by Laurel Pace
"You know what I think?" Even though the traffic from South Battery effectively muffled their conversation to all but the most attentive passerby, Dani held her voice to a hoarse whisper.
"Stephen Lawes is Richardson Whyte's son?" Ken looked as if he still needed some convincing.
Dani nodded emphatically. "Just consider what we learned from Mona. Richardson's marriage didn't sound all that happy. In a weak moment, he had an affair with his secretary. He came to his senses, decided he wanted to save his marriage and broke off the extramarital relationship. In the meantime, Bea discovered she was pregnant and insisted on having their child."
"That would have raised a lot of eyebrows, don't you think?" Ken put in. For once, Dani found his clear, analytical tone slightly irritating.
"That all depends." Dani knew she had advanced a daring proposition, but she was prepared to defend it. If she could use Ken's own research to that end, all the better. "How much did you find out about Bea's personal background?"
"I can't remember everything, and I gave my notes to Derek. But I recall she was married for three or four years to some guy in sales. Stephen is her only kid."
"She was working for Richardson while she was still married?"
"Uh-huh."
"How old is Stephen?" Dani prodded Ken's elbow again as they sprinted across South Battery.
"Twenty-five, twenty-six."
Dani halted beside Ken's parked car, her face set in a grimly triumphant smile. "Then it would have been entirely possible for Bea to have passed Stephen off as her husband's son."
"You think Stephen learned about his parentage somehow and decided to blackmail a half million dollars out of the father who had never acknowledged him?" Ken frowned, and Dani could tell he was repulsed by the scenario he had just painted. Dani felt her own stomach turn as the obvious corollary occurred to her: Stephen Lawes had murdered his own father out of spite. "We have to consider the possibility."
Ken was taking his time unlocking the door. "It's a compelling theory, if we're willing to accept a couple of assumptions. First, that whoever phoned Richardson that night had nothing to do with his murder, and second, that Lawes was physically capable of slipping away from the performance and invading the upstairs office," he reminded Dani as he held the door open for her. "Don't forget, too, that Stephen would have had to find out the truth about his parentage somewhere along the way. That's the really big question—how?"
Dani paused in the door of the car, turning to look directly into Ken's eyes. "I don't know yet, but I think it's our job to find out."
Chapter Ten
Sometime in the night, a low bank of clouds had rolled in from the ocean to settle over Charleston like a suffocating gray blanket. Deprived of the sunlight that normally relieved the shadows of its close alleys and walled gardens, the old district seemed somber, its usual gaiety subdued by the moody sky. Even the mingled bells of St. Michael's and St. Philip's sounded faintly mournful as they performed their centuries-old task of summoning the city to Sunday worship.
Her own frame of mind was doing nothing to counterbalance the melancholy atmosphere, Dani reflected as she and Ken paused to check the number of a Tradd Street mansion that had been converted to office space. Since their conversation with Mona Sams, the implications of the housekeeper's revelations about Bea Lawes had dogged Dani's thoughts, tormenting her with spectral clues and half-formed conjectures. Even the usually powerful distraction of getting ready for a big party had failed to displace her preoccupation. While Dani had wandered around Moveable Feast's kitchen the previous evening, mechanically preparing Beef Wellington and lemon mousse, she had continued to ponder the case against Stephen Lawes—and the difficulty of proving it. Ken paused on the house's narrow stoop, holding the carved oak door half-open. "Let's stay on our toes with Theo. Who knows? After that unexpected windfall of information Mrs. Sams dropped on us yesterday, I don't think we should write off anyone as an exhausted source."
"I agree." Dani led the way down the hall, following its Oriental carpet runner to a door bearing the engraved brass plaque Powell E. Boynton, Esq., Theodore R. Boynton, Esq., Attorneys at Law.
The indistinct murmur of men's voices on the other side of the door caused Dani to knock lightly before testing the knob. She opened the door slowly and surveyed the neat, well-equipped secretarial station. Against the backdrop of ornate molding and Federal Period antiques, the computer and fax machine looked like space-age anachronisms. The door to one of the two private offices was ajar, revealing a map seated in a leather wing chair with a briefcase open on his lap. Ken slipped in behind Dani, closing the door behind him loudly enough to announce their arrival.
