Lowcountry Boneyard

by Susan M. Boyer

  Two hours later, I’d gone through every room in the house and had come up with nothing. If Talitha had left clues to her past, someone—presumably Evan—had removed them from the house. Time to introduce myself to a few neighbors. Hopefully someone was home after all.

  I gathered my belongings, turned out all the lights, and did a final walkthrough to make sure I’d left no trace that I’d been there. Then, I walked out, turned the knob lock, and pulled the door closed behind me. I slipped the latex gloves and iPad into my bag and my iPhone into my jacket pocket. Leaving my car parked in front of Talitha’s house, I walked towards the Mitchells’ house. The yard was neat, the brick house similar in style to Talitha’s. I rang the bell and waited. A small dog went to barking—at least it sounded small.

  “I’m a comin’,” a woman’s voice called from inside.

  I smiled and waved enthusiastically when she pulled back a curtain near the door to take a look at me. The dog continued to bark.

  She must have decided I didn’t look dangerous, because she opened the door. “Mabel, be quiet.” She looked from the white fluffy dog at her side to me. “Yes?” I pegged her as approaching eighty. Her hair was silver and permed within an inch of its life. The burgundy velour jogging suit and white tennis shoes she had on were perhaps used for walking. She seemed fit, her eyes sharp. Mabel sported a bow on top of her head.

  “Good morning, how are you?” I offered her my brightest smile.

  “Well, I can’t complain. How are you?”

  “I’m fine—thank you so much for asking. Ma’am, my name is Laura Beth St. Vincent. I’m a realtor, come to see about poor Mrs. Ingle’s house.” I pointed to my car, evidence of my story.

  “I wondered when Evan would list it. I hope you get a good price for it. Helps everyone’s property values.”

  “Indeed, it does. I was just trying to get a feel for the neighborhood. That helps me know which of my clients are a good fit. Ma’am, do you mind telling me…have you lived here very long?”

  “Boyd and I bought this house right after we got married. I’m Sarah Mitchell. I’ve lived here sixty years come June.”

  “You must like it here, then, I guess.” I widened my smile.

  “Well, it’s home. Of course I like it. Boyd passed on three years back. My sons would prefer me to move to an assisted living home.” She made a noise and a face that let me know what she thought of that idea. “Ungrateful scoundrels. The very idea. I don’t need assistance. I’ll leave when they carry me out in a box. That’s all the assistance I’ll require.”

  I chuckled. “You certainly seem capable of taking care of yourself. This looks like it would be a good neighborhood for walking.”

  “Oh, it is. Mabel and I walk every morning. Well, my goodness gracious, come in the house, why don’t you? We don’t need to stand here in the doorway flapping our gums.” She stepped back and ushered me inside.

  “Thank you so much. That’s so sweet of you.” I walked in and paused while she closed the door.

  “Come on in the living room and sit down.”

  The living room was about the size of Talitha’s. The décor was one I could only think of as country-beach. A blue-and-white plaid sofa and matching love seat, pine coffee table, and a recliner made up the seating area. A framed print of a beach scene hung over the sofa. Family photos and containers of seashells were everywhere.

  The recliner sat in the far corner of the room, angled to get a good view of both the front window and the television. Mrs. Mitchell settled into the recliner, clearly her spot, and Mabel hopped into her lap. I sat on the end of the sofa nearest them.

  “It’s such a shame about Mrs. Ingle’s accident. Did you know her?” I asked.

  “Of course I knew her. Lived across the street from her all her life. That was her parents’ house before her.”

  I kept my eyes on hers and slipped my hand into my jacket pocket to tap record on my voice memos app.

  “I never had the pleasure, of course, but Evan is certainly a nice young man.”

  “Isn’t he though? Such a sweet boy. Adored his mamma. Adored her. This like to broke his heart. They were all the family they had.” She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I remember the day she brought that baby home. She didn’t know the first thing about how to tend to a newborn. I had to teach her everything. There wasn’t anyone else to show her. Her parents died—another car accident if you can believe it—two years before that.”

  Brought him home? The birth certificate had indicated a home birth.

  “How awful. I guess his father wasn’t much help with changing diapers and all such as that.”

  “Hmmphf. Some father. I never laid eyes on him. Far as I know, neither did Evan. The daddy paid his child support regular, I’ll say that for him. But that’s all he ever did.”

  “What kind of man just ignores his own child?”

  “Some man from Greenville. Talitha moved up there that spring and met him right off. Something went bad wrong. Talitha never did talk about it. She came home from up there with Evan when he was no more than a couple days old, and he was premature if I recall.” She raised a finger to her brow.

  “Mmm, mmm, mmm.” I shook my head.

  “It was a sad, sad time. Her brother Turner had just died—another car accident. Can you believe that? She brought him home to bury him. I kept Evan while she went to the funeral, if you could call it that. She didn’t have the means for a proper service. It was just her and the preacher to say a few words at the gravesite.”

  I brought my hands to my face in a show of horror and waited to see if she had more to say. After a moment I lowered my hands and said, “For some reason, I thought Evan had a sister.”

