“Overflowing. What do you need?”
“A casserole…maybe your chicken noodle casserole? I haven’t had time to cook recently.”
“Of course. You taking it over to Darius?”
“No, but it’s for his benefit.”
“Liz, darlin’, I’m afraid I don’t understand you.” Mamma sighed. “But there’s nothing unusual there, is it? Help yourself.”
I reached down and gave her a hug. “Thanks, Mamma. I’m taking it to the Causbys.”
“Better take one home for supper. You can’t feed a husband salads every night,” said Mamma.
Daddy went into a coughing fit. When he got control of it, he looked at me like he’d bit into a lemon. “The Causbys? What in the world do you want to carry food over there for?”
“I’m hoping to generate a little good will. I need to talk to Georgia.”
“You’ve got no business with those Causbys,” said Daddy.
“I do today, Daddy.”
“Take your gun.”
“Seriously? You think Georgia means me harm?”
“I wouldn’t put it past her.” Restless, he lowered the leg rest on the recliner and eased Chumley to the floor.
“What are you fixin’ to do?” asked Mamma.
“I’m tired of sitting still. I’m just stretching my legs.”
“You’re supposed to rest,” said Mamma.
“I’ve been resting for a week now. I’m not tired of anything but sitting still. I’m going to fix myself a glass of iced tea, which I’m perfectly capable of doing. Would you like one?”
Mamma stared at him. “I think your fever might genuinely be up. In thirty-eight years of marriage, I don’t think you’ve ever brought me something to drink unless I was hospitalized. Let me get the thermometer.” She laid down her crossword puzzle, started to stand.
“For the love of Pete. Would you sit still, Carolyn? I’ll be right back.”
Daddy strode towards the kitchen and I followed him.
I went to Mamma’s walk-in pantry and started digging through the deep freezer against the back wall. Every dish was wrapped in Saran wrap and foil and labeled with freezer tape. I found a stack of chicken casserole under the beef stroganoff. I snagged a dish of the stroganoff to take home. When I shut the freezer and turned, Daddy was standing inside the pantry.
I jumped. “Daddy, you scared me. What are you doing?”
“Shhh.” He pulled the pantry door closed.
“I worry about that poor little girl,” he said.
“Daddy. You know that Troy and his grandfather aside, the Causbys are decent people. I’m sure Sara Catherine is well cared for.”
“I’m not so sure of that. Just…check on things, would you? If there’s anything she needs…”
“You think Billy Ray and Georgia would accept money from you? Even if they needed it, they wouldn’t. And it’s not like they’re impoverished.”
“I know that. But it takes a lot to raise a child these days.”
I eyed him suspiciously. “Why are we in the pantry with the door closed?”
“This is a sore topic with your mamma.”
Sara Catherine’s mother, my cousin Marci, was Daddy’s dead sister Sharon’s only child. We were the only blood family Sara Catherine had on her mamma’s side. Her daddy, Troy Causby, had a dark history with my sister, Merry, in addition to his involvement in the events surrounding Gram’s death. Mamma had been in favor of fighting for custody of Sara Catherine. A pragmatist, Daddy knew that grandparents outranked a great uncle and aunt. He’d held firm on not getting into a legal wrangle with the Causbys. What Daddy didn’t say was that Mamma was impatient with waiting for grandchildren. He knew I couldn’t help with that.
“I’m not sure what you want me to do here,” I said.
“Just check on the child while you’re there, would you?”
“Of course.” I’d planned to do that anyway. “So you’re not really afraid Georgia will try to take me out?”
“Probably not. But it’s best to be careful. You need to borrow a gun?”
“No thanks, Daddy. You know I carry a Sig 9.”
The door to the pantry swung open. Mamma stood there, hands on her hips, her head cocked to one side. “What is going on in my pantry?”
“I was just helping Tutie here find a casserole,” said Daddy innocently.
“Like you even know where the freezer is,” said Mamma.
Daddy pointed to the appliance in question. “Damn thing’s right there where it always is.”
Mamma stared him down.
“You know, I’m feeling a bit dizzy,” said Daddy. “I’d better go sit back down. Carolyn, could I get that glass of iced tea? Or maybe something warm would be better. How about a cup of hot tea with some honey in it?” He slipped past Mamma.
“I’ve got to run,” I said.
“Here, take Georgia the reheating directions.” Mamma stepped over to the kitchen desk, flipped through a recipe box and handed me an index card.
She craned her neck to make sure Daddy was safely out of earshot.
“Check on Sara Catherine for me, will you?” she asked.
“Of course, Mamma.”
I hugged Mamma bye and got out of there lickety-split.
FOUR
Billy Ray and Georgia Causby lived in the Old Village of Mt. Pleasant, a couple blocks off Charleston Harbor, not far from Shem Creek. The historic neighborhood, with its canopy of stately live oaks and eclectic mix of homes, never failed to charm me. I parked in the street, in front of the white picket fence with azaleas spilling over, so as not to block access to the garage—and not be blocked in by Billy Ray should he come home while I was still there.