"Dani!" Theo Boynton appeared in the private office door and then charged across the room to greet them. "It's so kind of you to come by this morning. Art and I were just going over Richardson's insurance policy covering the boat." He hastened to get on with introductions, acknowledging Ken with the automatic smile and handshake of a political hopeful.
Dani and Ken followed the two men into the inner sanctum of Powell Boynton's office. Bearing in mind Ken's admonition to be on the lookout for clues, Dani listened attentively to the details Theo offered about the Bandeira Branca's wreckage.
"Definitely arson, the police say." He gave Art Prevost a prompting look and the insurance agent duly nodded.
"Any idea who would want to destroy the yacht?" Dani asked.
Theo lifted both hands in a nonplussed gesture and then let them drop onto the leather blotter covering his father's desk.
Art Prevost tapped the tablet of preprinted forms propped on his knee with the air of a man accustomed to fielding such questions. "Sometimes, it's kids acting on a dare. Or, as seems most likely in this case, young hoodlums with a few too many beers in them, out to prove how tough they are. Their buddies egg them on and before they know it, they're in over their heads."
"There was only one person on that boat," Dani told him.
"Did you see him?" Art Prevost slid his glasses down his thin nose and rubbed the bridge thoughtfully.
"No," Dani replied. "But I heard only one person's footsteps. If there was anyone else on board, he never moved."
Ken didn't hesitate to throw his support behind her argument. "When we first boarded the yacht, we didn't hear a sound that would indicate someone else was there. A bunch of punks tanked up on beer is simply incapable of being that quiet."
Art Prevost readjusted his glasses, the better to inspect the two people who had just shot holes in his theory. "It could have been the work of one malicious individual, of course," he conceded huffily.
"Was there anything of value on the yacht? Something that the intruder might have wanted to steal before he set the boat on fire?" Dani ignored Prevost's perturbed glance that clearly suggested she was invading his bailiwick.
Theo clasped his hands behind his head, leaning back in the big, leather-upholstered executive chair. "Well, there were small things, navigational equipment, a radio and the like. Sailing is not an inexpensive hobby, you know. I must admit I'm a little stunned since I've had to reckon up the amount of money I've put into restoring that yacht. Of course, this would all be a lot simpler if Richardson had agreed to sell me the boat outright in the first place." His eyes drifted to Prevost to reinforce the point. "But to get back to your question, the only thing we're certain was stolen is the motor boat."
"Have the police recovered the boat?" Despite the calm, collected manner she had adopted for the interview, Dani leaned forward in her eagerness to hear what might be a telling clue.
Theo shook his head as he tipped the chair upright. "Their guess is that whoever used it to escape pushed it out from shore and sank it once he—or they—reached land."
Dani said nothing, but as she exchanged glances with Ken, she could tell that he, too, was convinced that such a careful effort to cover tracks would never have occurred to a pack of drunken vandals. For the next half hour, however, she and Ken kept their suspic
ions to themselves as they responded to Art Prevost's battery of questions. Yes, Ken was scheduled for a follow-up medical exam the following week, but, no, the doctors didn't think he had anything to worry about. Yes, Dani had inspected her van thoroughly since Ken had driven her out to recover it the previous afternoon, and it appeared to be unharmed. The further they progressed through Prevost's form, the more Dani felt as if she were being questioned about a routine fender bender rather than a life-threatening assault. She was relieved when the insurance agent flipped his black vinyl folder closed and returned it to his briefcase. Theo, too, seemed happy to conclude the interview, although, Dani suspected, for very different reasons.
As soon as he had ushered Prevost out of the office, Theo returned to his remaining visitors. "This incident with the yacht was really the last thing I needed right now." He regarded the fat legal-size folders stacked on both sides of the desk as if they were ticking time bombs only seconds away from exploding in his face.
