I looked up from my dumplings. From the expression on Blake’s face, I knew that he knew I left plenty out. In my line of work, it’s frequently necessary to lie to people. I’ve discovered, despite my raising, I have an affinity for it. BS flows quite naturally from my lips. But Blake’s BS meter was calibrated to a higher sensitivity than most.
I pushed against the brick floor of the screened porch with my foot. The swing obliged and resumed rocking me.
I swear, steam rolled off my brother. “You were close enough to Troy to hit him with a rock. When your call went to voicemail, you could have called Nell, had her get ahold of me.”
“And what would you have done? You were thirty minutes away, for Pete’s sake. I called 911. I tried calling you.”
Blake took deep breaths and struggled for control.
I took the opening. “Adam needed two separate and distinct things, both nearly impossible to come by: Land that doesn’t belong to him and the zoning to develop it. This whole camp charade was for Kate’s benefit, no one else’s.”
“The head of The New Life Foundation has never heard of David Morehead,” Merry repeated slowly.
I shook my head. “I’m so sorry, Merry.”
Calmer now, Blake looked at the ceiling. “So, net-net, the youth camp was a scheme to get Kate Devlin to deed Devlin’s Point over to Adam so he could develop it. And, Marci is sleeping with Adam, and we care because he probably planned to finagle her onto town council where he’d control her vote. That plan blew up, so now Marci is using Adam to ditch Michael. Well I’ll be scattered, smothered, and covered.”
I nodded. “Oh, and Elvis didn’t recognize the picture in the locket.”
“He told me,” Blake said.
“I don’t believe any of this,” Merry said, like she really did, but wanted her shock noted.
Colleen decided to join me on the swing. “David Morehead,” she said. “Think.”
A wisp of something fluttered through my brain. I turned to Merry. “I have seen David Morehead somewhere before, but I can’t place where.”
Merry seemed to be melting in despair. She held her head up with the heel of her hand, her elbow propped on her knee. “He said he was from their corporate office in Los Angeles.”
“Hmmm.” I consciously smoothed the crease from my brow. “I know our paths have crossed. How did you say he first contacted you?”
“He called me. Said he was the VP of Recruitment.”
My hand went to my mouth. “I just remembered where I’ve seen him.”
“Where?” Blake asked.
“Scott’s office in Greenville. It’s been a year or so, but I’m sure it was him. I went by to speak to Scott. I needed his signature on some papers. We finally had an offer on the house, and I was eager to get it finalized. He was in a meeting, and I had to wait.
“His office door opened, and out came this guy. He stopped in the doorway to finish his conversation with Scott. What stuck in my mind was how ridiculously well groomed he was. A whole tube of gel in that blond spiked hairdo, clothes off the cover of GQ so smooth it looked like he’d never sat down in them. And those rings…”
“He’s a metrosexual,” Merry said.
“A what?” Blake snorted.
“A heterosexual male who grooms himself like a woman,” I said.
“Whatever,” Blake said. “I don’t want to hear about the guy’s grooming habits or sexual preferences. What was he doing with Scott?”
“I remember Scott telling him to have a safe flight back to Los Angeles. That’s what triggered the memory. I don’t have any idea what he was up to then. But we know what Scott’s up to now,” I said. “And this guy is knee-deep in it.”
Merry crossed her arms over the top of the quilt. “Maybe that’s just a coincidence. They could have grown up together or known each other in school.”
Blake said, “Seriously, Merry? You’re smarter than that.”
“Merry,” I said. “Think back to the first conversation you had with David Morehead. Did he somehow plant the idea of a camp here, lead you into it?”
“I am not some ignorant, easily-led child.”
I met and held my sister’s eyes. “Of course you’re not. But you’ve been scammed, nevertheless. It happens, even to smart people, Merry. You expect people to have honorable intentions because you do.”
After a long moment, Merry looked away. Two tears slipped down her cheeks and she angrily brushed them away. “They offered me a position in Wyoming. I told David I was flattered, but I didn’t want to be that far away from home. He asked if he could keep me on their prospects list, for future camps closer to home. I asked where he thought they might be expanding. He said they were looking for property along the east coast.” Merry shook her head in disbelief. “It just seemed perfect.”
Merry cursed under her breath. “At first, he was resistant. He said it would be impossible to get all the approvals they’d need, even to buy the land. I told him I was sure I could get it approved, that the people of this island would support it if it was presented right, and if it came from an insider. Me.” She sat quietly for a minute. “I went to Kate Devlin and asked her to donate the land. It was to be environmentally friendly, not some high-rise.”
“That’s it,” I said. Kate would never go along with developing Devlin’s Point for a resort. But an environmentally friendly camp for at-risk kids, that was a whole nother story.
Merry said, “They played me for a fool. Scott told them exactly which buttons to press. That bastard,” she ground out through clenched teeth.
Scott was responsible for this whole mess, no doubt. He was the one in charge, the one who controlled the money. The Stella Maris Resort was his brainchild—I’d heard him remind Adam.
