by Ray Flynt
Linda fidgeted with her watch. “I guess you could put it that way.”
“Do you know if Dana had any friends who committed suicide?” Brad asked.
“Hmmm…” Linda jabbed a finger on the cleft of her chin. “A guy in our high school senior class who hung himself, but I’m not sure how well Dana knew him. He’d only been in the area for a couple years. There was a big fuss when the staff wanted to dedicate the yearbook to him, and the principal wouldn’t let them.”
“You also knew Dana from outside of school?” Brad asked, recalling what others had told him.
Brad heard a creaking sound from above. Linda cocked her head toward the ceiling, grimaced and raised her voice as she answered his question.
“Sure, he and Bob were best friends, and we doubled a lot with him and Kathy Westin. Also, I helped Dana with his college math courses. He had trouble with math, and I was good at it, so he asked me if I’d help.”
“What kind of math?” Sharon asked.
Brad thought he saw a flash of resentment on Linda’s face. “Advanced geometry and trig. Math was my strongest subject. I helped quite a few students through their math courses,” she added, proudly.
“I understand you and Bob went to the movies with Dana and Kathy Westin on the night before he died.”
Linda nodded.
“Do you recall anything unusual about Dana’s behavior on that occasion?”
“He didn’t seem too happy. I remember asking Bob if he knew what was wrong. He said Dana and Kathy were having issues, but didn’t offer any specifics.”
“I’m sure you asked him about it later. What did he say?”
“He still didn’t know particulars. His sense was that Dana was about to break up with Kathy—like I said, ‘issues’.”
Brad glanced at Sharon who slouched in her chair—her stamina waning. He decided to wrap up the visit, asking, “Your husband should be home by five-thirty?”
Linda’s eyes darted toward the stairs, before responding. “He’s at the office right now,” she repeated. “He’s been working late every night this week, but co-workers of his are coming for dinner. I’ve made arrangements for a sitter for Bobby,” she said, caressing her child’s fair hair. “It might be late before he can call you.”
“I’ll be awake.” Brad moved toward the front door, and Sharon stood and followed.
As they left, Linda locked the door behind them.
“What a waste of time,” Sharon muttered as they walked down the driveway.
As Brad slid behind the wheel of his rental car the Kepner’s garage door ground open. Brad watched as Linda placed Bobby in the child safety seat in the rear of her car.
Next to him, Sharon sighed as she buckled her seat belt.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“Hanging in there,” she said softly.
“Ohhhh,” she moaned as Brad backed the car out of the driveway.
“You sure you’re alright?”
“I think someone’s still in the house.” Sharon’s voice intensified. “Go slow.”
Still in reverse gear, Brad eased the car back a few more feet. Linda backed her car out of the garage, and the automated door closed in front of her. Since Linda appeared impatient to run her errand, Brad lowered his window and motioned for her to go ahead of him.
“Yeessss,” Sharon hissed, as Linda hustled out of the drive.
“What’d you see?” Brad asked, as he pulled out slowly.
“Someone’s in that room above the garage. They’re watching us.” Fully animated, Sharon explained, “I thought I saw the mini-blind move, but I wasn’t sure. But then fingers protruded between the slats.”
Ahead of him, Brad saw Linda’s car making the turn onto Folly Field Road. She’d repeatedly emphasized that her husband was at work, Brad thought, but if he was home, why was he hiding? And why was she covering up for him?
Chapter Twenty
Brad feared Sharon might lose her meager lunch as they rode the ferry back to Daufuskie Island. Temperatures were in the high seventies, but overcast skies brought a strong breeze that buffeted the small craft as it sliced through the waters of the Intracoastal Waterway. Sharon donned a windbreaker and excused herself to sit inside, while Brad stood starboard scanning the surface for bottle-nosed dolphin.
When they returned to the beach house the comforting aroma of roast beef greeted Brad.
He found Beth in the kitchen, and she hugged Sharon. “Dinner will be ready about 6:30 p.m.,” Beth said. “I’m sure you could use a good home-cooked meal.”