It wasn’t that I was afraid of Billy Ray Causby. He had a reputation as a man’s man, a shrimper by trade who hunted, fished, and played poker with the guys on the weekends. But he was also known to attend church regularly and volunteer with Habitat for Humanity. I kept tabs on the Causbys. Troy and his grandfather, Hayden, aside, the Causbys were hard-working, God-fearing, upstanding citizens. But grieving folks sometimes lashed out at whoever was handy. I needed to be able to make a quick exit if necessary.
The house was some version of a Cape Cod, white, with large, three-window dormers and a wide front porch. The landscaping was mature and lush. A row of hydrangeas with large blue globes lined the left-hand side of the yard. It was a nice home, large enough for the couple and the four children they’d raised, but not an especially flashy one. It probably hadn’t been updated since the nineties. In recent years, however, real estate prices in that part of Mt. Pleasant had risen so dramatically it was probably a two-million-dollar home. In some cases, families who’d lived in the Old Village for generations struggled to afford taxes, insurance, and maintenance. Did the Causbys struggle?
Before I got out of the car, I swapped out my crossbody bag for a medium-sized satchel—one that would accommodate my Sig 9. Then I opened the Voice Memos app on my phone. “Georgia Causby. Interview at her home.”
I noted the date and time, then slid the phone upside-down with the microphone at the top into the exterior pocket of my black and taupe Kate Spade bag.
My skin prickled as I approached the front door. Was someone watching me? Who all was here? I pressed the doorbell, hoping that Laura Beth had gone home to her husband and children. Where was Sawyer, the Causbys’ oldest son?
The wooden door swung in. Georgia Causby regarded me through the glass storm door for a few moments, seemed to size me up. We’d never officially met. But she knew who I was, and I her. She was close to Mamma’s age, maybe a few years older. But pain had etched deep lines in Georgia’s face. Her platinum blonde hair was chin-length, with a fringe of bangs across her forehead. In jeans and a loose blouse with a tank underneath and tennis shoes, her body had a soft, comfortable
look to it. Her eyes were wounded, but glassy. Had the doctor given her something?
She unlocked the storm door and pushed it open. “You may as well come in. You’re here.”
“Thank you for seeing me. I hope you can use this. It’s chicken noodle casserole. The directions are on the card on top.” I handed her the dish and walked inside.
“Thank you. That was thoughtful of you.” She closed the storm door, but left the wooden door ajar.
“Have a seat in the living room.” She gestured to the room to the right off the foyer, then followed me in.
I took a seat on the far end of a striped sofa.
She sat in a wingback across the room from me and set the dish on a small side table. Her gaze drifted, not settling on anything in particular.
“Is Laura Beth still here?” I asked.
“No. She took Sara Catherine over to play with her children for a while.”
I nodded. “I can talk to her later.”
She swiveled her head, looked at me directly. “Why would you talk to Sara Catherine? She’s only three years old, for heaven’s sake.”
“I meant Laura Beth.”
“Oh. Of course.” She relaxed. “Well, I doubt you’ll get far with that.”
No doubt she was right. I offered her a wry smile and switched channels. “Trina Lynn was a force for the underdog around here,” I said. “She’ll be missed. I didn’t know her, but I always appreciated how she tried to help folks. The last story I saw of hers was about a financial shortfall in the school district.”
Georgia pulled a wad of Kleenex out of a side pocket on her shirt. “Trina Lynn always fancied herself an avenger of sorts, I guess.”
“I imagine that could be dangerous. Do you think she crossed someone who didn’t take it well?”
“That occurred to me. If it wasn’t some random evil, then I guess that’s the most likely thing.” In her lap, her hands squeezed the wad of tissue as if it were a stress ball.
“Do you know of anyone who she was afraid of?”
“No. Trina knew I thought she took chances. She didn’t talk to me about her work. She knew it worried me.”
“Was she seeing anyone?”
Georgia hesitated. “I told the police this. I can’t see how it matters now. She was dating Grey Hamilton.”
“The news anchor at WCSC?”
“That’s right. It was against the station’s policy, so they kept it quiet. But they’d been seeing each other for nearly a year.”
“Any trouble there?”
“No. Grey treated her like a china doll. He adores her.” She teared up. “Adored her.”
“Any old boyfriends who were maybe unhappy about her relationship with Grey?”
“Not that I know of. Auggie might know.”
“Auggie?”
“Her cameraman. August Lockwood. He and Trina were very close.”
“Were they ever romantically involved?”
“I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d told me they were seeing each other. But she said he was her best friend.” I wondered how he classified their relationship.
“Sometimes celebrities have stalkers. Anyone ever bother Trina?”
“Oh, she heard from her share of crazies. She said they were all harmless. The station would have all that.”
“Right…I know this will seem out of left field, but do you know if Trina had spoken to Darius Baker recently?”
She raised an eyebrow at me. “You mean was I aware she had dinner with him on the evening she was killed? Yes. The police told me that.”
“But Trina didn’t tell you?”
“No. She would’ve known I wouldn’t’ve been too happy to hear about that.”
“You don’t care for Darius?”