But the one who got Merry involved was Kristen. You’re the one that told me she wanted to open a camp on the beach, Troy had said to Kristen. You started this whole thing. I hadn’t worked out a way to tell Merry and Blake that part just yet.
Blake stood to pace. He did that when his ball and glove weren’t handy. “They must have planned to use you to get the land zoned for development, too.”
“It’s not Gram’s land they were after,” I said. “It was her vote. Adam’s been trying to develop Devlin’s Point for years. But it doesn’t belong to him. It belongs to Kate. He must have given up trying to talk her into it and decided to trick her out of the land instead.” Something tickled the back of my brain. Something still didn’t quite fit.
Blake looked at me for a long moment. He was trying to pick apart what I’d just said. “You think Marci was in on it?”
“Of course she was. Why the snotty little bitch tried to—” I caught myself. I didn’t want to say out loud that Marci had tried to barter Michael to get her hands on a chunk of land. Land she would presumably have offered up for development as soon as the ink was dry on the deed.
“Tried to what?” Blake asked.
“She…” I made a rolling motion with my hand. “She tried to cut herself in. Tried to get herself installed on the town council so she could earn a cut by greasing the skids for all the approvals they’d need.”
“Uh-huh.” Blake cut his eyes at me.
“Any word on Kristen?” I asked.
“None,” said Blake.
Merry wailed, “It’s all my fault. Whatever’s happened to Kristen is all my fault. I never should have rolled her up in that rug.”
“And if you hadn’t,” I said, “Troy would have known immediately you were missing. You probably wouldn’t have made it as far as Gram’s.”
“Merry, none of this is your fault,” Blake said.
“It’s mine,” I said. “I brought that jackass Scott home in the first place.”
Blake said, “If it wasn’t him, Adam would have found some other dealm
aker. Or he would’ve found Adam.”
“Any sign of Troy?” I asked.
Blake shook his head. “Nope.”
“He has to be on the island. That’s the only way he can finish his contract and get paid.” I knew, but hadn’t told, that his contract had now evolved from killing Grace to following Adam. If he were to be trusted, which he was not. But still, if I could get Blake to tail Adam, he might stumble over Troy.
“If he’s here, we’ll find him,” Blake said.
I said, “If Scott, Adam, and Troy see things are falling apart, they could turn on each other. Do you have someone watching Adam?”
“We’re checking on him regularly.”
“I wonder what Troy’s driving,” I said. “With his car impounded and all.”
Blake said, “Could be anything borrowed or stolen—boat or car. Mount Pleasant PD attempted to contact his dad, but he’s out of town. There’re a few family member cars on our watch list. I’ve got someone posted at the ferry dock.”
I nodded slowly. “It’s a blessing Stuart Devlin isn’t alive to see Adam try to undo his life’s work. This may kill Kate.”
Blake sighed hard. “That poor woman’s been through a lot.”
“Which other votes do you think Adam was counting on?” I asked.
Blake said, “I think he could’ve gotten the votes for the camp. Then there would’ve been a bait-and-switch after the property was deeded and the zoning changed. Merry’s camp was a Trojan Horse.”
“Yeah,” I said, “that’s what I thought, too. But what was to stop the council from rescinding the new zoning? That’s where he needed leverage. Who would’ve sat still for that?”
“Definitely not Dad,” Blake said. “And not Grace, which is why they needed her out of the way. I wonder who they planned to replace her with.”
“Mackie,” I said. “Gambling debts. Check it out.”
Blake looked at me like I’d sprouted a second head.
“Just check into it, okay?”
Blake held up both hands in a stop gesture. “Fine. I’ll look into it.”
“That leaves Michael—not a chance. John—I can’t believe it. Robert….”
Merry said, “And Lincoln Sullivan. The mayor votes if there’s a tie.”
Blake and I both looked at her.
“Yes, he does,” I said. “And he’s vulnerable to blackmail.”
“How?” Blake asked.
“Why?” Merry spoke at the same time.
I looked from Blake, to Merry and back. I didn’t typically gossip about things I learned during investigations. Loose lips and all that. But Mildred’s past, and Lincoln’s resulting exposure, were a part of this investigation. Part of what had gotten Gram killed. Besides, I felt guilty about all the stuff I hadn’t told Blake and Merry.
I filled them in on Mildred’s stage career as Miller Dawn at the Pussycat Gentleman’s Club.
“You’re making that up to get me to laugh.” Merry giggled.
“Oh, but I’m not, baby sister.”
“Oh, man.” Blake squeezed the back of his neck and rolled his shoulders. “That’s an image I didn’t need in my head.”
“Well, she was quite a bit younger,” I said.
Then we all burst out laughing. When we’d stopped holding our stomachs and crying, Blake said, “I’ll talk to all the council members—and the mayor—tomorrow.”
From beside me on the swing, Colleen smiled.
I stood and stretched. “I can’t keep my eyes open another minute.”
Blake proceeded to read me the riot act on how I should stay at Mamma and Daddy’s until further notice. I was too tired to argue.
I dragged myself upstairs and called to check in with Nate.
“Hey.” He picked up on the first ring. “Where are you?”
