“I just knew they’d catch him, and he’d say who he was and why he was there. I was so afraid Drum would kill him. For what he did to me, and for being there, trying to take Tallulah from us. I had to know what was going on. So I said I wanted hot chocolate. And, of course, Dahlia Jane said she’d come with me. So then I had to make another excuse to get away from her.
“I figured C. C. and Dwight had ridden over on the boat, so eventually they’d have to go back there. When I walked up to the boat, C. C. had a Santa Claus sack, and he was heading out. He saw me and stopped, started yelling at me. He was furious. Asked me how I could keep that from him, that he had a daughter.
“So I told him I didn’t want her to know him or have anything to do with him. Him and his whole family was poison.
“He said there was nothing I could do about it. He was going to find Tallulah right then and tell her I’d lied to her her entire life. He was vicious. He said when he was finished, she’d never want to see me again, and he’d make sure she had plenty of money to pay people to keep me away. Then he dropped that red bag and came at me, put his hands around my throat.
“I pulled my arms up between us and was somehow able to break away, but I stumbled and fell. He was coming at me. I knew he was going to kill me. I had my gun in my purse—I have a concealed carry permit. I scrambled for it, was able to get it out and…I shot him.” She dissolved into sobs.
I processed what she’d said. “Holly, did you take his watch, his wallet, or his cell phone?”
“What?” She looked up at me. “Why would I do that?”
“What about the red bag he had?” I asked.
“I don’t know what happened to it. It was sitting on the dock.”
“Did you loosen the rope that tied the wooden boat to the Chris-Craft—the power boat?”
“Why, no. I can’t think of a single reason that would’ve crossed my mind. I fired my gun. He stumbled backwards and fell into the boat. I got up, grabbed my purse, and ran.”
“Where is the gun now?” I asked.
“It’s in my purse,” she said.
“Would you place your purse on the desk please?” I asked.
She complied, opening the black leather satchel wide. The Glock was in a leather holster to one side.
“Is the gun loaded?” Keeping my eyes on Holly, I pulled a glove from my own bag, then retrieved the gun.
“Why, yes,” she said like that was a ridiculous question.
I slipped the gun in an evidence bag, then handed her a legal pad and a pen. “Would you write that out for me, just like you told me? And then sign and date it. I’ll be right back.”
I walked out into the lobby. Blake and Nate stood by the front window talking. I joined them.
“Well, I have her full confession,” I said. “It was a clear case of self-defense. There are still a few things that don’t quite add up.”
“You think?” Blake snorted.
“What?” I felt my face scrunch at him.
“We actually have four confessions,” said Nate.
“Oh, come on,” I said. “You know they’re doing that to try to confuse things. They must somehow think that’s helping her, when actually the hullabaloo isn’t the slightest bit helpful at all. She was defending her life. This just makes everything messier.”
Nate said, “Just playing devil’s advocate here. Her story is it was self-defense. But she had a solid motive to kill C. C. Bounetheau. Actually, so did her husband. He raised Tallulah as his own. He wasn’t about to let C. C. Bounetheau skate off into the sunset with her.”
“And Mrs. Hartley was trying to protect her grandchildren, as was her husband, who acted independently,” said Blake. “They each tell the story with themself holding the gun, no one else around, and they acted in self-defense.”
“But Holly Aiken has a gun. She gave it to me.”
Blake nodded. “That makes four.”
“Damnation. Well, I guess you’ll have to arrest all four of them, at least until we get ballistics back. Any of them say they took the watch, phone, and wallet?”
“Nope,” said Nate and Blake in unison.
“I guess it’s possible someone came along and robbed him after he’d been shot,” I said. “She denies loosening the rope. I can’t think why she’d admit killing him but lie about that.”
“Same with the others,” said Nate. “It’s worrisome.”
“Truly,” I said. “We’re still missing a couple pieces to this puzzle.” I glanced at my watch. Somehow it had gotten to be 6:55. “Damnation. I’ve got to run. The town council meeting starts in five minutes.”
“I’ll gather all the statements and put them each in their own cell,” said Blake. “And I’ll see if I can get ballistics to rush this. See which one of these folks actually pulled the trigger.”
SIXTEEN
The mayor, Lincoln Sullivan, was speaking as I slipped into the executive conference room at the city offices. “One can hardly call the event a success when you have dead Santa Clauses washing up on the beach. However, I suppose it wasn’t an unmitigated disaster either.” The Sullivans are a huge, sprawling family. Grace was Lincoln’s second cousin—or maybe his first cousin once-removed.
I slid into my customary spot across from Daddy at the large mahogany conference table. The mayor sat at the head of the table with Daddy on his left, then John, Robert, and Darius at the far end. Grace sat to Darius’s left, which left me between Grace and the mayor.
Brightly colored Christmas cookie tins sat in front of each of our chairs. I recognized them as the ones Mamma had filled with thumbprint cookies, white chocolate chip cranberry cookies, and chocolate peanut butter blossoms. Heaven only knew how many of these she’d distributed on the island. We already had one at our house, but you wouldn’t see me turn down a second. Everyone was checking out the contents, passing along their thanks to Mamma through Daddy.
