“Now, we have got a job to do here, and Chief Talbot has asked me to ask everyone else to move outside the building. If you want to gather in support on the sidewalk or across the street at The Cracked Pot, that’s perfectly fine. But y’all can’t be filling up this lobby like this. Unless you have official business, please go outside immediately. Chief Talbot will have a statement later in the day. Thank you.”
Nate said, “I’m curious why Blake didn’t deliver that message.”
Mamma raised an eyebrow. A gentle grin teased the corner of her mouth. “Are you really?”
I tilted my head back, looked up at Nate. “These folks are unhappy with Blake for locking up the Aikens and the Hartleys.”
“Why?” asked Nate. “They each confessed to murder. What did people think was going to happen?”
Mamma tilted her head from side to side. “Well…Blake’s in a bad spot, to be sure. No one wants to see a murderer go free. I guess they’re thinking if one of these fine people killed C. C. Bounetheau, they must’ve had a good reason—self-defense, probably. And it is Christmas, after all.”
Nate nodded slowly. It was his This makes no sense whatsoever to me nod. I’d seen it before.
I said, “If Nell tells this crowd they can stand down, they’re comfortable with that. Blake would’ve been peppered with questions. He’ll talk to them when he has the ballistics.”
Gradually, people filed out the door, talking amongst themselves as they went. I could only imagine the wild rumors circulating through the crowd. Some gathered in the parking lot, some on the sidewalk, and some went across the street. The noise level dropped. Blake helped Nell off her desk.
“We need to get these casseroles in the deep freeze before we lose them,” said Nell.
“I’ve got a chest freezer in the garage we’re not using,” said Mamma. “I’ll get Frank to bring it over.”
Blake looked at her. “You want me to store casseroles here?”
“Do you have a better idea, son?” Mamma asked. “This is where the folks are who our friends and neighbors made all that food for.”
Blake blew out a breath, gave Mamma a look that said you have got to be kidding me.
I said, “Mamma, maybe Tallulah has a place for the deep freeze. Everyone made this food for her family.”
“That’s an excellent point, Sugar,” said Mamma.
“But now is not the time to talk to her about casseroles,” I said. “Maybe you could get Daddy to help you take it all home? Then he can deliver the freezer fully stocked later.”
“Now that makes sense,” said Blake.
Mamma said, “Son, I’m going to call your Daddy and start getting this food to the car. If anybody needs anything, just call me. It won’t take long to pop something in the oven. I can bring it over anytime it’s needed.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Kenny Hartley edged closer to Blake. “Excuse me. I wondered if I might have a word?”
Tallulah, Father Henry, and Oliver Flynn moved closer, like they wanted to hear what was going on.
Blake extended a hand. “Blake Talbot.”
Kenny nodded. “I’m Kenny Hartley. Maitland and Dahlia Jane are my parents. I understand they’ve been charged with murder?” He looked at Blake like he was certain Blake was going to tell him that was all wrong, somehow there was a misunderstanding.
“That’s right,” said Blake.
Kenny shook his head like he was trying to clear it. “Can I see them please?”
Tallulah said, “I’d like to see my parents too.”
Someone was going to have to talk to Tallulah before she read in the paper that she was C. C. Bounetheau’s daughter. “Why don’t we let the two of them go back?” I looked at Blake.
Oliver Flynn looked profoundly unhappy. “Has someone called an attorney?”
Blake said, “Yeah, but apparently the two respective attorneys are in Florida on a fishing trip together.”
“I could stand in.” Oliver looked at Tallulah. “I’m not a criminal attorney, of course, but having some sort of legal adviser is better than none at all. Just in the interim.”
Tallulah looked at Kenny, then Blake.
Kenny gestured with his right hand. “I just want to talk to my parents.”
Tallulah nodded. “Me too.” She looked at Oliver. “If it’s just us, it’ll be fine. If they talk to the police anymore…I’ll ask Daddy if he wants you to sit in, okay?”
Oliver nodded. “Of course. Whatever you like.” His expression telegraphed how much he disliked this plan.
Blake said, “Coop, put two chairs outside the cells. Let them know their kids want to see them.”
Coop nodded. “On it.”
“Thank you.” Kenny’s jaw twitched.
Coop came back a few minutes later and hovered, waiting to escort Tallulah and Kenny back to see their parents.
“I’ll just wait over here.” Oliver pointed to a row of visitor chairs beside the front window.