  Mrs. Mitchell dipped her chin, tilted her head, and raised an eyebrow at me. “Sounds to me like maybe you and Evan have more than just a business relationship.”

  “I’m sorry?” Holy shit. I’d stepped in it.

  “All those years, I never knew he’d had a twin sister. Poor little child didn’t even live a day. I guess Talitha’s heart was broken and she just couldn’t talk about it. Must have buried the baby girl the same day she buried her brother. Evan never knew he had a sister, either. He and I both found out at the cemetery the day we buried his mamma. He was in shock—just too much to take in at once.”

  So Eva hadn’t been stillborn. Evan appeared to have rebounded quickly from his discombobulation.

  “Tell me,” Mrs. Mitchell said, “are you and Evan seeing each other socially?”

  “Oh, my, no,” I said. “I can’t think where I heard that about a sister. I may be confusing him with another client. I’m so terribly sorry to have brought back painful memories.”

  She made a tsk-tsk noise. “It’s a pity. He’s a looker. You could do a lot worse.”

  “Well, maybe after we finish our business we’ll have to see about that.” I gave her a sly grin, like we were plotting romance together, she and I.

  “I do like a happy ending.” She grinned back at me.

  “Me, too. Oh, not to change the subject, but do you know Mr. and Mrs. Spencer over on Tynte?”

  “I’ve known ’em forever, bless their hearts. Say a prayer for them, will you? Poor Margaret is back in the hospital. It’s her heart. I don’t think she’ll be with us much longer. Howard spends every minute by her side. Only comes home to take a shower. I try to keep him fed, but he won’t eat much.”

  “I’m truly sorry to hear that. I will keep them in my prayers. Forgive me for taking up so much of your time.” I stood. “Thank you so much for talking with me. You’ve been a big help.”

  She put Mabel down and stood to follow me out. “I don’t see as how I’ve been any help at all. But it’s a good neighborhood. Find me some nice neighbors, you hear me?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  I smiled and waved, then
turned to walk down the steps. I made my way back to Gram’s caddy more convinced than ever that I was on to something. Talitha Ingle had a boatload of secrets. Whether or not uncovering them would help us find Kent remained to be seen. But I sensed a connection, a wisp of something glimpsed perhaps by my subconscious. Or was it a thought planted by Colleen? Hell fire. It irritated me to no end that I could never be sure if she’d been messing around in my head.

  I slammed the car door closed. “Colleen?”

  For once she appeared when I called her. “What’s up?”

  “Are you throwing thoughts into my head?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “I don’t know the half of why you do anything. But I’ve watched while you threw thoughts into other people’s heads—planted ideas. Do you do that to me?”

  She rolled her eyes elaborately. “No. I can talk to you. Before I could materialize, the only way for me to communicate with others was by throwing or planting thoughts. Now I can talk to other folks, but only people I’m absolutely sure won’t recognize me.”

  “So my instincts…they’re all mine.”

  “Of course,” she said. “What’s for lunch?”

  “I’ve got to go by the police department and give a statement. I was supposed to do that first thing this morning, but I could hardly go there in disguise.”

  “Well hurry it up. I’m hungry.” She disappeared.

  I drove out of the neighborhood and into a parking lot on Savannah Highway where I slipped the brown wig off, fluffed my hair, and used a cotton round to dial my eye makeup back a bit. Then I headed to the Charleston Police Department.

  Colleen insisted on lunch at Poogan’s Porch. We both loved the food, and she wanted to play with Poogan, the ghost dog. I had no business taking a long lunch that day—or eating fried chicken—given that I was going out for a nice dinner that evening. But some days Colleen is a bad influence. The corner table in the courtyard was a glorious venue for lunch, I’ll give her that. The sky was postcard-blue, the breeze warm. As always, the food was decadent.

  “Enjoy your chicken,” she said. “And have some of this macaroni and cheese. I ordered it for us to share. Things are unfolding as they should.”

  “Is this a philosophy lesson, or is there a cryptic message for me there?”

  She forked a bite of chicken breast and swirled it in gravy. “Both.”

  “Could you give me just a teeny bit more information? Where to find Kent would be helpful.”

  Colleen chewed thoughtfully.

  “I can’t tell you where to find her, but you will. Two things to remember. One, rational people often do irrational things. Two, use the angel to smite the enemy.”

  “Smite? I’m smiting people now?”

  “Do you like the word clobber better? I thought smite sounded more mysterious—and classier.”

  I deliberately ignored her and delivered a bite of macaroni and cheese to my mouth. They made it with country ham and Gouda. I closed my eyes and savored the combination.

  “Let’s order dessert,” she said.

  “No. Absolutely not. I’ve got work to do and a date tonight.”

  A grin slid all the way up Colleen’s face.

  “What’s that grin for?”

  “I notice Nate is warming up to island life.”

  “When did you notice that? Have you been popping into intimate moments? There’s a line, Colleen.”

  She bray-snorted out loud. “No, I have not been spying on your ‘intimate moments.’ But I did happen to overhear him mention selling his condo. Seems to me he’s coming to his senses.”

  “We have not settled that issue. I have no more desire to take my happiness at the expense of his than he does mine.”