Sharon nodded. “That sounds wonderful. I think I’ll rest until then.” She excused herself and headed for her room.
Brad was glad, since he worried that Sharon had tried to do too much since leaving the hospital.
Turning to Beth, Brad said, “Could I interest you in a cocktail on the deck?”
Beth beamed. “I’ll wait for you there.”
Moments later Beth called his name. Rushing empty-handed from the kitchen, Brad spotted Beth staring out the glass doors to the patio beckoning him to join her.
“Who’s that?” She pointed toward a man in a motor boat that had pulled alongside the small fishing dock that jutted into Calibogue Sound from the edge of her property.
“Looks like trouble,” Brad said, earning an anxious stare from Beth. “It’s Josh Miller from the Sheriff Department. Don’t worry. I’ll see what he wants.”
He slid open the door and marched to the edge of the deck before calling out, “Hey, Josh, welcome.” His tone belied the concern he felt as to the reasons for the detective’s visit.
As Josh finished mooring his boat, Brad called out, “Can I get you a beer?”
The question remained unanswered as Josh moved toward the deck and mounted the several steps.
“Make yourself at home.” Brad pointed to one of the lounge chairs. “A beer?” he repeated.
Josh Miller shook his head. “Nah, I can’t. I’m on duty.”
“A soda?”
After hesitating, Josh said, “You have any diet?”
“I’ll see what I can come up with.”
A few minutes later Brad returned with a Diet Dr. Pepper for the detective and a Miller Light for himself.
After he’d settled into an adjacent deck chair, Brad said, “I gather this isn’t a social call.”
“I’m sorry to have to do this,” Josh said, as he handed him a document wrapped in heavy blue paper. Brad recognized it as a summons.
Peeved, Brad said, “You could have called in advance.” He unfolded and studied the paper, and noticed it was addressed to him and Amanda Carothers. “Have you served Mrs. Carothers yet?”
Josh shook his head. “She’s next on my list.”
Brad stood and paced the deck as he perused the legal language. He and Amanda were “commanded” to appear at the Beaufort County Court House the following Wednesday for a show cause hearing. Denton Carothers had initiated a civil action alleging that their investigation regarding the death of his brother Dana constituted harassment. Judge R. Howell Lindsey had signed the order.
For Amanda’s sake he hated to see Denton take this step. Obviously Dana’s death had torn the family apart, but legal action wouldn’t bring it closer together any time soon.
“Well, I guess I’m outta here,” the detective said, but Brad placed his hand on Josh’s shoulder.
“You’re not getting away from here that easily. Judge Lindsey. What can you tell me about him?” Brad asked, waving the summons near Josh’s face.
“He’s a she; the ‘R’ stands for Roberta.”
“I see,” Brad said. “In spite of all the rednecks I’ve encountered, this is a progressive community.”
“She’s a fair judge. She’s been on the bench for a while. Our department thinks she’s fair, that’s about as good an endorsement as you can get.”
“I’ll need a local attorney to represent me,” Brad said. “Any ideas?”
“You want the
best?” Josh asked, rubbing his fingers together indicating expensive.
“Not necessarily. Just someone who can appreciate my interests. It’s really Mrs. Carothers’ case more than mine. I don’t have anything to lose.” Even as he uttered those words he knew he had plenty to lose.
“Well, you might try Ben Slatpin.” Josh sipped from his Dr. Pepper.
“Slatpin?” Brad repeated. “Never heard that name.”
“He’s from the ‘Gullah’ population—the first freed slaves to own land around here after the Civil War. He’s sharp without being pretentious. A couple of the guys in our department have used him when they’ve gotten into trouble, and he’s done well by them.” Josh added, “He’s not into grandstanding, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“Where’s his office?” Brad asked.
“In Beaufort. Works out of his home near the Courthouse.” Josh paused then added, “Of course, if you decide to head back home there wouldn’t be any need for a hearing.”
