Carolina Heat (6 page)

“Unbelievable!” Her voice swelled with indignation. “What a horrible way to treat her own brother.”

Davis shook his head. “Well, she didn’t for very long. You see, Betty ended up blaming me for ‘corrupting’ Tad. After the initial shock passed, she was very supportive of him. However, she did threaten to tell their parents if he ever saw me again.” He leaned back in his chair. “It would’ve killed his father.”

“So you began to meet in secret?” Annabelle asked.

“Exactly. And as we both rose through the museum ranks to become curators, it seemed wise to maintain a low profile. Wouldn’t want to do anything to offend the major donors, you know, especially here in the South.” He laughed, but it had a hollow sound.

“Are Tad and Betty’s parents both dead?”

“For several years now. But it could be unpleasant were the truth to surface. Betty’s made it clear over the years she still holds quite a grudge against me. I know she’d like nothing more than to see my career go up in flames.”

“Despite her influence, you and Tad have stayed in close contact all this time?”

“We certainly try. It’s a bit easier now with e-mail, but actual visits are rare. It was such a treat to see him last month.” His tone grew somber. “Do you think Tad is still alive, Miss Carlyle?”

Annabelle bit her upper lip. She didn’t want to lie, or give him false hopes. “I honestly don’t know. You never heard him talk about wanting to get away from it all?”

“Definitely not. He’s completely devoted to his museum. Tad genuinely enjoys going in to work every day. There’s simply no way he’d extend his vacation without making additional arrangements for his museum. And,” he cleared his throat, “I like to think he would at least let me know if he planned to be incommunicado for a few months.”

“Then it doesn’t look good, Mr. Shaw. When people are missing for more than a week, chances of their recovery drop dramatically.”

Davis Shaw tossed back the rest of his drink. “Is there anything at all I can do to help?” His voice was thick with emotion.

“That’s precisely why I came here today.” Annabelle pulled out her notebook. She was grateful to veer away from his painful reminiscences. “Both the Charleston Museum and the Gibbes Museum of Art were listed on Tad’s itinerary. I stopped at the Gibbes before coming here.” Annabelle squinted at her scribbled notes. “The staff had never heard of Tad Thornton, and couldn’t confirm if he’d visited last month.”

Davis held up a finger. “He did make a stop there. It was a working visit, to see if their American collection had anything appropriate for a fall exhibit he was planning. As I recall, he declared it a wasted trip, which would explain his not speaking with the staff.”

“Is the exhibit also why this museum was on his list?”

“Goodness, no!” he guffawed. “Our biggest claim to fame, aside from being the nation’s oldest museum, is a somewhat impressive silver collection. We’ve some nice pieces from the eighteenth century, but they’d be completely useless to Tad. He’s mounting a watercolor retrospective.”

Annabelle toyed with a lock of hair, trying to come up with another angle. “From what you’ve told me, if he planned to come to the museum solely to visit with you, he wouldn’t have listed it on his itinerary. There has to be some other reason.”

“He did ask me one rather odd question. Tad mentioned a story he’d recently heard at a party. Said he wanted to verify it. This I remember precisely because it was so strange. He wanted to know where to find a list of the Confederate Army.”

“Wait—what kind of a list?” Annabelle interrupted.

“Well, he was rather vague on the details—which is more than a bit unusual for a museum curator. Details are our life.” He chuckled at himself briefly. “As far as I could tell, it was a general list of everyone who served under the Confederate flag. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help him. And,” he said, as he sat bolt upright in his chair, “he was quite firm about my not helping him. Told me very emphatically
not
to look for it myself. At the time I was a bit put out, but in light of your story it sounds suspicious, don’t you think?” he asked, with an air of excitement.

“I try not to overlook any possibility.” She smothered a grin. The people she interviewed were invariably thrilled to think there was a chance they’d passed on an important clue. “It certainly gives me someplace to start. Was there anything else unusual?”

