Not Quite Right (A Lowcountry Mystery) (Lowcountry Mysteries Book 6)

by Lyla Payne

  Have some info for you. Let’s have lunch.

  Lunch. Yeah, like I have time for that.

  I sent the original message before Amelia went missing. Or at least, before I realized she was missing. I’m no longer sure I want to know what happened to James and Charlotta, because it seems to me that digging too far into Mama Lottie’s private business has earned me nothing but a whole lot of trouble. I ignore the message for now, deciding to channel Scarlett O’Hara and worry about it later.

  It does remind me that I’m supposed to be working today, though, and so is Millie. If Mr. Freedman hasn’t heard about what happened already, he’s going to expect one or both of us to open the doors in an hour or so. It’s Tuesday, too, which means there will be a gaggle of kids showing up for story time this afternoon.

  “Shit.”

  “What?” Leo sets a plate of eggs in front of me and a stack of toast in the middle of the table next to the bacon before taking a seat.

  I wave him off, then snag a second piece of bacon. “Annoying life stuff.”

  “You realize that’s what makes up ninety percent of our days, right?”

  “Hush.” I dial and put the phone to my ear, praying that LeighAnn will forgive me for violating her Don’t Ever Call, Text rule.

  “This better be good,” she grumbles by way of greeting. “Two of my kids are wearing strawberry jam and a third is putting holes in his bread. With his penis.”

  “Um…” I give myself a shake in an attempt to dispel the mental picture. “I need you to cover story time at the library today.”

  She groans, and a static sound comes over the line as if she’s muffling the phone. “I swear, if you use that spoon to spread jam on your sister’s hair you’ll be eating with your hands for a week.”

  It’s like a horror show over there.

  “Sorry.” Her voice is clear again. “I can, sure. What’s up? Anything I need to know?”

  I pause, wondering how much to tell her. It’s not as though she’s not going to hear the gossip as soon as she steps out her front door today, if not before. But saying it aloud—Amelia is missing—makes everything that happened last night way too real.

  As long as I don’t say it, it’s like she could come waltzing back in any minute. She could come down and demand that Leo make her a plate, too.

  “No. We were planning to read the Lady Pancake and Sir French Toast one again. The kids love it.”

  She laughs. “They do. My five-year-old has read it so many times the cover is gone, and I’m afraid the pages will be soon, too.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Leo eyes me as we hang up.

  “Two more calls, then I’m all yours. And Clete’s.”

  He makes a face but doesn’t say anything. I wish he would—I need teasing and normalcy and regular Leo in the face of this day that is determined to be the opposite of normal.

  This time, I’m not worried about disturbing Mr. Freedman. He might not show up to the library until after we open every day, but he’s awake at the crack of dawn. Either because that’s what old people do for fun or because his wife insists they spend quality time together before he leaves for work.

  “Good morning, Miss Harper.”

  I roll my eyes at his formality in an attempt to swallow the dread creeping up from my stomach. There will be no avoiding the truth with our boss. “Mr. Freedman. How are you?”

  The question comes out without my permission and makes me cringe.

  “I’m fine.” He stops at that and waits for me to come out with the reason for my call.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t come to work today, and Amelia won’t be there, either.” I take a breath and rush ahead before he can interrupt. “She’s missing. Since last night… We’ve been searching, but I need to be available to deal with the police and everything…” I trail off, because those are all the words my closing throat will allow through before they turn into more sobs.

  “Oh my god.” Mr. Freedman pauses, probably to wrap his head around everything I just said. “Sure, of course. I’ll cover the front today and work on getting a volunteer until you’re able to come back.”

  “I asked LeighAnn to cover story time today and she said she would, so don’t worry about that.”

  “You didn’t have to do that. Take care of yourself. I know you’ll find your cousin. Meredith and I will be praying for your family.”

  “Thank you.”

  We hang up. I should feel relieved that all of the mundane necessities have been covered, but it leaves me nothing to focus on except Amelia. And my next phone call, which is to her parents.

