by Bill Noel
“It was a great event. I know Brian appreciated it.”
“I know a few more realtors whose arms I can twist for a few more bucks for the campaign. They don’t know Brian, crap, they’re so uppity they don’t know that Folly Beach exists. One of them—goes by Norvell, real name’s Norm—has perfected a snooty British accent when he says Kiawah or Isle of Palms.” Bob shook his head. “The guy’s a jerk but has made oodles of bucks.”
I was beginning to realize Bob was talking about anything but his friend Al. He was worried, and from what Tanesa had said, he had reason to be. We talked more about the fundraiser as Bob finished the beer and asked me to get him another. I wondered when Betty would get home and relieve me of Bob sitting.
Before I returned with his second beer, his strong voice blurted. “So, who killed Lauren?”
I delivered the beer and said, “Don’t know.”
He took a gulp, rested the bottle on the armrest. “Why the hell not? You’re trying to figure it out, aren’t you?”
“Bob, the death has been ruled accidental or self-inflicted. There’s nothing to figure—”
“Blah, blah, blah. I didn’t ask for the police version. I’ve known you too long for you to slide that crap by me. I’m not as good at it as Charles’s gal Heather but let me slip on my psychic hat.” He moved his hand to his head like he was putting on a hat. I swallowed a laugh as he continued. “Slimeball Joel Hurt was dating dead Lauren, correction, was dating the live Lauren. Slimeball Joel is running against your bud Brian. My colleagues the Holthouses told you that Slimeball Joel was badmouthing Brian. Some ancient proverb, said before even you were born, said the enemy of my enemy is my friend. The Holthouses were pissed at how Joel was talking which made him their enemy so Slimeball Joel is your enemy. Therefore, he must have kilt his gal friend Lauren.”
Bob’s psychic revelation or confusing lesson in logic held water up until he jumped to the conclusion that Joel must have killed—kilt—Lauren. Logical or not, it was what I was thinking based on more information than Bob had been privy to. “He may be my enemy, but why the big leap to him being a murderer?”
Bob smiled. “Nothing. Correct me if I’m wrong, you think her death was more than a mere overdose and Slimeball Joel jumps out as the best suspect. Does he have an alibi for when she was offed?”
Bob’s question made me realize I hadn’t heard, or if I had, didn’t remember when she died. “Don’t know. I’m not certain when she died.”
“And you call yourself a detective. This old, chunky realtor knows that’s important if you’re going to solve the crime.”
“Bob, I don’t call myself a detective, and no one knows if there was a crime committed.”
“Whatever. But when you wake up in the morning and put your britches and detective clothes on, check the alibi.”
I wasn’t about to admit it was a good idea, not only to check on Joel, but to eliminate my suspicions about Katelin, or possibly even Candice.
“I’ll do that,” I said, more to get him off the subject.
It wasn’t necessary since Betty, Bob’s angelic wife, came through the back door carrying two grocery bags and a bag from Walmart.
Betty glanced at Bob reclined in his chair and smiled at me. “Chris, did you pick up a runaway and bring him home?” She turned to her husband. “Where’s your car?”
Bob stood and gave Betty a hug. I didn’t want to be there when Bob told her about his trip to the hospital and told her I was late for a meeting. She didn’t question who I could be meeting. Bob told her he would explain after “that little twerp skedaddles.”
Before the fireworks began, I skedaddled.
26
The first thing in the morning, I called Cindy to see if she had the timeframe on Lauren’s death. The chief answered with, “Hello, Mr. Landrum, how may I be of assistance?” It was her way of saying she was meeting with someone important and don’t pester her. I asked her to call when she got a chance, and she said, “Of course.” I hadn’t received an update on Al and had waited as long as my patience would allow. I called Tanesa but it went to voicemail, so I said I was worried about her dad and asked her to call me if she got a chance.