Darius took a bite of a white chocolate chip cranberry cookie. “Umm, umm, umm. Oh, this is made with love right here.”
Robert said, “I thought the parade was a wonderful success. It’s tragic—what happened—and unfortunate for the town to have such a thing transpire, especially at Christmas, especially involving a Santa Claus. That said, I seriously doubt it will have an impact on the event going forward.”
“I think we need new guidelines for the floats.” Darius eyeballed Daddy.
For his part Daddy chuckled, shook his head.
The Mayor regarded me over his glasses. “Will your brother be joining us this evening?” Typically, Blake attended the council meetings to give a report and in case there was anything the council wanted to discuss with him.
“No,” I said. “He’s tied up at the police station. There’s been a development in the C. C. Bounetheau case.” As you might imagine, I had to explain that, which led to a few minutes of exclamations, chatter, and speculation.
It was a slow night, most likely due to the holidays. Normally, Mildred, the mayor’s wife was there, and Mackie Sullivan, the town’s attorney—he was also Grace’s nephew and some flavor of Lincoln’s cousin. This was the first time since I’d been on the council when we had only the mayor and the council in attendance. I hadn’t had dinner, and it had been a long time since lunch. I grabbed a cookie and prayed for a quick meeting.
“Will the council come to order?” Our mayor had the thickest drawl of anyone I personally knew.
Everyone quieted down.
“We only have two items on tonight’s agenda,” said Lincoln. “The first is the issue of Accreted Land Management. Has everyone had a chance to review the preliminary information?”
While we did everything we could to avoid beach erosion, we had the opposite issue on the southern end of Stella Maris. Sand was actually accreting there at a rapid rate, which caused a myriad of issues. We were gathering bids from several coa
stal land management consulting companies to advise on the best way to manage the accreted land. We all said yes, we’d read the proposals.
Daddy said, “I’d like to hear the recommendations from Biohabitats before we proceed with a vote.”
“Do I hear a motion?” asked the mayor.
“I move we table this discussion until January,” said Daddy.
“I second,” said Robert.
“All in favor?” asked the mayor.
We all answered, “Aye.”
“Anyone opposed?” Lincoln glanced around the table.
No one was opposed.
“The matter is tabled until January,” said Lincoln. “The second item of business is not on your agendas. This regards a very recent development—as a matter of fact, we just received the final confirmation on this today. I wanted to share it with everyone. In light of Saturday evening’s misfortune, I thought we could all use some good news. Robert, would you like to tell everyone about our recent good fortune?”
“Sure.” Robert Pearson glanced around the table. “This will come as welcome news for all, but particularly good news for some of us, I think. As a town, we have a problem that has steadily grown worse over the last decade. Our property values have skyrocketed, although not to the degree of, say, Sullivan’s Island or Isle of Palms, for the simple reason that many folks don’t want the hassle of a commute that involves a ferry. Still, as with most local governments, the city’s pay scale can’t keep up with rising prices. It’s becoming impossible for the people who serve the town to live in the town.”
He had my undivided attention. This was an issue near and dear to my heart. My eyes met Daddy’s across the table.
Robert continued. “Here’s the good news…the town of Stella Maris has been named the beneficiary of a charitable trust. Specifically, employees of the town who serve the public.”
We all looked at Robert with varying degrees of confusion.
Robert said, “Stay with me. The single purpose of the trust is to ensure that public employees have access to affordable housing within the town limits.”
“Oh my stars!” This was unbelievably fabulous news.
Robert nodded. “The trust is authorized to provide funding for up to two town employees a year. The council decides who the beneficiaries are each year.”
“When does this go into effect?” I asked.
“Immediately,” said Robert. “In fact, we need to select the two beneficiaries for this year by December thirty-first. There will be two more next year, and so on.”
Daddy was doing that thing with his hand where he moved it in a chopping motion back and forth. He did this when he was thinking. “Who set up this trust? Who is the trustee?”
Robert winced. “The grantor stipulated that he or she would remain anonymous. That’s a hard and fast condition. And I am the trustee.”
“How does this work?” I asked.
“We—the council—decide how to award the money,” said Robert. “The amount is based on a formula. The trust contributes enough money to each beneficiary to make an average house on the island affordable on his or her salary.”
John Glendawn’s face was all puckered up in confusion. Self-consciously, I smoothed my face.
“How’s that again?” asked John.
Robert said, “Let’s say the average house on Stella Maris right now costs $400,000. I don’t know if that’s the number or not, but this is an example. Most banks would want a twenty percent down payment. It would take an average city employee a decade to save eighty thousand dollars on what they make. Let’s face it, we pay what we can afford, but the city can’t keep up with the local housing market. And based on the way banks calculate the debt to income ratio allowed on mortgages, if you roll in escrow for taxes and insurance, city employees could barely afford a house worth half of the average.”
Now everybody’s face was all pinched up.
