2 Lowcountry Bombshell

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2 Lowcountry Bombshell Page 19

by Susan M. Boyer


  “No.” She squared her shoulders. “Have you spoken to Jimmy, Grace, and my mother?”

  My heart hurt. “Calista, there’s something I haven’t told you.”

  “What is it?” She bit her bottom lip.

  “There’s no easy way to say this. Jim Davis is dead. Nate and I found him in his car, parked across the street from your house just before the alarm went off.”

  She raised both hands to her face. “Jimmy? Why would anyone hurt Jimmy?”

  “I suspect because he saw someone entering or leaving your house and could have identified him.”

  “Or maybe Grace killed him for spite after what happened yesterday at lunch.”

  “Do you suspect Grace knows how to handle a gun?”

  “He was shot?”

  Nate’s voice came from the door of the room. “Actually, it looks like Jim committed suicide.”

  “What?” I said. “Do you have a time of death?”

  “Preliminary estimate is between nine and eleven p.m.”

  I processed that. It didn’t clear anyone.

  “I don’t believe it,” said Calista.

  Nate grimaced. “He left a note. It appears to be his handwriting. The gun was registered to him. The coroner won’t make a final ruling until an autopsy is done, but his preliminary finding is that it’s a suicide.”

  “What did the note say?” Calista asked.

  Nate’s eyes were compassionate, his voice gentle. “That he couldn’t live without you anymore.”

  I said, “That doesn’t make a lick of sense. He’s lived without her for eighteen years.”

  Nate shrugged. “He was emotional yesterday.”

  “But not depressed,” I said.

  “I don’t care what any report says. I’ll never believe Jimmy killed himself,” Calista said adamantly. “It just wasn’t his nature. Whoever is trying to kill me killed him because he wanted to protect me.”

  “I think that’s closer to the truth,” I said.

  “Let’s see what the coroner’s final report says,” Nate said. “For right now, why don’t you get some rest and let me stay with Calista a while.”

  Calista said, “Both of you should get some rest. No one is going to bother me here.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t believe that for a minute. We’re not leaving you alone again.”

  “Then you’re going to need reinforcements. You have to sleep. You can’t guard me twenty-four-seven.”

  I said, “The problem with that is the only private security company in the area with the type of personnel we need is SSI, and we can’t trust them.”

  Nate said, “That’s not exactly true. We don’t trust two of them.”

  I nodded. “Let’s get Mack Ryan in here.”

  Mack Ryan came quickly when Calista called, I’ll give him that. Twenty minutes after she told him what had happened and where she was, he was standing in the room. He looked exactly the same as he had the day I’d met with him, right down to the black SSI logo shirt.

  Calista sat quietly as Nate and I filled Mack in. When we finished, he turned to Calista. “Ms. McQueen, I’m deeply sorry. I’m sure you know this is not typical of our operation. If it were, we wouldn’t stay in business long. We will provide around-the-clock personal security until this threat has been neutralized.”

  “I’d like that coordinated with Ms. Talbot,” Calista said.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Mack nodded at her, then me.

  “Neither Ryder Keenan nor Tim Poteat are coming anywhere near her,” I said.

  “They’ll both be placed on administrative leave until we complete our investigation,” said Mack.

  “Are there any other former Charleston PD officers on your staff?” I asked.

  Mack nodded. “One currently. And one that left our team a few months ago.”

  I said, “I’ll need those names.”

  “Anything else?” Mack asked.

  “Actually, I’d like a complete roster of all your current and prior employees. And I’d like to know Keenan and Poteat’s movements last night,” I said. “They were both on duty, and both inside your offices at eight-forty-five.”

  Mack nodded. “The motion detectors in Ms. McQueen’s home did not activate the cameras. Our office did not receive an alert when the audible alarm sounded. However, we did receive a code yellow, indicating a malfunction with the equipment earlier in the evening. Keenan was dispatched to check it out at twenty-one hundred.”

