“I’m just an amateur,” Merijoy said, protesting. “But this whole thing with Caroline DeSantos is so fascinating. I mean, I’m sorry, Weezie, that you accidentally got mixed up in it, but really, it’s all so juicy. What I want to know is what was Caroline doing out there at the plantation house at that time of night anyway?”
She looked around the table for agreement. I hoped nobody would ask what I was doing inside the house when I found her. Especially with the chief assistant district attorney sitting right next to me.
“Wasn’t she supposed to be the architect for the new paper plant?” Doug asked.
“Supposed to be,” Merijoy said sarcastically. “I just find it hard to believe some little scrap of a girl got a huge commission like that, only a few months after she moves to Savannah and starts shacking up with Talmadge Evans.”
I winced, but it was another matter I’d wondered about.
“Sorry, Weezie,” Merijoy said. “But honestly. Didn’t Tal’s firm do mostly residential work?”
“They did a lot of residential,” I said, “and some commercial stuff. A few banks, a couple of churches, and some multifamily housing. I don’t think he’d ever done much industrial design.”
“How do you think a hot little number like her got that job?” Doug asked.
“Look at who hired her,” Merijoy said.
“The paper company? Phipps Mayhew?” Judy Hunter said.
“Phipps would have done the hiring,” Randy said. “But he probably just went on the recommendation of somebody locally.”
“Gerry Blankenship,” Merijoy said. “He’s Miss Anna Ruby’s attorney. And he’s the one Caroline was with at the memorial service. The old fart couldn’t take his eyes off her.”
“You gotta admit she was easy on the eyes,” Doug said. His wife shot him a dirty look.
“Gerry Blankenship,” Miss Sudie said, tsk-tsking. “I had him in my six-year-old Sunday-school class. What a rascal. He seems to have his finger in a lot of pies, doesn’t he?”
“It’s called being well connected,” Doug said. “And old Gerry is hooked up in ways I’ll never understand.”
“His mother’s people were Cargills,” Miss Sudie said. “Wonderful old Savannah family. I don’t know much about the Blankenships. I believe his daddy was a salesman or something.”
“The guy doesn’t even have a real law degree,” Doug griped.
“He doesn’t?” Merijoy said breathlessly. “Maybe Miss Anna Ruby’s will isn’t legal then.”
“Nah,” Doug said. “I guess it’s real. He didn’t go to Emory or Mercer or University of Georgia, though.”
“Doug thinks anybody who isn’t a Bulldog is a card-carrying shyster.” Judy laughed.
“Guess that makes me a shyster,” Jonathan said. “I went to Emory.”
“You know what I mean,” Doug said. “Blankenship got his degree from the old Ben Franklin University. That diploma mill that used to operate downtown. The state ran ’em out of business in the early seventies, but there’s quite a few fellas around town who got their law degrees there.”
“Perfectly capable fellas,” Jonathan pointed out. “We’ve got a couple Ben Franklin grads in our office. They don’t advertise the fact, of course.”
“I’d like to know what’s going to become of the furnishings, if they tear the old house down,” Miss Sudie said. “I remember Miss Anna Ruby had beautiful things. There was an Aubusson rug in the dining room. It was shades of rose and cream and peach. A beautiful rug.”
“Weezie’s the one to ask about the furniture,” Merijoy said. “The place was full of antiques when we were there for the memorial service. But then the sale was cancelled after, you know.”
All eyes seemed to turn in my direction. I had borrowed Daniel’s jacket, but I could feel a definite draft on my chest.
“Will they reschedule the sale?” Emily Flanders asked, looking at me.
“I haven’t heard,” I said, trying to negotiate a bite of potpie with one hand while clutching at the jacket with the other hand.
“I’ll tell you what I heard,” Judy Hunter volunteered. “Supposedly whoever is in charge out there at Beaulieu has started selling off the really good furniture.”
My fork froze in midair. “To who? I mean, whom?”
Judy made a face. “Do you know Lewis Hargreaves?”
“Yes.” I said a little silent prayer. Please don’t let them sell him the Moses Weed cupboard. Not that.
