Lowcountry Bombshell (A Liz Talbot Mystery) (19 page)

In the most seductive voice I could muster, I said, “Hey, Sonny. This is Suzette.”

“Well, hello, hot stuff. How are you tonight?”

“It’s Saturday night, and I’m all by myself. You want some company?”

“Sure doll face. You want to get a drink at The Blind Tiger?”

“That sounds divine. How about nine o’clock?”

“I’ll be there. And Suzette?”

“Yeah, Sonny?”

“Don’t wear any underpants.”

I ended the call and burst out laughing.

Nate was not amused. “What was all that about?”

“I was just selling the pretext, Nate. So was he. If anyone was listening, they’ll think he’s meeting someone for a drink at The Blind Tiger, after which he’s going to get lucky.”

Nate gave me a level look. “Sonny’s never been that lucky, has he?”

I laughed. “Oh,
puh-leeze
. Sonny’s like a brother to me.”

“See, I’m not so reassured by that since there was a time you might have said the same thing about me.” His tone was teasing, but with a layer of something else.

I lowered my chin and sent him a smoldering look, full of promise. “Darlin’ I have never, ever, considered you anything like a brother. Sonny’s a friend. He’s never been anything else.”

“Uh-huh.”

I slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “Have you ever been to the Banana Cabana on Isle of Palms?”

“No. I thought we were meeting at The Blind Tiger over on Broad Street.”

“So does anyone else who might have been listening. Blind Tiger is code for Banana Cabana.” I turned onto East Bay.

“We’re cutting it close to get to Isle of Palms by nine. It’s quarter ’til.”

“Nine means ten.”

“When did y’all work all this out?”

“Blake and Sonny came up with it this afternoon. They figured we needed a way to call clandestine meetings. Came in handy.”

“You gonna call Blake?”

“Would you? This van doesn’t have Sync.” I missed the voice-activated system in my Escape.

“As long as I don’t have to seduce him.”

TWENTY-FOUR

Blake, Sonny, Nate, and I huddled around a table on the far perimeter outside at the Banana Cabana. The guitar player was on break, so we could hear the surf.

The waitress brought a round of margaritas and we ordered shrimp and oysters to snack on. Then Nate and I told Sonny and Blake how two ex-Charleston police officers worked at SSI.

Sonny shook his head. “Why would a professional security guy be after this McQueen woman?”

I sipped my margarita. “She’s worth a lot of money.”

“This may be good news for me,” he said. “I’d rather have ex-police officers after me than someone I depend on to watch my back. With missing evidence, you don’t know who to trust. I hope you’re right.”

Blake said, “We don’t have anywhere near enough to be sure. You still need to act as if anyone could be involved.”

“Trust me,” Sonny said. “I don’t trust anyone except the people at this table right now.”

“Are you staying someplace safe?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’m off the grid. Camping.”

I asked, “So, do you know Ryder Keenan or Tim Poteat?”

Sonny nodded. “I know them both. Neither of them very well. Both had already been on the job a while when I started as a uniform. Couple years later, both of them were working undercover. Deep undercover. I never saw either of them after that. Couldn’t tell you what kind of cases they worked. I don’t remember Keenan leaving the force. But there was trouble with Poteat. Memory serves, he was fired over some kind of abuse of power complaint.”

Nate asked, “Do you remember if they were friends?”

“Nah,” Sonny said. “Like I said, I didn’t know them that well.”

“I don’t guess you could access their files?” I asked.

“That would be a definite ‘no,’” Sonny said. “It’s not like on TV where I can chat up someone in HR and they’ll slip me a file. That’s a serious breach.”

“Well, can you ask around?” I asked.

“Of course I’ll ask around,” he said. “Discreetly.”

My phone alerted me that Calista was receiving a call. I picked up to listen. I didn’t put the phone on speaker, but stepped away from the table so the guys could continue talking.

“Calista, I’ve just gotten in for the evening. I was concerned about you. You seemed overwrought this afternoon. Are you feeling better?” A man’s voice. Not Niles. Not Jim.

“Dr. Gadsden,” Calista said. “Thank you for checking on me. Yes, I thought a lot about what you said. I am feeling better.”

Hells bells. A therapist that checked on patients after ten on Saturday night? I must have made a face.

“What’s wrong?” Nate called.

I shook my head.

“It’s best to allow only positive energy into your life. Don’t let anyone disturb your peace of mind. Don’t let them have that power over you,” said Dr. Gadsden.

