Savannah Sleuth

by Alan Chaput

  “I can vouch for her,” Beau said, impatience creeping into his tone.

  “Doesn’t matter. It would take the chief himself to add a name to this list.”

  Patricia grabbed her phone.

  Moments later, after speaking with Alton, the officer told them her name and two others had been added to his list.

  “What was that about?” Patricia asked Beau as they entered the secure waiting room.

  “Protective custody.”

  Shortly after they arrived at the waiting room, Alisa surged in. “What happened?”

  “Someone shot Meredith,” Patricia replied as she embraced Alisa.

  Alisa brought her hand to her mouth just as Judy bounded into the room and asked, “What happened?”

  “Someone shot Meredith,” Alisa said, wiping tears from her eyes.

  “Why?” Judy muttered.

  “Probably because she was getting too close to identifying Mama’s killer,” Patricia said through a fog of guilt and fear.

  Alisa flinched. “You think?”

  Patricia nodded. “And we’re probably next. Someone tried to ram me on the way over.”

  Alisa’s jaw dropped.

  Trey arrived and wrapped Patricia in his arms. She sobbed. “Meredith’s in surgery. Beau says it’s going to be hours before we know anything.”

  “She’s got the best available care.”

  “I know.” She sniffled. “It’s the waiting. The uncertainty. Oh, Trey, this is terrible.”

  “We’ll take care of it, Patsy.”

  She stepped back and wiped her face. “You always do.”

  He gave her a smile. “Can you talk about your accident on the way to the hospital?”

  She nodded.

  They sat and she filled him in on the details.

  When his questions were answered, he called Alton and gave him details about the car incident.

  Interminable hours later, Beau got a page and left. Ten minutes later he returned.

  “Well?” Patricia asked.

  “She’s in recovery. At the moment it looks promising,” Beau said. “However, with an injury like this anything can happen in the next twenty-four hours.”

  “I want a private nurse to be with her twenty-four seven,” Patricia said. “Can you arrange that, Beau?”

  He nodded.

  “The best,” she said.

  “Of course,” he replied. “And I’ll be monitoring her care as well. The staff in this unit is exceptional. She’ll get the quality care this hospital is noted for, Patricia.”

  She knew that, but it was calming to be reassured. Patricia let out a long breath. “Who wants to be the first to sit with Meredith?”

  After agreeing Patricia would be first, the others left. Beau took Patricia and Trey to the Intensive Care Unit.

  They paused outside Meredith’s cubicle. Beau’s eyes met hers. “She’s in a medically induced coma.”

  Suddenly unable to breathe, Patricia bit her lip. Dear Lord, please give me the strength to bear this. “Why would they induce a coma?”

  “The coma is necessary for her recovery.”

  Patricia surged into the room. Meredith lay on the bed with a sheet pulled up to her chin. The top of her head was fully bandaged.

  Patricia’s stomach cramped. Guilt rose.

  A beeping machine with row after row of pulsing displays sat next to Meredith’s bed. A drip line hung on the other side. A cannula fed oxygen to her nose.

  Patricia pulled a chair closer to the head of the bed and sat. She took Meredith’s limp hand. “Dear Lord, please heal Meredith. Please make her whole again.” Tears flowed. Was her pleading prayer presumptuous? What else could she have prayed for?

  Well, it would be nice to know who did this, but she knew the Lord wasn’t in that business. That would be up to the Coalition and her team. “Dear Lord, Meredith’s recovery is in your hands. Please treat her kindly. As for us, Dear Lord, guide us in our search for the person responsible. This I pray in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

  * * *

  Father John watched Patricia leave Falcon Memorial, noting some new damage to her Escalade.

  The attack on Meredith Stanwick had to be related somehow to Henrietta’s murder. The security videos from the bank parking lot were sharp and might shed some light on who attacked her. And Patricia, as a close friend, might know why. How to convince Patricia to be forthcoming remained an issue. He knew she was a Catholic and wondered if she still practiced confession. Who would she confide in that he could influence beyond the bishop? No one came to mind.

