Sunset in Old Savannah

by Mary Ellis

“Another lie! You could have gotten it today instead of following me here.”

  “True, but when I arrived at the apartment and then saw you peeling out of the lot, I wanted to know where you were going in such a hurry. I knew I could get the money another time. Lamar didn’t trust banks, so he had safes installed in his home and in his office. According to a note Evelyn found, Lamar also had one installed in the apartment. He didn’t want that money left rotting in the wall if something ever happened to him.” Beth tried to blow her bangs out of her eyes. The safes on Bull Street and in his Town and Country office were pure fabrications. Perhaps if I get out of this alive, I can start writing fiction in my spare time.

  “Lamar never told me about any safe.” Bonnie balled her hands and kicked the leg of Beth’s chair.

  “You two hadn’t been going together that long,” said Beth, hoping not to encounter one of Bonnie’s fists.

  The explanation seemed to make sense to Lenny. “Where is this safe?” he asked.

  “Behind the fake Renoir in the living room. It has a combination lock. Lamar used the date of his son’s birthday, 1-2-0-8-8-8.”

  “There ain’t no safe,” Bonnie insisted.

  “Did you ever look behind the pictures?”

  “Well…no,” she whined. “But Lamar would have told me and not Evelyn about it.”

  He stared at the floor for a few moments before seeming to come to a decision. He looked at his sister and snarled, “You just keep the gun pointed at her. If she gets away while I’m gone, I’m coming after you, Bonnie. And you won’t be smiling when I get done.” Then he turned to Beth with an evil glint in his eye. “What exactly is a fake Renoir?”

  “It’s a painting of a lady with a red hat sitting with a little girl. The girl’s wearing a hat too.” It was the only painting Beth remembered from her art history class in college.

  “If you’re lying, that will be the last lie you ever tell.” Lenny slipped his knife into its sheaf and the gun into his waistband and went out the door. In another moment, the engine of his truck roared to life and gravel spun in the driveway. Beth heard his muffler for a long time. Maybe some of that tire money could have been spent on an exhaust system.

  Bonnie leaned over Beth and shook her head. “It wasn’t smart to send Lenny on a wild-goose chase. He can get to the apartment and be back within forty minutes. You have no idea what Lenny’s like when he’s mad.”

  “I needed to buy us some time.” Beth opted for the truth.

  “I knew there was no safe!” Bonnie shook a finger in Beth’s face. “There isn’t even a painting close to what you described. What makes you so sure I won’t call him on his cell?” She pulled out her phone with a smug expression.

  “Just hear me out. Right now you haven’t killed anybody yet, unlike your brother. But if you leave with him, you’ll be an accomplice to murder. That carries the same penalty as if you’d pulled the trigger. But if you cut my ropes, I’ll help you start over someplace far away. Lenny won’t be getting out of jail anytime soon.”

  Her young face contorted. “I’m already going to jail if we get caught. No judge in the world will believe I had nothing to do with Lamar’s death. I’m the stupid person who told Lenny where Mrs. Doyle kept the gun.”

  “How on earth did you know?”

  She shrugged. “Lamar told me. He invited me to his fancy beach house twice while Mrs. Doyle was out of town visiting her sister. He wanted me waiting when he came home from work. He told me she kept the gun in her nightstand when he was out of town, so I’d better not come on the wrong night or Evelyn might shoot me as an intruder. Lamar thought that was funny.”

  “And you told your brother about the gun?”

  Bonnie rubbed her eyes. “I didn’t mean to, but Lenny didn’t believe that I’d ever been on Tybee Island. He said I wasn’t classy enough for Lamar to invite to his house. But Lamar wasn’t like that. I told Lenny about the gun to prove I’d been there. Then he found the paper in my purse with their security code. I never thought he’d go there and shoot at Mrs. Doyle.” Her tears started up anew.

  Beth gaped. “Lenny tried to kill Evelyn?”

  Bonnie shook her head vigorously. “He missed on purpose. Lenny wanted to scare her into giving Lamar a divorce so he would be free to marry me. Lenny thought he was doing me a favor.”