  “Oh no. Please tell me you are not going to mess this up yet.”

  “I told you. I will spend plenty of time in Stella Maris. I love that island as much as you do. We’re going to spend some time in Greenville, too. But I will do whatever I need to do to protect my council seat.”

  “I’ll be holding you to that,” she said. “And don’t forget about the angel.”

  Nineteen

  By the time I’d driven home, seen to Rhett, showered and primped, it was nearly time for Nate to arrive to take me back to Charleston. There was no way he’d gotten us a reservation at FIG, but we’d go someplace equally nice. The cobalt blue dress that matched my eyes with the draped neckline would be perfect. I slipped into it and buckled the thin black belt. The hem hit just above my knees, and the V in the back was suggestive without issuing improper invitations for a public venue.

  I hooked Gram’s pearls around my neck and tried several pairs of earrings before deciding on the drop pearl beauties Nate had given me for my birthday. My nude peep-toe pumps completed my ensemble. I was checking the results in the mirror when I heard Nate in the driveway.

  He was coming in the front door as I started down the stairs. He closed the door behind him and didn’t say a word as he watched me descend. But his eyes were telling me how much he appreciated the care I’d taken in dressing that evening, as well as the way I placed each step very precisely on the stairs, moving slowly, so he could enjoy the view. I don’t know what message he could see in my eyes, but the one I was sending said, I am one lucky girl because you are the best looking thing I have ever laid eyes on. He did wonderful things for that steel grey suit and white shirt with an open collar.

  When I was two steps from the bottom, he said, “You’re so damn gorgeous.”

  I smiled real slow, took the last two steps, and crossed the foyer until I stood right in front of him. “You always make me feel that way. You look mighty fine yourself.”

  “Thank you, darlin’.” He planted a soft kiss on my lips. “I think we’d best hurry along before I change my mind about taking you out this evening.” He opened the door and I walked through it and waited while he set the alarm and locked up. Then he helped me down the steps and into the car like I was some fragile treasure.

  Neither of us spoke much at first. Nate drove towards the ferry dock and I watched him, appreciating the profile. Finally, he said, “How was your day?”

  “Confusing,” I said. “Do you want to talk business?”

  “I figure that’s inevitable under the circumstances. Why don’t we get it over with now, then I can try to distract you during dinner?”

  I smiled. “Sounds good. Where’re we headed?”

  “FIG.”

  “How did you manage that?”

  “I guess I should make something up to impress you with my ingenuity, but truth be told, I called and asked for a table at seven. It happens they’d had a cancellation.”

  “Well, our good fortune.”

  “Indeed. So, I found nothing of any consequence regarding Charlotte and her family. No red flags in any of the usual databases. Bennett Pinckney doesn’t appear to have a mistress. Kids have never been in any trouble. All four boys are out of college, all have jobs in the father’s investment firm. Aside from being, best I can tell, slightly snooty, they’re the embodiment of the American dream. And the Bounetheaus have so much money to spread around, it’s hard to imagine Charlotte offing her niece for a bigger share. Any of them for that matter.”

  “How could you tell they’re snooty? I met Charlotte, and yeah, she gave me that vibe. But did you meet any of them face-to-face?”

  “Nah, I just arranged to sit at the next table while Bennett had lunch at the Yacht Club over on East Bay with three of his cronies. Shameless name-dropper, that one.”

  “Exactly how did you get into the Yacht Club for lunch? That’s a private club, membership by invitation only.”

  Nate sighed. “Here again, I’d love to regale you with my cunning, but I simply called Colton Heyward and he arranged a reservation. Then I asked for the table I wanted right by Bennett. I’m a big fan
of the asking nicely strategy.” He parked the car on the ferry. “Want to ride up top?”

  “Sure.” We climbed out of the Explorer and made our way to the top deck. The wind made a mess of my hair, but I had a comb in my purse and it felt good.

  “By way of wrapping up my day, I stopped by the Martech Agency. Small outfit. I emailed you a list of employees. Only five in this office. Four women and one guy. Company’s headquartered in Columbia. Honestly, I don’t think there’s anything there. They all like Kent, seemed real concerned about her. None of them socialized with her outside of work. I figure we can profile them just in case and put them on the back burner unless we come up with any red flags.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate you handling that.”

  “Had to be done.” Nate brushed my hair out of my face. “Now tell me what about your day was confusing.”

  “I played realtor. Visited Talitha Ingle’s house over in West Ashley. Apparently, Evan has already removed any paperwork that might’ve been helpful in determining how she supported herself and him, sent him to private school, college, to study abroad, et cetera.”

  “That’s unfortunate.”

  “Exactly. There’s a whole lot of unaccounted-for money that flowed to Talitha and Evan over the years, presumably in the form of child support from the unknown father.”

  “Have you tried asking Evan about that nicely?”

  “No, because I can’t connect it to our case aside for the fact that Evan knew Kent and he was supposed to meet her the night she disappeared.”

  “There is that. Slugger—”

  “There is a connection. I just haven’t found it yet.” Some cases required a bet on instinct to solve. This felt like one of them. My instincts told me there was a connection. I just needed to find it.