04 Lowcountry Bordello (4 page)

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Authors: Susan M. Boyer

Tags: #Cozy Mystery, #mystery books, #female detective, #detective novels, #murder mysteries, #murder mystery books, #english mysteries, #murder mystery series, #women sleuths, #private investigator series, #british cozy mysteries

BOOK: 04 Lowcountry Bordello
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“That’s one way to put it,” said Colleen. “Get her to elaborate on what all Seth does around the house.”

“Exactly where does he hang in the family tree?” I asked.

“Granddaddy Beauthorpe’s oldest sister, Frances, had a daughter. She got pregnant as a teenager. It was quite the scandal. She never married and she died in childbirth. Aunt Frances and Uncle John raised Seth. He was always in trouble. Mamma never let me have much to do with him and that was fine by me. Aunt Mary and Aunt Dean felt like he just needed more love and attention. He spent a lot of time with them, helped out. Eventually he moved into the guesthouse and went to work for them full-time.”

“And exactly what are his duties?” I asked.

“I told you. He’s the handyman. He fixes things and runs errands. What do handymen normally do?”

Colleen shook her head. I took that to mean there was more to the story.

“And tonight?” Nate asked.

“Aunt Dean called me this morning. She wanted to talk, but not on the phone. When I got there, she told me about an idea she had to enlist the aid of some of the gentlemen who pay for rooms for their ‘nieces.’ She figured they could take care of Seth. They’d have a vested interest.”

Nate’s voice was casual. “In what sense do you suppose she meant they could ‘take care’ of Seth? Do you think she planned to have him evicted?”

“We didn’t get into details,” Olivia said. “Aunt Dean is often vague about unpleasantries.”

Colleen snorted.

I ignored her. “So, Olivia, tell us exactly what happened from the time you parked your car in front of the house until I arrived.”

She sipped her bourbon, drew a ragged breath. “I got there at seven and let myself in. The entire downstairs was dark. I didn’t turn on any lights. I didn’t want to see anyone, and I didn’t want anyone to see me. I went straight upstairs to Aunt Dean’s room. It has a sitting area. That’s where she asked me to come. We talked for a while, thirty minutes or so. Then I told her goodnight and came back downstairs.

“The light was on in the front parlor.” Her voice grew louder, anxious. She looked at Robert. “I swear on our children there was a body, facedown on the floor.” She went to sobbing again. “I thought it was
you
.”

“What in the world would I be doing there?” Robert asked. Something in his voice caught my attention.

“I don’t know. I guess I thought maybe you followed me. Because it looked like you. I mean, I couldn’t see his face. But his hair, his build…and he was wearing khakis and a checked button-down shirt, just like you are right this very minute.”

I pondered that for a few seconds. Khakis and button-down shirts were common attire for men in our part of the world. Still. “Robert, just so we have all the facts, you haven’t left the house this evening, is that right?”

“Well, yes. I mean, no…I did go out for a while. I had a dinner meeting with a client over in Charleston. Had to get a babysitter for a couple hours since Olivia wasn’t home.”

My BS alarm went off. “Robert, we can’t help you if you are less than forthcoming. You of all people should know what it’s like to have a client hold things back.”

He heaved a deep sigh. “Dammit to hell. You wouldn’t follow her. After you left my office, I arranged for a babysitter, then I tailed Olivia myself when she went out. Fortunately the ferry had a full load on the six o’clock trip. I was afraid she’d see my car. When she parked in front of that house, I pulled to the curb half a block away. I sat outside for fifteen minutes after she went in. Then I followed her. She’d left the doors unlocked. But I didn’t see a soul. I couldn’t find Olivia. I didn’t want to go shouting through the house, get arrested for trespassing.”

“What the hell, Robert? Why didn’t you tell us that to begin with?” I asked.

Olivia gaped at him.

“You were there?”

“Well, yes, and I’m not proud of it. Skulking around strangers’ houses…But as you can see, I’m quite alive.”

This was getting messier by the minute.

“This just keeps getting better,” said Colleen. “What we need is popcorn.”

“Did you go into the front parlor?” I asked.

“Yes. But I most certainly did not see a body.”

“So you turned on the light?” I asked.

“No. I had a flashlight.”

