“Padding is an easy thing to add,” said Nate. “But why would they do that?”
I shrugged. “Maybe they’re afraid I’ll recognize them in a different context?”
“Well, if you do, give me a shout and I’ll come pick ’em up.” Sonny said, “So you think Peyton and Peter Bounetheau are importing and exporting things not allowed by state and/or federal laws?”
“That would be my guess,” Nate said. “The security they have around that warehouse is too ridiculous to be anything legitimate.”
“And you think Kent stumbled across their operations and they did away with her?” Sonny asked.
“It’s possible,” I said. “But right now we’re working with several other narratives. Bottom line, Peyton and Peter Bounetheau are likely doing something illegal, probably drug related. The people they’re working with live in an area known for violent drug crime. This is not an investigation for private investigators. If you go after them for whatever else they’re up to and happen to run across evidence linking them to Kent’s disappearance, well, you’ve solved both cases.”
“And we’ll keep working on every other possibility until we know for sure what’s happened to Kent,” Nate said.
“Only here’s where things get fuzzy,” I said. “The thugs sent me a rattlesnake Friday afternoon. Nate didn’t snoop around the twins’ warehouse until Saturday night. And it was me the pretend hoodlums came to warn, not Nate.”
“They probably know you’re partners—work together,” Sonny said.
“But they didn’t even mention him. And what about the snake—the timing of the delivery?” I asked.
“You’re thinking your visitors this evening were upset about something you did before Friday, and continued to do even after the snake was delivered?” Nate asked.
“I think that has to be the case,” I said.
“That makes no sense,” Nate said. “We haven’t investigated any other Bounetheau family member or their interests.”
“I think maybe I did something to make Charlotte and her family, or maybe even Abigail or C.C. Bounetheau, feel threatened,” I said. “They’re not the ones who hired me.”
“So you’re going to just keep right on doing whatever you’ve been doing?” Sonny asked.
“Of course,” I said. “I’ll just make sure I take Sig with me everywhere I go.” My Sig Sauer nine millimeter went by Sig, after an imaginary childhood friend.
“That’s not all you’re taking with you everywhere you go,” Nate said.
“What?”
“You’ll be sticking close to me until this is over,” Nate said.
“I think that’s smart,” said Sonny.
“I do not need a babysitter,” I said, thinking how messed up it was I had to stand on principle here because I wanted to stick as close to Nate as allowed by the laws of biology, physics, et cetera.
“Liz, for once will you be reasonable?” Nate said.
“You know who you sound like? You sound exactly like Blake Talbot,” I said, as if I’d compared him to a sidewalk soapbox preacher.
Nate and Sonny both stared at me.
Sonny said, “I’ll look into what the Bounetheau twins are up to.” He turned to Nate, patted the folder of documentation. “Thanks for this.”
“I hope it helps,” said Nate.
“Saves me a lot of time. ’Preciate it. I’ll report this as a lead from a confidential informant.”
“Thanks for keeping us out of it,” Nate said.
Sonny nodded. “I’ll start rattling that cage, see who gets riled. If the guys who threatened Liz tonight are connected to the twins, I’ll give them something else to worry about.”
“I’m telling y’all, those guys were not connected to Peyton and Peter,” I said.
“When did you first meet with Mrs. Heyward, her mother, her sister, and the twins?” Nate asked.
“Friday afternoon at two.”
Nate said, “I think Peyton and Peter anticipated you might run across their illegal business as soon as they heard Colton Heyward planned to hire you. Likely started having you followed as soon as you left the Heyward house on Thursday—or before. Then, when you asked them what they did for a living Friday, they got agitated.”
I pondered that. “You think they ordered that snake up for delivery as soon as I left?”
“I think that makes more sense than anything else,” Nate said. “And then Saturday I started poking around their warehouse. Maybe someone saw me. They followed me back to you. Knew the best way to threaten me was through you. Kill two birds with one stone.”
“Makes sense to me,” Sonny said.
I stared at my wine glass, swirled the wine. “Maybe that’s how it went.”
“One other thing y’all might not have considered given everything that’s happened this evening,” Sonny said.
We both looked at him.
“Now that car’s been found, Jenkins and Bissell will be under a lot of pressure to find the Heyward girl. Case looks a lot more like a homicide now than it did before. Just be aware your case isn’t on our back burner anymore.”
Seventeen
Outside the restaurant, the fall night air felt cool but pleasant. The jitters I’d had earlier in the wake of my encounter with the two hoodlums had evaporated. I was still kicking myself for leaving my purse in Nate’s room and myself vulnerable, but even that irritation was fading on the breeze. It had been a long and eventful day. Discovering Kent’s car was a major break. But it still left open several explanations for what had become of Kent. I was at that point where I needed to let my subconscious work on the problem for a while.
“Let’s cut across Queen and go back up Meeting,” I said. The Hampton Inn occupied the corner of Meeting and John Street. King and Meeting ran parallel to each other all the way from the upper neck of the peninsula to White Point Gardens at the tip.
