He looked at his hands as he spoke. “It was Abigail. I knew C.C. in school. We were fraternity brothers. Abigail was mortified that Virginia had married beneath her social status and gotten herself pregnant. She offered me quite a lot of money to tell Virginia those babies died and put them up for adoption.”
“Is that what you did?”
“I would have. I’m not proud of that. But the aunt—I can’t remember her name—grabbed the babies and ran. Things were different in the eighties. It was easier to walk out of the hospital with children, especially if you worked there, knew people, and knew procedures.”
I heard heels clicking in the hall. Someone was coming. Then I heard Colleen. “Help me find my mother. She’s missing from her room.” Footsteps hurried in the other direction. Colleen’s new skill of materializing was getting a workout.
“Go on, please,” I said.
“When the nurse discovered the babies were gone, I had to think fast. I told her they were with their mother, then asked her to check on another patient. The aunt had been with them moments before. She had to’ve taken them. I called Abigail. Told her the aunt had the babies and I was done with the whole mess. Abigail sent a limo. It was waiting out front within minutes. I put Virginia in it. The driver took her straight to Charleston. I let Abigail deal with her. I assume she told her the children had died.
“I simply told the staff my patient had checked out against medical advice and taken the babies with her. If you think I’ve done something illegal, I’m afraid you’re out of luck. I have dementia, you see.”
“Yes, I see.” If he had committed a crime, surely the statute of limitations had expired. “How is it that a neighbor recommended you to Virginia? Are the Elmores involved in this?”
“Not at all. Abigail told me where Virginia was living. She has her sources. I’d seen Vicki Elmore for years. I let drop I was taking on new patients, said I was expanding the practice, and asked if she had friends or neighbors she might send my way. If Virginia had lived in another neighborhood, I’d have gotten a different patient to recommend me.”
“Do you have any idea what happened to the babies’ father?”
“I understand he was killed in a car accident. If you’re asking me if I was told to expect some misfortune would befall him, no, but it didn’t surprise me, either. But that was all Abigail. I had nothing to do with it.”
“Is there anything else I should know?” He seemed eager to unburden himself.
“If you mess with Abigail, you’ll likely end up dead.”
“Yes, I know.” Every cell in my body went cold. “Thank you.”
“Take care of yourself, young lady.”
I nodded and made my way quickly back to Nate.
“Sweetheart,” he said, as I entered the administrator’s office, “are you still feeling unwell?”
“I’m afraid so. Bad shellfish.” I looked at the administrator.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Perhaps you could take the information to look over and schedule an appointment to finalize a care plan.”
“Thank you. That sounds perfect.” Nate stood and escorted me out.
Once in the car, I brought him up to speed.
“Clever people,” Nate said. “Ruthless and clever.”
Twenty-Nine
Nate and I mulled our next move while staring at the ocean from the Adirondack chairs on the deck snacking on pimento cheese and crackers. Brushes with death typically induced a few days of stress eating for me.
I washed a bite down with a swallow of Cheerwine. “Abigail may be capable of arranging for subpar grandchildren to be adopted. But it’s hard for me to imagine she’d have one of the pedigreed ones killed, even to protect her secrets. And that’s assuming Kent somehow found out. Except I don’t see any other theory that fits what we know.”
“Mrs. Bounetheau has an awfully lot at stake. Think about it. She contracted Turner Ingle’s death—and possibly Talitha’s, though I don’t think we’ve established a motive for that. No statute of limitations on murder,” Nate said.
“But you know her fingerprints are so far removed from that murder she’d never be convicted, or even arrested. All we have is the word of an eighty-some-odd-year-old doctor of questionable mental faculties.”
“There’s more evidence somewhere to be found, or she wouldn’t be trying to get rid of us.”
“I guess that makes sense. I’m not convinced Virginia Heyward knows to this day either of the twins survived,” I said. “And how much does Colton Heyward know? I think that family has lots of secrets from one another.”
“I find myself wondering just how clean C.C. Bounetheau’s hands are. Is all of this Abigail? Or is he just as guilty?”
“I think it’s time we talk to these folks, one-on-one, starting with the least threatening—Virginia. Let’s get her version of what happened in nineteen eighty-one and see if she can think of how this might relate to Kent. There was some weird vibe going on between her and Abigail from the first time I met them.”
“All right,” said Nate. “But we can’t just call the Heyward home and ask to speak to Virginia. William Palmer would report that post haste to Abigail, and she’d release the flying monkeys.”
“We need to get Virginia to leave the house by herself, then intercept her.”
“What makes a woman like that, one with servants to run mundane errands, leave the house on a Monday afternoon?”
I mulled that. “We don’t have enough information about her daily habits to make this elegant. How about we do a UPS delivery?”
“Signature required?”
“Naturally. It’ll have to be the fake variety. We can’t get a real one delivered today. I’ll work on the letter and label. We need a medium-sized box. One that looks like it would be something she’d purchased online. I have several in the garage that would work.”
“I’ll grab one.”
I hopped up and hauled my still aching bones to my office. First, I called UPS and asked for a package pickup that afternoon at my home on lower Legare. I gave them the address across the street from the Heyward residence. They told me they’d be by between three and three-thirty.