Tallulah nodded.
Father Henry turned to her. “Would you like me to stay?”
“Thank you so much for being here,” said Tallulah. “I appreciate your support—everyone’s support—more than I can say. You don’t need to stick around. I know you’ve got plenty to do.”
“Call me when there’s news,” he said.
“I will.” Tallulah and Kenny disappeared behind the heavy blue door. I’d have loved to’ve been able to hear that conversation, but that would’ve been all kinds of wrong, even if I could’ve figured out a way. Tallulah’s life was about to change forever.
“I’ve got to get out of here for a while,” said Blake. “I’m going to check around the marina, where the Bounetheau boats were docked, see if I can find the shell casing. I need something to keep me busy while we wait for the ballistics reports.”
“Do you now?” I asked
He rolled his eyes at me. “What?”
“Since you’re headed to the marina anyway…you know what I’m wondering?” I asked.
He waited.
“If someone threw C. C.’s watch, phone, wallet, and that Santa sack in the water to make it look like a robbery, would that stuff still be close by, or would the currents have pulled it away to who knows where?”
Blake shrugged. “You’d probably find the phone and those snow globes. Wallet probably got washed away.”
“I think that’s important,” I said.
“Why?” asked Blake. “We have four confessions.”
I said, “What we have are four people who are trying to protect the people they love. One of them might be our killer. Or they could all be innocent but suspect one of the others did it.”
“If the stuff is in the water, what will it prove?” asked Blake.
I said, “None of these four knew anything about the watch, cell phone, wallet, or Santa bag. It went somewhere. None of them have a reason to lie about taking it. They confessed to murder, for goodness sake. Now, it’s plausible that someone robbed C. C. after one of our suspects killed him. If that’s the case, you won’t find that stuff in the water. If you find it, well…that’s an entirely different situation all together. It’s a piece of the puzzle.”
Blake sighed, shrugged. “Frankly, I’d rather go scuba diving than hang around here. Coop?”
“Yeah, Blake.”
“I’m going to see what I can find in the marina,” he said. “I’ll have my phone in a clear waterproof pouch. Text me the second the ballistics report comes back.”
“Roger that.”
“Y’all going to wait here?” Blake asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “I want to talk to Tallulah when she finishes with her parents. And when ballistics come back, I’m going to want to talk to someone.”
Blake spoke to Nell briefly, then left.
Nel
l held her skirt as she settled into her chair. “Men. Least little riot, they fall to pieces.” She pulled out her cell phone/push-to-talk unit and pressed a button. “Elvis, come in.”
“I’m here, Miss Nell.” Elvis Glendawn was Moon Unit’s younger brother. He was Stella Maris’s reserve officer, so to speak.
“Go over to the Book and Grind and bring me a double Mocha Latte with an extra shot of espresso, hear?”
“Yes, ma’am. Roger that,” came the reply.
Nell straightened the bullhorn on her desk, surveyed the room once more. A small smile appeared on her face, like maybe order had been restored in her kingdom. “Fa-la-la-la-la, La-la-la-la.”
The folks out in the parking lot went to singing Christmas carols.
Oliver looked lonely over by the window.
I nudged Nate. “Maybe he could use a friend?”
He nodded. “Let’s see if he could.” Nate crossed the room and took a seat, leaving one chair between him and Oliver. After a moment, Nate said something, and Oliver leaned closer. I moved to a spot by the door to the cell block and leaned against the wall.
An hour later, the door opened. Kenny held the door for Tallulah. He looked tense, like maybe he was tightly coiled. For her part, Tallulah looked shell-shocked.
“Hey, Tallulah.” I wrapped my voice in empathy. “Are you up to a chat?”
“Ah, sure.” She glanced at Kenny.
“Mind if I come too?” He said it like if I did, there would be a serious problem.
Fortunately for us all, I’d hoped he would. “Well…okay. Let’s talk in here.” I led them towards Blake’s office. I glanced over my shoulder. Oliver watched us intently. Nate was saying something. Oliver nodded, went to stand.
I closed the door behind Kenny. “Y’all make yourselves comfortable. Can I get you anything?”
“Got any tequila?” asked Tallulah.
I grinned at her. “I’m sure there’s some in here somewhere. This is my brother’s office. I didn’t ask where he hides it. That was short-sighted of me. Water?”
“Yeah, that’d be great,” said Tallulah.