Davis pushed back from the desk and moved to the crowded bookshelf. He pulled out a slim, glossy volume and leafed through it before handing it to Annabelle. “There!” he said, his voice ringing in triumph. “Prescott Hall Plantation. Tad spent the morning there before we had lunch. I’m positive something happened while he was there. He was most agitated about the tour he took.”

“Did he say why?” Annabelle scanned the guidebook’s description of the renovated plantation house.

“I know they have a remarkable library. Most of the books are kept in locked cases, but Tad mentioned using his curator privileges to get a look at them. That was all he told me. Then he became very quiet, and asked me about the list.”

Her mind raced. There had to be a connection between these random bits of information and Tad’s disappearance. “When he left, did he mention where he was going next?”

Davis dropped back into his chair, eyes bleak. “No. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing more I can tell you.”

Annabelle stood and shook his hand. “Mr. Shaw, there’s no reason for you to apologize. Truly, you’ve been an enormous help. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Promise you’ll let me know if you find him. It would be all the thanks I need.”

An elderly woman on the sidewalk weaving a sweetgrass basket waved at Mark. “I wish my granddaughter was here. You two make quite a sight. Like handsome bookends.”

Mark looked over at his best friend. Both of them were dressed in cutoffs and T-shirts, one dark and the other surfer blond. “Guess I’ve been called worse.”

“Hey, what do you think our friendship is based on?” asked Ashby, out of the blue.

“What the hell kind of a question is that? Why are you channeling Dr. Phil in the middle of a parking lot?” Mark readjusted his grip on the gigantic box containing his new barbeque. He hadn’t seen Ashby Haley in months, but now wasn’t the time to catch up. “This thing weighs a ton. Can we please load it into your truck sometime this year?”

Ashby rested his end of the box on the tailgate. “Exactly my point. If I didn’t have a truck you could use any old time you need to haul things, would we still be friends?”

“Is that what this is about—why you’ve suddenly turned into a woman?” Mark gave his end of the box a hard enough shove to push it all the way into the truck bed. Heat shimmered off the asphalt, and he wiped his forehead with a ratty, red bandanna.

“I’m just saying you’ve been gone for three months. You didn’t shoot me an email to tell me you were coming home, and you don’t bother to call me until the services of my truck were requested.” Ashby leaned on the tailgate and gave Mark a not-too playful punch in the arm. “Makes a person feel disposable.”

“Are you insane? I mean seriously, have you been clinically diagnosed? You know damn well I only flew in a week early because Clay asked me to cover his carriage tours. He told your mother when she visited him in the hospital, which means your mom turned around and told you practically within the hour. For crying out loud, I’ve been home two days and haven’t even unpacked yet.”

“Simmer down.” Ashby squirted his water bottle directly into Mark’s face, laughing uproariously as the other man swore and spluttered. “I met Jillian for breakfast.”

“Whoa—subject change. You and Jilly? Since when do you two do breakfast?” Mark was not a morning person. Better not to engage with anyone, not even his closest friends, until much coffee had been guzzled.

“She moved back to town right after you left. We get together every week, split a pizza or grab some takeout.”

“It sounds, uh, weird. Sounds like you guys are dating.”

Ashby snorted. “You’re crazy. We’re hanging out like we did in high school.”

“No, in high school all
three
of us hung out. And back then Jillian didn’t look like a Victoria’s Secret model. Last time I saw her she almost popped out of her dress. Who knew she’d turn out so gorgeous?”

Ashby took a long pull of his water. “Too bad she’s practically our little sister.”

“Yeah, key word being practically. You’ve got eyes, Ash. The girl is smoking hot. No wonder you’re dating her.”

“We’re not dating!” he denied. “And if you think she’s so hot, why don’t you ask her out?”

“Hey, I would never poach your girl.”

“She’s not my girl!” he exploded.