“So that’s what you were sent to tell me?” Brad fought to keep the anger out of his voice.
“Hold on.” Josh held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I just made a comment. No one sent me here to do anything but serve a subpoena. I’m just saying that if half the Carothers family doesn’t want you poking your nose in the case, maybe you’d be better off enjoying the good weather—then head home.”
“I appreciate the advice, officer,” Brad said, “but I don’t operate that way. The way I look at it, if Denton wants me off this case, that’s reason enough for me to stay here.”
“Forget I said anything.” Josh downed the last of his soda. “The last thing I need right now is to get further bogged down with the Carothers’ family.” He stood. “I’d better get back to the office.”
Brad stopped him. “Are you being pressured on this case?”
“No. I just better—” He shifted his weight.
Refusing to back down, Brad said, “I want the whole story.”
Josh groaned. “I took a little heat from the sheriff for discussing the Carothers’ case with you. Denton Carothers and the sheriff go back to when they served in the Marines together. Denton’s been pulling every string he can.”
“Who’s his attorney?” Brad asked.
“Jeb Cooley,” Josh replied. “Another ex-Marine.”
“What about Cooley’s reputation?”
“Honest, hardworking, good courtroom batting average.” Josh finally met Brad’s gaze. “He’s a pompous twerp, if you want to know the truth!”
“Thanks, Josh. I’m sorry I gave you a rough time.”
Brad watched him depart. When Josh’s boat disappeared around the bend he pulled out his cell and called Amanda Carothers. “I want to give you a heads up,” Brad said when she answered. He told her about Josh Miller’s visit, Denton’s lawsuit, and that she should expect a visit from the Sheriff’s office before the afternoon was over.
“Oh my,” she whispered. He heard a quaver in her voice.
“It’s fairly simple,” he said, hoping those words would reassure her. “We’ve got two choices. We can fight this, or send up the white flag. It’s your son,” Brad said, realizing he meant Dana and Denton. “You decide what you want us to do.”
She exhaled and coughed. He could picture her hand shaking, a cigarette dangling between her fingers. “Can I let you know in the morning?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Worrying about Amanda and Sharon, Brad slept fitfully and rose early that Saturday morning. He smiled as he looked over at Beth as she hugged a pillow close to her chest. She looked beautiful, and he realized once more how lucky he was to have her in his life.
By the time he stood in front of the coffee maker, his thoughts had returned to the case. Given Amanda’s precarious emotional state, he could no longer predict how she might act given the new development of the lawsuit.
Sharon had declined to eat dinner the night before, preferring to rest in her room. Although he was glad that she was taking care of herself, he feared she’d been released from the hospital too soon.
Beth’s dinner preparations weren’t wasted since the two of them had fixed plates of roast beef and seasonal vegetables and ate a relaxing meal on the deck, made all the more memorable with a bottle of ten-year old Bordeaux Beth found tucked away in her father’s liquor cabinet.
As he sat on the deck sipping coffee and watching the sun rise over Hilton Head Island, he contemplated the case. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine the scene in the Carothers’ garage on the morning of Dana’s death. The locked car doors. Dana lying there with keys in the wrong pocket. The “suicide” note. Brad couldn’t shake the idea that Jim Westin had held back important information about what he’d discovered on that tragic morning.
Brad heard a dog bark and opened his eyes in time to exchange waves with a neighbor who was walking his German Shepherd along the beach early that morning.
Consulting his notes, Bob Kepner and a few of Dana’s friends from college were the only players he hadn’t interviewed who could possibly shed light on Dana’s death. They’d be important to speak with, IF he still had a case. Amanda and her ambivalence crept back into his mind.
Suddenly aware that track lights had been turned on in the great room, he turned to see Beth heading for the kitchen. He decided to join her.
“What time did you get up?” Beth asked when she spotted him ambling into the kitchen.
“About five.”
“Couldn’t sleep?”
Brad shook his head. “How ‘bout you?”