“You didn’t see anyone else?” I asked.

“No, but I heard doors opening and closing, footsteps, creaking floorboards, when I was in the back of the house. Other people were there. I just didn’t see who.”

“How much of the house did you go through?” Nate asked.

“Just the downstairs. I wasn’t in there more than fifteen minutes, tops. I started to go upstairs. But then I felt ridiculous, following my wife around, going uninvited into someone’s home.” He reddened. “And I guess I was afraid of what I’d find upstairs. Usually that’s where the bedrooms are.”

“Robert Pearson.” Olivia mustered indignation. “How could you think such a thing?”

“Well, what was I supposed to think?”

I said, “So Olivia went in and headed straight upstairs. You came in fifteen minutes later and looked around downstairs. You came back out at roughly seven thirty. Then what did you do?”

“I was aggravated at myself. Mad at Olivia. I drove back to Isle of Palms and waited for the eight-thirty ferry. The babysitter couldn’t stay past nine.”

“Getting back to the body,” I said. “Olivia, when you saw it, why didn’t you call 911 right then?”

Mean Olivia reared her head. “Because then my children would’ve read in the paper that their daddy died in a whorehouse and their mamma owned it.”

Colleen said, “You mortals would be so much happier if you would get over your obsession with what other people think. What other people do. What other people have. Like my granny always said, ‘Mind your own biscuits and life will be gravy.’”

Why, oh why had I said “no thank you” to that wine?

“Olivia,” I said, “Campbell and Shelby are six and four if memory serves. I’m guessing they don’t read
The Post and Courier
much.”

Olivia straightened, nostrils flared, all puffed up like a cobra ready to strike. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean.”

I would’ve argued the point further, how somebody needed medical help, could maybe have been saved, except I remained unconvinced there’d been a body. I’d seen no evidence of it. I kept my voice calm. “What happened next?”

She cut me with a nasty look, then turned to Robert. “I checked for a pulse. Several times. On his neck, his wrist. There. Was. No. Pulse. Whoever that was is as dead as a doornail. There was a gash in the back of his head. A big ole wooden pineapple with blood on it was on the floor beside him. I panicked. I ran out to the car and called Liz. A decision I deeply regret at this moment.”

“Why didn’t you go get your Aunt Dean?” I asked. “And why didn’t you tell her about all of this afterwards, when we went back into the house?”

“Aunt Dean has a bad heart.” Something about her tone did not have the pure ring of truth.

“I can check on that, you know,” I said.

“Why are you not on my side here?” she practically screamed at me. “You’re supposed to be my friend.”

“Is she drinking that bourbon?” Colleen asked. “She needs a little more.”

Robert said, “Olivia. Get ahold of yourself. You’ll wake the children. Besides that, if Liz wasn’t on your side, she wouldn’t have come and gotten you.”

Nate’s easygoing tone had an edge. “I believe Liz has gone above and beyond the duties of friendship this evening.”

I knew Olivia well. She was hiding something. Something else. “Why didn’t you tell your aunt?”

She looked at Robert, then Nate, then me. I could feel the heat from how fast the wheels were spinning in her head. Finally, she said, “Because I wasn’t sure she wasn’t a party to whatever was going on.”

My eyes locked on hers. “Come again?”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” said Colleen.

“She was upstairs with me, yes,” Olivia said. “But I’ve heard things…from a few of the residents I’ve spent time with since Aunt Mary passed. Aunt Dean insisted I get to know them. At first I flat refused. But then I thought maybe I’d find out something I could use against Seth. And I guess I did, but I’ve been too afraid to do anything about it. I’m told occasionally a ‘suitor’ gets out of hand. Over the years other…situations have come up. Aunt Dean relies on Seth to deal with any problems.”

“And by dealing with these problems, you mean Seth has what…” Nate spread his hands, “bounced someone out of there? Or are we talking about something more serious here?”

“I’m not certain,” Olivia said.

“Are you afraid of your Aunt Dean?” I asked.

“No, of course not,” Olivia said. “But if she let on to Seth I’d seen something I wasn’t supposed to…”

“Let’s back up a minute,” Nate said. “So you saw the body. You felt for a pulse. Then you went outside to your car and called Liz?”

“That’s right,” said Olivia.