"I was terribly sorry to hear about your father. How is he doing?" Dani had been intending to ask about the elder Boynton's condition earlier, but this was the first opportunity the meeting had afforded.
Theo ran his fingers through his hair, still staring at the threatening desktop. "Much better, although they still won't say when he'll be allowed to come home. Of course, even then, work will be out of the question, at least for the early stage of his convalescence. I'm his partner, so I'm familiar with a lot of his cases. Still, he has some really sticky wickets in progress right now. Richardson's will alone is enough to give a Supreme Court justice a headache."
Dani blinked in surprise. "Why is that?"
Theo looked as if his last comment had slipped out by accident and that he now regretted the lapse. "It's a complicated estate." The cagey explanation only underscored his hesitancy.
"I suppose because he left no direct heirs." Dani watched Theo, studying the bland, clean-shaven face to gauge the impact of her remark.
"Well, yes, of course." Was it her imagination, or was he the least bit flustered? When she met his eyes, she was startled by the hard glint that had supplanted their customary ingratiating expression. "Actually, Richardson thought of Rebecca as a daughter, especially since her father passed away. Although I'm not aware of the details of his will—nor would I, understandably, be free to discuss them if I were— I fully expect him to have left her the bulk of his estate, with the remainder going to loyal employees, servants and charity."
"Knowing Richardson, I imagine he would have wanted to ensure Mrs. Sams a comfortable retirement—and Bea Lawes, as well, for that matter," Dani remarked. Theo opened one of the legal folders at random and frowned over its contents. "Yes, I suppose he would have. By the way, if you have a few minutes, I'd like to discuss the Hospital Auxiliary costume ball with you. I've assumed responsibility for coordinating the event since Father was hospitalized." He sounded pleased to be rid of the subject of Richardson's will as he reached for the desk calendar. "Would it be possible for us to meet at the Old Exchange sometime this week? I could walk you through the space we've reserved and explain exactly how it will be set up."
Dani dug her calendar out of her handbag and opened it. "I always like to get a good advance look at the room where I'll be catering a party. It's really the best way to guarantee that service will flow smoothly. Would you be able to do it on Wednesday or Thursday afternoon?"
Theo riffled the pages of the calendar and then replaced it on the desk. "Excuse me while I check my own calendar." He headed out of the office, muttering something about the difficulty of keeping track of two schedules. As he disappeared into the reception area, Dani heard the front door of the office slam.
"You said you would be finished in time for lunch!" Rebecca Pope's voice wove itself into a whine that was at once wheedling and confrontational.
"I've had a lot of business to take care of for Richardson and Father. You know that, sweetheart." Theo's term of endearment did not entirely concealhis irritation.
"Well, it's almost one o'clock!" Dani could imagine Rebecca's determinedly downturned mouth, the challenging look of a spoiled child in her big blue eyes.
"Please just have a seat. I'll only be another moment," Theo cajoled.
"Oh, very well then!"
Dani and Ken looked at each other and shook their heads in silent commiseration with poor Theo. As Dani leaned to one side, she saw Rebecca perched impatiently on the edge of the green leather chaise. When her eyes met Dani's, they darkened. Dam smiled cordially and then sat back in her chair, withdrawing from Rebecca's sight. When Theo returned to Powell's office, the skin above bis collar was flushed and he looked slightly embarrassed.
"Is Wednesday afternoon at three o'clock all right with you?" He sounded uncertain, as if he almost expected the same contrariness from Dani that he by now must take for granted with Rebecca.
"Perfect." Dani marked her calendar and then stood up. "I have a big dinner to cater tonight, so Ken and I really ought to be going. Is there anything else you need from us?"
Theo shook his head. "Thank you again. You were both a tremendous help." For once, the slick manner of the professional campaigner had been replaced by an expression of genuine gratitude.
"The-o!" Rebecca stood in the doorway, apparently ready to take the matter of speeding the visitors' departure into her own hands.
"Hello, Rebecca." Dani gave the young woman another serene smile.
When Rebecca only glared at Dani, Ken nodded. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Miss Pope."