  My fingers shake as I dial, and my heart flutters when Aunt Karen answers. “Hello?”

  “Hi.” I swallow. “Amelia is gone.”

  Silence crackles through the line.

  “Excuse me?” my aunt asks. “What does that mean, gone?”

  “She’s missing. We searched last night and the police are going to get the feds and state involved first thing this morning. I’m sure they’ll be calling, but I wanted to tell you first.”

  It takes all of my self-possession to answer her panicked questions in a calm voice, never mind keep my tears in my face. When she runs out of things to ask we fall silent again. She’s been too anxious to blame me, but it must be coming. I mean, I blame me.

  We hang up, and now my stomach revolts at the thought of eating. But Leo went to the trouble and I know I need to eat to get through what’s coming. Clete would probably offer me squirrel or something if I get all woozy out in the woods, and heaven knows what Big Ern eats to stay so rotund.

  I manage to choke down the eggs and half a piece of toast, along with another slice of bacon. Leo gets two cups of coffee ready in to-go mugs, and we head out to my car. I don’t look at Beau’s car in the driveway. For some reason, the fact that he’s not the one here with me hurts more in the weak sunlight than it had in the dead of night.

  Silly. Beau can’t be involved with Clete or any of my semi-illegal dealings. He wouldn’t be the one at my side even if things were still amazing between us, but this morning, somehow, it’s a reminder that he’s not here. And there’s a reason for that—me.

  “So we’ve got almost an hour to kill,” Leo says after we pull onto the highway that leads out of Heron Creek. “How about you tell me what went down with this Mama Lottie last night.”

  I do, starting with the fact that I’d thought her finding out that her own genes were tangled with the Draytons’ would give her pause over the whole curse thing and how my plan had backfired.

  I glance over as we pull off the highway, checking to see how he’s taking all of this, and see his lips pressed together so hard they’ve lost all color.

  “She threw you into the door? Holy shit, Graciela. That’s serious.”

  “Well yeah. Obviously I made a mistake.”

  “Didn’t Daria and Frank, and who knows else, warn you not to mess with her?” Anger bleeds out of him, swirling into a cloud as it fills the car.

  It seeps into me, igniting my blood. “What choice did I have, Leo? She’s the only person who can help us get rid of Anne Bonny’s curse. It’s killing Amelia, and it will get to the baby, too.”

  He shakes his head as we sit at the bottom of the exit ramp. No one is behind us, which is good. I can feel a blowup building in my bones and, right or wrong, Leo’s pushing all of my buttons.

  “Gracie, you already dealt with that. You gave the woman what she wanted, and she promised to help. Why did you feel the need to summon her to the house again? It was stupid.”

  “Stupid? You think it was stupid to try to save a family from the same hell that’s been plaguing mine for centuries?”

  “Yeah. If you care about Amelia as much as you say, it was.”

  Guilt ravages me, tearing off chunks of my soul along the way. He’s confirming all of my worst fears about Amelia being gone because of me, and for what? For nothing. Mama Lottie doesn’t car
e about James and Charlotta’s son.

  “I think you wanted to find a way to save everyone, but sometimes that’s not possible. You need to accept that!”

  My rage and guilt recede into the background as I stare at Leo. He’s never yelled at me. Never even raised his voice, and for all of his upset over Beau’s involvement with Lindsay’s prison sentence, he never suggested that people aren’t worth at least trying to save. Now, his face is white, his hands clamped around his knees so hard no blood is getting through.

  I don’t know what to say or do. Something is going on, something that has nothing to do with me or my own ridiculous, hopeless situation. My hand reaches out, trembling, and touches his shoulder. He jerks as though I’ve electrocuted him.

  “Leo. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m worried about Amelia, that’s all.” He glances at me, moving as though his neck has a metal rod down its back instead of a spine. “And you. Gracie, my god. I am so worried about you.”

  Hot tears prick my eyes. “You’re a good man, Leo. I know you don’t really think I’m stupid for trying to do the right thing, no matter how it turned out.”