“That was at seven forty-five,” I said. “Olivia, think. How long did you stay in the parlor? More than five minutes?”

She shook her head.

“No. I was scared out of my mind. After I checked for a pulse, I got out of there quick.”

“So you came back downstairs at seven forty, which explains how Robert missed you. He left ten minutes earlier.”

Robert said, “Again, I did not see a body. And the parlor—the entire downstairs was dark the whole time I was there. If something happened, it happened within that ten minutes.”

“It took me an hour to get there,” I said. “But when I went inside with Olivia, there was no body in the parlor, and no sign that one ever had been. No blood, no signs of a struggle. The room was immaculate.”

“A lot can happen in an hour,” Nate said. “That’s plenty of time for someone to move a body and clean up the mess.”

Skepticism painted Robert’s face.

Nate looked at Robert. “Bottom line. If you believe anything is going on here other than your wife being under a great deal of strain that maybe caused a momentary…vision, something along those lines, then we should call the authorities in Charleston and let them sort this out.”

“No,” said Colleen. “Not just yet.”


No
,” Olivia said. “I will not have all this dirty laundry aired. I have nothing to do with any of it, but that’s not the way it will look.”

“Liz…” Robert’s eyes traded on years of friendship.

“What exactly do you want us to do?” I asked.

“Just look into it. The house, the aunts, this Seth character. See what you come up with.”

“Is there anything else you haven’t told me?” I asked.

“No,” he said with a firm shake of his head. “I give you my word. And I apologize. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

I looked at Nate.

He looked at Robert. “Have you forgotten that Liz and I are getting married Saturday? The morning after, we leave for two weeks in St. John. We already have one case to finish, in addition to all the wedding preparations. Our hands are full right now.”

“Just give it a day,” Robert said. “One day. You can spare that, right, Liz?”

I had already said I’d help my friends. But Nate was clearly not happy with the situation.

Colleen said, “I don’t have a good feeling about this. I don’t know what happened there tonight, but that house has a long history of trouble. On the other hand, if Robert’s no longer vulnerable—because Olivia’s no longer being blackmailed—the town council, and ultimately the island, is less vulnerable. It seems clear this falls under my mission.”

Nate’s eyes met mine and saw the silent request. He glanced away, then back. After a long moment, he said, “All right then.”

Even for friends—maybe especially for friends—we didn’t open a case file without a contract. I pulled my iPad from my purse, opened a contract, and made some case specific notes. Then I emailed the contract to the address Robert gave me.

A few moments later, he stepped into his office and retrieved the printed document. Standing at the kitchen island, inches from Colleen, he checked boxes and filled in the blanks. Then he handed it to me with a check. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. “I’m sorry I didn’t accept this earlier.”


Oh
,” said Olivia. “Just exactly what do you mean trying to hire one of my very best friends to spy on me?”

Nate and I stood and made for the door.

Four

  

The next morning, we put on several layers of clothes and went for a run. In the pre-dawn hour, it was cold, but at least the rain had quit. Between the wedding, Christmas, and now this new case involving some of my oldest friends, I was on edge. The rhythm of the surf soothed my frayed nerves.

Nate, Rhett, and I made our usual loop around the north point of the island, past the bed and breakfast and the marina, to Heron Creek. There we turned around and ran back past the house, all the way to where Main Street dead-ends into the sand dunes, then home. It was a five-mile loop. Nate and I were quiet, lost in our own thoughts as we ran. For my part, I was noodling over what could possibly have happened on Church Street the night before.

As we headed up the steps to the walkway across the sand dunes, I said, “What are you thinking about?”

Nate shrugged. “Mostly I’m wondering how it is that you and Olivia are such good friends. You and she are very different women.”

I watched where I was stepping, so I had somewhere to look besides at Nate. “Have I ever told you about my friend Colleen?”

“The one who died when you were in high school?”

Colleen appeared. She walked on top of the walkway rail like it was a balance beam. “Be very careful what you say.”

I shot her a look. I wasn’t going to tell him she was still hanging around. I knew that was against the rules, or so she told me.

