04 Lowcountry Bordello (7 page)

“Probably best. I’ve only met Raylan that once, at our engagement party. And I really don’t want to get between you and Blake this close to the wedding if you don’t mind.”

I headed for the door. “Open the window. Get his attention. Keep them on the street.”

I flew down the stairs and through the foyer, catching a glimpse of Annelise and several other people in the living room. I had no time to worry about what they thought.

From the front porch, I saw Blake and Raylan Beauthorpe looking up at the third-floor windows of the bed and breakfast. Thank heaven. Nate must’ve gotten their attention.

I raised my hand and waved. “Merry Christmas, y’all.” I hurried down the steps.

Blake squinted. Then his face broke out in disbelief. Raylan, a study in bewilderment, looked to Blake for guidance.

Blake started across the street. Raylan followed.

“Liz. What in the hell are you doing?” My brother’s heart clearly was not filled with the joy of the season.

“I’m working a case. You’re out of your jurisdiction.” Blake was the Stella Maris Chief of Police. “What are
you
doing? Hey, Raylan.”

“Hey, Liz.” Raylan looked worried, and a little scared.

“Walk with me.” Blake nodded north on Church Street.

I grabbed his arm. “This way.” I pulled him towards the walk-thru gate into the side yard of the bed and breakfast. “Let’s get off the street.”

He retrieved his arm, cast me a look brothers reserved for younger sisters, and followed, muttering something under his breath Mamma would not have approved of.

Raylan tagged behind him, casting nervous looks all around.

When we were shielded by masonry fence columns and trees, I repeated, “What are you doing here?”

“You first.” I recognized Blake’s mule look. His eyes, the same cobalt blue as mine, held a challenge.

I blew out a breath. “I’m working a case, for heaven’s sake.”

Raylan said, “Did Olivia come to you? I tried to get her to do that weeks ago and she wouldn’t.”

“Yes, she did.” I looked at Blake.

“I came with Raylan to try to reason with the blackmailer. He’s here as Olivia’s brother. I’m here as his friend, not in an official capacity. Safety in numbers.”

I turned to Raylan. “When did Olivia tell you Seth was blackmailing her?”

“About a month ago. She’s been hiding this from Robert for years, but it’s getting harder to conceal. The money’s adding up. Lately she’s been…distraught. I just wanted to help.” I couldn’t help noticing how much Raylan favored Olivia. He was a good bit older—closer to Seth’s age. But his blond hair and aristocratic features were classic Beauthorpe.

“Have you tried talking to Seth before? Alone?”

Raylan looked away. “Yeah. I came by last night.”

“Aw, hell, Raylan,” Blake said.

Hell’s bells. Was everyone in Charleston County in the whorehouse last night? “What time?”

“About seven twenty.”

My stomach clenched. “Seriously? Where did you park?”

“Over on Murray. I didn’t want my car seen in front of that house.”

“Why not? Your aunt lives there. The house has been in your family for years.”

Raylan flushed. “You must know what goes on in there.”

I nodded. Of course I knew. I was just verifying that he knew why Olivia was being blackmailed. “So did you talk to Seth?”

“I did. He and I used to be close, when we were little. He spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ house. My grandfather and his grandmother were brother and sister. I thought I could reason with him. Appeal to his family loyalty. Apparently, he has none. He can’t get past our aunts not leaving the house to him.”

“Where did you talk to him?” I asked.

“In the guesthouse out back. That’s where he lives.”

“How long were you there?” I asked.

Raylan shrugged. “Twenty minutes. It was a short, ugly conversation.”

I felt my face squinch up in confusion.

“And when you left, you didn’t see Olivia’s car out front, with her in it?”

“Her car was there when I arrived. I thought that was odd. It crossed my mind she might’ve gone to see Seth. Maybe she was trying to handle him on her own. That scared me. I hurried on back to the guesthouse. Thankfully, Olivia wasn’t there. I figured she was visiting Aunt Dean, maybe trying to talk to her about Seth. When I came out, her car was still there. I didn’t see Olivia, but it was dark.”