I was O-for-two, so instead of pacing the floor waiting for the phone to ring, I walked next door to Bert’s Market to grab a Danish and a cup of coffee. Two construction workers were ahead of me in the coffee line and Eric was waiting on a teenager dressed in a red bathing suit and a fisherman’s vest. I grinned as I thought of how out of place that would have appeared most anywhere in the country. I poured my coffee and waited for Eric to wait on the customer in front of me, paid for the Danish, and said, “Eric, got a question.”
“Make it simple. This morning’s been a bear.”
“Has anyone mentioned Lauren Craft’s time of death?”
He tilted his head and ran his hand through his beard. “Might I assume you question her manner of demise?”
“Curious, that’s all.”
“Um-hum, whatever you say. To answer your question, asked out of curiosity, I heard it was around nine o’clock the night before they found her.”
My phone rang before Eric could tell me he didn’t believe me.
“Chris, this is Tanesa. Is this a good time to talk?”
That’s the way to start a phone conversation, I thought, and realized why she had called. I tensed up but managed to say it was.
“I don’t have much to report. He’s still in critical condition. His vitals show hope, and then regress. From my perspective, that he’s still alive is a good sign. The next twenty-four hours are critical. Sorry I can’t offer more.”
I told her I was pleased she had called and that he was still among the living. I asked if she was getting any rest. She said no, chuckled, and said that wasn’t unusual for an ER doc. I thanked her for calling and she assured me she would let me know if there was any change.
Eric had overheard my half of the conversation and gave me an inquisitive glance. I shared what had happened with Al and a little about Bob. Eric had never met Al but knew Bob from a couple of encounters in the store. He told me he was sorry and that he’d pray for Al’s speedy recovery. I said I would be satisfied for recovery, speedy or otherwise.
I still wasn’t ready to go home and worry, so I walked around Bert’s looking at various food items, items I would never buy, but were providing a distraction. I was further distracted when I saw Wayne Swan. He saw me and headed my way.
Wayne gave me a strong handshake and at the same time a politician’s pat on the back. Instead of the navy blazer look from the previous two times I’d seen him, he was dressed like the construction worker that he was. He wore torn jeans, scuffed work boots, a tan T-shirt and his dark hair was speckled with sawdust.
“Good to see you, Chris. I was going to call you yesterday but got tied up with a challenging rehab on East Huron.”
“You were going to tell me that your candidate was dropping out of the race and supporting Mayor Newman.”
Wayne laughed, louder than necessary. “No such luck, my friend. I wanted to ask you to meet again with Joel.”
“Sorry, Wayne, I don’t see where it—”
He held his hand in front of my face and interrupted. “Come on, Chris. What harm could it cause?”
I was distracted and thinking about Al and Bob and didn’t have the time or mental energy to play games with Brian’s opponent. “Harm, none, but what good could it do? I’ve already said I was backing Brian.”
“I know, I know,” Wayne said, and looked around the store. “But Chris, if you give Joel a chance, I think you’ll like him and his ideas for improving the community that you play such a critical part in.”
Sucking-up at its best, I thought. “Wayne, I like Joel. He seems to be well-respected and I’m sure he has innovative ideas, but—”
Wayne interrupted. “No buts, Joel knows it will be hard to convince you to switch allegiance. He knows he might not succeed but asks to talk to you again a
bout his ideas. You never know.”
“Wayne—”
“One more thing, Chris. We know Dude Sloan held a fundraiser for Brian Newman. I’ve known Dude ever since I moved here, so I was surprised. Think it’s the first thing he’s done anything politically in all those years—yes, surprising. Anyway, I was in the surf shop talking to my good friend Katelin Hatchett when Dude came over. I took the opportunity to talk to him about Joel. Dude said he liked Brian and was supporting him, but after we talked a little about Joel’s ideas, and about his deep-seated support of local businesses, Dude met with Joel. They sat down the next day and after it was over Dude said he liked some of Joel’s ideas and might switch to Joel.” Wayne smiled. “Of course, Dude didn’t use those precise words, but I think that was the drift of what he’d said.”
