Savannah Blues

by Mary Kay Andrews

  “You gave comfort to the afflicted,” Jonathan said. “Isn’t that what the Bible tells us all to do?”

  “It doesn’t tell us to masquerade as priests while we’re doing it,” James said ruefully.

  “You didn’t wear your collar or your robe and cassock,” Jon pointed out.

  “Still,” James said, “I deliberately went out there on false pretenses.”

  “And found out what?” Jon asked.

  “Gerry Blankenship hoodwinked them into witnessing that will,” James said. “I took some meaningless court documents out and showed them to Juanita, acting like it was the will she’d signed. She looked right at them and smiled and nodded that they were the papers they’d signed. She’s nearly blind from her diabetes, Jonathan. She can’t read a newspaper, and she only finds her way around the house by feel. Grady, of course, is basically a vegetable, and has been for some time now.”

  “And that’s why Blankenship stashed them out in the middle of nowhere in Guyton,” Jonathan said.

  “The house belongs to the Willis J. Mullinax Foundation,” James said. “He told them it belonged to Miss Anna Ruby and that they would be doing him a favor if they moved in and looked after it. Poor old things, they’re delighted with the place. A brick house, with air-conditioning and a tiled bath—to Juanita, it’s a palace. He told them to keep quiet about everything, and of course, Juanita feels beholden to dear Mr. Gerry.”

  “Dear Mr. Gerry,” Jonathan said, “certainly gets around.”

  “And gets rich doing it, I imagine,” James said.

  “Maybe not,” Jonathan said. “I’ve had my ear to the ground lately. Gerry’s in debt up to his comb-over.”

  “Really?”

  “This will be news to you, but it costs money to keep up appearances in this town, James. The club memberships, the big house downtown, the donations to the right charities; none of that is cheap. And Gerry likes to do things in a big way, make a big splash. But appearances can only get you so far. Blankenship’s billings have been pathetic. He’s even started doing divorce work.”

  James winced, thinking of Inky and Denise Cahoon. Maybe he should have referred Denise to Gerry Blankenship.

  “This Coastal Paper Products deal could be his salvation,” Jonathan went on. “Putting Phipps Mayhew together with Anna Ruby Mullinax was a stroke of genius. Blankenship makes money on both ends of the deal; representing the estate and Coastal Paper Products.”

  “Can he do that? Ethically, I mean?”

  “Who’s going to stop him?” Jonathan asked. “Anna Ruby Mullinax left no heirs. All the money goes to a foundation that Blankenship controls.”

  “He’ll have to file some kind of papers to keep his nonprofit status,” James pointed out.

  “Gerry’s no dummy,” Jonathan said. “You watch. The paperwork will make it look like he’s handing out money faster than the Rockefellers.”

  “How much money are we talking about here?” James asked.

  “No telling. The property at Beaulieu sold for two point five million. That we know. But we don’t know how much Blankenship is making handling Coastal’s permitting work. That alone is worth hundreds of thousands.”

  James rocked back and forth, letting it all sink in.

  “A very sweet deal, for nearly everyone involved,” he said. “Except Caroline DeSantos, who got killed. And Weezie, who nearly got arrested for it. You know Blankenship, Jonathan. Is he capable of murder?”

  “He’s capable of a lot,” Jon said. “This whole scheme of his, rigging Anna Ruby’s will—if he did—shows that.”

  “We can’t prove he rigged the will,” James said. “Maybe Anna Ruby did agree to sell Beaulieu to Coastal Paper Products. And maybe Blankenship really does intend to provide vocational training for community youths.”

  “And maybe pigs can fly,” Jonathan retorted. “Blankenship is mixed up in something criminal, that’s definite. I just can’t figure out what his motive might have been for killing Caroline DeSantos.”

  “Lover’s quarrel?” James asked.

  Jonathan sat forward in his rocking chair and smiled. “I think not.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “The gossip around town was that Caroline was seeing somebody on the side. And of course, since she was working so closely with Blankenship on the paper plant project, that started the gossip.”

  “We know she had a boyfriend who was considering buying her a house,” James said.

  “Not Blankenship,” Jonathan said. “He’s not on that team.”

  “How do you mean?” James asked.

  “I told you Gerry is good at keeping up appearances,” Jonathan said.

  “And that includes his private life, which he likes to keep very, very private.”

  “He’s gay?”

  “As a goose,” Jon said.

  “And you know this how?”

  “I’m a criminal attorney. People tell me things. Gerry Blankenship has been living a double life for years. He was married, briefly, years ago, for appearance’ sake. No children, and the divorce was very amicable. The former Mrs. Blankenship took her settlement and moved to Florida. And Gerry has, since then, had a series of very discreet, very young, boyfriends.”

  “You’re sure of all this?”

  “Positive,” Jonathan said. “Gerry wasn’t even in town the night Caroline was killed. He was in Charleston, at a coming-out party.” He winked subtly at James. “A coming-out-of-the-closet party, that is.”

  “Oh. That lets Blankenship off the hook, for the murder, anyway. Who else could have done it?” James asked.