“I’m at Mamma and Daddy’s house. Blake is here. Daddy and his shot-gun-toting cronies were on the front porch last time I looked.”
“I feel much better now,” he said dryly. “Get some rest and call me in the morning.”
“Will do. You get some rest, too. Goodnight.”
After an abbreviated bedtime-beauty routine, I crawled between the sheets and fully expected to pass out. But my brain was in overdrive. I couldn’t shut it down. After hours of trying to visualize a staticky TV screen, I slept in starts and fits.
THIRTY-FIVE
At five the next morning I was on the front porch stretching. No sign of Daddy or his posse. I sucked in a deep breath of salt air and let it out slowly. Cleansing breaths. The last few days had left me a lot to cleanse. Deliberately and emphatically, I ignored Blake’s directive and left the house unaccompanied, while it was still dark outside no less. I was nursing an irritation at my brother for his overbearing nature. Troy Causby couldn’t pick me out of a lineup after all these years. Besides, he had no reason to hurt me. And Scott was trying to woo me, not kill me.
I ran the two blocks to the beach, then north towards home. I fed Rhett, gave him some attention, and continued my run around North Point. The eastern sky turned pink, and the rising sun backlit the scattering of slate-colored clouds on the horizon. The cool morning wind blew through me, the irritation, stress, and fatigue slipping away on the breeze.
When I approached the marina, the sky was lighter than it had been the last few mornings. Ahead of me, an eclectic assortment of boats was docked. Everything from fifty-foot sailboats to jet skis. The docks were quiet at that hour, which was why the movement caught my attention.
A tall, gray-headed figure emerged onto the deck of what appeared to be a forty-two-foot Pearson sailboat. I watched him as I drew closer. He stood on the bow of the sloop and stretched towards the morning sky. There was a certain elegance in both the classic vessel and the way the man moved. As I drew closer, I figured him to be somewhere over sixty, but remarkably agile. He executed a set of stretches as easily as I could have. I headed out across the dock towards the old sailor and his boat. I’d always admired Pearson sailboats, and his dark-blue-hulled sloop was a beauty. I wanted a closer look, at the sailboat and its captain. I’m an inquisitive sort by nature, a trait that comes in handy in my line of work.
I slowed my step as I approached him and tried not to be too obvious in my curiosity. His skin was tanned and wrinkled, but something—perhaps his apparent exceptional health—gave him a glow. As I walked alongside the boat, he stopped stretching, turned, and smiled, as if he’d been expecting me. The smile didn’t reach his eyes. Grief lived there.
“Good morning.” His warm, soft, brown eyes locked onto mine like a laser guided missile, stopping me in my tracks. He swiped his cheeks and tried again with the smile.
“Good morning.” I stood there waiting. For what, I had no idea.
He walked over to the edge of the boat and extended his hand across the rail. “Name’s Tom. Tom Davidson. Care for a cup of coffee? Freshly brewed…”
I took his hand and returned his smile. A warmth radiated from him that was irresistible. And those eyes… “That would be wonderful. I haven’t had mine yet, and I still have a few cobwebs floating around in my head.”
“Welcome aboard.” He stepped to the side and helped me over the railing. “Have a seat,” he indicated a spot in the cockpit. “I’ll be right back.”
I settled into the soft tropical cushions that lined the roomy cockpit. I could hear Mamma’s voice inside my head, warning me that he could be an ax-murderer. After all, Ted Bundy was quite the charmer, now wasn’t he? I dismissed Mamma’s worries. If this guy was a serial killer, I was slap out of luck.
He climbed out of the cabin a few moments later with two large steaming mugs. “Cream and sugar?”
“Yes, please.” I took the brightly painted pottery mug gratefully. “This smells divine.”
He dis
appeared below deck once more, returning momentarily with a small pitcher of cream and a sugar bowl that matched the mugs.
I chuckled to myself.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
“I’m just surprised you have two mugs that match, let alone a cream and sugar set. Most men I know aren’t that coordinated.”
He settled in across from me. “Ahh. Well, the customers like it.”
“Customers?”
“I run a charter boat service, day sails mostly, in the Virgin Islands.”
“Wow, what a life.”
“It’s pretty special, I must say.” He studied me.
“Where are my manners?” I held out my hand. “Liz Talbot.”
He clasped my hand in both of his. “Of course.” His expression changed for a split second, but I couldn’t read what was there.
“Have we met?”
“No, I’ve never had the pleasure. You remind me of an old friend.”
“Anyone I know?”
He smiled enigmatically. “What brings you out so early this morning?”
“I run most mornings. I love the beach at sunrise.”
“My favorite time of the day.” He smiled and sipped his coffee. “I like to get my morning routine done while everyone else is still asleep. At my age I need the edge. I have to stay active or the age creep will get me.”
“Age creep?”
“If you sit still too much, old age creeps up on you when you’re not looking.”
I returned his smile with a wry one. “I’m aging fast lately myself.”
“Yeah, me, too.” A look of profound sadness crept into his eyes. “Only I can’t afford much of that.”
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