  “He went alone?” I asked.

  “Affirmative. He has a law enforcement background, but he’s also technically skilled. It was efficient for him to go alone. We were aware of no threat. This left one response team and a watch supervisor available for other calls.”

  “Were there other calls?” I asked.

  Mack wrinkled his forehead. “Affirmative. We had a call out on Kiawah Island. Motion detectors activated and a prowler was observed on camera. Team two was dispatched.”

  “Was Tim Poteat on team two?” Nate asked.

  “No. He is Keenan’s partner. He stayed at headquarters last night to serve as watch supervisor in case we needed to call in another team.”

  “Was anyone else called in?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “So last night, Ryder Keenan went alone to Calista’s home, and Tim Poteat never left the office?”

  “That’s correct,” said Mack.

  “What did Keenan report?”

  “He checked the control panel, which is hidden and secured outside the residence so we can access it without disturbing our clients. He replaced a bad switch. He reported the perimeter secure at twenty-two thirty and came back to headquarters afterward. We were not aware anything was wrong until I received Ms. McQueen’s call.”

  “Tell me about Ryder Keenan,” I said.

  “He’s a family man. A straight arrow. I stand behind him one hundred percent. That said, we must follow protocol. I will make him available for questioning.”

  “And Tim Poteat?” I asked.

  “Since Poteat didn’t leave the office last night, my opinion, that clears him,” said Mack. “If the local PD wants to question him as well, I’ll see that he complies.”

  “And you’re positive he couldn’t have left without you knowing it?” Nate asked.

  Mack grimaced. “I’m positive of very little. But technicians in the monitoring room spoke to him several times. It’s highly unlikely he could have left undetected.”

  “How about this. I’d like headshots of your entire staff, plus the guy who left recently,” I said.

  “To what purpose?”

  “To see if Calista recognizes any of them,” I said.

  Mack said, “But several of them have been to her home at various times. She is going to recognize them. What does that prove?”

  “I want to know if she recognizes any of them from somewhere else.” Between the first shift employees, the ones who would have been off the night before, and anyone on vacation, there were quite a few SSI employees we hadn’t vetted. Not to mention the guy who recently left. Keenan might be our guy. He also might be the victim of a frame. I wasn’t ready to pronounce Poteat or anyone else cleared at that point. A conspiracy among several of them was possible.

  Calista said, “Mack, please give her whatever she needs.”

  Mack nodded once. “Very well.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Calista and Elenore were released just before noon on Sunday. Thankfully, Jim Davis’s car had been removed by the time we arrived, sparing Calista that sight. Nate, Mack Ryan, and I searched the house together. Blake had removed the teapot and cups and taken them into evidence. Other than that, the house was undisturbed, the premises secure.

  After a lengthy int
erview with three former Marines who’d been with Mack Ryan since he opened SSI, Nate, Calista, and I agreed they passed muster. The plan was for them to rotate shifts, with Nate and me dropping in unannounced periodically. With his reputation on the line, Mack would no doubt also be checking in. Nate and I went home and crashed.

  We woke up just in time to shower, dress, and get to Mamma’s house by six for Sunday dinner. Hand in hand, we walked towards the front door.

  “I like your dress,” Nate said.

  “This old thing? I just threw something on.” I’d been planning to wear that green-flowered sundress all week. It fit me just right, and the square neckline suggested things but didn’t shout them. The lace around the hemline was feminine, the overall effect subtly sexy.

  Nate grinned. “I’ll enjoy helping you take it off later.”

  “Nate Andrews. When we leave here, we need to check on Calista.”

  “We will, Slugger. We’ll tuck her in, look the Marine in the eyes, and then we can have some down time. It’s been a rough weekend.”

  “Boy howdy.” I smiled and reached for the door just as Mamma opened it.

  “Liz, honey, I heard all about this incident on the ferry. Why on earth didn’t you tell us what happened?” Mamma hugged me tight, then held me at arm’s length and checked me over from one end to the other. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, Mamma. But I’m gonna kill my brother, straightaway.”

