“That makes sense,” Meg agreed. “War can do some pretty mean things, especially to those who survive. Were there other siblings besides the twins? Echo referred to an uncle who suggested the Charles house on the beach to her.”
Katie smiled. “She was like me, calling everyone aunt and uncle because she didn’t really know. Her mother never married, but Echo knew who her biological father was. He was a wealthy man over in Chambers County. Gran said he already had a family when Louise got pregnant with Echo. Louise was a teenager at the time. My mother was Benet’s daughter, but he didn’t mention that in the obituary. He carefully avoided mentioning anyone who could take Buffy’s inheritance from her.”
“Hm, so is your mother still alive?” Meg asked, as she helped herself to another bit of calamari.
“Yes, my mother’s living, but I don’t see her much. She and Gran don’t get along. They never have. My brother is the only one who manages to stay connected to her. He and I communicate. He seems to think he can save her from herself, but I’m not as convinced. You see, there seems to be a curse on the Charles family. We’re not thrivers, only barely survivors,” Katie said with a weak giggle. “Echo would’ve been my bet for the Charles blood to prosper. When she was younger, she always had new things, plenty of spending money. Gran said she thought her father probably made sure she had what she needed, but Gran worried about her. She said Echo was too spoiled, especially after the accident. She was riding a jet ski with a bunch of older kids out in the gulf off Bolivar. They crashed, and she was picked up by helicopter and taken to UTMB. She was in a coma for several weeks, then in rehab for a while. No one thought she would survive.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize,” Meg said. She was convinced Echo probably never fully recovered from such an extensive injury. That might explain the immature behavior. But there was another accident as well, the one Linda told me about.
“Yes, Gran says Echo was never the same after that. She started hanging out with people who were wild and using drugs. The men she hung around with were always mistreating her, and she probably never understood how birth control works.” Katie shrugged. “Gran felt sorry for Louise. She was overwhelmed with Echo, then Echo’s children. Rumor was that Echo’s biological father’s friends might be the fathers of some of her children. I think she might’ve been in an accident with one of them.”
“That’s so sad. Really, some people never catch a break.” Meg looked toward a screeching gull, watching it land on the bulkhead to argue with another gull over a French fry thrown from the deck. “I knew there was a reason I was drawn to Echo. I didn’t want to be her best friend, but I knew she struggled to make wise decisions.”
If what Linda and now Katie said about Echo was true, there were two life-changing accidents that could have impacted Echo’s ability to make decisions. Meg took a deep breath and stared off at a docked oil rig across the harbor. “You just never know what people go through. Everyone has a story, and it seems your family has many. You know, Katie, money’s not the only indicator of success and probably shouldn’t be viewed as one at all. You seem successful to me. What a joy to be able to live in a loft in this beautiful downtown area and walk to a job you enjoy.
“Thank you for having lunch with me today. I appreciate the company, and your recommendation for the gumbo was spot on. I think I’ll order some to go for a friend who’s visiting me on Monday. It’ll be perfect for our lunch.”
Katie waved at Gil and he took the order. “Echo’s services will be on Tuesday,” she said when he walked off. “That’ll come out in the Sunday paper. There’s no telling who will show up. Gran says Benet’s obituary read like Genesis, but he left out a bunch of the begets,” Katy laughed. “I’ll just be glad when it’s over so our lives can get back to normal. Gran and I try to stay away from all that family drama. Even though she put Benet Charles behind her a long time ago, family gatherings where all the wives show up drive her crazy. I couldn’t convince her not to arrange this funeral. She says Echo deserves it.”
“What about your siblings, Katie? You mentioned a brother who went to the library with you.”
“That’s part of the family Gran and I avoid. I have two siblings, an older brother and his twin sister. She lives in Austin. I go visit her sometimes. My brother is still around. He’s caught up in my mother’s drama, and I don’t associate with her. Because of our mother, I don’t see Jeffery as often as I’d like.”
