by Alan Chaput
“I’m sure Hayley will appreciate that.”
Trey stroked his chin. “I’m still bothered that with all the resources we and the church had on Henrietta’s murder we never linked Herman to Judy.”
“As a distant cousin who briefly lived with the family, the linkage was tenuous at best. He didn’t take the family name and moved out right after high school. Other than census information, which no one thought to check, I don’t know what other records might have tied the two together. We checked for criminal records and came up empty.”
“And Beau said he’d never seen or heard of Herman.”
“Well, the good news is that Meredith got the video of them together at the Hilton Head bank.”
Trey picked up the Savannah Post from the end table. “Speaking of news, did you read this article?”
“Willie’s story on Judy?”
Trey nodded. “Willie got most of our story right, but he distorted the terms of Judy’s extradition. Contrary to the article, the prosecutor here isn’t going to even consider asking for the death penalty. That’s what he had to agree to in order to get Judy extradited from France. She’ll pay for what she did, not by execution but with life in prison.”
“I still can’t believe what she did.”
“It was terrible, but thanks to you, we’ve brought her to justice.” Trey opened his briefcase, took out a black leather box and handed it to Patricia.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
She lifted the lid to see her Kimber 45. “This is the gun you gave me after we were married.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I took it from the safe for a few days. Check out the custom grip.”
Engraved in the grip were the letters VJ. “VJ?” she asked, completely puzzled.
“Vigilante for Justice,” Trey said. “That’s what you are, and I’m damned proud. When others were ready to accept your mother’s death as a heart attack, you investigated. And through your direct action in Paris, you brought Judy to justice. It’s been a tough journey for you, but you did impressive work.”
“We,” she corrected.
“Okay. But we couldn’t have done it without you.” He leaned down, gave her a kiss, then straightened. “I’m impressed.”
She nodded, then looked at the gun again. “Thank you, Trey.”
“What do you want to do about the burn clinic?”
Memories welled up, pounding her brain. She shuddered. The nightmares she had experienced for weeks after the accident were gone, replaced by vivid memories no one should have to experience. But she had learned to endure the images. Though they came daily, they were the past. They existed merely to remind her of what she must do for others not so fortunate.
“I think we should move forward on establishing a burn clinic in Savannah. The feds recovered Mama’s money. We could fund the clinic with some of the inheritance and name it after her.”
He shrugged. “It’s a noble idea, but I don’t know if it’s feasible. I don’t have any idea how many burn victims we have in Savannah nor how many patients we’d have to admit to financially sustain a clinic. I suppose the Falcon Hospital Board of Directors could commission a committee to explore the possibility.”
“I’d like that,” she said.
“I’ll ask Beau to head the committee.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Fine. His divorce is in the works and should be granted. He’s petitioned the church for an annulment. Considering everything Judy did, he shouldn’t have any problem there.”
“I still can’t believe she turned on us,” Patricia said in a voice made strident by simmering anger.
Trey shrugged. “People do heinous things for money.”
“She had plenty of money.”
“Not of her own. She had a terrible marriage. She wanted out, but probably knew she would end up broke if she divorced Beau.”
“She’d get half in a divorce.”
“I don’t believe Beau is that well off. He’s made some bad investments. Half of nothing is still nothing.”
“But, to kill for money? Her friends? What good is all the money in the world when you’re alone?” Struggling to make sense of it, she dragged her hands down her face. “Oh my. What happens to a person that makes them resort to something like murder?”
“Greed. Arrogance. Who knows?”
Patricia gazed at her hands folded on her lap. Judy had taken away her foundation, her Mama, as well as her great friend, Alisa. Patricia shook her head. “I don’t understand Judy, but I pray for her salvation every day.”
Trey’s phone rang. He looked at the display, then said, “Excuse me, Patsy. I should take this.”
She nodded understanding.
No sooner than he brought the phone to his ear did shock appear on his face. “What? What? No. No, get on it right away. Call me back as soon as you get the full story.” Trey disconnected the call.
“What was that about?” Patricia asked.
“Judy escaped.”
The End
Click here to preorder Savannah Secrets, the next book in the Vigilantes for Justice series
Continue for a preview of
Savannah Secrets
Book Two of the Vigilantes for Justice series
Due out April 2018
Chapter One
Trey Falcon left his law office at three o’clock and paused on the front stoop of the restored nineteenth century mansion to survey Falcon Square.
A breeze ruffled the Spanish moss hanging like tattered gray drapes from the ancient oaks. Foraging pigeons took flight as a young couple settled on a bench. Nearby, two children chased sun shafts filtering through the dense tree canopy.
As the air was unseasonably warm for September, Trey loosened his tie. A horse-drawn carriage filled with tourists clip-clopped past on the cobblestone roadway. Another ideal fall afternoon in historic downtown Savannah, yet his eyes scanned the entire square looking for anything out of place. His instincts, which had never betrayed him, warned that something was wrong.
He massaged the back of his tingling neck, pressing fingertips into tight muscles. It had been an intense day of depositions and, as usual, tomorrow would be equally brutal. He again glanced at his watch. Five minutes after three. A couple of hours until Father John and his daughter would arrive for dinner. More than enough time to meet with Trokev before going home to help Patricia get ready. The Trokev meeting was more than enough to make anyone jumpy. He released a sigh.
The dinner was a big step in Patricia’s recovery from last year’s attack. He swallowed a shudder and the chunk of guilt that erupted whenever her battle came to mind. That was history. Today was a new start for Patricia, for both of them. Everything had to be as perfect as possible.
