will fax her permission from the senior citizen center.” Beth picked the olives and garbanzo beans from soggy lettuce. “Poor Michael has to spend the night alone at a luxury resort. As long as the client sends the fax, Michael and Harold will be back in Savannah tomorrow.” Beth crunched her container and added it to the bag.

  Silence settled over the small car for several minutes while rain pelted the windshield. “Would you mind if I ask another none-of-my-business question?” Kaitlyn asked.

  Beth nodded, already knowing what it would be.

  “Are you and Michael dating? Again, feel free to—”

  “Yes. What was the dead giveaway? The ‘all alone at a luxurious resort’ part?”

  “No, I got a hunch during the interview. The two of you kept looking at one another.”

  “And I thought we were so clever,” Beth murmured. “For the record, Michael would be alone even if he were here. We just started going out, and so far I keep messing up every chance I get.”

  Kaitlyn peered silently through a clear patch in the condensation.

  “What’s wrong? Too much information?” Beth asked. “Sorry about that.”

  “Not at all. I’m the one who stuck my nose into your business. But this is the time when the coworker steps up and offers advice, whether sought after or not.”

  “Feel free to speak your mind. I’m open to suggestions.”

  “Maybe you just need time to adjust. The longer people are single, the more set in their ways they become. It’s human nature to be annoyed by someone’s idiosyncrasies but not see your own.”

  “Are you saying not everyone has expired food in the fridge and owns three pairs of rubber muck boots?” Beth feigned a look of shock.

  “I don’t even own one pair, and my fridge only has a bottle of catsup.”

  Both burst out laughing. When Beth finally sobered, she rolled down the window, oblivious to the rain. “Then it’s hopeless. Either people get married at nineteen or they’re destined to be alone forever.”

  “I wouldn’t throw in the towel quite yet. Relationships take time to develop. At least, that’s what they say on the talk shows. My last boyfriend was during high school, and we broke up at the prom. I had lots of male friends in college, but none of them fell asleep dreaming about me. I’m afraid I can’t give much advice on relationships.”

  Something niggled in the back of Beth’s brain, but before she could put her finger on it, Bonnie exited the building’s side door. “Romantic guidance will have to wait. My favorite suspect just exited the building. Let’s see where Bonnie goes after work.”

  Kaitlyn started the engine and turned the defroster on high. She waited until Bonnie’s yellow Honda pulled into traffic and followed at a distance of two car lengths. She didn’t weave in and out or tail too closely, yet she managed to keep their suspect in sight.

  “Well done,” Beth said at the traffic light. “Someone’s had a few lessons in clandestine driving.”

  Kaitlyn smiled. “My mentor at the bureau taught me well.”

  Beth would have asked more about her former mentor, but Bonnie turned into the parking lot of a familiar three-story brick-and-stone building on Bull Street. “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s aunt,” she muttered.

  “Wow, nice digs. Your suspect lives here?” Kaitlyn gawked at the ivy-covered facade.

  “This is the swanky love nest provided by my client’s late husband. You, too, could live here for around three grand a month.”

  “How can Bonnie afford this place working in a coffee shop? I didn’t even see a tip jar. Mr. Doyle can’t still be paying the rent.”

  “That question is at the top of my list,” said Beth.

  Bonnie stepped out of her car, took two more puffs on her cigarette, threw it down on the pavement, and climbed the steps to the building.

  Kaitlyn clucked her tongue. “Doesn’t she know what those things do to your lungs?”

  “I forgot to mention the part about her not being smart.” When Beth was certain Bonnie was inside the apartment, she climbed out of the Mustang. “Let’s go talk to the super who lives in the basement. I want to know why Bonnie still lives here. Maybe the girl has already found a replacement sugar daddy.”

  Unfortunately, fifteen minutes later the two PIs drove away without an answer. The superintendent either wasn’t home or didn’t want to answer the door. Beth left a note along with twenty bucks and her phone number.

  “Where to now?” Kaitlyn still sounded bubbly despite her long day.

  “Back to my hotel. Price Investigations is officially closed for the night. I need a hot shower and a good night’s sleep. Thanks for your help, but this PI has had enough surprises for one day.”