“You sure have a level head. Your grandmother must’ve been a great influence for you,” Meg said. She was sincere, acknowledging that Katie’s life hadn’t always been easy. She had mentioned a mother, but there was no mention of her father, so Meg didn’t ask.
“Yeah, it’s always been me and Gran.” Katie took the to-go order from Gil and handed it to Meg. “Thanks for lunch. I hope I run into you again.”
“I feel a strange connection to Echo. I might just come to the funeral to pray for her spirit.”
Katie smiled. “She’d like that, and I even plan to do that. Echo’s spirit needs as much encouragement as she can get. I didn’t associate with her when she was alive, but I never wanted her to die.”
Meg walked across the steamy parking lot, starting her car remotely to get the air-conditioner running before she climbed in. Katie hadn’t asked her any questions about Echo’s death, or the investigation, even after she mentioned being on the beach when the police were there. She didn’t mind talking about the family history, but curiosity about the murder was absent. What she said was helpful, but it was what she didn’t say more than anything that was revealing.
Seventeen
THE CARRY-OUT BAG of gumbo securely clutched in her fist, Meg climbed the stairs at the beach cottage. She opted not to do grocery shopping for the luncheon for Tom; she had enough supplies to prepare a salad to serve with gumbo, and Jean had left her enough homemade dressing to make an impressive presentation. She questioned herself about becoming lazy, but decided it wasn’t apathy but frugality guiding her decisions.
LaRue’s greeting was indifferent as Meg entered the cottage. The cat glanced up at her and took the opportunity of an open door to wander onto the deck and sprawl in the sun. After putting the gumbo in the refrigerator, Meg made a glass of tea, picked up her legal pad and a pen, and headed to her chair in the shade. She made notes on her conversation with Katie.
The Charles family did have an interesting history, but it seemed Benet’s brain injury accounted for his uneven temperament, repeated marriages, and falling out with his twin. It made her sad to think about Echo’s accidents and the aftermath that probably changed her life. So many people deal with the repercussions of accidents and trauma that we never know about.
Unless a family had excellent health benefits, the rehabilitation after such an event could be cost prohibitive. The injured person lacked the insight to understand how to modify their moods and behavior. It impacted everyone in the family, just as Benet’s war injury had. It was a double whammy for the Charles family. How old was Echo when the injury occurred? It didn’t matter; not only was Echo too young to be having sex, her mental state probably rendered her incapable of giving consent. The people fathering her children should have been held accountable.
The exploitation irked Meg. She had become far too familiar with such happenings in her own community during the last murder investigation she had been involved with. The perpetrators were sneaky—present long before the crime and poised to take advantage and victimize over and over. It was a constant emotional erosion. Maybe no one could see it before the final act, but there was a brewing of emotions that heated to boiling before the last blow.
Meg put her pen down and stared at the breaking waves beyond the dunes. It was the consequences beyond that final act, a thing that shattered and moved like the fissures in a sheet of ice. So many people felt the blow, not just the victim.
That’s it. That’s what intrigues me about these cases. It’s not the gruesome act of murder. It’s the events and motiv
ations that lead to that breaking point and then the pieces that have to be put back together. Meg saw connections between the two cases she had experienced: the absence of family support; a jealousy, real or imagined; a parental void, either due to immaturity or lack of role model; and maybe some greed were common elements. Figuring out the motivation was a challenge. Not all people were moved by the same longing.
Meg sipped the tea, her feet on the ottoman in front of her favorite deck chair. She spun the pen on her tablet balanced on the arm of the chair, asking herself questions. Could Echo’s murder be connected to the property across the road? Meg couldn’t figure out who actually owned it. She knew she could do research at the courthouse, but what would that tell her? Did it really matter if Beau Charles owned the property or if Benet did? Who would benefit from the murder of Echo? Was it a coincidence that she was murdered so soon after Benet Charles’s death? Could Buffy, formerly known as Prince, have motive? What was the land really worth? It had been void of any productive use for such a long time. It would have been better left to wetlands and not marred by the decrepit unused buildings there now, in her opinion.