“I was at the hairdresser’s last Saturday, and Vivian Chambers was sitting under the dryer next to where I was getting my hair cut. She was talking on her cell phone—you know how bad reception is downtown, so she was talking real loud. I gather she was talking to her interior decorator. Because she was saying she’d had a call from Lewis Hargreaves about a Sheraton sideboard that came out of Beaulieu. She was asking the decorator to meet her at Lewis’s shop, to look at the piece and tell her if she should buy it. And I heard her say the price too—eighteen thousand dollars. Can you imagine? For one piece of furniture?”
“Don’t even think about ever goin’ in that guy’s shop,” Doug told Judy, pointing an accusing finger.
“Who? Me?” Judy batted her eyelashes. “Don’t worry. I think he’s kind of creepy. And his prices are absurd.”
Merijoy put her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Jonathan, doesn’t this all sound mighty strange to you?”
Jonathan thought about it. “Murder’s always strange, Merijoy.”
“Seriously,” she said. “This whole business of a paper plant coming in out at Beaulieu. I knew Miss Anna Ruby. I talked to her several times this year before she died, about leaving the house to the preservation league for a museum. She didn’t say yes, but she didn’t flat out say no either. And she certainly never hinted that she’d sell it for a paper plant. She loved that place, and she was the last of the line, so it wasn’t as though she were planning on leaving the money to her relatives or anything.”
Sudie McDowell was shaking her head. “Another paper plant. Just as we’re finally getting the air and water cleaned up after all those years of pollution from the paper-bag plant.”
Doug cleared his throat. “Now, none of this is for publication,” he cautioned. “But what I’m hearing around the courthouse is that this Mayhew character may have run into a roadblock with the state environmental folks.”
“What kind of a roadblock?” Merijoy asked.
“Something about an environmental impact statement,” Doug said. “I’m not up on all these state environmental regulations, but I’ve heard their proposal calls for dredging out all those old rice canals out there. And you know how these bureaucrats are when it comes to anybody messing around with wetlands.”
“Maybe this is one time the bureaucrats are on the right track,” Randy said. “That’s beautiful marsh-front property out there. I hate to think about some factory mucking up the water out there. When I was a kid, the best crabbing spot on the river was that old dock at Beaulieu. Good fishing out there, hunting too. Miss Anna Ruby used to let my daddy keep a duck blind there.”
“Yes,” Daniel said gravely, again running his bare foot up and down my leg. “There was some wonderful wildlife out there when we were kids, isn’t that right, Weezie?”
I started to slap at his foot, but when I leaned forward I heard another stitch popping.
Everybody was looking at me now. I took a large gulp of wine.
“I am so sorry,” I said, blushing again. “What were we talking about?”
“Daniel was just agreeing that it would be a shame to lose such a historical landmark as Beaulieu,” Merijoy said.
She got up from her chair. “Everybody ready for dessert? The Otwells fixed it, but their babysitter canceled at the last minute, so Sally Ann brought it over earlier. They send their regrets. Now, I thought we’d have dessert and after-dinner drinks in the library,” Merijoy said. “And I imagine Randy has some of those nasty old cigars of his, if anybody feels like p
oisoning their lungs.”
Now was my chance to escape. Everybody was getting up from the table and helping to clear the dishes.
“Let’s go,” I said, grabbing Daniel’s arm as he walked toward the doorway.
“So soon?” he said, staring right down into my rapidly expanding cleavage. “But things are just starting to get interesting.”
Ignoring him, I caught up with Merijoy.
“Thank you so much for inviting us, Merijoy,” I said. “It’s been a lovely evening. But we’re going to have to bow out early. Daniel’s pager just went off. Some little emergency at the restaurant.”
“Oh no,” Merijoy said, pulling a pouty face. “That’s no fun. But you stay. Randy can run you home after dessert.”
“No, no,” I said hastily. “I’ve had a long day, and I have to get up at five in the morning. It’s estate sale day, you know.”
“All right,” Merijoy said, “but you have to promise to come to supper again.”
