“This is a bit off the beaten path for most tourists,” said Nate.
“This isn’t off the beaten path anymore,” I said. “The Cannonborough-Elliotborough neighborhood is one of the hottest parts of town.”
“Yeah, I get this is where all the cool kids hang out. But most folks from out of town still stay somewhere between King Street and East Bay.”
“Perhaps our eyewitness is a bit more adventurous.”
“Or Sonny and Jenkins could’ve stashed their witness,” said Nate. “We might not be headed towards their original hotel.”
“Maybe.”
“You sure he doesn’t know we’re back here? Could be he’s decided to take us on a joyride.”
“Sonny could know that. But Jenkins does not. I’m thinking Sonny’s okay with us being back here.”
“Is Jenkins even with him?”
“I’m betting yes.”
Sonny pulled to the curb in front of a brick building in disrepair that appeared to have once been a storefront.
“I can’t stop,” I said. “Jenkins would surely spot us.”
“Go as slow as you can.” Nate grabbed a pair of binoculars from the console.
“This must be a stash house.” The street was definitely transitional, with some fully restored homes and businesses, and a few that looked on the verge of falling down.
“Not necessarily. I’ll circle around.”
“Jenkins is with him. They’re out of the car. They’re headed back in the other direction.”
I circled the block and pulled in behind a red Honda half a block away from Sonny, where Smith intersects with Cannon.
“It’s gotta be the grey house.” We were parked two doors away.
“The one in front of the fire hydrant? Why’s that?”
“That’s 86 Cannon. It’s one of the most popular B&Bs in the city right now.” It was a three-story Charleston single house with double porches running down the left side. Painted a soft grey, with shutters in a darker, contrasting shade, the house exuded Southern charm. Stately twin palm trees and lush crepe myrtles with vibrant pink blossoms added to the curb appeal. The house would be easily identifiable in any photograph as uniquely Charleston. “It was built in 1862, but it’s been fully restored. The photos on the website are gorgeous.”
“Is that right?” His tone was soft, with a hint of a tease.
“I’ve had it earmarked for a night downtown for a while.”
“Interesting.” Nate scanned the area. “Still a few fixer-uppers on this street.”
“Don’t get any ideas. You won’t find any bargains.” I unfolded a tourist map. “Here.”
Nate took one side of the map. We held it up as a screen, but I peeked out from behind one edge and he the other.
“The house only has five bedrooms,” I said. “Once they leave, we can surely figure out which guest is the one we’re looking for.”
“What if they move the witness?”
“Well, at least we’ll see what he or she looks like when they come out with Sonny and Jenkins. If they’re going to do that, they’ll do it now. And we can follow. If the witness doesn’t leave with them, I say we check in.”
“Why did I know that was where this was headed?”
“Because you’re an exceptionally smart man.”
“Buttering me up will not get you your way.”
“Typically it does.” I let a slow grin slide up my face.
“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you now?” He must’ve tried hard to sound put out, but I wasn’t buying it.
“Well, it is a business expense.”
“Now you know good and well I’d bring you here any time you wanted to come. But since we do have a legitimate business need to go inside right now, I guess Darius can pay for this stay anyway.”
“I’m going to move up the street a ways,” I said. “All we need to do at this point is confirm which house they come out of, and whether they come out with a witness or alone. They’ll be suspicious. Jenkins will be looking for us.”
“No doubt Sonny will see your hand in this. But he won’t call us out. I’d be willing to bet he won’t tell his partner he suspects you’re behind the prank call that got them over here.”
“Doesn’t matter. You should’ve seen the look on Jenkins’s face when he saw me at Darius’s house. He will come out of that house expecting to find us someplace close by. If he sees us, he’ll make a point to move the witness.”
“We’d best hide then, hadn’t we? Sonny’s windows are dark. We might not be able to see if the witness is in the back seat. We need to see who gets into the car. I’ll hop out here, cut down Smith and through somebody’s backyard. Slip between that building on the corner there and the white house beside it. I’ll be able to see from there, but not be seen.”
“All right. I’ll be in Sugar, the bakeshop a block down the street. The YMCA building next door has a small, but deep parking lot. I can get away with stashing the car there for a few minutes. Just in case Jenkins is doing a car-to-car search.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He hopped out of the car and crossed the street.
I pulled away from the curb.
There was a line in Sugar, but I didn’t mind. I loved browsing all the artfully displayed confections. Thirty minutes later, I had selected our cupcakes from the antique display case and checked out when Nate walked in.
“I got vanilla blueberry, and I got you a double chocolate.” I smiled as he held the door for me. “What happened?” I asked once we were outside.
“They came out of that fancy B&B you like. They were looking for us, no doubt. Looked in the window of every car parked close by.”
“And the witness?”
“Whoever it is, they’re still inside.”
“Well, then. Let’s go check in, shall we?”
EIGHT
We turned left between the brick columns, one with a gold plaque announcing the address, and rolled down the palm-lined brick driveway with a stripe of impossibly green grass down the middle.
“I’m reasonably certain they’re unaccustomed to walk-in guests,” said Nate.