  “When he realized that wasn’t going to happen, he killed Lamar.”

  “Lenny loves me in his own way.”

  “I can see that,” Beth conceded. “You didn’t go to Crystal’s after you stormed out of the apartment. You came here.”

  She nodded mutely. “I thought our fight would blow over, so I didn’t want to tell Crystal. She was so happy that I found a nice man.”

  It was hard for Beth to understand how two women could celebrate a ruined marriage, but this wasn’t the time for a lesson in morality.

  “I thought for once Lenny would just be nice, but he started yelling about how stupid I was, telling me I was nothing but trash, no better than him.” She dissolved into a fit of sobbing. “I begged Crystal to lie about my whereabouts because I knew no one would believe me.”

  “And she did. That could be what got your friend killed.”

  Bonnie grabbed her stomach as though she might be sick.

  “There’s still time to save yourself. Your brother is going to jail for murdering two people. Turn on the TV. Channel 4 usually has local news. Please, do this for yourself as well as me.”

  Bonnie locked gazes with her. Then she walked into the living room where a television droned.

  For an interminable amount of time, Beth watched the clock and prayed for either deliverance or forgiveness. When Bonnie shuffled back into the kitchen, every bit of blood had drained from her face.

  “The reporters kept calling her the Callahan woman and said drugs haven’t been ruled out as a motive in her death. She wasn’t ‘the Callahan woman’! Her name was Crystal, and Crystal never touched drugs in her life. She was the best friend I ever had.” Bonnie laid the gun on the counter and started sawing at Beth’s ropes with a kitchen knife.

  Beth felt the first seeds of hope stirring when they heard Lenny’s loud truck roar up the driveway and come to a squealing, gravel-scattering stop. Both women froze as a pair of heavy boots stomped up the steps.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” The slam of the screen door punctuated his angry question as Lenny pushed his sister away from Beth with one hand.

  “I don’t want any part of killing this lady,” Bonnie said from the floor.

  “Oh, really? Because this lady just sent me down a rabbit hole. I couldn’t get close to that safe. Your building is crawling with police.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Lenny, because there ain’t no safe. She lied to buy more time.”

  He didn’t take the news well. He slapped Beth across the face, cutting short her joy over duping him. “Still feeling smug now?” Then he turned toward his sister with only slightly less venom. “That still doesn’t explain why you were helping her.”

  Bonnie picked herself up and bravely confronted her brother. “Because you killed Crystal. I know it was you. There aren’t too many people she would let into the house and turn her back on.”

  “Shut up, Bonnie. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Your boss called here looking for you. He said you left the job early today without any kind of explanation. Lenny…” Her voice broke. “Crystal was my best friend in the whole world.”

  A horrible flush darkened his face. “Your best friend,” he sneered. “Want to know what your best friend was doing behind your back?” He wasted no time with guessing games. “Blackmail! Crystal demanded five hundred bucks to fix the transmission on her old clunker, so I gave it to her. Then she started thinking I must be made of money, because she demanded a thousand bucks this morning. She told me to bring it over today or she’d tell the cops you weren’t with her that night. Crystal thought that was a fair trade for her silence.” T
he evil glint in Lenny’s eye reappeared. “What do you think about your best friend now?”

  Bonnie planted her feet. “I think she didn’t deserve to die.”

  “Tough luck for her. People die all the time.”

  Bonnie lunged at her brother. But it didn’t take much of a shove to send a hundred-pound woman across the room.

  Beth thought this was a good time to keep her mouth shut.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Michael was sick of checking his watch and pacing the floor. He was even sicker of calling Beth and getting her voice mail immediately. Why on earth would she turn off her phone? Even if she didn’t want to be interrupted, why couldn’t she turn the phone to vibrate?

  The last thing he wanted to do was call Kaitlyn without knowing how her meeting with Beth had gone. By now she would have figured out that he was the one snooping into her background. Although that was standard procedure when hiring a new PI, it might make for uncomfortable conversation.

  After another trip down to the ice machine and back, Michael punched in Kaitlyn’s number. “Hello, Miss Webb? Michael Preston. Beth was supposed to talk to you today about some questions we had on your résumé.”

