Knowing the history of the Hillard twins, the HAH Church, and the community had helped Meg piece together some clues in Lena Hillard’s death back in December. However, there were significantly more details she didn’t know until they were revealed by Tom and Detective Crawford. Her empathy with the girls and their situation with Hal was important, but there were other variables she might never have discovered on her own. She could see why a team was necessary to solve a crime.
She was automatically drawn to Echo, as the victim. Meg was sure there was some trauma to her as a girl, leaving her looking for attention and acceptance. Echo’s mother—Louise, Linda said her name was—had certainly stepped up to the plate to care for the children, so the attention she lacked might have been her father’s. Who was he? Linda had said Echo’s grandfather was Beau, Benet Charles’s brother. Was he still alive? Meg wrote the questions down on her legal pad. She also wrote funeral, circling the word several times with a question mark. She had no idea if Louise was an adequate caretaker, but Linda’s description of Echo’s children seemed to be evidence that someone was. Who could that be, and would it matter?
Fifteen
A SUNNY SATURDAY morning was not the ideal time to drive down the Seawall. The outer lanes of traffic were lined with vehicles loaded with anxious children peering out the windows, the rear sections of minivans held picnic supplies, towels, sand toys, and grills, drivers jockeying for the parking spaces nearest the ramps to the beach. Mothers stood in empty spots marked for parallel parking, directing fathers in straw hats and sunglasses as they backed up in an attempt to steer the vehicle while the dog and kids bobbed up and down, waiting to escape the car into the sea breeze.
Meg wanted to watch the antics of beachgoers, but there were others doing the same, and someone on the crowded boulevard had to pay attention. Surely there must have been another way to get from one end of the island to the other. By the time Meg reached 39th Street, she knew she should go north and hope to hit Broadway eventually, and then she could make her way to 23rd. She was still a novice at getting around the island.
Making a turn around the block to view the entire building, Meg pulled up in front of the Rosenberg Library, a massive structure, combining turn-of-the-century and mid-century architecture. She parked under gigantic live oaks, the sound of birds greeting her when she opened the door. Surely I’ll return to mounds of bird poop on my hood and windshield. She gave an inward groan. Her previous place of employment had the same issue, but she acknowledged that she couldn’t have both shade and a clean car.
Meg entered the library through what must have been the children’s section. There was brightly colored carpet, art, and several children lounging with books in beanbag chairs. There was an attractive spiral staircase leading to an upper level. She opted for the stairs instead of the nearby elevator and headed to the next level. It wasn’t just a library, but a history center and museum. She visited the museum section first, noting a great display of artifacts and a stunning stained-glass window featuring a tall ship.
She wandered through the reading rooms and back down to the second floor, where she noticed several reference desks attended by library staff. She was thankful they didn’t seem to be busy and approached a young man. Meg mentioned she was a visitor to the city, interested in researching property near Jamaica Beach in an old development known as Charles Cove. The young man smiled and introduced himself, Deandre.
“I guess it’s not a coincidence that there’s been a lot of interest in that land recently.” Deandre stood and put on his glasses. “Are you a family member?”
“No, I’m not. I’m just curious about the land. I’m renting a house across the road, and I noticed it’s been neglected for some time. I wondered if it might be for sale or available.” Meg hoped she was coming across as a concerned visitor interested in making improvements. However, she knew as a librarian that the reference librarians didn’t make judgments about the motives for research.
“If you’re not a family member, you might want to start by reading the obituary for Benet Charles. It’s so much more than an obituary. He wrote it himself, and it’s a glimpse into the family. Locals found it entertaining, but it’s also sad. Follow me and I’ll show you where to find the archives for the newspapers.”
Deandre started walking off and Meg followed. He came to a desk and nodded to a woman. “We have some interest in the Charles obit.”
“I have it right here,” the woman said. “Haven’t had time to put it up since the last inquiry.”