“I promise.”
Daniel came up and kissed Merijoy’s hand. I thought she would swoon. “Sorry to have to go,” he said, “but Weezie’s dog got out, and we’ve got to rush home and look for him.”
I could have kicked him.
Merijoy got a funny look, and then she smiled. “Stop with the silly stories,” she said. “I remember what it was like to be young and in love. And I can tell you two want to be alone. So just run along.”
He draped his arm over my shoulder. “Can I have my jacket back now, sugar? I’m feeling kind of chilled myself.”
Chapter 29
“Are you mad at me?” Daniel asked after I threw his sport coat at him and stomped off to the truck.
I could hear more stitches popping after I hoisted myself up to the seat. I looked down and saw the right side seam had ripped halfway up to my thigh. I was past caring. Daniel had already seen my nipples. Too late for modesty now.
“Just take me home, please,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
“It’s not even ten o’clock yet,” he protested. “What’s your hurry?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, my dress is disintegrating,” I said.
“Well, hell, I don’t mind if you don’t mind.”
“I mind.”
“You gotta admit, Weezie, that dress of yours made for a pretty exciting night. Did you ever see that Alfred Hitchcock movie where the guy is dangling off the torch that’s being held by the Statue of Liberty? And another guy is hanging onto the falling guy, just by the sleeve of his jacket. And all of a sudden, the camera focuses in on the sleeve, coming apart, thread by thead. Pop. Pop. Pop. And there’re maybe three little stitches that’re the only thing keeping him from falling to his death. Your dress is kind of like that, you know? Real suspenseful.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed the peep show,” I said. “But then, you weren’t the one whose boobs were about to fall out on the dining-room table in front of God and the chief assistant district attorney and his sweet little white-haired mama.”
“I gave you my jacket,” he said. “What else could I do?”
“Nothing. You’ve been a real sport. Except when you were looking down my dress or feeling up my crotch with your toes.”
“You liked it. Admit it.”
“Swine.”
“OK,” he said, turning the corner onto Abercorn Street. “So now I know what turns you on. Want to know what turns me on?”
“I know what turns you on,” I said. “Almost everything. Including groping women in public.”
He sighed. “And here I thought I was just doing what you asked me to do. ‘Act like you like me, Daniel,’ she says. ‘Be my friend.’ I was being friendly.”
“It was embarrassing,” I said. “Now Merijoy thinks we’re rushing off to go jump in the sack together.” I buried my face in my hands. “God.”
“I just said we had to go home because your dog got out,” he protested.
“I’d already told her a different lie, about an emergency at the restaurant.”
“I like my lie better,” Daniel said.
“Doesn’t matter now,” I said glumly. “You heard what her friends say about Merijoy. She’s the gossip queen of Ardsley Park. She knew we were both lying. Now by tomorrow morning it’ll be all over town. Weezie Foley is sleeping with that hunky chef at Guale.”
“She thinks I’m hunky? Really?” He checked himself out in the rearview mirror, finger-combed his hair. Looked really pleased with himself. “Hunky. I like that. Probably be good for business too. BeBe will love that.”
“Yeah,” I said. “You’ll be the hottest stud muffin in town. And I’ll be that jailbird slut junk-picker. Mama and Daddy will be so proud.”
“Hey,” he said, reaching for my hand. “Don’t take it so seriously. You worry too much. You know that?”
His hand was warm. He stroked mine with his fingertips. I yanked it away.
“I’ve got a lot to worry about,” I said. “My life is crap. But up until now, people thought I was a nice respectable nobody.”
“Those people at the Ruckers’ thought you were nice. I’ll tell you the truth. I thought this was gonna be just a bunch of stuck-up snobs. But everybody acted real friendly.”
“It wasn’t so bad,” I admitted. “Until they started talking about Caroline. And Tal.”
“You handled that pretty cool,” Daniel said. “Very classy. Grace under fire.”
“Really?”
“Damn straight.”
“Thanks. That helps. A little.”