“I’m sure you’re right,” I said. “But it is September, after all. I doubt they’re fully booked.” Weathermen and statisticians will tell you July is the hottest month in Charleston. Perhaps because we’re all heat weary by then, a typical Lowcountry September feels hotter to me. And it’s the height of hurricane season.
Behind the house was a cottage I hadn’t noticed from the street. It was two stories, painted in what appeared to be the same shade of grey as the shutters of the main house, with white trim, a front porch and a metal roof.
“I’d forgotten that was back here. It’s the office, if memory serves,” I said. “It’s been a while since I checked the place out online, but I believe it’s also a staff kitchen.”
“I would imagine it’s also the owner’s quarters,” said Nate.
“Now it is,” I said. “When the main house was originally built, this was the kitchen house.”
Two curly buff cockapoos, one a lighter shade than the other, came bounding out of the multi-purpose kitchen house down a set of steps at the back that led from a doggy door to a small fenced yard. They appeared to be the official welcoming committee. Beyond the fenced yard was a pea gravel parking area that would accommodate ten cars. Just then, ours was the seventh.
“Plates from South Carolina, Georgia, Ohio, and New Hampshire,” said Nate. “Newer ones could be rentals, of course.”
I parked the car and Nate and I walked back towards the fence to speak to the cockapoos.
“They’re adorable.” I reached over the fence to pet them. After we’d cooed over them for a few moments, we walked around to the front porch of the kitchen house. Colorful plants spilled out of container gardens by the door. A row of
rocking chairs invited us to sit and enjoy the shade.
“Oh, look,” I said. “It’s got a haint blue ceiling. And a sign on the door.”
The bright yellow sign gave notice that reception and the front desk were now located on the first floor of the main house. We made our way across the brick drive and climbed the back steps to the lower piazza of the bed and breakfast.
This porch also had a haint blue ceiling, but here the paneled woodwork lent a more formal air. Closed now, the tall stained wooden door with a transom above at the far end would lead to the front steps. A row of white columns with matching railing between them overlooked the palm-lined brick driveway. Tall hurricane lanterns lined the floor by the rail. A deep-cushioned outdoor sofa sat to one side of the front door, a pair of chairs to the other.
Nate hesitated in front of the door in the middle of the porch.
“We know the owners live out back,” I said. “This building isn’t their home.”
I opened the door slowly. “Hello?”
The wood floors in the foyer had a lovely painted design. To my left, a closed door with a brass number plate was clearly a guest room. In front of me, a stained wooden staircase with a carpet runner rose to a landing where it switched back.
“Hello!” A welcoming call came from the open door to our right. A young woman with light brown hair appeared in the doorway. “Can I help you?”
“Hey.” Nate extended his hand with a smile. “I’m Nate Andrews. This is my wife, Liz. I know this is a bit spontaneous, but we wondered if you happened to have a vacancy.”
“I’m Mary Hannah,” she said. “It’s so nice to meet you. How many nights did you want to stay with us?”
“Two,” said Nate. “We figured maybe we’d stay ’til Friday if you have availability.”
“Sure,” said Mary Hannah. “I can offer you number five. It’s our third-floor room. I’m afraid it’s all I have for both nights.”
“Sounds great, thanks,” said Nate.
“Come on inside and I’ll get you checked in.” Mary Hannah led the way into the room from whence she’d come. “This is the salon. It’s also our reception area now. We tried it out back, but folks always seem to want to come here first.”
A couple I pegged at mid-thirties sat in the center of a cozy deep blue sectional in the front corner. “How lovely,” I murmured. And it was. Indigo grass cloth covered the walls. A mirror with an octagonal frame hung above the fireplace, which was flanked by cushioned benches. A desk with a modern office chair and an iMac floated in front of the fireplace. The room was decorated with a mix of traditional and contemporary touches that somehow blended together to create a fresh but authentic style.
“Hey, y’all,” I offered the couple on the sofa my sunniest smile. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“Oh, you’re not interrupting us.” The attractive woman with near shoulder-length brunette hair and a lovely smile waved away the notion. “I’m Tanna Mullinax. This is my husband, Eric. We’re from Travelers Rest. How about y’all?”
“I’m Liz. This is my husband, Nate. We live on Stella Maris,” I said. “We just love spending time downtown.”
“Aw, we just went there last year for vacation,” said Eric. “My wife loves the B&B on the north end of the island.” Eric had brown hair and a horseshoe mustache and one of those smallish beards just around his mouth and chin.
“Sullivan’s,” I said. “My godmother, Grace Sullivan runs it.”
“Small world,” said Tanna. “Y’all just checking in?”
“We are,” said Nate. “How long are y’all in town for?”
“’Til Saturday,” said Eric. “We came down for the week.”
They’d been here Sunday night. “Great,” I said. “We’ll see y’all later on. Maybe have a drink?”
“Sounds good. We were just heading out to do some sightseeing.” Tanna stood and Eric followed her cue.
We all said our goodbyes and they headed through the foyer and out the front door.