I typed a letter to Virginia, asking her to meet me alone at White Point Gardens, on a bench near the bandstand, at four that afternoon. Likely, she understood her family dynamics far better than I did, and would understand my need to employ such methods. I also told her to tear up the letter and flush it down the toilet after she read it. Then I created a UPS label using the small business application.
Nate carried in a box. “How about we put a couple books in here? I found some bubble wrap with the boxes. We could fill up the box with that.”
“Perfect.”
He assembled the package. I put the letter in an envelope on top, and he sealed the box.
Anxiety gnawed at my stomach. “Do you think Abigail is so paranoid at this point even a package delivery would trigger a call from Mr. Palmer?”
“That’s a possibility. Especially since we have no way of knowing if Virginia’s ever received a signature-only delivery. It may be he’s reporting anything out of her normal routine.”
“We need to give Abigail something more urgent to focus on.”
After a minute, Nate said, “Or we prevent William Palmer from making any calls.”
“The cellphone jammer is easy, but how are you going to disable the landline quick enough after doing the UPS delivery?”
“I’ll get it done.”
At two-forty-five, I pulled Gram’s Caddy to the right side of Legare several houses before the Heyward home. Nate unfolded a map and spread it across the dash—just a couple lost tourists. Legare was a narrow, one-way street. A carriage tour driver cast us an aggravated glance in the midst of his animated tale, but pulled in front of us and went on with the show.
Th
e UPS truck passed us at three fifteen. The driver stopped in front of the house across the street from the Heywards, got out of the truck, and headed to the front door. I slid in behind the truck. Nate hopped out of the car and jogged to the main entrance of the Heyward house. His uniform was exactly like the driver’s, but his cap was pulled lower, and a black hairpiece stuck out from underneath. A fake mustache and wire-rimmed glasses completed his disguise.
This operation depended on perfect timing. I needed that UPS truck to sit in the road until Nate was outside the Heyward garden. Ideally, I needed the driver occupied on the porch long enough for Nate to hop inside the truck and slip out the other side just in case anyone was watching. I kept my eyes on the driver. It wouldn’t take long for him to find out there’d been a mistake and no package awaited pickup.
He started down the steps. He could now see Nate when he emerged from the Heyward garden. I reached to open the car door. I needed to create a diversion. Directions. I’d ask for directions. The car door stood open two inches.
From Carolina sunlight, Colleen appeared on the sidewalk. She appeared to trip over the uneven stones and fell, landing hard, near the back corner of the truck.
“Oowww.” Colleen rubbed her ankle.
The driver rushed to her aide.
I eased the car door closed.
He knelt by Colleen. She gestured and moaned, made a lot of racket.
Nate came out of the gate and glanced at me. I nodded towards the truck. He walked straight to it and climbed into the driver’s side and stepped across, waiting at the passenger side. The driver helped Colleen to her feet.
“I can’t thank you enough,” she said loud enough for me to hear.
When the driver slipped behind the truck on his way around, Nate came out the passenger side. As the truck rolled forwards, he climbed in the car.
With practiced speed, he removed the hat, wig, and mustache. “Cellphones are jammed. Landlines are out.”
“How did you do that so fast?”
“I made it to the box before I went to the door with the package. That’s what took me so long. Virginia came to the door pretty quick after Palmer called her. Must’ve been in the living room. It was almost like she was waiting for me.”
“We caught a couple breaks,” I said, thinking the break’s name was Colleen.
“What was going on with that driver?”
“He was helping a girl who tripped on the sidewalk. Those things are dangerous.” I pulled away from the curb and headed to White Point Gardens.
At three-thirty, I parked on South Battery and made my way to the bench closest to the bandstand. Nate stayed in the car. We agreed Virginia would be more forthcoming with just one of us—not feel outnumbered, et cetera. Estrogen made me the better choice.
Virginia arrived early, only a few minutes later.
“I was too nervous to wait.” Her eyes darted around the park. We weren’t alone. A couple on a quilt picnicked nearby but out of earshot. The park was lightly dotted with tourists and locals. Lovers rambled hand in hand. Mothers strolled and chased children. Finally, she sat beside me.
“I apologize for the ruse,” I said. “I wanted to speak with you privately. I don’t think that’s possible in your home.” The canopy of live oak trees cloaked us.
She gave me an assessing look. “You were a good choice of investigator.”
“I have some difficult questions for you. Please know I wouldn’t ask them unless I needed to know the answers. I’m trying to find Kent.”
“I understand.” Trepidation settled on her face.
“Tell me about your first marriage, the children.” I kept my tone neutral.
She brought a fist to her mouth, rocked back and forth. “Oh, no.”
“Mrs. Heyward? I’m so sorry to put you though this, ma’am. But I think it might be important.”
“No…I mean, I’ll tell you.” Her face paled. She took slow, deep breaths. “It’s just, I’ve prayed so hard Kent’s disappearance had nothing to do with all of that ugliness. I know what my mother is capable of. I told myself she wouldn’t harm Kent. She’s always doted on her. Kent’s her only granddaughter.” Her voice got higher and faster, like maybe she was working up to hysteria.