  “Call me anytime. This was much more fun than sushi rolling.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Hilton Head, South Carolina

  Michael had no idea how a man could feel so out of sorts at such a luxurious resort. Any activity one could want was available—world-class golf, tennis, deep-sea fishing, sailing, spa facilities, beautiful beaches, and an array of restaurants. Everything was right here—except for a cheap place to sleep. So he pulled out his personal American Express card and paid three hundred dollars for one night. He would deduct a normal night’s lodging from their expense allowance, but Nate shouldn’t have to foot this kind of bill.

  I should have driven back to the mainland. This wasn’t the kind of place you stayed at while working a case. Rich people like the Doyles vacationed here along with their extended families, plus a few budget-savvy honeymooners. Seeing those couples strolling hand in hand made him feel lonely. How he wished Beth were here. They could have had dinner on the terrace and walked the beach in the moonlight. More likely, they would have talked about the case until their eyelids drooped and then padded off to their separate rooms. But that would have been fine too.

  Because after one little kiss, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  At first light, Michael ran the beach, worked with weights for thirty minutes, and took a hot shower. After a light breakfast, he arrived at the vet’s with a newspaper and cup of coffee. Dr. Rhoden’s assistant greeted him, and the good doctor arrived a few minutes later. There was a slight delay due to the wording of the release, but they worked through that, and then Harold, an overly styled French poodle, was sprung from incarceration. At least the vet provided a cardboard carrier so Harold wouldn’t be loose inside the Charger.

  With Harold whimpering mournfully on the backseat, Michael headed back to the Homewood Riverfront Suites and Beth. For the first time, he felt a pang of sorrow at the thought of leaving Georgia. Natchez, on the banks of the Mississippi River, was home. But something about this eighteenth-century city had latched onto his heart. He would miss the beautiful landscaped squares once Nate summoned them back. And he had a feeling Beth felt the same way.

  Hilton Head was just a stone’s throw from Savannah if you were a seabird, but the distance by car was close to an hour. Michael turned up the radio to drown out Harold’s whining and settled back for the scenic drive. But long before he reached the open road, his phone rang. A quick glance at the screen told him it wasn’t the love of his life.

  “Good morning, Detective Rossi. What can I do for you?”

  The detective’s chuckle sounded wry. “I’m glad I chose to call you, Mr. Preston, instead of your partner. I would have answered that question from Miss Kirby far less politely than how my mama taught me to talk.”

  “I take it this involves Mr. Doyle’s younger brother.”

  “You’r
e right about that. On Kirby’s hunch, we brought Mr. Doyle to the station for questioning, and what a waste of time that turned out to be.”

  “Curtis Doyle has a long history of bad money management. Lamar kept the roof over his head and the utilities turned on more than once. As a one-third beneficiary of Lamar’s estate, he stood to inherit plenty. Maybe Curtis got tired of waiting for nature to take its course.”

  “Is that how they do things in Mississippi?” Her rhetorical question dripped with scorn. “You get a wild hunch and then ruin a person’s life with unfounded accusations?”

  “No, ma’am.” Michael provided the only acceptable answer.

  “If your hotheaded partner would have looked deeper into Curtis’s finances, she would have seen he straightened out his money troubles years ago. He hadn’t asked Lamar for any more help because he hasn’t needed to.” She whooshed out a breath. “In fact, Curtis considered money the root of his family’s troubles and preferred life without it.”

  “People will say all kinds of things to cover their tracks.” Michael felt the urge to defend his partner, even though Beth’s actions had been undeniably rash.

  “Oh, you don’t believe he had a change of heart? Then maybe you’d like cold, hard facts instead. Such as there’s no evidence Curtis visited Oleander Lane during the past month. And several witnesses can place him at his son’s soccer game in Jessup Saturday night. Even with several million dollars at stake, the guy can’t be in two places at the same time.”

  “Miss Kirby only wanted to eliminate Mr. Doyle as a suspect—”

  “Is that what Miss Kirby wanted? You tell your partner I’m the detective in charge of this case, not her. What she did was close to interference in a police matter. And she also messed up that guy’s life unnecessarily. Curtis was humiliated in front of his neighbors. And he has some uncomfortable explaining to do at the next soccer game. There are some things that should stay buried in the past.”