Mark punched him on the arm. Now they were even. “Ash, I’m yanking your chain, and you made it pretty damn easy. It’s cool you guys hang out.”

“Not funny. I don’t think of her as a girl. She’s one of us.”

Mark gave him a long, measuring look. “Right. One of us, but with a killer body.”

“Drop it already!”

“Whatever you say. What’s the deal with breakfast?”

“She loaded me down with errands for her stupid ball. I complained about all the driving around she lined up for me.” He downed what was left in the bottle in one big gulp. “When I mentioned on top of it all
you
needed my truck today too, she saw it as a chance to wriggle off the hook.”

“Jilly always was good at slipping out of trouble. Usually by dumping the blame on someone else, if I recall.”

Ashby shrugged. “Why mess with a proven track record? Anyway, she told me what to say to make you feel like a low down jerk, and we took bets on how long you’d play into it.”

Aha. That explained Ashby going nuts with the ‘feelings’ and their friendship. “I’ve had about enough of people getting their yucks out of almost drowning me,” Mark grumbled as he wiped his face again.

“It was fun to spout all that relationship crap and watch your face turn ten shades of red. Have to admit Jillian won the bet. I thought you’d have told me to shut up way sooner.”

“Believe me, I’m regretting it now.”

“Did they confiscate your sense of humor when you went through Customs?”

“Very funny.” They climbed into the truck and barreled down the highway.

“Who else is throwing water at you? It’s undeniably my duty as your best friend, but I’m happy to give a hand to anyone else who catches you off guard with the business end of a hose.”

“Believe me, the lady doesn’t need any help.”

Ashby hooted with laughter. “A woman got you? What’d you do to deserve it?”

“Nothing.”

“Doubt it,” Ashby shot back. “What happened to your famous charm with the ladies? Losing your touch? Joining the ranks of us mere mortals?”

“All right, enough. I don’t have to take this kind of abuse from you when I can get it from a pretty redhead.”

“A redhead? Okay, I’m interested. Now spill.”

Mark ground his palms into his eyes. “There isn’t much to tell. I met a girl at the airport, she showed up on my tour yesterday, and we walked around for a while afterwards.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, the award for most boring pick up story ever goes to Mark Dering!”

“Very funny. I told you there wasn’t much to it.”

Ashby parked in Mark’s driveway and turned to face him. “Sorry, but you’re wrong. I’ve never seen you so twisted up after spending what—a couple of hours with a girl? Something’s going on.”

“Yeah.” That was the crazy thing. “I barely know this woman, but I can’t stop thinking about her. You haven’t even heard the strangest part. She lives in New York. She’s only here for a few days on work. Which means we have exactly less than a snowball’s chance in hell together. Why am I wasting my time thinking about her?”

They got out of the truck in silence and lugged the box onto his patio. Half an hour later (and after several arguments about proper placement to avoid lighting the magnolia tree on fire along with the burgers) the barbecue was set up. Mark got them a couple of beers and they relaxed into the matching green Adirondack chairs.

“Where were you for the last three months?” Ashby asked.

“What?”

Ashby took a long swig of beer. “Humor me. Play along.”

“Fine. I was in Cairo.”

“And where were you last summer?”

He’d have to pull out his passport to keep up with this conversation. “I don’t remember. I think it was San Francisco. What’s your point?”

“You barely live in Charleston as it is. Sure, you have a house here, but it’s mostly a place for your bills to land. Meanwhile, here’s the first woman in years who manages to tie you up in knots in less than a day. What difference does it make where she lives? I say go for it.”

It was an interesting point of view. Mark just wasn’t convinced a couple of hours made it worth planning to rearrange his life. And wondered why Ashby was so willing to ship him off again. “You really worried I’m going to distract all the Charleston hotties from you?”

“No man, I’m serious. And for the record, nothing distracts a woman once I set my radar on her. But you have a house, a job you like—seems like the only piece of the puzzle you’re missing is the right woman.”