“I’ll remember that,” said Calista.

“Dear girl, I do wish you’d let Warren write you a prescription for something to help you sleep. It’s important that you get proper rest,” said Dr. Gadsden.

“I appreciate your concern. I’ll have some herbal tea. It really does help. You know why I can’t take pills,” said Calista.

The doctor sighed. “Calista, we have got to work more on this obsession of yours. It is causing you to make inappropriate choices that can be harmful to you. Try to get some rest. I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

“Good night,” Calista said.

“Oh,” said Dr. Gadsden, “I need to move our Monday appointment to ten o’clock.”

“That’s fine. I’ll let Elenore know to expect you.”

“Good night, my dear.” The doctor hung up.

Something about him made my skin itch. I’d never seen a therapist, but it was hard for me to imagine it was commonplace for them to call patients on the weekend absent some crisis.

Blake scowled at me. “Are you listening in on someone’s phone conversation?”

I closed the app. “Not anymore.”

“That’s illegal, you know,” Blake said.

“Not if she gives me her phone and I tell her what I’m installing. She’s my client. I’m looking after her best interests.” I wondered if that’s what the good doctor was doing. “Did you get any fingerprints off that shopping list?”

Blake sighed loud and long. He shook his head. “None except Calista’s and Elenore’s. We printed them for elimination.”

“Did you run Elenore’s prints?” I asked.

“Why would I do that?” Blake asked.

“I don’t know. She’s just odd. She has a murky background. I didn’t find anything incriminating—nothing I didn’t already know—when I profiled her, but there are still some holes I can’t fill,” I said.

The waitress appeared with our shrimp and oysters.

I pulled out my hand sanitizer and slathered some on. I offered it around and got three sets of exasperated looks. “Fine. One of us has to stay healthy.”

The waitress left and, while we served ourselves, Blake took the opportunity to lecture me. “If I ran the fingerprints of every odd person on Stella Maris, all I’d get done is running prints.”

I tilted my head at him. “I know full well you don’t do that yourself. You could have someone do it.”

“Would you like me to get DNA samples as well?” Blake asked.

“That’s a great idea. Why don’t you swab Elenore, Niles, that therapist, Calista’s crazy family—”

Nate said, “Slugger, your food’s getting cold.”

I gave him and Blake both a look of disapproval. Then I dipped an oyster in cocktail sauce and popped it in my mouth. I hadn’t even finished chewing when my phone trumpeted again. I glanced at the screen. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

“What now?” Nate asked.

“It’s just the yoga instructor checking in with her again.”

“She still at home?” Nate asked.

I pulled up the GPS screen. “Yep.”

“Since you’re checking locations anyway—just dotting i’s—where’s Jim Davis?” Nate asked.

“Nate, he’s harmless,” I said.

Nate shrugged. “What’s Harmless’s current location?”

I tapped the screen a few times and pulled up the GPS tracker we had on Jim Davis’s car. “Sonavabitch.”

“What?” Nate and Blake spoke at once.

Sonny had a mouthful of shellfish. He gave me an inquiring look.

“He’s at Calista’s house,” I said. “Probably parked out front just mooning over her.”

“If he really is harmless, that may not be a bad thing. Another set of eyes,” Blake said. “Do you want me to have Rodney run him off?”

I pondered that for a moment. Rodney was one of Blake’s patrol officers. “No. Have Rodney drive by just to make sure he is parked across the street and not in her driveway. Nate and I will go by and speak to him on the way home.”

Blake made the call. We polished off the food and said our goodnights.

At eleven forty-five, I pulled the van to a stop under a live oak in front of Jim’s car. He was right where I thought he’d be. “Poor guy,” I said. “He’s pined after this woman a long time, and she’s never going to want him again. You have to feel sorry for him, even if he is kinda stalking her.”

Nate reached for the door handle.

I put my hand on his arm. “Let me talk to him. He needs a gentle touch right now.”

Nate rolled the window down. “Holler if you need me.”

I got out and walked towards the car. It was pitch black under that oak tree. Shadows danced around in the breeze. I approached the driver’s side window. Jim was leaning against the door. Must have fallen asleep. I reached out to knock on the glass.

My hand stopped inches away. Blood covered the window and windshield. I stumbled backward.

Nate came out of the van. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s been shot.”

A siren blasted from Calista’s house. The alarm had been triggered.