Meg took the paper and sat at a nearby table to read. Benet Charles threw everyone under the bus. He spared no one, including his wives and children, and he was particularly harsh with his brother, Beau Charles. He referred to Beau as “my two-timing twin.”
This Beau could be Echo’s grandfather?
Benet Charles had been born in Galveston in 1948. He noted he was BOI (born on the island), which seemed to be a major accomplishment for some reason; Meg remembered others had mentioned it, and there were even bumper stickers and decals touting the feat. His father was Harold Benet Charles, and his mother was Geraldine Priscilla Laughlin Charles, or Pris. He obtained his education at various public institutions on the island and then went off to the University of Texas after graduating from high school. His intended major was business, but he became sidetracked by the Vietnam War after flunking out the second semester of his freshman year. Benet’s lottery number came up at the top of the list, and he was drafted and sent to Vietnam. That was where he parted ways with his brother, Beau.
Beau Charles, according to Benet’s obituary, shirked his duty and continued at the University of Texas, where he graduated with honors. Beau “wrote me two measly self-congratulatory letters as I sat in Commie rice paddies waiting to get the sh%t blown out of me. When I finally came home, with a brain injury and a discharge of unflattering qualifications for any kind of meaningful employment, I discovered my a$$h@le of a brother had sold our parents’ house and moved them into a condo on the beach—not enough room for me or my duffel bag full of belongings. He had also married the only girlfriend I ever had, Louise Herrington, and she was three months pregnant. I wasn’t even invited to the wedding.”
Meg took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes. If what Benet wrote was true, she could understand his distress, but still, his own obituary didn’t seem the appropriate place to air his grievances. She replaced her glasses and continued reading the list of survivors.
Benet Charles was preceded in death by his parents; a son, Benet Charles Jr.; two grandchildren, Amanda and Amelia; and a daughter-in-law, Ruth Ann Simpson Charles. Oh no, it must’ve been an accident or something. The whole family? He was survived by his wives: the first, Wanda Simpson Charles; the second, LeeAnn Reynolds Charles Mason; the third, Margaret Hill Charles Lee; the fourth, Hadley Winston Peterson West Charles; and his present wife, Buffy, “who doesn’t wish to be known by a moniker other than this. She admires Prince and wants the world to know her as Buffy.” Jeez, that’s actually written into the obituary. One, two… there were five wives. That last one must be young. I mean, Buffy, really? And there are no other children listed besides his deceased son, Benet, Jr.
There was some other rambling about Benet’s philosophy that made no sense to Meg. He believed he had been cheated out of his inheritance from the time he left to go to Vietnam until the day of his death. He planned to leave anything he owned to Buffy, but it was made clear that he had no idea what his standing was because his prize opportunity had been halted.
Maybe that’s the Charles development.
Meg took the paper back to the reference desk. When she handed it over, the woman asked, “Would you like to see the other information?” Meg said yes without hesitation. It wasn’t normal to be asked if you wanted documents before requesting them; however, she appreciated it because she had no idea what to ask for. The woman had obviously experienced several requests for the same information, probably a result of Benet’s and now Echo�
��s deaths.
Meg sat at the same table with a stack of papers, maps, and various articles from the newspaper. The ownership of the land the Charles development was on went back to before Beau and Benet were born. Their father, Harold, purchased it in a foreclosure. There were issues with the Corps of Engineers regarding wetland use. Harold had attempted to build a house on the property, but had various issues with not obtaining the proper permits. It had been one thing after another. According to newspaper articles, Harold gave up his attempts to meet the regulatory requirements, and the land sat vacant until Benet decided to start a development.
There were copies of posted notices on the property and photos of the houses when they were under construction. Meg studied one photo, a family standing in front of a house: two twin girls, a man and woman. I wonder if that’s Benet Jr. and his family? Beau was left out of the list of survivors.
