Lowcountry Bombshell (A Liz Talbot Mystery) (24 page)

THIRTY

I spent Wednesday evening and most of Thursday comforting Calista, who was distraught over Dr. Gadsden’s decision to stop treatment. He’d told her they’d made great progress, but he’d done all he could for her. He did not recommend another therapist, for which I was grateful. Calista was not. She was accustomed to paying someone to listen to her talk. I was of the opinion that she needed to put more effort into relationships with people who didn’t charge for that.

But hells bells, who was I to say who did or didn’t need therapy? I was on shaky ground. By the time Elenore was making her bedtime tea Thursday night, Calista was calmer.

By Friday morning, I was pacing the floor of my office like a caged tiger waiting for Mr. Patel to call. I didn’t want to push him. I decided to wait until Monday. If I hadn’t heard from him by then, I’d go back over there. Or call. Calling would be less pushy. But I needed that DVD.

Calista called early in the afternoon. “We’re still going out tonight, right?” She seemed to have recovered from her initial panic over losing Dr. Gadsden.

I’d forgotten all about girls’ night. “Of course. I’m looking forward to it. You want me to pick you up?”

“Sure, that’d be swell.”

I made a couple of quick calls to Merry and Moon Unit, who were all in.

Nate wasn’t so thrilled. He looked up from his laptop. “Calista’s a client. Doesn’t this cross some sort of boundary?”

I raised my left eyebrow at him. “Since you, Blake, and Sonny think the case is closed, she’s not a client anymore, is she?”

Nate sighed. “There’s only one bar on this island. Will it put a damper on your female bonding ritual if I happen to be there?”

“You can come with us,” I said. I tried to sound enthusiastic. But really, no one ever took their boyfriends along on girls’ night out.

“No thank you. I may hang out with Blake.”

“Blake and Sonny are playing at The Pirates’ Den tonight.”

“What’s the name of their band again?”

“The Back Porch Prophets.”

“I’ve never heard them play.”

“They’re really good. You should come. You don’t have to sit with the girls. Sit up front. Blake’ll probably put you to work doing something. You can hang with the guys between sets and during karaoke.”

“Karaoke?” He made the word sound like it tasted bad.

I grinned. “Oh, yeah.”

“Are you going to sing?”

“Maybe.”

“For that alone, I will go.”

Merry, Calista, Moon Unit, and I arrived early at the Pirates’ Den and scored a table close to the stage. Before long the house was packed. I scanned the boisterous crowd for possible threats. I wanted Calista to have a good time, but I was still on my guard. We ordered a pitcher of mango margaritas and some appetizers.

Calista lifted her glass. “To my first ever girls’ night out.” She squealed and we all clinked glasses.

I took a small sip. “Hear, hear!”

Moon Unit whooped. “Your first? Honey, this is an
occasion
.”

We toasted again. It crossed my mind that Calista didn’t drink liquor. Apparently, she was making an exception for the evening. She seemed so happy. I was happy she was having fun. She needed this.

I remained unconvinced her troubles were over, but for that night she couldn’t have been safer. She was surrounded by law enforcement officers with a room full of posse, private security—the Marine on duty sat at the bar sipping club soda—and Nate and me. I relaxed. I needed this, too.

Merry said, “Who all is singing karaoke?”

“We all are,” I said.

Calista shook her head emphatically. “I don’t do stages.”

“Have another drink,” Merry said.

Moon Unit eyed Calista. “I always knew you’d be gorgeous with your hair and make-up done. Has anyone ever told you that you look just like Marilyn Monroe?”

I inhaled my margarita and narrowly avoided spewing it. Calista and I laughed out loud.

“What?” Moon squished up her face.

“What’s so funny?” Merry asked.

“Nothing.” I washed down that last swallow with another.

“She does look like Marilyn,” Merry said.

The band started playing, making further conversation difficult. We swayed and clapped to the music. And we worked our way through that first pitcher of margaritas.

Nate sat near the corner of the stage. He helped move things around and provided cold beer as needed. And he kept an eye on me.

Our waitress brought another pitcher of margaritas. Merry poured us all a fresh glass. “What shall we toast?”

“To Jose Cuervo!” I said.

We clinked glasses.

Blake and his buddies mostly played their own music. But they took requests. When they started playing “Someone Like You” by Van Morrison, I scanned the room. Bingo. Michael Devlin had requested that song. I knew he had. That was our song. And Michael was walking towards me with purpose.