When Meg asked herself one question, it led to another. She put the tablet on the ottoman and stood at the railing staring at the surf. Benet’s cause of death hadn’t been noted in the obituary; however, Linda’s friend Rene had mentioned during their bridge game at the club that Benet was an alcoholic. Rene was friends with Buffy, his most recent wife, who reportedly told Rene that Benet’s doctors couldn’t do any more for him because he refused to stop drinking.
“He was almost seventy at the time of his death,” Rene had said. “You can’t drink every day for fifty years and expect to live forever.” She had lowered her voice to a whisper and looked over her shoulder. “Try explaining that to a drinker. You can’t force them.”
Now that Meg thought back on the conversation, she wondered who Rene was referring to. Was it someone Meg was supposed to know? Maybe Rene had been speaking of her own husband, someone Meg knew had allegedly had an affair with Echo. Or maybe she’d been referring to Linda.
Could Rene’s husband have been the one with Echo in the sports car? Meg wished she knew more about the relationships. She was sure things would be clearer if she could understand everyone’s role. However, according to Katie, roles weren’t necessarily adhered to in the Charles family.
Meg’s phone rang and she picked it up, unable to identify the number displayed on the screen. She opted not to answer the call. If the caller left a message, she would listen later. She noticed she had a text message from Dorie. It’s a good thing this baby is due in early August. I don’t think I could make it a full summer in this body. LOL.
Meg texted back. Now you know how I felt with your mid-September birth. I had two maternity bathing suits and did nothing but float in Ruthie’s pool for the last three months. Her husband decided they should start charging me rent.
A ping notified Meg of a voice mail. She clicked over and listened. “Meg, I wanted to apologize for my behavior. Jeff encouraged me to call you. He said you seemed like a nice lady, and he didn’t want you inconvenienced. He’s much more civilized than me. I apologize. Hope I haven’t ruined our friendship.”
Meg stared off at the water again, considering Linda’s apology. It was a nice gesture, but most alcoholics were apologetic after they’d embarrassed themselves by their behavior. Meg didn’t plan to return the call and get pulled further into a relationship with Linda. She was needy, someone requiring regular attention and frequent bolstering.
According to the voice mail, Jeff was Linda’s son. He had been quiet when he came to pick her up. He wouldn’t make eye contact, but seemed to be a nice guy. Meg found herself feeling sorry for him, even when she didn’t know their relationship.
Hmm… maybe it could’ve been Jeff with Echo?
The phone rang again, and Meg stood as she looked at the number. She pushed Answer when she saw it was Detective Hendrix. “Hello, Detective. I’ve been thinking about you. I hope you’re getting closer to finding the murderer.”
“Working on it until we do, Ms. Miller. Quick question for you. Do you think you and your friend could look at a photo of a car and give us some feedback? We’d like to narrow this down. We have photos of the same car from several angles. If you could both look at it and let us know if it’s likely to be the vehicle you observed on the beach, it would be helpful.”
“I’d be happy to help, but my friend Jean is back home now, and that’s five hours away.” Meg put her empty tea glass in the kitchen sink, staring at the Charles house as Hendrix talked.
“That’s not a problem. We can fax the photos or scan them and email them to her. If she could take a look, that would help us out.”
“I’ll get in touch with her and ask. I assure you she’ll want to help. I can give you her email address.” She would text Jean as soon as she hung up to let her know about the request. “You’re working late today. It’s Saturday. You should wrap it up and go home,” Meg said.
“I’m on my way. I just wanted to touch base with you before heading out of the office. I’ll follow up with your friend over the weekend though. We think this car might be important to the case.”