Trey reached inside his jacket pocket and removed his phone. A little advance support for her big night couldn’t hurt.
She answered after one ring. “Hey, I was just thinking about you.”
Her voice sounded bright and self-assured. He hadn’t heard much of that signature tone in the last year. Her full of life spirit had fallen prey to her trauma. Now her positive attitude appeared to be returning. A smile emerged, topping his reaction.
“I’m leaving my office for my three-thirty appointment and I thought I’d—”
“Check on me?” she inserted.
“Ah, yeah. You know me well; better than my mother. But you did toss and turn all night. Are you okay?”
When Patricia hesitated, Trey figured she might need an escape route. “You know, we don’t have to do the dinner tonight. We can always postpone. Father John wouldn’t mind.”
“You’re right, I didn’t sleep all that well,” Patricia said. “But, don’t you know, I woke up feeling darn good. I’m enjoying getting back to cooking for guests, and I’m looking forward to a fun evening with Father John and his daughter. It’s time, beyond time, to do this thing.”
“I love your positive attitude,” he said, glad she
was taking the dinner in stride.
“I had a realization in the shower this morning after you left—I’ve shot people. Our enemies are the ones who should be fearful, not me.”
“That’s my girl.” His skin bristled with pride. He glanced at his watch. “I have to go. I have one brief meeting on the way and should be home by four-thirty. I love you so much, sweetheart.”
“I love you too, honey.”
With a lingering grin, he stuffed the phone into his coat. Trey slipped on sunglasses and followed the slate sidewalk to the discrete parking lot adjoining his office. His Bentley sat at the back, next to Reva’s car. A black SUV was parked closer to the front of the densely landscaped, private lot. Tourists, no doubt. He couldn’t fault them. They were an important part of Savannah’s economy, an economy his family had cultivated since the eighteenth century.
First one, then three more broad-shouldered bodyguard types in dark suits, day-old beards and aviator sunglasses poured out of the SUV and approached him.
Trey’s stomach clenched. He’d seen the tactic before, like a wolf pack on prey. A slug of adrenaline cannonballed into his stomach, jacking his nerves. This was no Welcome-Wagon visit. And sending four meant they weren’t here to talk. He should have listened to his earlier intuition; it had never steered him wrong.
He glanced at the thick-necked thugs, opened his jacket and brought his gun hand to his underarm weapon, poised to draw on the slightest provocation. Provocation he knew was coming, he just didn’t know which of them would make the first move.
As they spread out trying to surround him, Trey jockeyed for position, but had no good alternatives other than to back up against Reva’s car. The lead tough studied Trey like a coiled cobra deciding when to strike. The man’s hesitation was good. He was likely considering his options. Would the man walk? Or would he—
Suddenly, the side of Trey’s neck seared with a Taser shock, then another. His torso went rigid. His legs buckled. His mind imploded, then everything went black.
End of preview of Savannah Secrets
Coming April 2018
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Acknowledgments
I am grateful to you for reading Savannah Sleuth and hope you enjoyed it. You are the reason I write. I appreciate your comments and support in email, in person and on social media. Your comments keep me focused.
Thank you to the reviewers and bloggers who’ve so generously spread the word about Savannah Sleuth and who’ve taken the time to give readers an opinion about it.
Thank you to my wonderful wife who has been by my side at each stage of bringing Savannah Sleuth to you. I’m so fortunate to have her support and unconditional love.
Thank you to my critique partners, Natasha Boyd and Dave McDonald. Without their relentless advice, you would have been reading a vastly inferior book.
Thank you to my editor, Elizabeth White, who further improved my writing, pacing, grammar, and punctuation. And who also meticulously fact-checked all things Savannah.
And finally, thank you to my cover designer, Fayette Terlouw, who brought Patricia Falcon so vividly to life on the cover of Savannah Sleuth.
As you can see, it takes a team to produce a book, and I’m very grateful to be on this particular team.
Discussion Questions For Savannah Sleuth
1. Who was your favorite character in Savannah Sleuth? Why?
2. What did the main characters in Savannah Sleuth want? How did they change through the story?
3. Who did you suspect murdered Henrietta? Why?
4. Do you feel the author gave you enough clues and let you fully in on Patricia’s investigation of her mother’s murder?
5. There’s a big twist toward the end of the book. Did you see it coming?
6. Is there a message in Savannah Sleuth? What is it?
7. Did you feel this story was unique? If so, what about it seemed new and fresh to you?
8. Would you recommend Savannah Sleuth to a friend? Why?
Contact Al at [email protected] for information on inviting him to Skype or FaceTime with your book club.
About the Author
Alan Chaput writes Southern mysteries. His novels have finaled in the Daphne and the Claymore. Al lives with his wife in Coastal South Carolina. When not writing, Al can be found Shag dancing, pursuing genealogy, or interacting on social media.
Books by Alan Chaput
The Vigilantes for Justice Series:
Savannah Sleuth
Savannah Secrets (coming April 2018) Preorder here
Savannah Justice (coming July 2018)
Savannah Passion (coming 2019)
End Note
Thank you for reading Savannah Sleuth. Please consider leaving a review for this book at Goodreads and your favorite book retailer. Your comments will help other readers decide if they want to read Savannah Sleuth. It’s a fact—reviews make a difference.
Please stay in touch. I love reading your messages and enjoy hearing what you want in future books.
Warmest regards and happy reading,
Al
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