"Hello." Rebecca must have intended her single, terse greeting to suffice for both of them.
At least we've had a touch of humor to relieve an otherwise depressing morning, Dani thought as she exchanged parting handshakes with Theo. Rebecca was obviously beside herself that her rebuff had failed to keep them off the yacht; for all her storybook-princess prettiness, the woman was a bully, pure and simple. Even now, she was launching another volley of petty complaints at Theo.
Dani hurried toward the door, eager to get away from the scene of strife. It was only by chance that she happened to look at the calendar sitting sideways on Powell's desk. It was lying open to the previous Monday, the day of Richardson's funeral. But it was the cryptic notation that grabbed her attention and held it with a throttling grip.
"Richardson's office, 9:00 a.m. Transfer title Bandeira Branca."
"WHAT DO YOU SUPPOSE Richardson was planning to do with the yacht?" Dani did a sideways double step, the better to look Ken in the face.
Frowning, Ken carelessly kicked at the crisp layer of leaves covering the sidewalk. "Maybe deed it to Theo? It certainly sounded as if Theo had invested quite a bit of money in a yacht that wasn't even his. Perhaps Richardson had decided to give him formal ownership. After all, Theo is going to be an official member of the Whyte family pretty soon."
Dani brushed off his suggestion. "Then Theo would surely have known about it. Even assuming that Richardson wanted to transfer the title secretly, as a surprise to his niece's future husband, there's no way Theo wouldn't have discovered what was afoot since he's taken over his father's work load. At the very least, he had to have seen that calendar notation." When Ken made no comment, she stepped in front of him, effectively halting him in his tracks. "Well?" Her intelligent hazel eyes prodded him to respond.
Ken settled his hands on her shoulders. "I don't know what the hell it means," he confessed. He began to smile, feeling his mouth widen in a mirror image of Dani's own slow grin.
"I guess I keep expecting to find the clue that will explain everything, but that doesn't happen very often, does it?" When Ken shook his head, she grimaced wryly.
"Maybe I don't have the patience to be a good investigator."
"You think I do?" Ken chuckled as he gave her shoulders a light squeeze.
She felt so slight inside his grasp; a man who knew her less well could be deceived by her delicate frame. Yet Ken had seen firsthand the formidable will housed inside the
slender body, the dauntless spirit that had confronted fear and refused to succumb. He had never known a woman like her before, but the union of such frank femininity with unconquerable strength exerted a powerful attraction for him. For a moment, he wanted to put the whole sordid business of Richardson's murder aside, forget they were standing on a street corner in the middle of Charleston and take her in his arms, hold her like the treasure she was, never let her go.
"How can we find out what Richardson intended to do in that meeting with Powell?" Dani's gently insistent voice pricked the rosy bubble forming in Ken's head, catapulting him back to reality.
"Sooner or later, we'll be able to talk with Powell himself. In the meantime, I'll see what Derek thinks. I'm going to drop by his place tonight. I had left a message for him and he called me as soon as he got back into town last night. I think he was pretty upset about the business with the yacht."
"So was I," Dani remarked drily. She fell in step with Ken's ambling gate that was calculated to give them more time before they reached her van.
"I'll fill him in on everything we've been considering." Ken paused a few car lengths short of the blue Aerostar. "All the same, I wish you could be there."
"So do I." Dani reluctantly glanced at her watch. "As it is, I fear duty is calling already. I promised Ben and Elaine we'd set up by six, and I still have some last-minute preparations to take care of in the kitchen." She fingered her car keys, resuming her way to the van. Ken followed her. After she had unlocked the van and climbed behind the wheel, he closed the door behind her. He leaned toward the open window, gripping the frame with both hands. "I'll be in touch, if not tonight, then sometime tomorrow."
"Good." Dani nodded, but her hand on the ignition key didn't move.
She looked exquisitely beautiful with her wealth of soft, waving hair billowing around her shoulders, her eyes muted to the shade of gold-brown agates in the sunless light. Framed by the open window, she reminded Ken of a portrait of some regal beauty, at once captivating and out of reach.