A Following Sea

by Michael Lindley

  He reached for the phone directory Lucy Andrews had brought over for him. He found the number he was looking for and dialed.

  "Richards Industries," may I help you?" he heard a young woman's voice say.

  "Yes, is Beau Richards in this afternoon? This is Detective Alex Frank."

  "Let me check for you, sir."

  He had been waiting for over a minute before he heard the line click back on. "Alex? That you?"

  "Hey Beau, sorry to bother you on a work day like this," Alex said.

  "Never a problem, Alex," the man said with his low confident voice. "How's your old man holdin' up?"

  "Had his arraignment down in Charleston this morning," Alex said. "They'll be keeping him down there 'til the trial."

  "Damn! You sure there's nothing we can do to help?"

  Alex paused for a moment as Lucy refilled his glass of tea. "You got a few minutes for me to stop by this afternoon, Beau?"

  "Just on my way out," Richards said. "Say, why don't you come out to the house tonight for dinner. Connor and his girl are comin' over. Got some big Porterhouse cuts from our beef over on the ranch in Bluffton. Don't think you've met my new wife, Amelia?"

  "I just need a few minutes, Beau."

  "We'll have plenty of time over dinner. Come by around five and we'll have a cocktail first." Before Alex could respond, he heard, "Okay, great. See you at five," and then the line went dead.

  Alex spent the rest of the afternoon back at his father's house, reaching out to other names on Chaz Merton's list by phone. He was looking for any small detail or observation someone might have remembered about the fight or what led up to it. When he looked at his watch it was 4:30. He had picked up very little he didn't already know from the sheriff, Gilly the bartender and owner or from his friend, Chaz.

  He took a quick shower and changed into a clean pair of khaki trousers and a white golf shirt. As he drove out the back roads to the Richards' estate west of town, he was thinking about Hanna. She would be in Atlanta by now to be with her father. Alex knew she was furious with him and she had every right. He'd promised he would call her tonight, but he had little news to share. He'd tried to keep focused on gathering information that might help at his dad's trial, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Adrienne Moore and young Scotty... his son.

  He knew in his heart he would do what was right to support the boy, but he couldn't imagine a way he would ever want to get back with his ex-wife. She had not only cheated on him repeatedly but had taunted him with the details during their last argument before she left town for Florida ten years ago.

  And then the doubts would come back. How was he really sure this boy was his son? The timing of her pregnancy, the picture and remarkable likeness, and Adrienne's story left little other explanation. He thought again about a paternity test and then felt guilty for looking for a way out. He had only spent a short time with Scotty, but he felt an obvious connection.

  He saw the long white three-rail fence that stretched for over a mile along the property that led up to Beau Richards' house. He had acquired several thousand acres years ago and built the sprawling Low Country house and stables for his first wife. She had left him for reasons unknown and he kept the house for the next wife, Amelia, who Alex had not met. Three beautiful Appaloosa horses grazed in the pasture just before the gate to the drive up to the house. Alex turned left and stopped at the closed gate. A brass sign beside the gate announced he had arrived at Foxmoore. Alex remembered Beau telling him once it was an old family name. There was a speaker on the keypad and he pushed the intercom button. A voice came on that he didn't recognize, probably one of the servants. "Yes?"

  "It's Alex Frank. Beau invited me for dinner.”

  "Yes, Mr. Frank, Come right up to the house. Mr. Richards is expecting you."

  The gate began to swing open, obviously well-oiled as it hardly made a sound. Alex noticed two security cameras placed on the brick columns built on each side of the drive. He felt like waving.

  The drive up to the house wound through low hills with plantings of new shrubs and trees mixed in with many towering live oaks strung with Spanish Moss swaying in a light breeze. The fence continued up both sides of the drive and Alex saw several more horses grazing. Business is good!