  Father John called the bishop and instructed him on what to do. Together they would protect the church.

  Chapter 19

  Trey drove Patricia home from the hospital and escorted her into the house. She paused in the kitchen.

  “It’s been a horrible day,” she said, tilting her head up to him. “I’m so relieved to be home.”

  He eased her closer.

  Absorbing his warmth, she melted into him and sighed.

  “Do you want to talk?” he asked.

  She swallowed hard and nodded. “Meredith might ... die because of me.”

  He stepped back. “Why would you say that?”

  Patricia crossed her arms. “I asked her to follow the transfer trail of Mama’s missing money.”

  His jaw dropped. “Why would you do that? You should have come to me.”

  “We asked her to use her connections.”

  He squinted. “We?”

  “Alisa, Judy, Meredith and I are trying to figure out who killed Mama.”

  “Why on earth would y’all do something like that? That’s why we have police. They have the training, the manpower, and the experience to investigate murders.”

  “They’re my friends, and …” She skimmed his cheek with her fingertips. “Trey, honey, Meredith called me just seconds before her car wreck. She’d found Mama’s money.”

  His dark eyes widened. “Really?”

  “Those were her last words, then the gunshot.” Her chest hitched. “Oh, Trey, it’s like I pulled the trigger.” Her hand covered her mouth.

  “Okay. Give me a moment.” He pulled away, ran fingers through his graying hair, and paced. “This isn’t good. We have a few things to figure out here. First, who else have you told about Meredith locating Henrietta’s money?”

  “Just you.”

  He hesitated at the window and turned. A ray of sunlight struck his face, making it glow. “The rest of your girlfriends, have you told them Meredith found Mama’s money?”

  “Of course, I had to tell them. We’re working on it together.”

  He grimaced. “Have they told anyone?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” she said. “Why?”

  He returned and draped an arm around her shoulders. “The person who tried to plow into your Escalade could be the same person who tried to kill Meredith or someone related to him. The assassin could have checked Meredith’s phone to see who she was talking to when he shot her. Meredith tipped her hand by tracing the money, then she inadvertently led him to you. He killed Mama for her money. He tried to kill Meredith because she got too close. And he tried to kill you because he doesn’t know how much you know. He’s likely to know about Alisa and Judy as well, since the four of you spend so much time together. Damn. This isn’t good.” He shook his head. “You all need to go into hiding until he’s apprehended. It’s best y’all leave town immediately. The farther away the better.”

  “How would someone link Meredith to us?”

  “You four are inseparable. Assuming the person was watching Meredith for any length of time, he’d know who her friends are. Did y’all get together recently?”

  A shiver went down her spine. “Yes.”

  “There you go. We can’t take a chance. Call everyone, let them know about the danger, and advise them to disappear for a few weeks. The police and the Coalition will take care of the attempted murder investig
ation from here.”

  “Call them now?” She had the feeling he had more to say.

  Not looking at her, he nodded.

  Though he seemed preoccupied, she called Alisa. “Trey thinks we’re in danger because of our association with Meredith. He thinks we should leave Savannah until Meredith’s assailant is caught.”

  “Leave?” Alisa asked. “The last thing I want to do is leave. The guy who shot Meredith has no idea who he’s messin’ with.”

  “We can’t afford to be wrong,” Patricia said in a softer voice. “Trey assures me the shooter will be caught.”

  “I suppose Trey is right. But it’s so sudden. So much to arrange, so little time. I’ll have to rearrange hearings and find someone to handle my clients. And how does one select an appropriate destination on such short notice? Oh my. Where are you going, Patricia?”

  Patricia’s mind whirled. “I haven’t gotten that far yet. It’s probably best we don’t all go to the same place, and that we keep our destinations secret.”

  “I’m not sure what I’ll do without y’all around.”