I guess Wayne did know Dude, at least how he talked. I doubted Dude would support Joel but had no interest in arguing with Wayne.
“I still don’t see not supporting Brian, but I appreciate your efforts.”
“Chris, I’ve known Joel for many years and would do anything for him. For him to have a chance, I must convince some of Mayor Newman’s supporters to listen to Joel’s platform. Give it one more chance, please.”
I kept looking at my phone and wishing it to ring with updates on Al or Bob. Wayne was keeping me distracted, but not in a positive way.
“Okay, I’ll meet with him,” I said, more to get away from Wayne than to agree.
He shook my hand again and said, “Great, I’ll talk to Joel and let you know when he can meet and I’ll get back with you.” He nodded like he’d won a major battle. “Better get back to my job site and keep my guys plugging away.”
Hallelujah, I thought, and lied, “Nice talking to you.”
“Havin’ a political rally back there?” Eric asked, as I walked to the door.
“More like an arm-twisting session.”
Eric laughed. “I don’t recall there being so much politicin’ this far before an election. If sheer persistence can win, Mayor Newman better keep an eye on Joel Hurt and his good bud Wayne.”
I started to tell Eric it wasn’t going to work with me when Cindy returned my call.
“When in the hell were you going to tell me about Al, and that damned, blustery, foul-mouth, fat realtor that for reasons beyond my comprehension you call a friend?” she said as way of a pleasant introduction.
“How’d you hear about them?”
“I’m the freakin’ police chief. Give me a break. Besides, all I had to do was walk in the Dog and one of my bosses, Councilmember Salmon cornered me before I got coffee—a serious mistake, in case you’re interested—to tell me. And no, I don’t know who told him. Remember, I hadn’t had my coffee.”
I gave her an update, as sketchy as it was, and she said she was sorry and hoped Al made it. She didn’t say the same about Bob, but to give her the benefit of the doubt, I assumed that was because he was already at home.
I thanked her for her concern and for returning my call and she thanked me for not calling her a dozen times after my first call. I asked if she had an estimated time of death for Lauren. She asked me why I wanted to know. I said I’d tell her after she gave me the time of death. She uttered an East Tennessee profanity, mumbled something about me being the death of her yet, but only if I didn’t get killed first, and then got around to saying the coroner estimated the time of death being between seven and ten the evening before her body was discovered. Eric was right again.
“Now, why did you want to know?”
“I’m still thinking her death wasn’t accidental.”
“Chris, when are you going to get a life and stop butting in to police business? Crap, never mind, I know the answer is never. So, what’s her time of death got to do with anything?”
“Have you checked Joel Hurt and Katelin Hatchett’s alibis for that evening?”
There was silence on the other end of the line, and then Cindy mumbled something I couldn’t understand, and said, “Gee Chris, I started checking everyone who lives on Folly’s alibis but only got through the last names starting with G. Was going to start on the H this afternoon.”
She finished ranting, and said, “Why in the holy blue blazes should I check their alibis? What aren’t you telling me?”
“From what I’ve heard, their relationship with Lauren was fractured at best. Joel had dated Katelin and Lauren at the same time—seldom the formula for a healthy life. They each have said things about Lauren’s drug use that contradicted the autopsy’s findings.”
“So, the motive was Katelin being jealous? That’s all you have? What about Joel? Why would he want his girlfriend dead?”
“Cindy, they each lied about Lauren.”
“Everyone lies.”
“Maybe, and I don’t have a better reason for either of them to have killed her. I don’t know if she was murdered, but all I’m asking is someone checks their alibis.”
“The sheriff’s office has already ruled out homicide. What reason would I have for opening that can of sardines?”
“Because you’re so wonderful, because one of your favorite citizens asked you to, because—”
“Enough, enough!” she interrupted. “I’ll do it to shut you up.” The phone went dead.