“Other than last night, have you ever been inside that house?” I asked.

“Naturally. Like you said, it’s been in our family for generations. It only became…what it is now over the last fifteen to twenty years.”

“Have you tried to talk to Seth before last night about blackmailing your sister?”

“No.”

I nodded, mulled. “Blake, if a Stella Maris citizen is being blackmailed by a Charlestonian, you could arrest him, right?”

“Sure. I’d ask a Charleston PD officer to accompany me to make the arrest.”

“But if the suspect was in Stella Maris, you could just arrest him, right?”

“Of course. But I thought Olivia didn’t want to file a complaint.”

“She may change her mind. Listen, Nate’s upstairs. We have the house under surveillance. There are extenuating circumstances.”

Blake said, “There always are with you. Do they involve the body over in White Point Gardens?”

“You don’t want me to answer that.”

He nodded rapidly, managing to look both satisfied and seriously pissed off. “You need to give whatever you have to Sonny and step away. Olivia is going to have to put on her big girl…shoes…and face this. She hasn’t broken any laws.” He looked away. “That I know of.”

Raylan’s voice held a plea. “Blake, that’s my baby sister. You have two of those. You understand. If there’s anything we can do to protect her…”

Blake hitched up one side of his mouth. “Therein lies the problem, Raylan. That,” he jabbed a finger at me, “is
my
little sister. And I can’t have her breaking the law, maybe going to jail, to save Olivia a little embarrassment.”

“Hold on, both of y’all,” I said. “I have a plan. Blake, I’m not breaking any laws. Just give me until the end of the day tomorrow, then I’ll turn everything over to Sonny. I promise.” I neglected to mention the wiretapping thing. If we planned to listen to Olivia’s calls, we were covered by her request form. Aunt Dean’s calls were another matter.

He looked at me skeptically.

“In the meantime,” I said, “y’all please go back to Stella Maris. I’ll keep you updated.”

Blake sighed. “Nate’s here?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re working this together?”

“Yes,” I said. “And we may need your help, so if I call, please do not send me straight to voicemail.” I raised an eyebrow at him.

He gave me that mulish look one more time for good measure. “Come on, Raylan. We don’t need to be in the middle of this.”

They headed towards the car and I climbed the steps to the bed and breakfast. With a quick, “Hey y’all, Merry Christmas,” to whoever was in the living room, I dashed up the stairs.

“They’re leaving.” Nate’s eyes were on the screen.

“That’s the good news,” I said.

“There’s bad?”

“Unfortunately, Raylan just gave our number one suspect an alibi. Though I doubt he’d’ve done it if he’d known that’s what he was doing.” I filled Nate in.

“That’s an awfully tight timeline.”

“Tell me about it.” I typed it into a spreadsheet. “If everyone is telling the truth, someone was killed in the parlor between seven thirty and seven forty. It still
could’ve
been Seth. Barely.”

“And if everyone is
not
telling us the truth, it could’ve been Raylan, Robert, or Olivia.”

Something soured in my stomach and crept toward the back of my throat. “Or all three of them could’ve been a party to it.”

I dug into public records and subscription databases for background on Thurston Middleton. Nate watched out the window, sometimes through the binoculars, sometimes through the camera screen.

Occasionally he went into the bathroom for a different vantage point. We were preparing for battle.

“Yes, you are.” Colleen popped in. She sat cross-legged on thin air right in front of me, her back to the window.

I looked up at her.
Have you learned anything helpful
?

“Long-term,” said Colleen, “the best way to protect Robert and Olivia is for her to convince Miss Dean to evict all the tenants and sell that house and move over to Bishop Gadsden. It’s a lovely retirement village over on James Island.”

I know where Bishop Gadsden is. I meant did you learn anything about what went on in that house last night
?

“Nothing common sense hasn’t already told you. Thurston Middleton departed for the next life from that parlor at seven thirty-five last night.”

Was he the intended victim? Can you at least tell me that much?

“I can tell you this. Because he’s on the Stella Maris town council, and therefore important to my mission, I would’ve known if Robert were in mortal danger. No one intended to kill him.”