There were obvious problems with the Charles development as far as land use was concerned, not only with the family but with the Corps of Engineers. Maybe the Charles men didn’t always want to go by the rules, or they believed the rules didn’t apply to them. Regardless, prime waterfront property sat unused and marred by careless attempts at development. Meg shook her head, recognizing the calamity of clashing egos and failure to follow procedures. It’s the downfall of many a great plan or failure to have a plan at all.
Meg turned to an article about the deaths of Benet Charles Jr. and his family. Her jaw clenched as she read about the murder/suicide in 1989. It was an appalling twist in the Charles family saga. Meg’s hand went to her mouth as she discovered it was not as she might have expected. The young mother, Ruth Ann, poisoned her family and then took an overdose to kill herself. It occurred in Austin, Texas, where the young couple were attending school. There was speculation that the action was a result of ongoing depression. But poison? How do people get to that place?
Benet Sr. mentioned no other siblings besides Beau. Was Beau the father of Echo? If not, probably a grandfather. According to Linda, Echo’s mother’s name was Louise. But Echo mentioned her uncle recommended the Charles house to her and Leon, and Linda mentioned the Charles house and land were actually the property of Benet’s wife. Sheesh, which one? Buffy, maybe?
Meg walked back to the periodical table. “Excuse me, has there been an obituary for Echo Charles?”
“No, ma’am. She’s too recently deceased. I imagine if there is one, it’ll be in the Sunday paper tomorrow.”
“Okay, thank you very much. I appreciate your help.”
It was an enlightening visit to the library. Meg was impressed by the physical structure, a combination of old and new architecture. She wasn’t convinced it had been done in the best of taste, but it was an attempt to join two eras.
She made a mental note to get a copy of the Sunday paper so she could look for Echo’s obituary. If there was a service planned, Meg would attend. She wanted to see the people in Benet’s obituary in person.
She decided to return to the wharf for an early lunch and a chance to see Katie again. Maybe a family member could clear up some of the questions raised by the obituary.
Sixteen
IT WAS A clear day with a flawless sky. There was no cruise ship in the harbor, so Meg could see past the dock to the Pelican Island Bridge from her seat near the rail on the water. When she spotted Katie picking up the bill folder from an empty table, Meg caught her eye and waved at her. Katie walked past the table and said hello.
“Hey, Katie, will you be waiting on me again today?”
Katie gave a momentary frown, then said, “Oh, hi. I remember you now. I knew you looked familiar, but then the voice gave you away. No, sorry, I’m just getting off my shift. We offer brunch on weekends so the shifts start early. Gil will take care of you.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Meg lifted her sunglasses up and rested them on the top of her head. “I wanted to chat with you for a few minutes. Can I buy your lunch?”
Katie glanced at her watch. “I usually get a bite from the kitchen before I go home, but I guess I could sit with you. You and your friend knew Echo, right? Let me go change out of this shirt. I’ll be right back.”
“Yes, that’s what I wanted to talk about,” Meg admitted.
“I’ll take care of this and be back,” Katie promised.
Meg ordered iced tea and calamari. The waiter, Gil, brought a basket of garlic bread and promised to return with the drinks and appetizer. She watched a group of dolphins roll in the harbor behind a large barge pushed by a tugboat, as gulls swooped and laughed behind it. In the distance, pelicans dove from staggering heights, hitting the water with a sparkling spray, then bobbing on the gentle swells before taking off again to join others in a V-formation. Meg watched as a particular pelican soared, seldom flapping his wings, joining a straight line of evenly spaced birds gradually moving into the characteristic V. She thought she could sit on the deck and watch them all afternoon. She would call her table on the deck Pelican Perch. Jean was right, she liked to name things that didn’t belong to her.
“Okay, sorry to keep you waiting,” Katie said, pulling out a chair to join Meg. “Gil’s on his way with the calamari.”
“I’ve been sitting here watching the birds and dolphins. You know, when I was here with my friend Jean, I didn’t notice all the activity. I guess the ship was blocking the view.”
