“My wife can handle anything except another woman. As long as I come home to her, I’m good.”
“Easy enough.” He chuckled. “Your wife is impressive. Of course, my problem is I’ve seen the talent in your bars. I’d have to sell both of them to even stand a chance of keeping her.”
They got in the car and Pelton fired up the five-liter motor. “Yeah, well I’ve already been around the block. My first wife was amazing. I’ve struck gold twice now with Darcy and haven’t met anyone else worth screwing it all up for.”
“And may you never, kid. May you never.”
Crome could have been jealous of what Pelton had, except he could never live that kind of life. He loved his Harley, but like everything else in his life, it was just a means to an end.
Pelton killed the engine and said, “I got another idea.”
Friday early evening
Blu listened to Pelton’s idea, liked it, and hoped it would pan out. Since Powers was so helpful the last time Tess called, he had her call him again. The request was simple, and probably already done.
Check the history of the phone and see if the guy ever got sloppy. It was a long shot, but that’s all they had. In fact, long shots were all they’d been going on since Maureen first got taken.
Tess did her thing and Powers, like every other man on the Charleston Peninsula and surrounding counties who’d ever come in contact with her or her professional sister, agreed to give her more than she’d asked for. The “more” coming in the form of having patrol units at the ready in case more locations were found. It was also a long shot.
She hung up.
Blu said, “Maybe there is a place for you at Blu Carraway Investigations.”
Tess handed the phone back.
He felt the urge to kiss her and tried to fight it. But it was all for naught. She leaned over and kissed him again.
“That’s the last time I’m doing that,” she said, pulling away. “The next time will be on you.”
“I’m old enough to—”
“Be my father,” she said, interrupting him. “We had this discussion before. Only from a chronological standpoint. From a maturity level, I’m up a few points and you’re down a few, so that closes the gap.”
There wasn’t much he could say to that so he didn’t.
They met Pelton and Crome at Crome’s place. Patricia and Darcy showed up soon after. The Peltons ordered pizzas and soft drinks for everyone and they ate until they were stuffed.
With the slug of pizza in his gut, Blu felt the need to visit the gym before his waist size grew. It seemed like the perfect time, except his truck was elsewhere and he was stuck.
While the group hung around on the back deck watching the waves, he and Tess took a walk on the beach to “get some exercise.”
When they had walked far enough down the beach and were out of earshot of the others sitting on the back deck, Tess said, “You aren’t going to keep coming up with reasons why this wouldn’t work, are you?”
“No,” he said. “But you know I’m committed to someone else, right?”
“I know you have an unanswered marriage proposal,” she said. “Personally, I think she’s had enough time to decide.”
He said, “I do love her.”
“Will you still love her if she says no?”
That was the question he’d been avoiding, the one he didn’t want to have an answer for because he had all but convinced himself she would say yes.
“Up until today, I’d have answered that I wasn’t sure what I’d do.”
He watched her smile grow beneath her glasses. “So I’ve given you something else to think about?”
“You could say that,” he said. “But I’ve been around a lot longer than you. It’s never all sunshine and roses. I’ve got a daughter and an ex-wife.”
“You think I’m a virgin?” she asked.
If he answered yes, she’d know he was lying. And if he answered no, she might not like that one, either.
Before he could come up with a reply that wouldn’t get him into trouble, she said, “I’m sorry. That was an unfair question. And, by the way, you did so well in recognizing the hazards of answering it. The other men I’ve dated would have either lied or upset me.”
“With age comes wisdom,” he said.
“And a little slice of ego.”
He stopped and they faced each other. “Overconfidence is one of the things that’s kept me alive this long.”
“Sounds like a lecture coming on,” she said, now with a hint of annoyance in her voice.
“No lecture,” he said. “I believe you understand that I have one of those jobs where I can go to work in the morning and not come home alive in the evening.”
Breaking her own protocol, she moved in close and gave him a hug. “I know.”
As if knowing it was about to get more serious, Patricia sent a text saying they had a break with one of Crome’s neighbors thanks to Darcy. There was footage of the beach area in front of Crome’s house. And whatever she and Blu were doing, they needed to stop and come back. Apparently nobody at the table bought their excuse to walk off dinner.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Crome eyed Blu upon his return with Tess, but didn’t have any energy to spare on giving him a hard time about it.
The hero neighbor was next door and had an arsenal as well as his entire property covered with cameras. They extended to the beach area, a tad farther out than necessary for home security in Crome’s opinion. If he didn’t need to see what was in the footage, he might have labeled the guy, an overweight white man in his forties, as a pervert. Or more specifically, a Peeping Tom.
Crome wasn’t the only one who’d picked up on it. Patricia, Darcy, and Tess were visibly creeped out by their good Samaritan.
He, on the other hand, seemed to be getting a little too much pleasure in having flesh and blood females in his fortress domicile. The beachfront property the guy owned meant that he was well off. Even if he had bought it cheap twenty years ago, the taxes on it at the present time alone would bankrupt most Americans.