  The house came into view through the trees. Alex wasn't surprised by the size and grandeur of the place. He and his father had been out for a big barbecue the Richards had thrown several years ago. In the circle drive in front of the house was parked a long white Cadillac Escalade next to the biggest Mercedes convertible he had ever seen, white with tan leather interior. He parked his Ford behind the SUV and got out. The smells of the ranch were mixtures of hay and manure and sweet flower aromas drifting on the wind. Out beyond the house was a barn and stable that looked as big as a football field. The front door opened, and Beau Richards walked out. He was dressed in white linen pants and a Tommy Bahama light blue shirt untucked. His brown leather loafers shined in the late afternoon sun through the trees. His hair, as always, was brushed back with some product to keep it perpetually in order. His face was deeply tanned showing off the bright white of his teeth as he smiled at Alex's arrival.

  "Welcome to Foxmoore," Beau said, coming down the broad row of steps from the veranda. He came up and gave Alex a firm handshake and pat of the shoulder.

  "You didn't need to go to all this trouble, Beau," Alex said. "Just had a couple of questions about the night of my dad's fight down at Gilly's."

  "Whatever you need, Alex. Let's go out back. Got some drinks ready and Hessy has made up some awesome steamed oysters. Hope you like steak."

  Richards led Alex up the stairs and through the house. It was a wide-open flow of elegant, yet comfortable groupings of furniture and incredible white painted woodwork and beams across the vaulted ceilings. On every wall there were bright splashes of color from Beau's vast collection of contemporary paintings. Alex could see their cook, Hessy, off to the left, working in the massive white kitchen. She looked up at him for a moment, then returned to her work.

  As they approached the back of the house, a wall of windows revealed an incredible view that spread across a large lake and forest-covered hillsides far beyond. Alex walked out onto the back veranda and saw Beau's son, Connor Richards, standing with two women by an outdoor kitchen and dining area next to a large pool. Both women were dressed in colorful flowing sundresses.

  Beau Richards yelled out, "Amelia, I want you to meet an old friend, Alex Frank."

  Alex watched as the woman turned. He was immediately struck by the stunning beauty of her face. It was dark and Mediterranean, perhaps Italian. Her long brown hair fell in loose curls around her tanned bare shoulders. She walked up confidently and shook Alex's hand. "Amelia Richards," she said, and he tried to place the faint accent.

  Beau said, "I told you Alex is a detective with the Charleston PD, but he grew up here in Dugganville."

  Amelia said, "I'm very sorry, Alex, to hear about your father. I hope there's been some mistake with his arrest."

  "Thank you." Alex said, then noticed Connor and his girlfriend walking up. Connor had a big smile and also slapped Alex on the back like his father did when they shook hands.

  "Don't think you've met Lily, Alex," he said, turning to introduce the woman. She was a cute and curvy twenty-something blond with a pronounced tan line from swimsuit straps across her bare shoulders.

  "Alex, nice to meet you," she said, offering him her hand.

  Beau said brightly, "Let's get you a beverage!"

  They all walked over to a fully stocked bar in the kitchen area. "What can I make for you?"

  "Cold beer would be fine," Alex said.

  Beau opened a large refrigerator. "How about a Stella?"

  "Fine." Alex said and then the man freshened drinks for the others. They walked over and stood by the long pool together.

  Beau said, "So, you can't get your old man out on bail then?"

  "No, n
ot in a capital murder case."

  "Right."

  Connor said, "He's been charged then?"

  "Yes, his arraignment was this morning."

  "Who you got for the defense?" Beau asked.

  Alex took a sip from his beer, then said, "Phillip Holloway works for one of the big firms in Charleston. He's got great experience on cases like this."

  Beau nodded back. "Yeah, I've heard of him. Good, you're gonna need the best."

  Connor said, "So I hear you're in town for a while to help with Skipper's case."

  Alex nodded. "Not sure how much help I'll be, but I have to do something. I'm talking to people who were in the bar the night my dad had the fight with Bayes. You never know what details you might turn up that can lead to something."

  "Me and Connor were there. I told you the other night," Beau said.