Cindy was right. There was no evidence the death was anything but an accidental overdose or possibly suicide, but it still bothered me. Was I projecting my distrust for Joel to Lauren’s death? Did I want him to be a killer because he was running against Brian Newman and had lied to me about liking him? Why had both Joel and Katelin lied about Lauren getting back into drugs? And was a door handle without prints enough to think something sinister had taken place?
My phone rang and distracted me from my game of twenty questions. I was almost afraid to answer for fear of bad news about Al but was relieved to see Barb’s name on the screen. I was more relieved when she asked if I wanted to meet her for supper. I said yes and figured it would be the perfect distraction.
27
I met Barb a block from her condo at Locklear’s Beach City Grill. We were given a table inside but it had the same incredible view of the Folly Pier as did the outside seating. She wore light gray shorts and a red blouse. I complimented her appearance and she said that makeup could hide a plethora of ills. I told her I should try wearing some. She laughed and said, “No need.” The optimist in me decided that she’d meant I looked good enough without it. The realist in me knew better.
I started to tell her about Al and Bob but didn’t want to ruin what I had hoped was to be a pleasant, refreshing, and peaceful evening. She shared a couple of stories about some irritating customers in her bookstore and she told me a joke that a preteen girl had told her while the girl’s parents perused the used collection. The joke was more silly than funny, but Barb seemed to need cheering up as much as I did.
She switched directions when she asked, “Heard anything more about Lauren’s death?”
I was surprised she’d brought it up and asked her why.
“No reason,” she said, and looked out the window at the pier.
I cocked my head to the side. “No reason?”
“Curious, I guess. Council member Salmon’s wife was in today and said her husband was worried about Lauren’s boyfriend and the slate of council candidates he was putting together. Marc complains about being on the council, but he still loves being there. I knew you were questioning Lauren’s death, and hearing about Joel made me think about her.”
This wasn’t quite the distraction I was hoping for. “I still have bad feelings about it, but there’s nothing specific to point to anything other than an OD or suicide.”
She reached across the table and put her hand on my arm. “Good, you don’t need to be worrying about something like that. Besides, you didn’t know her?”
“True, but—”
“And you don’t like her dad, and from what you’ve said, the feeling’s mutual.”
“Yes, but—”
&
nbsp; “And you don’t like Joel because he’s running against your friend, so that makes you suspicious of him.”
“Also true,” I said and waited for her to interrupt.
She didn’t have to, a waitress did when she asked if she could get us something to drink. We each ordered, and Barb still didn’t say anything.
“I’ll tell you what does bother me,” I said. “Joel, and for that matter Katelin. Each of them lied to me about Lauren’s drug use. Why would they have said she was using again when the coroner’s report said there wasn’t evidence of recent use except for the overdose in her system?”
“I don’t know,” Barb said. “But everyone tells less than the truth on occasion. Have you thought that they may have truly believed she was using?”
I shook my head. “That doesn’t make sense. I don’t know about Joel, but Katelin has been a user, she’d even been in rehab with Lauren, so she’d know the signs. On top of that, there’s Joel lying to me about liking Brian and going behind Brian’s back and telling near-strangers how horrible the mayor is.”
“Chris, when I was practicing law in Harrisburg, I dealt with several politicians—which was several more than I wanted to—and learned that lying came as easy to some of them as breathing did. Yes, Joel might be a liar, but that doesn’t mean he had anything to do with Lauren’s death.”
I agreed with Barb and saw her point, but it still bothered me. Besides, there was no point arguing with her. There were several people walking along the pier and pointed it out to Barb and said how good a time they seemed to be having. I was determined to have a peaceful evening and wanted to get away from talking about Lauren.
Barb followed my gaze and said it was great seeing people having a good time. Our food arrived and she took a bite and looked at me. “So, when were you going to tell me about your friends Al and Bob?”
There went the pleasant, peaceful evening.
“How did you hear?”
She pointed her fork at me. “You know the hardest thing I’ve had to adjust to since moving here?”