  “Now don’t go off on Blake. He didn’t tell me a thing. And I’ve had words with him as well. I heard all about it over at Phoebe’s Day Spa.” Mamma let go of me and grabbed ahold of Nate. “Darlin’, it’s so good to see you. I can’t thank you enough for saving Liz from that horrible man.”

  I sighed deeply. “Mamma, how do you know I’m not the one who did the saving?”

  “Well that’s not what they were saying over at Phoebe’s. Y’all come in the house. I’m just finishing dinner. Frank, get these children something to drink.”

  Daddy stirred from his chair. Chumley didn’t get up, but woofed a hello.

  Daddy said, “Nate, how about a Jack and Coke?”

  Nate smiled. “Jack sounds good. Let’s save the Coke for later.”

  “All right then.” Daddy poured two fingers into a highball glass and handed it to Nate.

  “Tutie, I’ve got Merlot open. Does that suit you?”

  “Sounds good, Daddy.”

  “Your brother and sister are out in the screened porch. I can’t think what for. It’s hot as blazes outside.” Daddy handed me a glass of wine.

  “I’ll see if Mamma needs help in the kitchen.”

  “Nate, have a seat,” Daddy said.

  I gave him a little smile over my shoulder and followed the smell of fried chicken into the kitchen. “If you could bottle that fragrance, you could make a billion dollars.”

  Mamma manned two cast iron skillets—one with chicken and one with okra. “Honey, would you slice a couple tomatoes? Grace gave me some from her garden, and they’ll be good with this okra.”

  “Sure, Mamma.” I went to the sink to wash my hands.

  “So tell me about Nate.”

  “What about him?”

  “Darlin’, your makeup is perfect. I love that shade of lipstick on you, by the way. You haven’t put on a dress with lace around the hem for Sunday dinner since I stopped dressing you myself. So tell me about Nate.”

  I smiled slyly.

  Mamma looked at me and nodded. “That’s what I thought. Are you sure about this? You sure had your heart set on Michael Devlin for a long time.”

  “I’m sure. Michael and I aren’t the same people we were in college.” I set to peeling and slicing tomatoes.

  “You share a lot of history—a lot of common roots.”

  “It’s just not there for us anymore, Mamma.”

  “The way I hear tell, that’s not the way he sees it.”

  I tilted my head back and forth. “He’ll come to see things my way.”

  Mamma looked at me sideways. “I just want you to be happy.”

  “I know, Mamma.”

  Mamma knocked on the window. “Merry Leigh? Come light the candles.”

  The back door opened and Merry and Blake stepped into the kitchen. Everybody said hey and all that. Merry went through the swinging door into the dining room.

  I looked at Blake. “You get any sleep?”

  “A little. You?”

  “Enough.”

  He nodded. “I’ve got Ryder Keenan coming in tomorrow morning for an interview. Sonny’s got eyes on him just in case.”

  “Seems like he would try to run if he’s guilty—and I think he is,” I said.

  “Mack Ryan has personally vouched that Keenan will show up. I think he has people sitting on him, too. Ryan has a lot to lose.”

  “What time is he coming in?” I asked.

  “No,” Blake said.

  “Give me one good reason why not?”

  “Because this is an open police investigation and you are not a sworn officer. And because you’ll talk all over the top of me, like you always do.”

  “I do no such thing.”

  “I will tell you everything he says. You can listen to the recording of the interview if you want to.”

  I was only slightly mollified.

  Mamma piled the last few pieces of chicken on a platter. “Blake, take this into the dining room, would you?”

  She scooped mashed potatoes into a bowl. “Liz, take these in with the tomatoes.”

  I followed Blake into the dining room. Mamma had outdone herself. The table was decked out in her best china, silver, and crystal. The wall sconces and chandelier were dimmed, and soft candlelight flickered from the table. An arrangement of fresh-cut hydrangeas in mixed colors spilled out of a porcelain pitcher.