That helps, thanks.

“Liz?” Nate looked at me quizzically. “Everything all right? You’re staring at that window awfully hard.”

“Just thinking.” I gave him my best imitation of a reassuring smile.

Make sure you get all the girls out of harm’s way before you turn this over to Sonny. And know that I’ll be with Olivia when she needs me
. And then she was gone.

What had I been thinking about? Something important hid from me in a dark corner of my mind. The pineapple. I called Olivia. “I need you to think back to last night. Close your eyes and visualize what you saw.”

“All right,” she said, subdued.

“That wooden pineapple was on the fireplace mantel near the far right-hand side of the room when you and I went into the parlor last night.”

“Someone must’ve cleaned it off and put it back while I was waiting for you,” she said.

“Is that where it belongs? On the mantel?” I asked.

“That’s right,” she said.

“And the body on the rug, how was it positioned? Which way was his head pointing?” I asked.

“Towards the door,” she said.

“Thanks, Olivia.” I ended the call and told Nate what she’d said.

Nate said, “He was on his way out when he was struck from behind with an object from the other side of the room.”

“Which implies several things,” I said. “He wasn’t attacked by someone who tiptoed into the room behind him. He had to have known someone else was in the room. They would’ve interacted, maybe argued.”

“The light would’ve likely been on when the murder occurred—not turned on after the fact. Hard to imagine one of them wouldn’t have turned on the light.”

“Exactly. I’ve been in that room in the dark. For someone to locate the murder weapon and strike with accuracy as the victim was leaving without stumbling over the coffee table…that’s highly implausible. Our culprit knew exactly who he or she was killing.”

Seven

At five ’til twelve, Olivia texted me:
Almost there.

“Nate,” I said.

“I’m headed down. Video’s rolling.” He hustled across the room and out the door.

I moved to the left-front window and cracked it a few inches. Then I slipped an amplifier in my right ear and grabbed the binoculars.

Moments later, a black limousine negotiated the turn onto lower Church Street. It crawled down the narrow brick lane, with the right-side wheels on the sidewalk at times in order to pass a parked car. It stopped in front of the driveway at 12 Church Street. The driver stepped out. He was a portly gentleman with white hair and a beard, who looked remarkably like Santa Claus in a black suit and chauffer’s cap. He opened the left passenger door, and Olivia the party girl emerged holding a champagne bottle in one hand and a bouquet of champagne flutes in the other, her keys dangling from a finger.

“Thank you, Santa Baby,” she cooed at the driver. “I’ll be right back with my friends.”

“Yes ma’am.” He nodded and took in the rearview as Olivia sashayed down the sidewalk in a red dress and heels.

Just before she reached the door, Nate, who was walking in the opposite direction, bumped into her.

Olivia stumbled and squealed.

The driver’s nose lifted, like a hound sniffing the breeze. He took a step in Olivia’s direction.

Nate grabbed her shoulders and steadied her. “Pardon me, ma’am.”

In her outside voice, she said, “That’s quite all right, handsome. Why don’t you come along with us? I’m just going inside to get my friends. We’re going to have a Christmas party. We have the limo for the whole day.”

The driver returned to an at-ease position by the car door.

Nate let go of Olivia’s left shoulder, then her right. Only because I knew what was happening and had the benefit of binoculars, I saw him slip her keys out of her fingers. “Thank you, ma’am. I’d better not. My wife’s expecting me.”

“That’s too bad.” Olivia pouted, playing it up.

Nate nodded goodbye and continued down the street.

Olivia stepped in front of the door. “Aunt Dean?
Aaaa-unt Deeeean
. My hands are full. Can you open the door?”

In the background, I heard steps on the porch. Moments later, the front door opened and Miss Dean appeared. “Lord a mercy, Olivia. What’s all this noise?”

Though the whole scene was being videoed, I snapped a few stills of Miss Dean.

“My hands are full. Are you ready?” Olivia turned and called to the driver. “Hey, Santa Baby, can you pop this cork?”

He rushed over. “Yes, ma’am.”