“Yes,” I said to Nate. “Colleen was my best friend since kindergarten. But she went through a bad time—an awkward phase, Mamma would call it—starting when we were about thirteen. She’d never been on a date. Lots of girls were mean to her. Olivia never was. She went out of her way to stand up for Colleen. And after Colleen died, Olivia was there for me. I know she can be impossible sometimes. But she has a good heart.”

Nate said, “I’d bet good money any qualified psychiatrist would diagnose her with something requiring a prescription.”

“Nate.” I tossed him a quelling look. “She’s my friend.”

“Friends don’t usually speak to one another in the tone she was addressing you last night.”

“He makes a good point,” Colleen said. “I would’ve thought Olivia would’ve outgrown her mean streak.”

“She was overwrought,” I said. “She’s not usually like that. She lashes out when she feels like she’s under attack. Her impulse control hasn’t fully developed.”

“If she verbally attacks you again, we’re dropping this case and Robert can figure this out for himself. He’s an attorney.”

“Come on now—”

“What? You think I should just sit there while she spews venom at you?”

“I think we should take into account that she’s under a great deal of stress.”

“And you’re not? With our wedding coming up in four days? Aren’t brides always stressed?”

“Yes, and I have some knots in my neck maybe you wouldn’t mind rubbing after I shower.”

“Do you now?” His voice dropped an octave.

I gave him a slow grin and took off running towards the house.

“Really?” Colleen called after us. “Y’all don’t have time for that stuff this morning.”

But we made time for a long soapy shower, with lots of rubbing on each other’s tense spots.

Later, after breakfast, we settled into the office to figure out the best approach to our new case. I was at my desk, Nate in a leather chair across from me.

At seven fifteen, Mamma called. “Liz, Nicolette has been trying to reach you. Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine, Mamma. We’re just busy wrapping up a couple cases.”

She sighed.

“You’ve taken on entirely too much.”

I was hard-pressed to argue with her. “What did Nicolette need? Do you know?” She’d left me a voicemail, but with all the drama, I’d forgotten to call her back.

“She needs the final count for the caterer for the reception.”

“Unless Daddy has invited any more random folks from the flea market, we’re at three hundred and four.”

Nate looked up from his laptop, his face frozen in stunned panic.

I flashed him my best
Oh please
look. This was not news to him.

“There are always a few folks who can’t come last minute,” Mamma said. “And the caterer always plans for a few extra. I think we should tell her an even three hundred.”

“Whatever you think, Mamma.”

She said she’d call Nicolette back, gave me a litany of admonishments, most of which didn’t register, and we said our goodbyes.

“Have you finished with the research you were doing on the Savage case?” Nate asked.

“All done. I emailed you everything I found.”

He nodded. “Thanks. All I need to do now is pull the report together and get it to them. But that doesn’t have to be done today.”

“As for the Pearsons,” I said, “the first thing we need to do is determine if there was a body in that house last night. If there was, and we don’t report it, we have an exposure.”

“But you didn’t see a body. All you could report is hearsay, and you had evidence it was unreliable—there was no body when you arrived.”

“True. And I took photos of the room. The date, time, and location is part of the files.” I weighed that for a moment. “I think I’ll call Sonny.” Sonny Ravenel was an old friend—my brother, Blake’s, best friend. He was also a detective with Charleston PD.

“And tell him what?”

“Who said I was going to tell him anything?” I grinned as I tapped Sonny’s name in my favorites list.

“Ravenel.” He answered on the second ring, sounding distracted.

“Sonny, it’s Liz.”

“I’m in the middle of something.”

“I’m so sorry to interrupt. I just have a quick question. Any missing person reports in the last twenty-four hours?”

“Only one. An eighty-nine-year-old white female missing from the dementia unit at Ashley River Plantation. Look, I can’t talk right now. Someone killed Thurston Middleton and left him propped straight up on a park bench at White Point Gardens. Has a newspaper in his lap, like maybe he just finished it. Damnedest thing I’ve seen in a while.”

The back of my neck tingled. “Killed him how?”

Nate frowned.

“Blunt force trauma to the back of the head. Gotta go.”

“Sonny,
Sonny
, wait. What’s he wearing?”

“What?” His tone implied unkind things regarding my mental health.

“I’ll explain later. I promise. Just tell me what he’s wearing.”

“Khaki pants and a checked button-down. No coat.” He ended the call.

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