“Oh, for sure. There’re dolphins and birds all the time in the harbor, especially when a shrimp boat comes into the fish market down there.” Katie pointed to the east. “I never take it for granted. Even with the hustle and bustle of the port, there’s plenty of animal life here. We scurry to pick up plates because the birds are just waiting for someone to leave their table.”
“Pretty smart birds.” Meg laughed. “So, I came to town this morning to visit the library. I’m a retired librarian, and I like to visit the libraries in other communities. The one here is a real treat.”
Katie nodded as she emptied a packet of sugar into the glass of tea Gil set in front of her. “I’ve always liked the Rosenberg Library. When I was a kid, I’d walk there almost every day from our house on 20th Street. My brother and I would go to the reading hour there and then just hang out and sit in the beanbags. When the computers were available, we’d play those games. It was kind of a babysitter.”
Meg put a few calamari on a small plate and poured marinara sauce over them. She took a bite and then a sip of tea. “Mmm, that’s good.” She swallowed and looked at Katie. “I walked on the beach the morning they found Echo’s body. I’m sorry for your family’s loss. The police were there. I spoke with one and described what I remembered about Echo, her tattoos and clothing. There was a group preparing to do yoga on the beach. The instructor discovered her body.”
“Hmm, thank you. It was a shock, but I think we’ve all expected something for a while now. Echo was a unique character, but I guess you could say that of almost anyone in my family.” Katie helped herself to calamari. “I don’t know what a normal family is. All I know is I’m not from one.” She cocked her head as she stuck a batter-coated circle in her mouth.
“I’m not sure there is such a thing,” Meg said. “Nowadays, it seems like we define family as those you live with.”
“That’s fine by me,” Katie whispered, almost to herself.
“Do you mind telling me how you’re related to Echo?”
“I might not be,” Katie laughed. “No one ever did a DNA test on our crew, but there’re lots of possibilities. Not everyone in the family understands the tree, if you know what I mean. Benet Charles was my grandfather. His twin brother, Beau, is Echo’s grandfather.”
“Oh, I see. Is your grandmother still alive?” Meg asked, smoothing the red cloth napkin across her lap.
“Yes she is. Her name is Wanda. She was Benet’s first wife. I’ve lived with my grandmother most of my life. She remarried shortly after my mother was born, so my mother’s last name is Mills. Gran was still a teenager when she married h
er second husband, and she divorced him when my mother was three. He was abusive to both of them, but Gran fared better than my mother.”
It felt awkward to continue to ask Katie about her side of the family, but Meg was interested. “So is Beau Charles still living?”
“Yes, he’s still alive, but his wife, Louise, died giving birth to their only child, Echo’s mother. She was named Louise after her mother. I guess we were second cousins or something. I don’t keep up with how that works.”
Katie looked up as Gil approached.
“You ladies want to order now?”
“Let’s do,” Meg said. “What do you recommend, Katie? I’m sure you know this menu pretty well,” she laughed.
“I never get the entrees,” Katie admitted. “Unless you want to split something, they’re just too much to eat. I’m partial to the shrimp gumbo.”
“That sounds good to me. That’s what I’ll have,” Meg told Gil.
“Me too.” Katie handed Gil the menus. “We might need some more bread, too.”
“Sure thing. I’ll have that right out.” Gil walked off.
Katie wiped her mouth and folded her arms in front of her. “I don’t know how many children Echo has now. I lost count at three. I think her mother, Louise, takes care of them. Her family had land over near Winnie, a nice big ranch. I don’t know if Aunt Louise ever married or not. I call her my aunt, but I have no idea what relation she is. My grandmother was always fond of Echo’s grandmother, Louise. They were around the same age. She was sad that my grandfather wasn’t close to his twin.”
“They were twins?” Meg pretended she didn’t know the history.
“Yes, Benet wrote his own obituary. It pretty much explained why he was angry with Uncle Beau, but he also had a head injury from Vietnam. Gran said he didn’t ever recover from the war. She admits she knew he had issues when she married him, but she didn’t know how bad he could get.”
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