  Patricia shifted the phone to her bad ear, then realizing what she’d done, shifted it back to her good ear. “You’ll have to manage, Alisa. Dump your phone and credit card and go somewhere you’ve always wanted to go. Do stuff there you’d never do in Savannah. Good stuff. Take a class. Join a local book club. Then, when this mess is over, we can compare notes.”

  “I always wanted to go to Rio. I could learn the Argentine Tango. I could—”

  “Now you’re talking. Okay, hun, I have to call Judy.”

  “Patricia?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can we communicate while we’re gone?”

  “I’ll ask Trey to set up a secure way for us to text and Skype. I’ll call you back with details as soon as it’s set up.”

  “Thanks, sweetie. Bye.”

  Patricia speed-dialed Judy.

  “Because of what just happened to Meredith and me, Trey thinks our lives are in danger. He suggests we leave Savannah until the criminal is jailed.”

  “Honey, I feel safest right here,” Judy said. “Beau’s way ahead of y’all. He’s already arranged for round-the-clock security personnel to move in with us. If I went somewhere else, I’d have to have a bodyguard there as well. Plus, I’m sleeping with my gun.”

  “If you disappeared, why would you need a bodyguard?”

  “Get real, Patricia. Whoever is behind this money business knows what he’s doing. Do you honestly think you and I could actually disappear when a pro is after us?”

  “Sonny’s doing a good job of it.”

  “Sonny’s at the bottom of the ocean,” Judy said. “With enough weight attached to him to assure his body will never surface.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Okay, Patricia, I don’t. But I’m staying put. If someone is foolish enough to take me on, they’ll find my protection more than adequate.” Being bullheaded was in Judy’s nature. “I understand. Be safe.”

  “You too.”

  Patricia put her phone away and went over to Trey. “Alisa is leaving. Judy isn’t.”

  “What’s wrong with Judy?”

  “Beau has arranged live-in security for her.”

  He rubbed his chin then nodded. “That’s workable.”

  “Why don’t we do that too? Judy pointed out that if I go somewhere else, I’d need a bodyguard there also.”

  Trey ran fingers through his hair again. “She has a point.”

  “So, what do we do?”

  “Give me your keys and phone.” Trey extended his hand.

  “Why?”

  “We’ll get a guard in here round-the-clock and a chauffeur/bodyguard for when you go out. I’ll have biometric locks installed this afternoon. You won’t need your keys. As for your phone, it’s traceable. I’ll get you a secure device this afternoon.”

  Trey touched an icon on his phone. When someone came on the line, Trey said, “I need protective service at my home. Immediately. Live in. A few weeks. I’ll wait. Code word is Chatham.”

  Listening to Trey take command was like a double shot of espresso to Patricia.

  Trey put the phone down. “Someone will be right over. While we wait for them, why don’t you fill me in on exactly what Meredith was doing?”

  “Since all of Mama’s money was in Meredith’s bank, she had no problem determining that it was transferred shortly before Mama’s death to an established bank in Hong Kong. Meredith knew someone at the Hong Kong bank who was able to provide her with the next transfer destination, a private bank on Hilton Head Island that was new to Meredith. Meredith was having trouble getting details on the principals of that bank, but was determined to find an insider who would furnish information on whether the money was still there.”

  “Do you know the name of the bank in Hong Kong?”

  “I don’t remember, but Meredith said she’d done a lot of business with them. It shouldn’t be hard to check her international phone records or her financial transactions with Hong Kong banks.”

  “We’ll get on that. I see no reason why we can’t follow Meredith’s lead. Did Meredith tell you the name of the Hilton Head Island bank?”

  “No, just that it was unfamiliar to her, so that should rule out most of the banks up there.”

  “Do you remember anything else Meredith said about the money?”

  Patricia shook her head.

  “After security arrives, I’ll be leaving for a meeting. I’ll make arrangements for your new phone and for a chauffeur service on the way. Meanwhile, I want you to keep your gun within arm’s reach.”