“Like a log. I should drink Bordeaux more often.” She laughed. “How’s Sharon?”
Brad shrugged. “Haven’t seen her.
Beth poured hazelnut flavored cream into her coffee and sat at the kitchen table.
Brad looked at his watch, noting it was past ten. “Could I interest you in French toast for brunch?”
“Ummm. Scrumptious.”
Brad busied himself at the counter whisking eggs and milk with a little nutmeg and vanilla extract, and minutes later he placed two plates of French toast on the table just as Sharon entered, dressed and ready to roll.
“Something smells good,” Sharon said.
“Perfect timing,” he said, sliding his plate in front of Sharon and returned to the cooktop to fix more. “You must be feeling better.” The color had returned to her cheeks, and she had an appetite. “You look better.”
“What day is it?” Sharon said between bites of food. “Have I missed anything?”
Brad glanced at Beth before filling Sharon in on Josh Miller’s visit and Denton’s lawsuit.
“Wow. Do you think after all this fuss with the hearing Amanda is going to throw in the towel?” Sharon asked.
“It’s time to find out.” Brad pulled out his phone. “She was a fairly determined woman forty-eight hours ago, but then two days ago I thought we’d have Denton’s cooperation.”
“What does Denton have to gain by being such a jerk about this investigation?” Beth asked.
“I think he’s worried about his career, unless…” Brad let the thought hang, not wanting to imply that Denton could have been complicit in his brother’s murder. “Let’s see if we still have a client.” He punched numbers on the phone.
Brad paced as he waited for the call to go through. “She’s not answering,” he muttered.
Finally he heard a weak “Hello.”
“Good morning, Amanda, it’s Brad.” He paused, and when she did not reply, he said. “You’re the one with the most at stake in our investigation. I thought I’d touch base and see what you’re thinking this morning.”
Sharon and Beth stared at him in anticipation.
“Amanda?” he repeated into the phone.
“I need my peace of mind back,” she said, softly. Her voice grew stronger as she added, “I’m not going to let Denton Jr. intimidate me.”
“You’ll need an attorney,” Brad said.
“I ca
lled a lawyer friend of mine this morning.”
“Good. You get your own counsel and I’ll have mine.” Brad continued, “Hopefully, I can solve this case before Wednesday, make the hearing irrelevant.”
Amanda sighed. “Oh, I wish.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to stop over later this afternoon and take another tour of your place.” He glanced at Beth suspecting she might be scowling, but instead a smile curled at her lips. “I’m not sure exactly what time. I need to coordinate with Beth’s schedule.”
Amanda assured him she would be at home all day, and he ended the call.
“I’m glad to hear you’re checking my schedule,” Beth said.
Brad feigned an innocent expression. “What?”
“I had hoped to visit Currents in Harbour Town today,” Beth said. “They’re having a sale.”
“Not a problem, we’ll drop you there.” Turning to Sharon. “Now I need to arrange a meeting with Bob Kepner.”
Brad dialed the Kepner’s number.
Linda answered, sounding frazzled. While he waited for Bob to come on the line, Brad laughed as he said, “That kid’s birthday party sounds louder than the bash we had in Philadelphia last Fourth of July.”
Bob Kepner sounded reluctant at the prospect of a meeting, muttered about being on deadline for a project. But they finally agreed to meet at Kepner’s office at 2 p.m.
Brad copied the directions in his notebook, noting that the office building was located near the traffic circle adjacent to the entry for Sea Pines.
“This will be perfect,” Brad announced as he ended the call. “Bob’s office is right near Sea Pines.” He turned to Beth. “We’ll drop you at Harbour Town, and you can shop to your heart’s content.”
“I’ll finish getting ready.” Beth excused herself.
Sharon grabbed her coffee cup. “I think I’ll enjoy this on the deck.”
When they’d both left the kitchen Brad picked up his phone and called directory assistance for the attorney Josh Miller had recommend.
He expected voice mail and was pleasantly surprised when the lawyer answered, “This is Ben Slatpin.”