“Uh-oh,” Merry said.

“What?” Moon Unit followed Merry’s gaze. “Oh, my
goodnessss
.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Calista.

“You see that tall dark and handsome thing at ten o’clock, closing in?” asked Moon Unit.

“Oh, my yes,” Calista said.

Merry said, “That’s Liz’s ex. Double ex.”

I looked at Nate. He was watching Michael. Nate downed half a beer.

Calista asked, “Is your double-ex a gentleman?”

“Yes,” I said.

“But you don’t want to dance with him because it might send the wrong message and because Nate is about to have a seizure.”

“Right,” I said.

“Maybe I can distract him.” Calista stood, finished off her margarita, and glided over to Michael. She pulled him onto the dance floor.

Michael glanced over his shoulder at me. He looked at Calista, confused. Then, ever the Southern gentleman, he put his arms around her and danced.

Merry and Moon high-fived. Nate looked at me and shook his head.

I felt just the teensiest bit cranky on account of how he seemed to think he held title to me after a romance spanning a whole week and a half.

“What’s wrong?” Merry asked.

“I’m feeling pent up,” I said.

“Oh boy. This is gonna be fun.” She refilled my glass.

“Y’all wanna sing ‘Lady Marmalade?’ They have a set of karaoke after this song,” I said.

Merry and Moon Unit hollered approval. That was our favorite girl’s number.

I watched Michael dancing with Calista. Maybe he’d ask her out on a date. She needed some normal. Michael was nothing if not normal.

The song ended. I felt a touch on my shoulder and turned to see Nate towering above me. Michael escorted Calista back to the table. He and Nate locked eyes.

Calista said, “Thank you ever so for the dance, Michael.”

“My pleasure.” He smiled at her, glared at Nate, and sauntered away.

“You girls having fun?” Nate asked.

Moon whooped again. Merry howled. Calista giggled loudly.

I looked up at him, “Hell, yeah. Come on girls.” Merry and Moon pulled Calista along and we climbed on stage. I nodded at Blake. He shook his head, grinned, and queued up “Lady Marmalade.”

It didn’t take much to get Calista comfortable onstage. The four of us channeled “four badass chicks from Moulin Rouge.” Some of our dance moves might have been the teensiest bit suggestive. But the thundercloud on Nate’s face was uncalled for.

Everyone else in the room applauded wildly. We took our bows and returned to our table. Nate was at the bar with Sonny. They picked up beers, and Nate grabbed an extra bottle. A third for Blake. They ambled over to the karaoke machine. Blake smiled and reached for his beer. Nate said something and Blake’s smile faded as he looked my way.

I drained my glass. Merry refilled it.

“Can we sing again?” Calista asked.

“Of course we can,” I said. “What do you want to sing?”

“I like country music,” Calista said. “Do you think they have ‘Before He Cheats,’ by Carrie Underwood?”

We all laughed.

“That’s our second favorite song,” Merry said.

I felt like singing something mad. Why on earth did Nate Andrews think he needed to guard his territory? I was just having fun.

He wasn’t any happier with our second number than our first. The rest of the audience was loving us. We went right from Carrie Underwood to Miranda Lambert. I caught a glimpse of Michael as we made our way back to our table. He looked every bit as pissed as Nate.

I was fed up with both of them. “Merry.”

“Yeah.”

“Tell Blake to play ‘All She Wants to do is Dance.’ Not the karaoke version—Don Henley.”

Merry’s eyes got big. “Shit.”

“Do it,” I said.

Merry hopped up. A minute later she came back to the table. “I made Coop ask. I’m betting Blake wouldn’t play it for you.”

“Why wouldn’t he,” asked Calista.

Moon Unit refilled our glasses, a gleam in her eye. “You’ll see. Cheers, y’all!”

We all toasted and drank. On the opening drumbeat, I drained my glass and stood.

My hips swayed to the electric guitar. Somebody hollered, “Hell, yeah!”

By the time the horns kicked in, I was dancing around the table, arms above my head. The crowd parted to give me room.

“Whoo-wee.” Several wolf whistles pierced the air. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

Halfway through the song I was dancing on the table.

Merry, Calista, and Moon danced in a circle around the table. We all belted out the song. Most of the people in The Pirate’s Den were singing, which is likely the only reason my brother didn’t change the song.