“All I know of Darius Baker is that my daughter dated him in high school, and he broke her heart. She was happy with Grey. I wouldn’t have wanted her to mess things up.”
“I heard Trina broke Darius’s heart.”
Georgia lifted a shoulder. “I guess you might say they broke each other’s hearts. He was hell-bent for Hollywood. She didn’t want any part of that. She had her reasons. But she didn’t want to hold him back. So she broke up with him, but it like to a killed her. All that was such a long time ago.”
I debated how far to push her today. I didn’t want to upset her, but I might not have another opportunity to talk with her. Her family certainly wasn’t in favor of it. “Did Trina’s reasons for not wanting to go to Hollywood involve a child?”
Georgia looked like she’d been struck. She stood. “It’s time for you to leave.” Her voice slurred. She was definitely medicated.
“I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You listen to me, Liz Talbot. No good will come from dragging my poor daughter’s dirty laundry from two decades ago out and airing it in public. That will only serve to tarnish her memory. It has absolutely nothing to do with her death.”
“Are you certain of that?” I kept my seat, kept my voice even.
“Of course. That child was adopted as an infant. How do you even know about that?”
“Darius told me.”
“Why, after all this time, would he do such a thing?”
“Because I made him tell me everything about Trina that he knew.”
“You made him tell you?” She threw me a sarcastic look, like maybe she thought perhaps I overestimated my persuasive powers.
“Mrs. Causby, what was Trina and Darius’s relationship like?”
“Why are you asking me about something that happened in high school? This is a ridiculous waste of time.”
“Was he ever violent with her that you know of?” I asked. “Please. This could be important.”
She glanced at the ceiling, huffed. “Well…No, not really. Right before graduation they had a big fight. Trina, she could have a temper too. They’d been at a bonfire over on Stella Maris. Lot of the kids in their class were there. He grabbed her arm and she jerked away from him and fell down. She had a bruise afterward. Some of the kids told it that he’d pushed her, but she said that wasn’t true. Billy Ray, he would’ve killed him if he’d believed that.”
“How did you and Mr. Causby feel about Trina Lynn dating Darius?”
“What? You mean because he’s black?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She sat back down, crossed her legs. “It was a different time, you understand? Folks didn’t do that back then as much. It was a bigger deal. We wanted what was best for Trina Lynn.”
“And you didn’t think Darius was what was best?”
“No,” she said simply. “And I won’t apologize for that. Darius was a nice enough boy. He was always funny—he could always make you laugh. But who could have known how well he’d do? We thought it was unlikely he’d go to college. And he didn’t, did he? His good fortune…that’s like a lightning strike. Against tremendous odds. We didn’t want Trina Lynn to be serious about any boy. We wanted her to get her education. But if she was going to date, and let’s face it, of course she was going to date, we wanted her to see someone with prospects. What parent doesn’t want that for their children?”
“Do you have any reason at all to think Darius would hurt Trina after all this time?” I asked.
She shook her head, cast another glance at the ceiling. “I can’t imagine that…” She lowered her gaze to mine and held it. “Although, I suppose if he found out about the child…it’s possible he flew into a violent rage. It just seems farfetched to me. I’d sooner believe it had to do with a story she was working on.”
“Mrs. Causby, I’m just verifying some background information here. Has Trina Lynn ever been married?”
“No. She was focused on her career.” She didn’t blink or look away.
“Did the police ask you
about Darius?” I asked.
“Why, yes. But I told them the same thing I told you. They dated in high school. Whatever was between them was ancient history. They had dinner together. So what?”
I had all I was going to get from her except her reaction. “You don’t know, do you? I would’ve thought they’d have notified you.”
“Notified me of what?”
“The Charleston Police Department arrested Darius earlier this afternoon.”
“What?” Her hand fluttered to her neck.
“They think he killed Trina.”
She stared at the floor, seemed to be calculating things.
She looked up, frowned hard at me. “You’re working for him, aren’t you?”
“I told you, Mrs. Causby. I’m working for an attorney in Charleston.”
“His attorney.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Get out of my house.”
FIVE
I turned into our driveway and rolled down the oyster shell and gravel lane towards the circle drive in front of the sprawling yellow beach house Gram had left me. The charming amalgamation of several architectural styles perched atop a four-car garage to protect it from storm surges. Trimmed with teak and topped with a metal roof, the entire house was wrapped in a series of connected porches. It was far too much house for two people, but many of my happiest childhood memories were made here. I could never part with it.
Rhett, my golden retriever, came running out to greet me with a ball.
“Hey, buddy.” I patted him on the side and scratched behind his ears.
He dropped the ball at my feet.
“All right, hang on a minute.” I grabbed a nitrile glove from the back of the Escape. I adored my dog but had an aversion to slobbery balls.
He barked his impatience with my trivial neurosis.
We played fetch until the heat got the best of me. The late afternoon sun was still hot enough to scorch a person.
“It’s too hot out here right now. Let’s play some more later, okay boy?”
He grinned a sloppy grin, his tongue hanging out, panting. When I didn’t pick up the ball again, he barked at it once, then picked it up. He was one of the most agreeable men in my life.
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