  Patricia removed the gun from her purse.

  “Do you still have the clip-on holster? It might make it easier to keep your gun handy.”

  She nodded and went to the safe to retrieve the holster. A couple of minutes later, she returned with the holstered gun clipped to the waistband of her khakis.

  “Your code word is Chatham,” Trey said from the bar. “From this point on, if a stranger approaches you and doesn’t give you the code word, pull your gun and take cover. You won’t be out much, so the situation shouldn’t happen. But if it does, don’t hesitate to pull your weapon. If it’s the killer you won’t get a second chance. If it’s not the killer, the stranger will back off. Get it?”

  “Got it,” she said, not trying to sound as bold as she felt with the gun strapped to her.

  “And wear your shirts tucked in so you can get to your weapon easier. Remember, if the killer comes after you, seconds count.”

  * * *

  A half hour later, a knock on the door interrupted the silence.

  Trey went to the door and asked, “Code word?”

  “Chatham.”

  When Trey opened the door, Simon, Trey’s go-to man for personal security, filled the entrance. He was dressed in a white polo shirt and gray slacks. A large black duffle sat at his feet.

  Trey waved him in. “Hello, Simon. Glad you could make it.”

  “Mrs. Falcon. Mr. Falcon,” he said in a low, rumbling voice as he entered. His eyes darted. “Where would you like me to put my bag?”

  “Follow me,” Trey said.

  Five minutes later, Simon and Trey returned.

  Patricia’s stomach seized.

  Simon now wore a black flack vest and a side arm. He also carried a stubby automatic weapon. “Okay,” Simon said, “here’s the deal. We have a man out front and one in the back. I’m inside. Even though the guys outside will assure only approved visitors get to your porches, I’ll always answer the door. A locksmith will be here at 6:30 a.m. tomorrow to install new locks. Y’all stay away from the windows as much as possible, otherwise go about household business as usual. Mr. Falcon, I understand you’ll be leaving frequently. I suggest you and the Mrs. always travel with a chauffeur.”

  “I’ll be arranging for one this afternoon.”

  “Trey, are you sure you should be leaving? Wouldn’t it be safer if you w
orked from home? And with everything going on, I’d certainly appreciate the company.”

  “I have some papers at the office I have to pick up and a critical meeting I have to attend, then I’ll be home. I don’t believe anyone will tie me into Meredith’s inquiry, so I should be safe. You may be isolated here until I get home, but with three pros on the premises you’ll be protected.”

  She sighed.

  “Please give it a try,” Trey said.

  She nodded, wishing he would stay, but knowing that was hopeless.

  “I’ll be home in a couple of hours max.”

  She gave him a brief kiss and a long, lingering hug. “Be careful.”

  “You too.”

  Shortly after Trey left, Simon came into the great room with a black box in his huge hand and earphones on his ears. “Checking for bugs,” he said by way of explanation.

  She nodded.

  As he passed her, he pushed back the earphones and pointed to her gun. “Do you know how to use that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you been trained?”

  “Ranger course in small arms.”

  His chin went up. “You went through Ranger School?”

  “No. Just small arms training. My husband has connections.”

  “I’m very familiar with his connections. He’s a mighty fine man and a great asset to this community.”

  Her pride welled.

  Patricia followed Simon into the kitchen where he put the black box on the table, pulled out a notebook, and sat. “I’ll need the names and schedules of your current housekeeper and gardener.”

  Patricia gave him the information.

  “Why do you do this kind of work, Simon?” Patricia asked.

  “I like to kill people,” Simon said in a voice as smooth as a combat knife sliding into its sheath. His face showed no trace of emotion.

  “Seriously, Simon?”

  He leaned forward and folded his strong, calloused hands on the table. “I’m being serious. There are bad people who create havoc and mayhem, and who contribute nothing of value to our community. People like that annoy me. When my superior tells me a bad person should die, I’m happy to make sure that happens. Quickly. I’m proud that what I do improves life for so many.”