She handed him the bottle. “Is everyone ready?”

“I suppose we are,” said Miss Dean. “I declare, Olivia, this is mighty generous of you, but a little more notice would’ve worked out much better.”

“Now, Aunt Dean. That would’ve spoiled the surprise.” Olivia held her left hand out towards the driver. He took a flute and filled it.

“Well, I suppose.” Miss Dean stepped onto the sidewalk.

Sounds of heels on wood and women chattering drifted across the street.

The driver passed the glass to Miss Dean, then took another flute and filled it for Olivia.

A stunning redhead, who might’ve approached six feet tall even without the five-inch gladiator heels, appeared in the doorway. I snapped a few photos with the Canon. Her black slim-fit slacks, lace camisole, and black jacket suggested Forever 21.

Miss Dean said, “Olivia, I’m not sure you’ve met Lori. She’s only moved in recently. Lori Russell, this is my niece, Olivia.”

I opened the Voice Memos app. “Tall redhead. Lori Russell.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Olivia said.

“Likewise.” Lori’s small voice didn’t match her bold appearance.

The driver, who had the routine down now, handed Lori a champagne glass.

Miss Dean turned towards the door just as a black-haired girl with pale skin stepped out. “Olivia, you remember Amber.”

“Of course. Hey, Amber!” Olivia hugged her like they were long-lost sorority sisters.

I snapped a photo of the odd look on Amber’s face and recorded her name and description.

A brunette and a blonde joined the group. Miss Dean announced Dana and Heather as if they were being presented at their debutante ball. None of the women were inappropriately dressed. Though their hair colors represented most of the usual hues, the styles were similar—long and smooth. They looked like typical early-twenties college students and they all seemed vaguely uncomfortable. Santa gave them each a glass of champagne. I documented their names and basic descriptions.

“Aunt Dean,” said Olivia, “aren’t we missing someone?”

“Wendi and her beau have gone to Innsbruck for the holidays,” said Aunt Dean. “She wanted to see snow. Nathaniel spoils that girl rotten, I declare.”

“Well, then.” Olivia raised her glass. “I’m so happy y’all could come out with me today. This is going to be so much fun. Merry Christmas. Cheers!”

Everyone clinked glasses and drank. The blonde, Heather, smiled.

“Is everyone ready?” Olivia asked.

“What the hell is going on here?” Seth filled the doorway, his eyes beaming anger at Olivia. In a flannel shirt, jeans, and work boots, he looked the part of handyman.

Lori cringed. Heather and Dana exchanged glances.

“Now, Seth,” said Aunt Dean. “I told you we were going out for some girl time.”

“I know what you told me,” he said.

“Don’t be rude.” Miss Dean lifted her chin and gave him an imperious look. “We’ll be back this evening. I’ll call if we’re delayed past dinner.”

Seth glared at Olivia. “You’re up to something.”

Olivia waved at him dismissively. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Seth. We’re going to get our nails done. Have a massage. Maybe do some shopping.”

“Well then, you’ll need someone to help with the packages. I’ll come along just in case,” said Seth.

Olivia did an amazing performance of a startled look. “No need for that. Our driver can handle it. I’m sure you could use some down time.”

“I don’t need you to tell me what I could use.” He headed towards the car.

“Seth Quinlan,” said Olivia. “You absolutely will not ruin our day out. I simply will not have it.”

“You don’t have a choice.” He stepped closer to her, got into her face.

She stared him down. “What is your problem?”

“You,” he said.

Miss Dean moved in and stood between them, forming a triangle. “Listen here. The two of you are family, this is Christmas, and we are making quite a scene. Everyone, get in the car this instant.” She turned and walked towards the limo.

Seth gave Olivia a triumphant smirk and sauntered towards the car. Olivia glared at his retreating back. Her left eyebrow arched, her eyes killing him a thousand times over with poison darts. Then she snapped back into party girl mode.

“Whatever. Seth, I declare you will not spoil our fun. Y’all drink up. We have plenty more champagne.”