Robert said. “The simplest way to put it is this. We choose two recipients. They each go over to the bank—they have to use the local bank on the island—and talk to a loan officer—let’s say they’re talking to Winter Simmons, put a face on things. Winter will look at the employee’s income and the average price of real estate in Stella Maris at that time and give them a price range to shop in, up to 125% of the average home on the island. The employees also have to use a realtor who lives on the island. Insurance has to be purchased locally—basically, the entire transaction benefits the local economy.
“Then Winter will let us know how much the city needs to kick in as additional down payment to make the home affordable on the employee’s salary. As trustee, I will write the check.
“Now, obviously, we won’t have city employees buying beachfront property through the grant, but most other homes on the island would be attainable.”
“Why, this is wonderful,” said Grace. “You know this really is a problem. I’m so happy someone with the means to address it noticed and was willing to help out.”
“It’s…incredible.” Daddy’s eyes locked with mine, seemed to ask if I knew anything about this.
I shrugged, shook my head. How would I have a clue?
John said, “Problem’s been getting steadily worse for years. This is a Godsend.”
Darius was awfully quiet.
Darius was also incredibly wealthy. Had he set up this trust? I studied his face. If it was him, he had a good poker face. Calista was another candidate. She was, to the best of my knowledge, the wealthiest person who lived on Stella Maris. Perhaps they’d collaborated.
Lincoln said, “I know we’re all grateful for the generosity of our benefactor. This is good for the city all around. It will help us keep our young people here. We may want to consider appointing our first two recipients, then designing an application process going forward.”
Darius said, “I move that we name our police chief, Blake Talbot, and our fire chief, Hoyt Thompson, our first two recipients and establish an application process for next year at our January meeting.”
Did he have that motion ready to roll out?
John raised his hand, “I second the motion.”
“Wait a minute now,” said Daddy. “Looks to me like there’s an ethical problem here. Liz and me are fixin’ to vote to help Blake buy a house. I’m not sure about that.”
Robert said, “Our benefactor knows this is a small town and many of us are related. It’s specifically stated in the trust that council members may nominate and/or vote for family members.”
Daddy’s eyes got big, then he shrugged. “Okay then.” He looked at the mayor.
Lincoln said, “All in favor?”
There was a chorus of ayes.
“Anyone opposed?”
No one was.
Lincoln looked at Daddy, then me. “Y’all don’t let the cat out of the bag, hear? Let’s have a formal ceremony, present the awards, get pictures for the newspaper.”
“When d’you want to do that?” asked Daddy. “Blake’s looking at houses now. They’ve got a baby on the way.”
This was news we hadn’t shared outside the family yet. The room erupted in congratulations and happy wishes. When things settle down, Lincoln said, “In that case, we’ll get this done in a hurry. How about tomorrow afternoon at three, here in the lobby of city hall?”
Darius made another motion, John seconded it, and the vote was unanimous.
And just like that, my brother’s housing crisis was solved. It surely felt like a Christmas miracle.
SEVENTEEN
Chaos is an inadequate word for what was transpiring at the Stella Maris Police Department when Nate and I arrived the next morning to talk further with our four suspects.
When we walked through the door, there was no place to go. The lobby was packed with concerned citizens far beyond what the fire marshal allowed. Nell Cooper, in her
lime green suit and nude pumps and three strands of pearls, was literally standing on her desk. She had a bullhorn and looked like she was fixing to use it. Blake stood on the floor talking to her as she leaned down.
“What in Heaven’s name?” I asked.
We scanned the room.
Nate said, “Church people.”
Father Henry stood next to Tallulah. I nodded. “Some from St. Francis Episcopal, for sure. There’s Deanna Stevens, so the Baptists are here. Look at that table by the front window. See it? It’s piled high with casseroles and cakes and pies and who knows what all. There’s Mamma. She’ll know what’s up.”
I made my way through the crowd to where Mamma stood, just outside Blake’s office. Nate stayed close behind me.
“Mamma,” I hollered over the din. “What are all these people doing here?”
“Why, they’re here for support, of course,” she said.
“Supporting who?” asked Nate. “The folks in the jail are from Edisto. No one here even knows them.”
“Tallulah put it on the prayer list at church,” said Mamma. “The poor girl is beside herself. Naturally, we called around. Moon Unit got involved, so it’s all over the island. Everyone showed up with food, as one does. No one thought to mention as to how Moon Unit feeds anyone who happens to be incarcerated here. It doesn’t happen very often.”
I glanced back at Tallulah. Oliver Flynn was with her, seemed to be very attentive. I scanned the room again. Kenny Hartley was on the other side of the lobby, making his way towards Nell’s desk.
The bullhorn squawked.
The crowd responded with howls and wails. People put their hands over their ears.
“Now, y’all listen up,” said Nell, through the bullhorn. “The Aikens and the Hartleys appreciate all y’all’s support. They’d like to thank you for all the casseroles, cakes, pies, and most especially your prayers. Tallulah Hartley is here, and she’s going to see about her parents. Kenny Hartley is here as well, I understand, and he’ll see about his parents.
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