  He doesn’t answer. I move my hand to the back of his neck, thinking about all the strange oddities in his life that don’t add up. Could his overreaction to my trying to save the Draytons have anything to do with the mysteries running deep under Leo’s good-natured exterior?

  There’s no way to ask, not right now. The connection between us feels too tenuous. Not thin or breakable, but definitely as though a misstep could make it twist in a way that would be hard to set right. Plus, he never talks about himself. Has never told me why Lindsay is the only person in his family that he speaks to or why he has such an aversion to full-time employment.

  “We okay?” I ask after another couple of minutes. His breathing has returned to normal.

  The glance he gives me is full of apology and shame. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. We’re all under a lot of stress.”

  I pull the car onto the first of a few winding back roads that will lead us to the gas station nearest Clete’s property. Once we get there, Leo and I both get out, taking a moment to pull on hats and gloves and stretch our legs, then start walking.

  “You’re going to find her again, aren’t you? Mama Lottie.”

  My shoulders tense at her name but Leo’s tone is even, conversational. Whatever happened in the car, he’s got it under control now.

  “I don’t know. I mean…if she has Amelia, yes. If she doesn’t break the curse like she promised, yes.”

  “How will you know about the second?”

  The question reminds me that we didn’t find Odette, the one person I know can tell me if the curse is gone, the last time we were in Charleston. A brand-new concern tickles my gut. Too many people have gone missing when I need them the most lately. It could be another “coincidence” or something could have happened to her—something normal that happens to aging women who basically live on the street—or it could be more than that.

  “We’ll have to find Odette.”

  He pauses for a moment, sweeping some downed tree limbs out of the way. As always, the deeper we get into the woods, the more eyes I feel watching from the trees. No one gets within a mile of Clete’s place without him knowing about it, but—lucky me—he’s granted me safe passage. At least, he has in the past. I failed in my last deal with him, when I told him I’d find some dirt on Travis that would let the moonshiner run him out of town or cow him into being willing to look the other way when it came to Clete’s dealings. I have a feeling that the only thing that made that okay was that Clete hadn’t been able to find anything for us on the Middletons, either.

  I cross my gloved fingers, hoping he’s not holding a grudge. I have no illusion that once I cease to be useful to him, the instructions he gave to Big Ern and the others—to let my friends and me pass unharmed—will be revoked faster than a mouse running from a house cat. And we’ll be the mice.

  “The Gullah woman in Charleston?” Leo finally connects the name Odette to its owner.

  “Yeah. She can see the curse over our heads or whatever.”

  “Why can’t she help you get rid of it, again?”

  I remind him about Odette as we cross the last half mile and pop into the clearing that’s home to Clete’s ramshackle abode. He takes the term humble to a new level, but I suppose it works for him. I suppose none of us need as much as we think we do to get by and be happy.

  The thought has me casting a sidelong glance at Leo. Maybe that’s what he’s discovered and why he doesn’t feel the need to tie himself down. As long as he, Marcella, and Lindsay have what they need, that might be all that matters.

  “Clete ain’t here.” Big Ern appears beside us, seemingly out of nowhere. For a huge, hulking hillbilly, dude can sneak like nobody’s business.

  “Where is he?” I ask.

  Leo is silent, the way he tends to be out here in the woods, out of his element. It’s out of mine, too, but for some reason, I’ve never been truly uncomfortable with Clete and the others.

  Big Ern shrugs in response to my question. “Out.”

  “When will he be back?”

  “Mebbe by noon, he said.” Big Ern shifts the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. “You ken wait, if ya want. On the porch.”

  We take him up on the offer, striding across the clearing and up onto the clapboard porch. It sinks and groans, leaving me hedging my bets on if we’re going to fall through, and if Clete will blame us if we do. Probably, on both counts.

  Big Ern follows us, sitting down on the steps and pulling a pipe out of his pocket. The scent of tobacco fills the air as he puffs away, and I wonder if any temperature could cause him to alter his uniform of overalls, straw hat, and nothing else. He’s not even wearing shoes today, when the ground is soggy and must be cold.