  “How well do you know Talmadge Evans?”

  “That’s absurd,” James said. “He was in love with the girl.”

  “What if he found out she was cheating on him?”

  “He did find out,” James said slowly. “He told Weezie the other night that he knew Caroline was seeing another man.”

  “And how did he feel about it?”

  “Betrayed, I suppose. He’s been trying to persuade Weezie to reconcile with him. Sending her flowers, leaving messages on her machine. He showed up drunk at her door one night and made a big scene, begging Weezie to take him back.”

  “Do the police consider Tal a suspect in Caroline’s murder?”

  “Detective Bradley questioned Tal,” Jonathan said. “I read his report on the interview. Tal claimed he was working late at the office that night. Everyone in the firm was working a lot of overtime on the plans for the new paper plant. Tal told Bradley that Caroline left earlier in the evening, for a business meeting.”

  “He never called the police to report her missing?”

  “No. He told Bradley he was too embarrassed. He had an inkling she was lying about where she was going, but didn’t feel ready to force the issue. And of course, the next morning, he got the call that she’d been found. Dead. At Beaulieu.”

  “Found by Weezie,” James said. “Here’s another thought. What about Phipps Mayhew? He was working closely with Caroline on the design of the paper plant. He’s rich. And married. I met his wife at the memorial service for Anna Ruby. She seems to think Southerners are slightly demented when it comes to their determination to save crummy old plantation houses.”

  “I’m sure the police questioned Mayhew,” Jonathan said. “But I don’t remember reading anything in the file on what he may have told them.”

  “Maybe you should go back and take a look,” James suggested.

  “I’ll do that.”

  Chapter 50

  “Mama?” I poked my head around the doorway of my parents’ den, where my mother sat staring at the television set.

  “What?” Her eyes never left the TV. She was watching a cooking show featuring a Chinese chef demonstrating how to debone a Cornish game hen with the longest, wickedest knife I had ever seen.

  I sat on the sofa facing her easy chair. “How did it go this afternoon?”

  She had her hair combed nicely and was wear
ing a pastel pantsuit and her pearl earrings, so I knew she’d made her appointment at the rehab.

  “Shh,” she said. “I’m trying to see what this man is doing.”

  “He’s deboning a Cornish game hen,” I said. “And even if you ever decided to cook a Cornish game hen, which I doubt would ever happen, why would you debone it? Mama, I want to know how it went at the rehab today.”

  “It went fine,” she snapped, holding up the remote control and turning up the sound on the television. “Now could I please have some peace and quiet around here without everybody asking me a lot of snoopy questions?”

  “Oooh-kaay,” I said, getting up and walking out. I found Daddy in the backyard, under the carport, trying to untangle a knot of monofilament line that was wound around the stem of his beloved Weedwhacker.

  “Hey, baby,” he said, looking up when I plopped down in an aluminum yard chair next to him.

  “Mama seems kind of tense,” I said. “Did it go all right at the rehab place this afternoon?”

  He took out his pocketknife and started sawing away at the snarled line. “She didn’t run off.”

  “That’s a start,” I said. “But was she receptive at all?”

  “Hand me that trash can, will you, Weezie?” he asked, unfurling the ruined line.

  I started gathering up the monofilament and throwing it in the trash.

  “It didn’t go too good,” he said finally. “James says it’s gonna take time. But today, well, I’d have to say this first time was a bust.”

  “What happened?”

  “When we first got there the intake person, that’s what they call the nurse who asks you all the questions, she took Marian in a room and talked to her and asked her a lot of questions for an hour. And I went off with another person, and they asked me family-type questions. And then we went into a meeting together with the intake people, and they talked about what all they thought your mama needed to do for her treatment.”

  “When did things go bad?” I asked.

  “Right about the time they told us they really thought she should do inpatient treatment. That means stay at the hospital for six weeks.”

  “Oh no,” I said.

  “Your mama got hysterical and accused me of trying to trick her into getting locked up again. I told her and told her that wasn’t what was gonna happen, but you know how your mama gets.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “Finally we got her calmed down, and the intake person said since your mama was so opposed to staying in the hospital, maybe they could just see her on an outpatient basis, which she finally agreed might not be so bad.”

  “What happened after that?”

  “They had her sit in on a group therapy session. And when she came out, she was just like you saw her in the house. Shell-shocked, kinda like.”

  “And she wouldn’t say what upset her so much?”

  “Just kept saying those other people in the group were all dope fiends and winos and bums and criminals, and how could I expect her to stay locked up in a room with that kind of element six days a week for three months.”

  “Did you try to talk to her?”

  “James and I both tried our hardest to talk some sense into her. Your mama still doesn’t think she has a drinking problem. She doesn’t see why she should have to go to rehab with a bunch of dope fiends and winos.”

  I wondered if any of the dope fiends and winos at rehab had ever thought to mix Xanax with Four Roses, like Mama had.

  “Is there anything I can do?” I asked.

  “Later on, they want us all to do some group counseling together,” Daddy said. “But not until your mama is ready to admit she has a drinking problem.”