Then Nate had me over his shoulder. I kicked and screamed all the way out the door.

THIRTY-ONE

I had a hellacious hangover Saturday morning. I almost didn’t answer the phone when it rang at nine. I brushed the hair out of my eyes and blinked at the screen. I didn’t recognize the number. Then it hit me. It was a Charleston number.

I answered on the last ring. “Hello?”

“Miss Talbot?”

“Yes. Mr. Patel?” I sat up.

“Yes. I found the DVD. I’m so sorry it took me this long. It wasn’t where I thought it was.”

“When can I see it?” I was fully awake.

“I’ve made you a copy. I come in to work at seven o’clock this evening. If you don’t mind coming by then, I will give it to you. I hope it helps you locate Roy Lee.”

“Me, too, Mr. Patel.” I was pretty sure if I located Roy Lee it would only serve to confirm his mamma’s worst fears. “Thank you so much for your help.”

I had twelve missed calls from Mamma. How had I slept through that? No doubt her phone had rung slap off the wall that morning.

All the clean-living folks in Stella Maris who never touched alcohol, but were nevertheless at the Pirates’ Den last night after the dinner hour, would’ve hated having to tell her I danced on a table and had been carried out of there. I would call her later. The list of things my mamma wasn’t going to have would not be a short one.

I crawled out of bed. No sign of Nate. I swallowed a couple of aspirin and climbed into the shower. The hot water helped. I needed a greasy breakfast, but didn’t feel like going into the Cracked Pot. I made myself a grilled cheese sandwich with lots of butter. Then I could manage coffee. After I had two cups in me I felt human again.

Where was Nate? His car wasn’t in the driveway. I’d be damned if I was going to call him. He had no right, nor any invitation, to treat me like his personal property. He’d been way out of line last night.

And I’d told him about it, all the way home. It was coming back to me.

Nate was most likely on his way back to Greenville.

I curled up on the sofa and hugged a pillow to my chest for comfort. Maybe it was for the best. I was falling in love with Nate.

I was in love with Nate.

But he’d made it clear staying in Stella Maris wasn’t in his plans. And I’d lived as much of my life as I could making decisions based on what the men in my life did, or wanted, or didn’t want. I needed to live my life. And my life was on Stella Maris.

Rhett sat down at my feet, tongue hanging out in a sloppy grin.

“Hey, boy.” I ruffled his fur and hugged my dog.

Merry called about lunchtime just to check on me. She knew without me telling her I didn’t feel like talking.

Calista called early in the afternoon. “I don’t have a hangover at all,” she said. “That’s the most fun I’ve ever had. I hope everything’s okay with you and Nate.”

“It will be,” I said, though it wasn’t clear to me at all what our future relationship would be. “Do you still have an SSI man out front?”

“Yes,” she said. “Mack Ryan wants to continue that for at least another week. It does make me feel safer, although, I’m not worried about tonight anymore. I finally feel like I’m fully me, not some freakish reflection of Marilyn. I have you to thank for that. Confronting my past was the best thing for me. Though I’m awfully sorry about Jimmy.”

“That’s good,” I said. “Have your mother and Grace gone back to California?”

“Grace has. I think she finally accepted the doomed nature of her scheme to make money using me as a sideshow freak. Mother is still at the bed and breakfast. I told her she can stay as long as she wants. Who knows? Maybe there’s still a chance for us to have a relationship.”

“That’s really good. She’s your family.”

“Well, when you feel up to it, maybe we can have lunch sometime.”

“Of course. I’d love to.”

“I guess the case is pretty well solved.”

“I’m still tying up a few loose ends. Nothing to worry about.”

“Let me know what I owe you when you finish.”

“I’ll send you a final statement. But Calista…”

“Yes?”

“I’m really glad we’ve gotten to be friends.”

“Me, too.”

Appropriately, “You and Tequila Make Me Crazy,” was up on the playlist in the car. I called Sonny on the way into Charleston and asked him to meet me so we could both screen the DVD. I had the photos Mack Ryan had given me, but Sonny knew the former police officers from the time when the winning ticket was drawn.

Mr. Patel gave me the DVD with a smile and best wishes. I parked a few spots down from Kudu and took the DVD and my laptop inside. Sonny waited in our usual spot in the back left corner.

“What is it you’re looking for?” Sonny asked.