They’d been downstairs in the salon. That would’ve been the logical place for Sonny and Jenkins to have spoken with their witness. But they seemed awfully relaxed and open, not exactly what you’d expect in folks who’d just had a surprise visit from local law enforcement.
Mary Hannah had taken her place at the desk chair. “Please, have a seat.” She gestured to the sofa Tanna and Eric had recently vacated. In short order Nate filled out the registration form and provided identification and a credit card.
“Do you all need restaurant reservations?” asked Mary Hannah.
“I think we’re all set on that,” said Nate.
We weren’t, of course, but we needed to see where the day took us.
Mary Hannah poured us each a glass of champagne. “I think we’re all set then. Let me give you a tour of the house.”
We picked up our glasses and followed her back into the foyer.
“There are two bedrooms on the first floor,” said Mary Hannah. “One is accessed off the porch, and the other is here.” She gestured to the door across the hall from the salon.
She led us up the stairs. “The second floor has the same layout, but above the salon is the kitchen. Breakfast is served in here each morning, and here’s where you come for wine and cheese at five, though most folks take theirs out onto the piazza.”
Mary Hannah stepped into the kitchen and moved out of the way so we could follow. With white walls, cabinets painted a muted shade of teal, and marble countertops, the kitchen was light and airy. It wasn’t a full kitchen, but more a breakfast room and serving space, with five cafe-sized tables along the wall. At that hour, I wasn’t surprised to find the kitchen empty. It was 11:30 a.m.—nearly lunchtime.
We continued to the third floor, where Mary Hannah showed us the library, a cozy room with exposed beams decorated in bold reds, pinks, and cream, with brown touches. “There’s an honor bar. Please let us know if you need something you don’t see.”
As Mary Hannah moved into the room, she spoke to a couple seated in chairs by the fireplace. “Have we decided on lunch?”
The woman was petite with white hair, the gentleman large with a comfortable look about him. His hair was also white, receding on top, but with a full beard and mustache. They both had lovely, welcoming smiles. “We’re thinking about trying Five Loaves,” said the woman.
“Excellent choice,” said Mary Hannah. “Mo and Jim Heedles, please meet Nate and Liz Andrews.”
I didn’t correct her. I never minded being called Mrs. Andrews. I simply didn’t have the patience for all the paperwork involved in making that my legal name at this juncture.
We all shook hands, said hello. “Where are y’all from?” I asked.
“Amherst, New Hampshire,” said Mo. “How about you folks?”
“We’re local,” I said. “We just don’t live downtown. So occasionally we take the opportunity to stay on the peninsula for a few days.”
“Makes sense to me,” said Jim.
Mary Hannah said, “Let’s step across the hall and I’ll show you your room and let you folks get settled.”
“Maybe we’ll see you for wine and cheese,” said Mo.
“Oh, I hope so,” I said. “Let’s plan on it. Y’all have a good lunch.”
“Thanks,” they said in unison.
“Do you need help with your luggage?” asked Mary Hannah.
“Thank you so much,” said Nate. “But I’ll grab it later. I think we’re going to head out for lunch too.”
At least one of us was going to have to go home and pack a bag or else we were going shopping. We had a few things in our cars, but not everything we’d need.
“All right then. Let us know if there’s anything you need.” Mary Hannah closed the door behind her.
“This is fabulous.” The room had a vaulted ceiling with exposed beam
s, and a large window with rooftop views. Heart of pine floors, white linens on a king-sized bed, and white and teal striped wallpaper made for a soothing vibe. The adjoining bathroom was all glass and marble, with an exposed brick chimney.
“S’nice,” said Nate. “What do you think?”
“Either couple could be the witnesses,” I said. “But we might still have one or two couples to meet. This room was the only one available for two nights. But that doesn’t necessarily mean the remaining two rooms have someone in them right now. But they could. The great thing about a bed and breakfast is that it’s normal for everyone to chat. We won’t come off like stalkers.”
“Yeah, I’m thinking our best bet is to get a few other things out of the way, then come back here at 5:00. There’s no guarantee the others will show for happy hour, but typically people who stay at B&Bs like that sort of thing.”
“I want to go snoop around Darius’s house. See if I can find anything on the son. He worries me. Also on my priority list is Trina Lynn’s cameraman, August Lockwood. Her mother claimed he was her best friend. He ought to be able to tell me if there’s somewhere else we should be looking.”
“Sounds good. You want to pick us up some clothes while you’re there?”
“Sure. And I need to talk to Merry about taking care of Rhett for a couple of days. Blake’s got his hands full. Maybe she’ll want to spend a few days in the guest room, be closer to the beach.”
“I think I’m going to head over to Hall’s. See if I can find out who Darius and Trina’s server was Sunday night, who all might’ve overheard their argument.”
“Good idea,” I said. “I’ll bring our laptops back. Anything else you can think of?”
“Nah. That should do it. Everything else we’ll need is in one of our cars. I’ll bring in four listening devices in case it comes to slipping bugs in purses at happy hour.”
I drove Nate over to Broad Street, where the Explorer was parked. As he climbed out of my car, he said, “Keep your weapon with you. You never know who else might be snooping around Darius’s house. This case will likely bring out the crazies.”
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