“Ma’am, I don’t know for sure there’s any connection. I just need more information to figure that out.” I tried to sound calm, reassuring. I needed her coherent. “Start with when and why you left Charleston.”
She drew a couple ragged breaths, seemed to steady herself. “Mother wanted me to go to college. Prepare myself for my position in Charleston society. Then she wanted to pick my husband. I was in love with Turner Ingle. He was a wonderful man. But he had no money, no social position.”
“So you eloped?”
“Yes. Turner was a welder, and he’d heard GE was hiring. We thought Greenville would be far enough. Honestly, I thought Daddy would prevent Mother from interfering with us. I thought once I was damaged goods in her eyes she’d write me off and that would be that. All I wanted was to get away from her.”
“Except she didn’t let go that easy.”
Virginia shook her head slowly, with precision. “No. I knew something was up with Doctor Lawrence after the twins were born. After we heard about Turner’s accident. The doctor seemed very nervous. Then, Talitha, Turner’s sister, overheard him talking to an attorney, arranging an adoption. I knew Mother was behind it. I begged Talitha to take the twins and leave. Eva was in an incubator. I knew it was a risk. I prayed Talitha could get to MUSC in time. I told her she could trust Daddy, but never Mother.”
“Did she do that?” I knew the answer, of course, but I needed to know what Virginia knew.
Virginia rubbed her arms. “I didn’t know for a very long time. Doctor Lawrence drugged me and Mother sent a limousine. The driver brought me straight back to the house. Mother had a doctor come to treat me at home. I was frantic about the children. I told Daddy everything. He was livid with Mother. I’ve never seen him like that.”
Tears slid down her face. She dabbed at them with a handkerchief. “They told me the twins had both died at the hospital in Greenville. A part of me died then, too. I just didn’t care anymore. Turner and my children were gone.”
I waited for her to continue.
“My parents covered it all up. Told everyone I’d been traveling abroad. It was as if none of it had ever happened. A year or so later, they began orchestrating occasions where I spent time with Colton. He’s a kind man, a good man.” She looked up at me. “I needed a way out from under my mother’s thumb. He gave me that. I tried to put everything behind me. And he’s been good to me. Kent came along…we had a good life. But now…I can’t understand how after all this time….”
“Did you ever hear from Talitha again?”
She shook her head. “No. I saw in the paper a while back where she’d been killed in a car accident, and was survived by a son. She’d never married. I knew…I just knew that child was mine. I went to her funeral. I thought Mother would have a seizure. William Palmer reports everything I do to her.”
Why in the name of sweet reason would a grown woman tolerate this?
A jogger approached down the path to our left. Virginia stopped talking. Her eyes followed as the jogger retreated in the opposite direction. She seemed lost in thought for a moment. Then she looked at me directly, her eyes bright with anger. “I saw my daughter’s tombstone. I saw Evan. He looks so much like my father.
“I went to Daddy. He admitted he’d made a deal with Mother, and with Talitha. He would take care of Evan, and Mother would leave them alone. If she didn’t, Daddy said he’d promised her a divorce and a criminal investigation. Part of the deal was I was never to know Evan was alive. Mother wouldn’t budge on that. His existence would’ve ruined everything.”
“How is that?” I scrunched my face at her.
�
��Mother thought Colton would never marry me if he knew I’d been married before—had children.”
“Really?”
She looked up at the sky through the tree limbs. “I don’t know if he would or wouldn’t have. But Mother was convinced he wouldn’t. And she’d had him handpicked for years.”
“And he still doesn’t know any of this?” How could you build a life with someone and have secrets like this between you?
“If he does, he’s never mentioned it.”
“Seems like the kind of thing that would come up in a marriage.”
She nodded. “It does. Then again, maybe not. Colton is capable of sweeping it all under the rug if he thought no good could come of bringing it up. And how could I ask him if he knew? That would be the same as telling him.”
It was hard to wrap my brain around that kind of marriage.
“Have you approached Evan? Does he know Talitha wasn’t his mother?”
“I haven’t done anything—yet. I was wrestling with what to do. Talitha was a good mother to him. It was clear at the funeral how much he loved her. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. And then Kent disappeared, and I haven’t thought of anything except her.”
“Did you know Kent had become friends with Evan?”
Virginia looked stricken.
“No…how do you know that? I was stunned when Ansley mentioned his name. I assumed they were acquaintances. They had a common interest.”
“She’d been to his gallery. He told me that she saw a painting of his in a friend’s home and came in one day to look around. They struck up a friendship.”
“Neither of them could have known they were half-brother and sister.”
“I think perhaps she was drawn to his work because some of it is similar to hers.”
Virginia nodded. “Kent didn’t talk about her artist friends. She knew it upset her father.”
“It’s suggestive, I think, that she disappeared soon after Talitha’s death.”
“What do you think that suggests?”
“I think Talitha’s death may have been a catalyst. You learned that one of your children had survived, the other brought home for burial. The past was stirred up again. It could be your mother felt threatened by that.”
Lowcountry Boneyard Page 28