I bolted towards the house. There was nothing we could do for Jim Davis. Nate’s legs were longer. He got there first. He took the right side steps two at a time. I went round the left. Nate waited at the door. We drew our weapons. I tried the door. Locked.

“Calista!” I pounded on the door.

No response. I ran around the porch to her room. Nate followed. The blackout shades were drawn. I knocked on the glass. The siren continued to wail. By design, the house was impenetrable without codes and keys. There would be no picking locks and no knocking down these doors. Where the hell was Elenore? I ran around to the pool house calling to her over the shriek of the alarm. I pounded on the glass doors.

“Checking the other side of the porch,” Nate said.

“Got it. Elenore!” I put my face to the glass. Movement inside.

Long seconds later, Elenore unlocked the door and slid it open. She was in pajamas and a robe, and appeared groggy. “What is the meaning of all this noise, Ms. Talbot?”

I gaped at her. Could she not hear the alarm? Was she holding me responsible for it? “The alarm’s been set off. I can’t get inside to check on Calista. Let me in—now.”

She glared at me with open hostility. “One moment.” She stepped away and came back a few seconds later with a set of keys. Unbelievably slowly, she weaved towards the house. Was she drunk?

I was hopping mad, and ready to snatch those keys away from her. It took her three excruciatingly clumsy tries to get the key in the lock. Finally, she opened the door to the great room and slid it open.

“Can you put in the code and kill that noise?” I shouted and didn’t look back.

“Calista!” I ran towards her room.

In a pile of covers and pillows, she laid very still.

Thankfully, the siren stopped.

I ran to the bed. “Calista.” I placed two fingers on her neck. Her pulse was strong. But she wasn’t moving.

Nate came into the room. “I had to punch in the code for the housekeeper. She’s snockered. What have we got?”

“She’s alive, but not responsive. Call 911.”

“Already done.”

“Dammit, someone should have already been here in response to the alarm. Get me some water.”

I sat on the bed and raised Calista’s head. She was limp.

“I didn’t hear a thing until you knocked on my door.” Elenore appeared a few feet away.

“How is that possible?” I asked. “That screeching would’ve woke the dead.”

She looked very unsteady on her feet. “I don’t feel very well,” she said. Then her knees buckled.

Nate set the water on the bedside table and caught Elenore just before she hit the floor. He eased her into a chair. “They’ve both been drugged. Whatever it was, Calista got more of it.”

I patted Calista’s face and wrists. I wet a corner of the sheet and dabbed at her face. Her eyes fluttered.

I shook her gently. “Calista, wake up.”

She didn’t rouse further.

“Did you see anyone—anything?” I asked Nate.

He shook his head grimly. “Nothing.”

“Did you unlock the front door?”

“Yes. I’ll see—”

Voices and the sound of fast moving feet announced the EMTs.

“In here,” Nate called.

Two EMT’s, Blake, and Rodney Murphy came spilling into the room.

I moved to let the EMTs take care of Calista. “She’s been drugged. Mrs. Harper, too.”

One of the EMTs went to check Elenore.

“Liz, brief me,” Blake said.

I motioned towards the great room with my head. Blake, Nate, Rodney and I moved out of the bedroom.

“Jim Davis has been shot in his car out front,” I said.

“Rodney, check it out,” Blake said. He tapped a few buttons on his cellphone. “Coop. Wake up Sam and call Warren Harper. We’ve got a body in a late model Camry in front of the McQueen place.”

“Did you get a call from the security company?” I asked Blake.

“No. Just the 911 call from Nate.”

“I knew it,” I said. “The audible alarm was going crazy. The monitoring service should’ve been alerted and called you immediately. In theory, one of their teams should show up here any minute. Someone inside that office is tampering with her system.”

The EMTs rolled Calista out on a gurney. “We’ll be right back for Mrs. Harper,” one of them said.

“Where are you taking them?” I asked.

“East Cooper Medical Center.”

I looked at Nate. “I’ll go with Calista. You want to stay here in case Blake needs anything from us?”

Blake started to say something, then looked at Nate and shut up.

Love or something like it, fear, and frustration battled on Nate’s face. Resigned, he nodded. “Watch your back.”

“You do the same,” I said. I wasn’t any happier separating than he was. We were both safer together. I darted out of the room and headed for the van.

“Wait just a damn—” Blake hollered after me, then laid into Nate. “What the hell are you thinking? I depended on you to keep her here. She’s got no business whatsoever running around by herself—”

Something else must have demanded Blake’s attention. He had a crime scene to process.