  Leo and I don’t do much talking, other than squinting up at the sky while we wait and wondering if it’s going to rain again. Big Ern has clearly been instructed not to leave us alone, and chatting about anything of consequence with him listening in doesn’t appeal to me. Instead, I think about Amelia—if she’s out in the cold, if she’s scared, if whoever has her is keeping her healthy and alive. I refuse to entertain the idea that they’re not, even when images of Paul Adams in the morgue and Lucy, god knows where, dance along the periphery of my mind.

  Clete arrives just in time to stop me from completely losing my mind. He pulls up in an old, mustard-yellow El Dorado that backfires and billows exhaust when he turns it off in the yard. There’s a road that must come nearer to the property somewhere, because there’s no way he could have driven that boat though the woods. I’ve also never seen him drive before, so I’m all out of sorts by the time he steps up onto the porch.

  My fingers are freezing, and I can’t stop shivering, but even though I’m sure he notices, Clete leans against one of the porch’s supports instead of inviting us inside.

  “I see you brung yer side piece again,” he opens, glowering at Leo.

  I suspect he likes the fact that he scares my old friend, the same way I suspect it bugs him that he doesn’t really frighten me. Much. That I let on.

  “He’s a friend, and you know, a young woman alone in the woods and all.”

  “You should know yer never alone in my woods,” he drawls, doing a fantastic impression of a creeper. At least, I hope it’s an impression. “What can I do ya fer?”

  “Amelia is missing.”

  His wiry eyebrows rise with interest. “That purty cousin of yers? Shame. Where’d she go?”

  “I was hoping you could help me find out.” I hold my breath, scrutinizing his face to try to guess his response before he gives it, but as usual, Clete gives me nothing.

  Nothing for free.

  “Why would I wanna go and do that? I mean, she got a purty face and all, but she’s a tad thick ’round the middle.”

  “She’s pregnant, you idiot.”r />
  “It’s not mine, though, is’t?” He looks me in the eye. “Ya gonna find that there info I asked for? ’Bout the detective?”

  I think about the email from Travis’s parents. It gives me leverage I didn’t have before, to try to get Travis to open up to me about his past. It’s possible I’ll be able to give Clete something, but will I be able to live with myself afterward?

  Leo’s gaze is warm on the side of my face, and I know he’s thinking something similar. I can’t take advantage of poor Travis’s need to find his family, but I can’t not do everything in my power to find my cousin before the unthinkable happens, either.

  One thing at a time. Find Amelia. Then deal with Clete.

  “I can try again, Clete. Some recent revelations have come up that I could look into.”

  “He thinks yer his sister, yeah? That should help.”

  All I can do is shake my head. There’s no point in asking him how on earth he could possibly know such a thing. He won’t tell me. I’ll spend another night fighting the desire to check my entire house for bugs—and not the kind Amelia keeps swearing we’re going to get if I keep leaving dishes in my room.

  “I’ll try.”

  “Fine. Now, who ya think gotcher cuz?”

  “I don’t know, but everything comes back to her in-laws. The Middletons, remember?”

  “I ain’t daft, girlie. I remember. I remember havin’ a rough time findin’ dirt on ’em, too, but this is different. They won’ do their own kidnappin’, and criminals talk. I’ll find out if they took her.”

  Part of the weight on my shoulders lifts at his agreement. The police are doing their part to track down legal leads. Clete and his boys will check out the Middletons. That leaves Mama Lottie to me, and like it or not, Daria and Frank are both going to help.

  Chapter Twelve

  The house feels too empty without anyone else here. Even Henry has abandoned me, it seems. I text Daria two more times and promise myself, and her, that I’ll be knocking on her door this afternoon whether she responds or not. I wish I could threaten Frank the same way, but without knowing where he’s staying, it’s impossible. To be honest, his failure to respond to my messages when he must know what it’s doing to me to lose Amelia is starting to make me worry that something has happened to him, too.