  She hesitated only for a second. “Yes, she jogged all the way here and was waiting when I got back from talking to the Tanakas. I explained to her that—”

  He didn’t have time for this. “I don’t mean to be rude, but that’s not why I’m calling. I’m sure Beth will fill me in on the meeting when I see her. Trouble is, I expected her back hours ago and she’s still not here.”

  “Have you tried calling her?”

  Michael bit down on his back molars. “Yes, about a hundred times. The calls go straight to voice mail. I’ve never known her to turn off her phone. Did Beth call Uber in order to get back? I doubt she would want to jog in both directions.” For one horrible instant, he pictured some sociopathic Uber driver kidnapping Beth and holding her captive in some remote hideout miles away.

  “No. Beth borrowed my car for a few hours. She said she had an errand to run and would return it later. Goodness, I fell asleep on the couch and didn’t realize what time it is. She should have returned the car long ago.”

  Michael closed his eyes as a bad feeling washed over him. “Please try to remember your conversation with her and tell me everything she said.”

  Kaitlyn remained silent so long Michael thought the call had been disconnected, but then she said, “Beth told me she had one more errand to run, and that she wanted to see if a certain someone still wanted to provide a flimsy alibi. Those were her exact words.”

  “Anything else? This is very important.”

  “Only that she would replace any gas she used. What’s going on, Michael? I don’t care if Price Investigations fires me tomorrow. Beth and I really clicked. Please let me help you.”

  Michael needed all the help he could get. “The person who provided a flimsy alibi for our murder suspect was Crystal Callahan. She worked with Bonnie Mulroney, but Beth never believed Bonnie was with her that night.”

  “So that’s who Beth went to see. Let’s start by—”

  He didn’t let her finish. “Crystal was shot tonight, murdered by someone she apparently knew. Knowing Beth, if she found that out when she went there, she probably went straight to Bonnie’s.”

  “Should I meet you there? Beth showed me where the apartment on Bull Street is.”

  “No. To save time, I’ll call the Savannah police and let them check out the apartment. Beth could be in trouble. Then I’ll call the Tybee Island detective in charge of the Doyle homicide. Although they have no jurisdiction in a Savannah murder, I have a feeling the two crimes are connected.”

  “Tell me how I can help.”

  With Beth’s life at stake, Michael squashed any misgivings about Kaitlyn’s background. He didn’t care if the woman was on the run for Swiss bank fraud as long as she helped him find Beth. “How are you with searching databases, hacking into them if necessary?”

  “I might not be as good as you, but I can hold my own. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

  “Bonnie lived with a Lenny Mulroney before she moved into Lamar’s apartment. I’m assuming he’s her husband or ex-husband. If the police don’t find Bonnie or Beth at the Bull Street address, this Lenny is the only lead I have. If we both work at this, we should find this guy in half the time. Call me the moment you know anything, and I’ll do the same.” Michael spelled the surname and ended the call, buoyed by having an angle to pursue.

  But sixty minutes later, he was no closer to finding either Beth or Bonnie. The Savannah police agreed to check out the Bull Street residence in possible connection to the Callahan homicide. When the building’s superintendent allowed them into the apartment, the only thing they found was pieces of a vase that had been smashed against the wall.

  Michael pinned his hopes on his call to the Tybee Island police. “Detective Rossi? This is Michael Preston—”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Rossi drawled, dragging out the words. “First I get the pleasure of running into Nancy Drew, and now Magnum PI calls me on my private cell. Will wonders never cease?”

  “You saw Beth at the Callahan crime scene?” The lump in Michael’s throat swelled into a rock.

  “I did, and I’ll tell you what I told her: Stay out of police business. If there’s any connection to the Lamar Doyle homicide, we will find it. We don’t need any out-of-town gumshoes getting in the way.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I agree wholeheartedly and I have full faith in the Savannah and Tybee Island police.”

  “But…” she prodded.

  “Beth may have gone looking for Bonnie Mulroney after she left you. I’ve been unable to reach her for hours.”