“As you wish,” said Nate.
“My second three favorite words.” So much remained unsettled between us. Screw it. Life was too short for games. I smiled at him and reached for his hand.
He didn’t resist, just shook his head with a wry smile.
We turned left onto Queen. I studied the parking garage across the street. “That’s where the group Kent was supposed to meet parked. Could’ve been where she was headed when she left home. Impossible to know, really. She could’ve looked for street parking, or changed her mind and gone somewhere else altogether.” So much for giving it to my subconscious.
“Or,” Nate said, “she could’ve planned another destination all along.”
“I struggle with the idea of Kent having this elaborate scheme she didn’t tell anyone about—not even her best friend.”
“Maybe she knew her best friend had inappropriate thoughts about her guy. That sort of thing typically makes a woman behave unpredictably.”
“You know a lot about women, do you?”
“I study up on things I’m interested in and things I’m afraid of. Women are both.”
I laughed. One of the things I loved best about Nate was how he made me laugh. We passed the Elliott House Inn. “But seriously, you don’t believe Kent ditched her car in a marsh at a cemetery and left town any more than I do.”
Nate sighed, “No, I do not. At this point, I believe the most likely scenario is that she was the victim of an unfortunate accident.”
“An accident?”
“I’m afraid she may have accidentally stumbled across her uncles’ criminal enterprise, and, while I’m sure they regretted such a distasteful thing, they had no choice but to have their associates deal with the problem. That’s not to say we shouldn’t continue to explore all other alternatives like we planned. I’m just telling you how I see it right now.”
“Yeah, that’s looking likely to me, too.” We passed Husk and Poogan’s Porch on
our left. “Did you know there’s a ghost in Poogan’s?” The restaurant occupied a Victorian home built in 1888.
“Is that a fact?” Nate asked.
“Absolutely,” I said. “Two sisters, Zoe and Liz St. Amand lived in the house for years. Zoe, they say, went mad from grief after her sister died. She fell down the steps and died in the house—Zoe, I mean. Sometimes she shows up in photographs as a green misty figure. Sometimes she pops into the lady’s room upstairs. Occasionally she plays practical jokes on the kitchen staff. Poogan was her dog. His ghost still runs around the porch and yard.”
“Well, now, that tale does make for entertaining stories for the tourists, I suppose,” said Nate.
“You don’t believe in ghosts?”
“I haven’t given the matter much thought.” He tilted his head, pushed his lips out, then in, as though in careful consideration. “No, I don’t guess I do.”
“I can tell you for an absolute certainty that ghosts—and all manner of supernatural creatures—are all around us.”
“Can you now?”
“I can.”
“Have you ever seen a ghost?”
“Maybe.” I smiled up at him. “Charleston is a hotbed of supernatural activity. Haven’t you heard?” I glanced over his shoulder at the pink masonry building with white carved window trim and wrought iron balconies. The Mills House occupied a large piece of real estate on a corner of Queen and Meeting. “Interesting.”
“What?”
“Evan Ingle missed the ferry home the night Kent disappeared. And he’d been drinking. He stayed at the John Rutledge House Inn on Broad Street. But the Elliott House and Mills House were right around the corner.”
Nate shrugged. “Maybe he likes Rutledge House.”
“He did say he stayed in Charleston often. Maybe that’s just his regular place.”
“Now about these ghosts…” Nate said. We turned the corner and headed up Meeting Street.
“We could take a stroll through the graveyard up here at the Circular Church. We’ll walk right past it. Probably a few ghosts out and about.”
“I’d say we’ve seen all the graveyards we need to for one day.”
“You’re right about that. It’s after ten, anyway. By the time we get back to the hotel, I probably need to head on back to the ferry dock.”
“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”
“I only had two glasses of wine, along with plenty of food. And we’re walking. I’m fine, really.”
“Why don’t you stay with me tonight?” he asked, like he was just stating the most logical course of action.
I studied his face for a clue as to whether he wanted me to stay because he thought I’d had too much to drink, he was trying to keep me close because of a perceived threat, or if possibly he just wanted my company.
He gave me his poker face—relaxed, impossible to read.
Finally, I said, “I think that will just complicate things more. You seemed unaccountably lukewarm this morning when I suggested we revisit dividing our time between here and Greenville.”
“It’s not that.”
I waited for him to elaborate, but he fell silent. I was not going to chase this man. I loved him, true and strong. But I was all done with pining after men who didn’t want me, or didn’t want me enough. It was time one of them fought for me. I had offered to meet him halfway. His response was to tell me to sleep on it. The next move was his, and he was going to have to do better than why don’t you stay with me tonight. A whole lot better.
A soft voice inside my head whispered, maybe he wants you to fight for him. He’s suffering under the wrong-headed assumption that he means less to me than his brother did. Than Michael did.
I rubbed my temple. I really did need to sleep on all of that. Perhaps I did have something to prove. For tonight, I moved things back to safer ground. “Did you get a chance to talk to Evan’s artist buddies?”