  "Right, that's why I called earlier," Alex said.

  Amelia said, "Alex, since you are a detective, you can work on the case then?"

  "Not officially. I'm taking a leave."

  "Well, I hope your efforts will be productive," she said. "We will say a prayer for your father."

  Alex was a bit surprised. For some reason, he didn't take her for the praying type. "Well, thank you."

  Beau broke in. "How you like your steak, Alex?"

  The five of them sat at a long wood dining table near the pool for dinner. Beau had three bottles of different wines open and they had just finished fine salads Hessy had brought out.

  Beau took a long sip from a Napa Valley cabernet he had just raved about, then said, "So what are you trying to find out about the fight that night, Alex?"

  Alex still had his first beer in front of him. He looked over at Beau Richards. "Did you hear any of the back and forth between Bayes and my dad before it got ugly? I heard it was something about Bayes jumping in front on a shrimp run out in Bulls Bay off White Island a couple days earlier."

  Beau thought for a moment and took another long drink from the wine glass. "You know, I spoke with Skipper earlier that night, maybe a half hour before he and Bayes really got into it. He was pissed at Horton. Excuse my French, ladies. He did say... I won't mention what he called him in front of the ladies. He said Bayes couldn't find shrimp if they jumped in his damn boat."

  "Anybody else there that night have words with Bayes you remember?" Alex asked.

  Beau looked over at his son. Both men shook their heads, no.

  Connor's girlfriend, Lily, spoke up. "Always hear what a tough bunch those shrimpers are."

  Connor turned to her, agitated. "Come on, Lily, not now."

  Amelia said, "Alex, do you really have hope of finding evidence to free your father? I'm sorry, but the case sounds very strong against him."

  "I have to try."

  "And you damned well should, Alex," Beau said. "If we think of anything that could help…"

  "Thanks, Beau," Alex said. "I wanted to ask you about Horton Bayes. I know he was not a very popular fellow around here. What do you hear about others who might have a beef with him?"

  "Half the damn town," Connor said, the wine starting to have its effect.

  "Not a real popular guy," Beau echoed. "Went out of his way to irritate just about everyone he came across."

  "But who else would have reason to want him dead?" Alex said with purpose, all four around the table turning to look at him.

  There was silence for a moment, then Beau said, "Nothin' worth killing for, I know of."

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The late evening sun in Atlanta was low in the trees behind the house, a bright orange with flares of yellow through the pines. Hanna sat on the broad porch in a grouping of couches, still stunned by the condition of her father. Though she had her issues with the man over the years and had never fully forgiven him for his foolish attempt to fly the family to Nassau in questionable weather, Hanna truly loved her father. She also respected him and what he had accomplished at his legal practice and his work in the City of Atlanta. The thought of his passing was hard for her to even consider now. All her family would be gone, except for her son, Jonathan. Just the two of them would be left to carry on the Moss/Walsh lineage.

  She thought of her son to get her mind off her father's health and declining condition. Jonathan would be bringing a new girlfriend to Pawleys Island for the weekend. There would be the promise of new relationships, new futures. Hanna smiled as she pictured her beautiful son and images of him growing up out on the island. She secretly couldn't wait until Jonathan brought grandchildren with him to visit.

  Her mood grew quickly dark again when her step-mother, Martha, came out the back door and sat across from her.

  "Hello, dear," Martha said. "Can we bring you anything?"

  Hanna already had a half empty glass of red wine in front of her on the low table. "I'm fine, Martha. Thank you."

  "I'm sorry your father's condition was such a shock to you. He didn't want me to tell anyone, particularly you, how bad he was. He didn't want people worrying about him."

  Hanna tried to check her anger, but said, "He's my father, Martha! You should have let me know."

  "I'm sorry, dear. Your father insisted." Hanna had little patience with the woman and was about to let it all out when Martha continued, "Would you like to get something to eat down at the Club?"