  Rossi blew out a breath of exasperation. “And she also could be at Taco Bell or having her nails done.”

  “No, ma’am. Beth wouldn’t leave her phone turned off this long. According to Mrs. Doyle, Bonnie Mulroney lived with a Lenny Mulroney before she met Lamar. He might have something to do with this or he might not, but Mrs. Doyle described him as dangerous. We need to track this guy down.”

  Rossi mumbled something incoherent. “Look, Preston, I’m working a case right now. When I’m finished, I’ll find Lenny Mulroney. If you find him before I do, your first call is to me, got it?”

  “Got it. Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. After we find your partner, I will personally make sure you two are headed back to Mississippi on the next plane, boat, train, or bus.”

  “I have a car, Detective. And I’m ready to go as soon as I find Beth.”

  “Good. Keep your phone turned on.” Rossi ended the call, probably wishing for the good old days when a person could slam a handset into a cradle.

  Michael went back to what he was good at, what he’d worked at for years, and what he’d aced in college—gleaning databases for that piece of information that could crack a case wide open. Yet he found no trace of Lenny, Len, or Leonard Mulroney east of the Mississippi River that would fit the general age and description. There were no tax records, credit cards, or utilities in his name, no registered vehicles, and, no record that the man had voted in any election.

  How does a person live in the twenty-first century totally off the grid?

  Bonnie Mulroney, however, owned one registered vehicle—the yellow Honda, which listed the Bull Street address as home. Her previous car registration contained a bogus address, as was the address Bonnie had used on her job application at Cool Beans. When another hour ticked by, Michael dropped his head on his desk and started to pray—something he should have tried sooner. Never in his life had he felt so useless doing the one thing he loved.

  Suddenly his phone rang, jarring him upright. “Tell me you found something, Kaitlyn,” he said, after seeing her name on the caller ID. “I’ve hit a brick wall.”

  “Maybe, but we won’t know until we get there. Beth seemed to think Bonnie hailed from Florida, same as me. I have a government frien
d who owed me a favor. There’s a Leonard Mulroney registered with the Florida probation department who’s currently living in Savannah. He’d been checking in with his parole officer once a month, but Leonard missed his last appointment. He said work wouldn’t allow him the day off to drive down. The officer gave him a break but said if Leonard misses this month’s appointment, a warrant would be issued for his arrest.”

  “What are the particulars on this guy?”

  “Thirty-five, six feet two, one hundred ninety pounds, blond hair, blue eyes, all the usual scars and tattoos.” Kaitlyn paused, drawing a breath. “He was paroled after serving three years for five counts of breaking and entering, theft, possession of stolen property, et cetera. He lives in a rental house out by Bonaventure Cemetery. He pays his rent in cash, and the utilities are paid by the landlord.”

  “Sounds like he’s our guy.”

  “There’s more. This particular Leonard Mulroney has been arrested twice for domestic violence, but both times the complaint was withdrawn. He seems to enjoy hitting women.”

  Michael felt the blood drain from his face. “We need to move. Beth could be the next recipient of his rage. Text me the address you got from Florida, and I’ll meet you there. I’ll call Detective Rossi along the way.” He buckled on his shoulder holster for the first time since coming to Georgia and took his gun from the safe.

  “Small problem. Beth has my car.”

  Michael hesitated, not wanting to delay.

  “Picking me up would be out of your way,” she said. “I’ll take a taxi or Uber or something. Just go. The address is already on your phone.”

  He wasted no time getting out the door, punching the address into GPS, and calling the detective.

  Rossi answered immediately. “I take it you have news about your missing partner?”

  As succinctly as possible, Michael told her about Leonard Mulroney’s criminal record and his penchant for violence toward women.

  “Okay, Bonnie might not have gotten much of a better half, but do you have any reason to suspect he’s holding Beth against her will?” While Michael struggled for an answer, Rossi continued. “I’ll take that as a no. So I can’t dispatch Savannah police to this address for a possible domestic complaint. They have real, ongoing crimes to respond to, not suppositions and possibilities. And they’re already irritated about being dispatched to the Bull Street apartment for no good reason.”