“So. What about finishing our dinner?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I can’t face those people again, not in this dress. It really is about to fall to pieces.”
“I didn’t mean at the Ruckers’. I thought maybe I’d run over to the restaurant, get some dessert to go.”
“Well…”
“You’re not one of those women who won’t eat sweets, are you?” he asked, looking worried.
“Hell no,” I said. “I love desserts. That’s one of the reasons I bake those cheesecakes for BeBe. Tal had a monster sweet tooth. Now that I’m single, I don’t have an excuse to do much real baking.”
“So,” he said, pulling into the lane behind the restaurant, “what do you want for dessert, Weezie Foley?”
“Chocolate. Definitely chocolate.”
Jethro sniffed Daniel’s pants leg. Then he sniffed the bag from the restaurant. Then he got around to sniffing me. Satisfied, he lay down under the coffee table and gave us his best woeful dog stare.
“Absolutely not,” I said, when Daniel started to open the dessert bag. “Chocolate is bad for dogs. He can have a beef jerky treat. They’re in the kitchen, in the cookie jar. Could you get him one, please? I have to get out of this dress.”
“Need any help?”
“Don’t start,” I warned.
Upstairs, I pulled the dress off and let it fall on the floor. It felt so good to be free of its viselike grip that I hated to put clothes on again.
I stood in my dressing room staring at the clothes rack, trying to decide what to put on. My usual sweats and T-shirts didn’t seem quite right for the occasion.
But I had a gorgeous old yellow silk kimono embroidered with dragons that Mama’s brother had brought back to her from Japan. It might work, I thought. Long, loose, yet glamorous. And the yellow was good with my skin and hair. I belted it loosely around my waist, did a turn in front of the mirror, and was satisfied.
I had a date. It was such a funny feeling. Maybe it was the wine. A new man, waiting downstairs in my house—with chocolate, even. This could be good.
“Is that a bathrobe?” Daniel asked.
“No,” I said, “it’s a kimono.”
“Very nice. Although I was getting attached to that dress of yours.”
“That dress is history,” I said.
He’d set the dessert out on glass plates. It was two thick hunks of something chocolate, covered with whipped cream and topped with
chocolate sauce and chopped nuts.
“Yum,” I said, dipping my fingertip in the whipped cream. “What do you call this?”
He had a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes. He popped the cork and poured the wine. Daniel handed me a glass and picked up his own. “It’s called chocolate seduction,” he said. “Shall we toast to that?”
I raised an eyebrow, but we toasted.
“Let’s take this into the living room,” I suggested.
We sat down on the sofa in front of my tiny coal-burning fireplace.
Jethro was still stationed under the coffee table, staring balefully out at us.
I took a bite of chocolate. It was smooth and slightly bittersweet, with a hint of coffee and some kind of liqueur. “Mmm,” I said.
“I like your place,” Daniel said, looking around. “It’s got a lot of character. Not too girly either. Did you do all this yourself?”
“Pretty much,” I said, washing the seduction down with a gulp of champagne. “This was basically a two-car garage when we bought the place. I always figured I’d make it my own someday. For an antique shop. Never in my wildest imagination did I think I’d end up living here. Alone.”
He stood up and walked around the room, stopping to look at my artwork, reading the titles of the books on the shelves, even opening the powder room door to get a peek in there.
“Where’d you get all this neat stuff?” he asked.
“Everywhere,” I said. “That’s what pickers do. This sofa was my grandmother’s. I had it re-covered with a bolt of old fabric I found when a dry goods store in Statesboro closed down. The wrought-iron coffee table top was an old window grate I bought for five bucks at a demolition yard on President Street. That chest under the windows there, I bought at St. Michael’s Thrift Shop, out at the beach. It only cost twenty dollars, but it had about ninety coats of Pepto-Bismol pink paint on it. Took forever to strip, but I knew there would be pretty old pine underneath, and there was.”
He came over and sat down right beside me. “Know what?” he said. “You amaze me.” He put his arm around my shoulder. I flinched, just a bit. Jethro made a growling noise deep in his throat.
Savannah Blues Page 19