“In fact, I did. The cemetery drama made me forget. I talked to each of them over the phone. His story checks out.”
“Well, at least that’s one more thing we can check off our list.”
We walked in silence for a while, each to our own thoughts. As we approached Hasell Street, I looked across Meeting at FIG. The restaurant was closed on Sunday night.
“Have you ever eaten there?” Nate asked.
“Twice. The food is fabulous.”
“I’ve never been. Want to go tomorrow night? We can check out Matt in his work environment, have a nice meal at the same time.”
“You’ll never get a reservation on this short a notice, even on a Monday night.”
“Well, how about this? Will you have dinner with me tomorrow evening? If I can get a reservation, we’ll go to FIG. If I can’t, we’ll seek nourishment elsewhere.”
“I’d like that.” I watched the sidewalk in front of me, in part because I suddenly felt shy with him, but mostly because it’s best to watch your step on Charleston sidewalks, many of which were constructed of slabs of stone or brick, and you’d trip if you weren’t careful.
“All right then.” Nate smiled.
It hit me then.
“Oh, no.”
“What’s wrong?”
“We told Mr. and Mrs. Heyward about Kent’s car, but I didn’t tell Matt.”
“Liz, he’s not our client. And he’s one of a few likely suspects.”
“Truly, I don’t think he hurt Kent. And I don’t want him hearing this on the news. Or worse, when the police are at his door because Colton Heyward got his way.”
“What if you’re wrong, and when you tell him he runs?”
“You’re right. I can’t tell him or Ansley. But it just feels wrong.”
“Part of the job, Slugger.”
“I know.” Damnation.
We walked on in silence. When we reached the hotel entrance, I slid my hand out of his, walked another step and turned to face him. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“You sure I can’t talk you into stayin’?”
“Thanks, but I need to go see about Rhett.” There were other reasons I needed to leave, but that one would do just fine.
“I’ll walk you to your car.” Both his face and his tone were neutral.
“That’s not necessary.” All that neutrality was making me cranky.
“All the same.”
“Nate. Stop it. I can take care of myself.”
“Okay, Slugger.” He backed off easier than I expected. “Since we just handed off Peyton and Peter, tomorrow I’ll do some digging into Charlotte and Bennett Pinckney and their brood. Just to check them off the list.”
“All right,” I nodded. “Just be careful. Charlotte is a Bounetheau. Goodnight.” I held his eyes with mine for a moment, trying to read what was there, then turned to go.
I arrived just as the ferry began loading for the last trip of the evening to Stella Maris. I pulled the Escape onto the ferry, got out of the car, and slammed the door. Hands on my hips, I watched as Nate parked his Explorer behind me. He took his time getting out. He closed the door behind him and grinned. “You need a jacket?”
“I have one in the car, thank you.” I put as much ice in my tone as I could manage. “You weren’t even trying to hide the fact that you were following me home.”
“Didn’t see the point. You’re pretty good at spotting a tail. You know my car.” He spread his hands wide, shrugged.
“So, when you couldn’t talk me into staying with you, you decided you’d just follow me right on home, stay at my house tonight?” This whole situation was maddening. I wanted him to stay with me—for the right reasons. Not because he thought I needed him to keep an eye on me.
“That’s about the size of it.”
“And what if I decide I’m not receiving overnight guests?”
“You are
genetically incapable of that grievous a lapse in manners. To make me sleep on the porch—”
“Precisely what makes you think I’d allow you to sleep on my porch?”
“Well, darlin’, you’d pretty much have to stay up all night to stop me. Do you object to the idea of my presence so strenuously you’d do such a thing?”
He had me there. I was plenty mad, but I wasn’t going to stand guard to keep him away. Besides that, he had a key and the alarm codes. As soon as I was asleep he could come inside if he wanted to. “Fine. You can sleep in the guest room.” I opened the back door of my car, grabbed my jacket, slammed the door, and climbed the stairs to the top deck of the ferry.
The ferry pulled away from the dock. I snuggled into my jacket and stood at the rail, gazing at the stars. The evening air was cold on my cheeks as the boat picked up speed.
A few minutes later, Nate walked up to the rail beside me. “I remember another night we were up here on this deck enjoying one another’s company. As I recall, we were rudely interrupted.”
“I’m still mad at you,” I said.
“Why, because I want to make sure you’re safe?”
“Because you’re not trusting me to take care of myself. You used to do that—when we were partners and friends, but not lovers.”
“Maybe I was just more careful about letting on how much I worried.”
“You’ve never trusted me to take care of myself?”
He sighed.
“Let’s just say I’m a big believer in contingency planning and safety in numbers. And, to be fair, most days armed criminals don’t threaten you with death outright.”
He wasn’t wrong. And if the situation were reversed, I’d want to keep him close. We passed the rest of the ferry ride in something approaching companionable silence.
When I opened the garage door, Rhett came bounding out to greet me. I baby-talked him a bit and scratched his belly, then climbed the stairs to the mudroom and scooped out some kibble. I heard Nate in the kitchen.
Lowcountry Boneyard Page 19