  Mamma was right behind me with a squash casserole and a gravy boat. “Blake, bring the biscuits. Frank, you and Nate come to dinner.”

  We all took our places, Mamma and Daddy at either end, Nate and me to Mamma’s right, and Blake and Merry to her left. Mamma held out her hands and we all followed suit, joining hands for the blessing. Mamma returned thanks, making sure she worked in how grateful we all were that Nate and I had been spared on Friday night.

  Then we all focused on passing food and piling it on our plates, which were really more the size of a typical platter. Mamma wouldn’t have anyone going hungry at her table.

  Nate said, “Mrs. Talbot, this looks fabulous. I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal like this.”

  “Please call me Carolyn.” Mamma smiled. “E-liz-a-beth Su-zanne Tal-bot, do you mean to tell me you haven’t cooked this young man a proper dinner?”

  Nate’s eyes widened. His face froze in an alert expression one might see on a cornered rabbit. “Oh, yes ma’am. Liz is a great cook. But I can’t talk her into frying chicken, now.”

  “Mamma, I save my calories for coming to your house. I cook lighter things through the week so I can splurge on your biscuits and gravy.”

  “Just don’t be letting poor Nate go hungry because you’re on some diet,” Mamma cautioned. “A man has to have a good meal at the end of the day.”

  “Oh, I’m not going hungry.” Nate bit into a piece of chicken, likely to avoid further discussion of my cooking talents.

  I took pity on him. “Mamma, when are you and Daddy leaving on vacation?”

  Blake chuckled and Merry grinned. I knew I’d stepped into something.

  Merry said, “Napa Valley this year, right?”

  Daddy grumbled under his breath.

  “You can have wine shipped home. Make sure you stock up on Cabernets,” Blake said.

  Mamma sighed, “I’ve been wantin’ to go
to wine country for years. All of our friends have been.”

  “You’re going for the harvest, right?” I asked.

  “That was the plan,” Mamma said. “I have everything arranged. I’ve spent hours planning our itinerary.”

  Daddy put down his fork. “Why do we have to chase those grapes all over California when we can sit right here and let them come to us? We can order any wine you want from the Internet. Every damn one of those wineries has a website. And I tell you something else—we can order a lot of wine for what those plane tickets cost alone.”

  Blake said, “Dad doesn’t want to fly.”

  I looked at Mamma. “He always does this. You know he’ll get on the plane. And he’ll rave for months to everyone who’ll listen about how much fun y’all had when you get back.”

  “If we get back,” Daddy muttered.

  “Frank, why do you insist on aggravating the fool out of me every time we plan a trip?”

  I looked at her from under a raised eyebrow. Mamma well knew the answer to that question. We all did. Daddy aggravated her for sport. Apparently she enjoyed the game. She’d stayed married to him more than thirty years.

  “Why don’t you and the girls go out there. They’ll like all those snooty restaurants you have picked out where they bring you two bites of a bunch of stuff, none of it recognizable.”

  “I’d like to have a nice romantic vacation with my husband.” Mamma’s voice dripped with icicles.

  “Daddy, remember how much fun you had in Bermuda?” I asked.

  “They have beaches there,” Daddy said.

  “For heaven’s sake, Frank, we live at the beach.” Mamma set down her fork.

  This was going nowhere good. We needed to capture both their attention with anything else. I said, “Mamma, I meant to ask you. Do you remember Elenore Harper?”

  Mamma drew back her chin. “Why, of course I remember Elenore Harper. Odd woman. Why do you ask?”

  “She’s working for a client of mine as a housekeeper.”

  “A housekeeper?” Mamma sounded incredulous. “Lauren will get a kick out of that. I hadn’t heard anything about it. Last I heard of her, she’d gone back to Summerville.” Lauren Harper, Warren’s second wife, was in Mamma’s Jazzercise class, Episcopal Church Women, Garden Club, et cetera.

 

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