The driver helped the ladies in the car. After he closed the door, he shook his head, squared his shoulders, and got into the drivers’ seat. The limo rolled down the street. I heard Nate on the stairs. Then the sound of trumpets, like the ones used to announce royalty, rang out from my phone.

“Hey, Mamma.”

“
E-liz-a-beth Su-zanne Tal-bot.
”

Those eight syllables, enunciated with precision, spelled Big Trouble. “What’s wrong?”

Nate walked through the door.

“Not a single solitary thing, except that your sister and I have been waiting here for thirty minutes at Maddison Row with Nicolette for your final dress fitting. Nicolette has reminded Merry and me five times that this final fitting should’ve been two weeks ago, as if she or I either one had a say in the matter.”

I squeezed my eyes closed. “Oh, Mamma, I’m so, so sorry.” I’d completely forgotten about the fitting.

“Where on the Good Lord’s earth are you?”

“I’m only a few blocks away.”

Miles maybe. Maddison Row, the bridal boutique, was on Spring Street. I looked at Nate.

He must’ve recognized the desperation in my eyes. He stood at the ready, the question in his eyes,
What can I do
?

“I suppose if you’re driving that explains why you didn’t respond to Merry’s messages. But really, you could’ve called.” She tsked. “You were bound to get overwhelmed. We didn’t have nearly enough time to plan this wedding. I don’t know why you children couldn’t wait until spring. We’ll see you in a few minutes. Drive safe.” Mamma ended the call.

Merry had texted me? I looked at my phone.
Sonavabitch
. I’d missed five texts with escalating urgency. I’d been so wrapped up in the show Olivia was putting on, I hadn’t seen the messages.

I looked at what I’d left the house in that morning. Ann Taylor skinny jeans, a blue twinset, and black ballet flats. This would not fly with Mamma for a final fitting at such a nice salon.

“I need a dress.”

“Why?” Nate’s look telegraphed his incomprehension.

“The fitting. I forgot all about the fitting.”

I could swing by Anne’s on King Street on the way. It would take an extra few minutes. What in the name of sweet reason was I thinking? I’d never picked out a dress in less than an hour in my entire life.

I’d just have to go as I was. That was all there was to it. Mamma wouldn’t be happy, and that snooty wedding coordinator, Nicolette, would turn up her nose, but it wouldn’t be the first time for either circumstance.

Nate walked over and stood in front of me. He put his hands on my arms and rubbed.

“You look gorgeous. You always look gorgeous.”

“You are a prince. But you don’t understand—”

“But I do. You, Slugger, are the bride. This is
your
day y’all are planning. You can go in your pajamas if you like. It’s that wedding Nazi your mamma hired who doesn’t understand.”

“But Mamma—”

“Your mamma loves you. She wants to share this with you. Go drink champagne with your mamma and your sister. Ignore that Nicolette. Fire her ass, better yet.”

I giggled and shook off the anxiety. Nate was right. Nicolette was hired help. I ran into the bathroom to freshen up. A little powder, mascara, a fresh coat of lipstick. I ran a comb through my hair and looked at myself with a critical eye. It would have to do.
I
would have to do.

“I would drop you off,” Nate said, as I stepped back into the bedroom. “But one of us needs to get these cameras installed and the phone tapped. Everything I’ll need is in the back of the Explorer, so you can’t drive off in it. I called Scoop. Your car should be downstairs any moment.”

Scoop was a free electric car service in the city. You watch the advertising on the back of the headrests and tip the driver. “I was just wishing we had both our cars here—thanks. Can I borrow your phone? I want to text Olivia from it so she can just reply if she runs into trouble.”

“Good idea.” He handed me his phone.

I texted Olivia:
Forgot dress fitting. This is alternate contact in case of change in plans
. Olivia would understand.

I grabbed a few items I’d need when I got back from a utility bag we traveled with and transferred them to a zippered compartment in my large Kate Spade tote.

Nate stepped to the window. “Scoop’s here. Run along now. Have fun. Say hi to your mamma and Merry for me.”

He kissed me on the forehead, swatted my bottom, and pushed me towards the door. I gave him a look over my shoulder that promised a great many things.