Tess had written down the times the phone number in question had been found by the FBI to be on while at Crome’s address.
She said, “Crome, lemme see your phone.”
Crome handed it over. She scrolled through the recent calls, found what Crome thought was the time of his call, and told the peeper.
He worked the mouse, found the time, and played the footage.
Everyone in the room watched the screen and the camera’s eerie fixation on women in bikinis. It was as if it had a mind of its own, or, more accurately, was being controlled.
Crome caught the image of a man who stood up from underneath a colorful umbrella, closed it, picked it up, and carried it and a bag away. It was about the right time.
Blu said, “You all see that?”
“That’s him,” Crome said. He referred to the similarity between the man on the screen and the man on the video footage from the marina and Myrtle Beach.
Tess gave the peeper a wide-eyed smile, even more pronounced and flirty than the one she used in her segments. “Do you have any cameras that might track where that man goes?”
“Sure do,” the peeper said.
The man was quite proud of his miniature Big Brother set-up. Even if he used it primarily to leer at unsuspecting women.
Crome had the feeling that once they had gotten what they needed, the man would be exposed for what he was. And he didn’t feel bad about it.
Blu watched the footage, his frustration rising. Each time, the man walked outside the view of the camera, or the peeper had moved the camera to focus on some woman’s cleavage.
On video time-stamped four days ago, the cameras were left to roll and the man stayed in focus all the way around the house to his parked SUV out front. The S
UV had a different license plate than what the group had recorded up to this point.
Blu, with the help of his daughter, had been learning how to use the access his PI license gave him to do his own DMV searches. Gladys, his DMV contact, would not continue to work there forever so he needed a long-term plan. Hope had proven more than proficient enough to help him.
Patricia had called her niece, Josie, to come over to her house on Montague where the group convened after leaving the peeper.
The general consensus was they all felt like they needed bleach baths to wash the creepiness of that guy off. Crome had made an offhand comment about using the cameras for target practice. Blu had a feeling that Folly Beach Police would get an anonymous tip about them. With the ability to spy on people like that, there was no limit to what the man might try, and it was best to put him out of business.
Josie set Blu up on her aunt’s computer and helped access the DMV records. Together they did a search on the abductor’s plate number.
The address that came up was another anomaly. Out of concern for moderation, Blu did not want Crome or Pelton to go roaring off, guns drawn, again.
And he didn’t want to put any of the women in danger.
Under protest from both Crome and Pelton, Blu called Powers and asked how he felt about doing a little moonlighting for Blu Carraway Investigations. He’d done it before, albeit a long time ago.
Luckily, Darcy Pelton managed to talk her husband off the proverbial ledge.
Unfortunately there was no one in the room who could get through to Crome. He was targeted first with the abduction of Maureen. Harmony and the mayor were another story, and it no longer made sense to Blu that this was solely about Crome.
Of course, no one could tell Crome that, at least in a way that he would listen.
Powers, perhaps from having twenty years of added wisdom, declined to be directly involved. He again offered the two patrol units but Blu didn’t want to spook their suspect by any visible police presence.
Faced with no other options, Blu went solo. He could have satiated his own controlling nature by giving Crome a bunch of rules he needed to follow. However, Crome was selective with what rules he followed under normal circumstances. Kidnap his girlfriend and the number of rules governing his actions dropped to zero.
The address was a home in a North Mount Pleasant subdivision off of Seventeen toward Georgetown. The homes were around twenty years old and the neighborhood was well-maintained. With the influx of new business in the Charleston area, all real estate benefited. This neighborhood was no exception. It also helped that Charleston consistently rated as one of the top cities in the U.S., if not the world, to move to.
And Blu Carraway Investigations benefited along with the growth. Unbeknownst to Crome, Blu had accepted Adam Kincaid’s offer to keep the investigation agency on retainer, hence the trip to South America with Jennifer Kincaid and her friends. It was a mid-five-figure job for two weeks’ worth of work. Blu misled—okay, lied to—Crome by not telling him about the extended contract. As far as he knew, it was a one-time gig and didn’t come with strings. Crome never could handle strings. If he could, Crome would have been with Maureen and maybe prevented her from getting taken. This all rattled around Blu’s head as he contemplated their next moves.
Given the seriousness of the situation with Maureen and Harmony, Blu could not risk dredging the gutter and maybe killing the wrong person.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Crome was ticked off. Blu had made a call and was gone, not telling him anything. Tess and Darcy left, too, going somewhere they also didn’t disclose. Plus, his bike was on the other side of town. He said, “Come on, kid.”
“Where to?” Pelton asked, but Crome knew the kid didn’t care as long as it was in pursuit of violence.
“Well, right now you can take me back to my bike and check on your bar.”
Pelton seemed visibly disappointed.
“And then,” Crome said, “you can buy me a cup of coffee.”
“Gee,” Pelton said, “can I pump your gas and wax your Harley, too?”
“No need to get all sensitive now.”
Pelton walked to the door. “You coming or not?”
Crome needed to get back to working alone.
And then Patricia said, “I’m coming with you.”