Meg was impressed by Hendrix and her diligence in tracking down the car, agreeing that it might be a key to one of the last people to see Echo alive. The sun was setting, and the light on the stucco of the Charles house made it look grander and more elegant than it was. That was probably the scene Benet Charles imagined. Or maybe it would have been the vision of Harold, his father. Either way, their dreams were to have something better than what they ended up with—a legacy for their children and the community. But like their lives, the dreams turned to decaying structures, wild grasses, and a wobbling pier of broken boards.
Motivation. In a family of big dreamers, what would be the incentive to commit a crime, a disfiguring murder? Disfiguring? Meg watched enough CSI to know that Echo’s murder was probably revenge or a crime of passion and jealousy.
She continued to stare at the Charles house. Benet was estranged from his brother, Beau, because he married Benet’s girlfriend and sold the family home. There was no place for him to live when he returned home from war.
Katie was impressed that Echo’s biological father could give her cousin all the material things she needed. As a youngster, Katie might have yearned for that. She never mentioned her own father and was raised by her grandmother. Who was Katie’s mother?
Meg opened the refrigerator and took out a bowl of pasta salad, spooning some into a smaller bowl and sprinkling it with cheese and sliced black olives. She sat at the kitchen island, situating herself so she could look out the kitchen window. Scooping a spoonful of salad into her mouth, Meg separated the flavors as she chewed, but then she sat up straighter, aware of the chewed pasta still between her teeth, feeling the twang of the garlic on her tongue. She swallowed, then swiveled the bar stool to look out to the deck. There’s something….
There was another bottle of white wine in the refrigerator. It would be perfect with the salad. Meg opened it and poured herself a glass, continuing to glance outside. She’d waited too late for her walk on the beach. The sun was almost gone.
The taste of the wine in her mouth reminded her of Linda’s visit the night before. She took another sip, the coolness on her tongue and the crisp flavor after she swallowed was refreshing. She replayed the scene from the previous evening: Linda swaying at the top of the deck stairs, the officers there, accommodating and struggling to get her down the stairs. The young man held his head and shoulders in a familiar way, something Meg had observed before. He was embarrassed. He was her son.
Jeff.
Eighteen
MEG HAD ONLY seen Jeff for a few minutes while he was escorting Linda down the stairs, apologizing for the inconvenience, but he had made gestures she’d seen before. Meg saw it often in her own daughter. Dorie would turn her head exactly like Paul had, especially if she was arguing
with her about something or trying to make a point. It was as if they were clones. They even walked the same.
There was no doubt that Katie and Jeff were related, and if that was true, then Linda was probably Katie’s mother. Linda was Benet Charles’s daughter.
Taking a seat on the deck, Meg considered returning Linda’s call. It was the perfect reason to follow up with her and mention Katie. She clicked on her voice mail and pressed the Call button on Linda’s number.
“Linda, Meg Miller. I got your message.” Meg proceeded to tell Linda that all was forgiven and she regretted jumping to conclusions. She commented that the positive outcome was that she had met Jeff, and he was a nice young man. Then she mentioned having Katie as a waitress at one of her favorite restaurants. “They look so much alike and have the same mannerisms. Is Katie by any chance your daughter?”
“Yes, Katie’s mine. I’ll claim her, but she seldom admits I’m her mother. I have many regrets, but my estrangement from her is the biggest. She’s lived with my mother most of her life. Jeff sought me out when he was old enough, even moved out here to be closer. Katie has nothing to do with me.”
Meg listened, knowing what Linda said about Katie was probably true. The girl was determined to defend her grandmother, Wanda Mills. “So Linda, if you’re Katie’s mom, are you a Charles?”
Linda huffed. “Technically, by blood, yes. Benet Charles was my father, but I never had the Charles name. He left my mother before I was born. The last name on my birth certificate is Mills. My mother is Wanda Mills. My second biggest regret is that I’m also estranged from my mother.”
“Families are complicated,” Meg said. “It’s a small world that I’ve seen Katie twice since my stay here. Both times I was taken by her personality. I had no idea she could be your daughter.”
Pelican Beach Murder Page 12