  Hanna knew she was referring to the old Piedmont Club, north of downtown at Piedmont Park. She wasn't the least bit hungry and an evening with this woman was more than she would be able to tolerate. "No but thank you."

  "Dear, you have to get something to eat. It's going to be a long day at the hospital tomorrow and God knows, the food there will be simply dreadful."

  "Martha, you go ahead. I'll find something in the kitchen."

  The woman looked out across the vast lawns down to the woods and a small creek that ran through the property. Still looking away, she said, "I need to discuss something with you, Hanna."

  "And what is that?" Hanna reached for her wine.

  Martha turned back and said, "I know this is not the time, but just in case."

  "Just in case, what?" Hanna demanded.

  "I don't want this to be a surprise," Martha said.

  "What surprise?"

  "Your father told me recently he will be leaving the house to me when he passes."

  Hanna's anger flared to near boiling. She could care less about the house, but the fact this woman was talking about her father's death in such greedy fashion was unbelievable. She took a long drink from her wine before she said, "I don't care about the damn house, Martha or anything else in the man's will for that matter. The fact you're even bringing something like that up tonight is beyond..."

  Martha held up a hand. "Please, Hanna! I didn't mean to upset you."

  Hanna stood and walked back into the house.

  She was sitting on a stool at a long granite island in the kitchen when her cell phone rang. She looked at the screen. It was her friend, Greta Muskovicz, from the women's clinic in Charleston. She felt her heart sink, dreading what news Greta must have to call at this hour.

  "Greta?"

  "Hanna, where are you?"

  "I had to come up to Atlanta. My father's having surgery in the morning."

  "I'm sorry," Greta said, a sadness and sense of defeat in her voice. "I had to let you know Jenna Hall and her son are gone."

  Hanna was afraid this would happen. "How long?"

  "Normally, Jenna brings William back from school late afternoon. They're still not back."

  Hanna looked at her watch. It was 10:30.

  Greta said, "I had one of the girls keeping an eye on Jenna, but we can't lock her in."

  Hanna shook her head, trying to think what could be done at this point. "Let me call Alex's partner at Charleston PD. He can put out a bulletin to keep an eye out for them."

  "Okay, good," Greta said. "I'm sorry Hanna. I don't feel good about this. The husband is bad news."
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  "I know. Please let me know if you hear anything."

  "Of course."

  Hanna ended the call and placed the phone down. She looked around the opulent kitchen and then placed her face down in her hands. Everything seemed to be pushing in on her and she was about to burst under the weight of it all. Alex was off in his old hometown with a terrible woman trying to take him back into her life with a son she claims is his. She had dropped her guard and let another man get close again. Her father looked as if he was on his death bed when she arrived this afternoon, with the dreadful Martha hovering nearby. And now, a young vulnerable woman and her son were back with a dangerous man who should be in jail. Why couldn't I protect them? Hanna thought as she tried to hold back tears.

  She grabbed her phone again to call Alex. He would alert his partner, Lonnie. The phone rang six times before it went to voice mail, "Hello, this Alex Frank. Please..." She pushed the pound button to interrupt the message.

  "Alex, it's Hanna. I need to speak with you tonight. Jenna Hall has run away with her husband. We need to alert Lonnie. I'll try to reach him, too, but please call."

  And why couldn't he answer his phone?

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The noise in Gilly's Bar was typically loud and raucous. Even on a weeknight, the place was packed with the usual array of locals, enjoying too many drinks, most looking for some respite from what the coming day would bring. Alex sat at the bar with a beer in front of him. It was his third, though he wasn't counting. He thought about going back to his father's house after leaving dinner at the Richards' place, but in the end, didn't feel like being alone in the old place.

  The dinner with Beau Richards and his family had been an extravagant affair, as expected. The steaks were huge and perfectly prepared. The wine was incredible. Alex was thinking about Beau as he looked down the bar at the other patrons. He was one of the few who pulled himself out of the normal "just getting by" existence of so many of Dugganville's residents. In fact, many of these people had jobs thanks to Beau Richards.