Crome would have rather she stayed.
Before he could object, Pelton said, “Normally I’d say no, but I don’t want to be looking for three missing women. Two’s more than enough.”
The kid was right. But Crome still needed to ditch them. Patricia would be safe with Pelton in his bar.
Tess watched Darcy work, first talking to several sources using her Jeep’s Bluetooth, and then stopping at what had to be the worst dive in the lowcountry. Brack’s wife had asked her to come along and curiosity more than anything else had prompted her to say yes.
When Darcy parked in front of the dilapidated building on the west side of town, Tess had a feeling she should know about this place. She asked, “Is this where Crome and Harmony found Tim, the drug dealer who shot her last year?”
“Yes.” Darcy put the SUV into park, got out, and waited for Tess.
Tess had the feeling that Darcy was one of those people who worked extremely efficiently and did not waste steps or words. If Tess did not want to be left behind, she needed to keep up.
Before they got to the door, Tess recognized the song playing in the bar. It was Foreigner’s “Dirty White Boy.” Her parents were Generation Xers and listened to eighties music all the time. She’d been force-fed classic rock her entire life.
They entered the derelict bar. Dim lighting and worn linoleum greeted them and Tess found herself realizing there were no windows in the place. She loved living in Charleston. There was so much scenery that she could never get enough. It was one of the reasons she found herself attracted to Blu. The way he lived—his island—told her he was a potential soul mate. Sitting on his porch overlooking the marsh and his horses at dawn or dusk was some of the best viewing in the lowcountry.
Inside the bar the scenery was another version of lowcountry wildlife, rundown forty-year-olds with addiction issues and felony records.
Next to these lost souls, she and Darcy stood out. Instead of dingy jeans and soiled t-shirts covering middle-aged stagnation, the women were brightly clothed, tanned, and slender.
Darcy avoided the half dozen men seated around the bar and went to the one pouring the drinks.
Tess had to really strain her memory to come up with what she remembered about the place. Crome and Harmony had come here looking for a drug dealer named Tim who had information on a missing stripper. Harmony had been upset because Crome had gone around her and gotten the tip from Darcy, and shown up mad and emotional. Crome managed to get into a bar fight with the owner and two others and ended up killing Tim the drug dealer. But not before Harmony had been shot. Overall it had been a big mess.
What happened afterward was what Tess struggled to recall. It was something about Darcy’s source being another bartender that worked in the place. The same one that eventually bought it after the previous owner went to jail for pulling a shotgun on Crome and shooting one of his bar patrons in the kneecap. The victim of the shooting would walk with a limp for the rest of his life which would be less than five years if he didn’t change his lifestyle.
The man Darcy spoke with now, a thirty-something-year-old African American named Derek with a stylish afro and trimmed beard, medium-dark skin, and a toned build over a six-foot frame, was her original source. He was also the bar’s new owner.
Some people in a similar position might not appreciate being seen talking to two semi-retired news correspondents. They might be afraid of being labeled as snitches. Derek was not one of them. From what Tess knew about him, he had started with nothing in a North Charleston slum and had survived by learn
ing the right information was worth something.
Darcy had done a segment on gang activity and had stumbled across Derek as she worked the story. He knew a lot about what went on in Charleston County. When Darcy wanted to find an answer to Crome’s question about Tim who supplied low-end strippers with coke, she knew to call Derek. And he knew who she was talking about.
What Derek got out of the arrangement was a little hazy.
After Darcy had finished and they were outside again in the lowcountry oven, Tess asked, “Why’s he a source?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean what does he get out of it? You’re a married, uppity white chick who isn’t known to stray. He’s risking a lot just to talk to you.”
Darcy gave Tess a weak smile. “When I worked for Patricia, I didn’t care about anything but getting to the bottom of the story. I have a lot of money, something most of my colleagues don’t have. And I wasn’t afraid to pay well for information.”
“So Derek’s on your payroll?”
“In a roundabout sort of way.”
Tess waited.
Darcy said, “He has a special needs son. I got him into a program.”
“And Derek feels obligated to help.”
“Yes.”
Normal people might call that a bribe. But Tess and Darcy were not normal. They both lived for the story. Investigative reporting was tough and most of the people who liked to talk never told the truth. It was a rare thing when they could get someone who knew the truth to speak it. And Derek’s son was now getting the help he needed.
“What did he have to say?” she asked.
Darcy unlocked the doors of her Jeep with the key fob. “We’re in trouble. I’ll tell you when we’re inside.”
They got in and Darcy rubbed her eyes with a hand. Tess noticed a worry line just off-center of the pretty woman’s forehead. Harmony and she and Tess were pretty much equals, all things considered. Each had their high points.
But Darcy was the whole package. Beautiful, ambitious, rich, worldly, connected, and married to the catch of the lowcountry. Nearly every single woman wanted Brack and to most of them it really didn’t matter that he was married. Tess and Harmony spent many a Saturday evenings in his bar flirting with him, and Darcy knew it.
BAD TIME TO BE IN IT Page 18