  “All right,” I said, getting up from the lawn chair. I started to leave, then I went back and gave him a tight hug. “I love you, Daddy,” I said.

  “And I love you too,” he said, hugging me back. “We’ll get through this, Weezie. Just say a prayer for your mama, will you?”

  “I will,” I said. “And one for you and me too.”

  Daniel’s truck was parked outside the house on the Southside, and he’d already loaded the sofa by the time I got there.

  I did a quick walk-through around the house but didn’t see much else worth buying, so I grabbed an end table and added it to the pile of stuff in the back of Daniel’s truck.

  He stopped on the way back into the house and gave me a quick, sweaty kiss.

  “Do you like the furniture?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he said. “It’s cool. Really. I was afraid you meant some of that frilly-looking wicker, but I really like this bamboo kind of look.”

  When we had both trucks loaded, I followed him out to Tybee.

  The last time I’d seen his house, the place had been a shambles. But Daniel had been busy. The walls still smelled of fresh paint, and the floors had been stripped and refinished.

  “Wow,” I said admiringly. “It looks great. How did you get so much done?”

  “My brothers came over and helped out,” he said, setting down one of the arm chairs against the far wall.

  “Not there,” I said, shaking my head and pointing toward the opposite wall. “Here. And the sofa over there, and the end tables between the sofa arms and the chairs. And the bar, over there, near the dining alcove.”

  “You sure are bossy,” Daniel said.

  “You hired me to boss you around.”

  He put down the bar stool he was carrying and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close to his sweaty chest. “I’ve got a confession to make. I had ulterior motives when I hired you.”

  “And I had ulterior motives when I took the job,” I said. “Let me see where you put everything in the bedroom.”

  He grinned.

  “That’s not what I meant,” I said. “I just want to make sure you didn’t put things in the wrong place.”

  “I thought you liked where I put things,” Daniel said, tagging after me.

  “No,” I said, standing in the doorway to the bedroom. “This is all wrong.”

  He’d put the big oak bed blocking the best window in the room, the one with a great view of the sky and the river, and the highboy was right next to the bed.

  “Your lovemaking techniques are superb,” I told him, “but as an interior designer, you’re hopeless. Here. Help me move this bed.”

  He grabbed my hand and pulled both of us onto the mattress.

  “Not that way,” I said, struggling to free myself. “I want the bed against the other wall, so you can see the water when you wake up in the morning.”

  “I hate waking up with the sun in my eyes,” he grumbled.

  “We’ll get you some split bamboo shades you can pull down,” I said, “but you really don’t want the bed blocking your view. And you don’t want to be stumbling over the dresser when you get out of bed in the morning.”

  He stood up and began shoving the furniture around. “How do you come to know all this stuff?” he asked.

  “It’s just common sense,” I said. “Didn’t your mother teach you any of this?”

  “My mother worked most of the time,” Daniel said. “She didn’t spend a lot of time worrying about furniture placement.”

  The air had suddenly taken on a chill. But I pushed ahead. After all, if we were going to sleep together, I wanted to know something about his family.

  “Where did your mom work?” I asked.

  “At the sugar plant,” he said.

  “Who took care of the kids?”

  “We took care of ourselves,” he said. “We made out all right.”

  “It sounds like you and your brothers are pretty close,” I said. “When can I meet them?”

  “Whenever,” he said. “Is this like you want it now?”

  “Better,” I said, standing in the middle of the room. “You need some lamps, and some kind of bedspread. And what about pictures for the walls?”

  “Why do I need pictures?”

  “So you’ll
have something to look at when you’re lying in bed,” I said.

  “I know what I want to look at when I’m lying in bed,” Daniel said. “And it’s not pictures. Are you coming back to Bluffton with me tonight?”

  It was a tempting thought. “I can’t. The sale at Beaulieu is Saturday morning. And I’ve still got some stuff I want to do.”

  “When, then?” he asked.

  I knew what he meant, but I asked anyway.

  “When, what?”

  “When are you going to stop all this running around? When are we going to be together for more than just a night?”

  I slouched up against the wall and crossed my hands over my chest. “Now I’ve heard it all.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “A guy who wants a commitment after just one night.”

  His face got red. “I am not asking for a commitment. I just want to know where we stand with each other. Remember, you’re the one who was ready to go running back to old lover boy, just last night.”

  I shook my head. “Oh no. I’m not getting into this again.”

  “You don’t get how weird this is, do you?”

  “No,” I said. “Why is this weird?”

  “You’re living in your ex-husband’s backyard. He watches you. He’s just waiting for you to coming running back across that courtyard to him.”

  “Are you asking me to move in here with you?”

  He looked shocked. “No. I mean, I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “Good,” I said. “Don’t. I like where I live just fine. And don’t get the idea that just because we slept together means you get the right to boss me around.”

  “You’re the one who does all the bossing, is that it?”

  I wrenched my hand away from him. “No. I don’t want to do all the bossing. Listen to us. Bickering again. It’s just the way I told you it would be. All we do is fight. This isn’t working.”

  I turned my back on him and headed out to the yard to my truck.