I sent up a silent prayer and called Nell. “Nell, would you be so kind as to have someone bring Mr. and Mrs. Hartley some water?”
“I’ll be right there.” She could’ve sent Coop, of course. But I’d known she wouldn’t.
“Tallulah, I assume your parents told you about your relationship to C. C. Bounetheau,” I said.
She closed her eyes, shook her head. “They did. This feels like it’s happening to someone else. At the end of the day, I never knew him.” She opened her eyes. “I mean, I’m sorry he’s dead, but it really doesn’t mean anything to me—that he was my biological father. Drum Aiken is my father. Nothing will ever change that.”
“I’m certain he was happy to hear you say that,” I said.
Kenny said, “We just need to get our parents’ home. Now, I know you don’t know them from Adam, but these are good people. They’re not killers. This is…” He rubbed a hand across his head. “This is a nightmare. And a mistake. They should never have come here without consulting an attorney.”
“I agree with you, Mr. Hartley.”
“It’s Kenny, please.”
“Your parents seem like lovely people. And I would never advise anyone to confess to a serious crime without consulting an attorney. Yet, here we are. Each of your four parents independently confessed to the murder of C. C. Bounetheau. And each gave us a gun they claim is the murder weapon.”
Kenny winced. “They told us. I think they each suspect one of the others did it. They’re all trying to protect each other. But really, I can’t see any of them killing anyone.”
“Of course they didn’t kill anyone,” said Tallulah. “The whole thing’s crackers.”
I said, “If y’all could help me piece together a timeline of what happened Saturday evening, that would be helpful. It might rule someone out.” I smiled hopefully.
Nell knocked on the door and came in carrying a tray with a large pitcher and four glasses of ice. I gave her a look that said, Nice try.
She ignored me, set the tray on Blake’s desk, and commenced pouring. “I brought iced tea. We have ten gallons of it at least. Umm-umm. Y’all wouldn’t believe what all people have brought by. There’s been an outpouring of love for y’all’s family.”
Kenny nodded. “Thank you, that means a lot.”
Nell held up a finger. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” She reappeared two seconds later with a huge platter of Christmas cookies. “Your Mamma brought these by, Liz. I figured y’all might need some sustenance in here.”
“Thank you, Nell. That was so thoughtful of you.” I offered her a frosted smile rolled in sprinkles. “I know how hard it is for you to step away from your desk even for a second with everything that’s going on out there today. I can’t imagine what Blake would do without you to keep an eye on things.” I shook my head in wonder.
She lifted her chin and an eyebrow at me, picked up her tea glass, and sashayed out of the room, closing the door behind her.
I picked up a star-shaped cookie. “Seriously, y’all. My Mamma makes the best Christmas cookies. We just need a little sugar for energy. We’ll get this figured out.”
Kenny and Tallulah exchanged a look, then each reached for a cookie.
“Omigosh!” said Tallulah. “These are fabulous. I wonder what she puts in them. I can’t believe I’m actually eating a cookie while my mamma is in a jail cell in the next room. But to be perfectly honest, I’m halfway convinced I’m going to wake up any minute now and laugh at the crazy nightmare I had.”
“I know the feeling.” Kenny looked at me. “If you knew our parents, you’d know how ridiculous this whole thing is.”
I said, “Walk me through what happened Saturday evening. Tallulah, you’ve already told me about the man who we now know was C. C. Bounetheau talking to your girls and telling them he had gifts for them. Pick up there and tell me where everyone was through nine-thirty.”
She took a bite of cookie, nodded, looked off to the corner to her right. “Daddy and Maitland chased Mr. Bounetheau off. I’m not exactly sure what time that was, but my best guess is around eight thirty. Does that sound right to you?” She looked at Kenny.
He raised his shoulders. “That sounds about right, but I wasn’t really paying attention to the time.”
“Okay,” I said, “So both your fathers left the park around eight-thirty. What happened next?”
Kenny said, “We’d all gotten spread out. Tally went running after our dads. When I found her again in the crowd, the girls were petting that reindeer. Scared me to death.”
I’d actually seen that, which was a plus. “At that point, both your mothers were there, both of you, of course, and Mr. Flynn?”
Tallulah glanced at the floor. “That’s right.”
“How long after that did your mothers leave the park?” I asked.
“It was pretty soon,” said Tallulah. “Less than five minutes, I’d say.” She looked at Kenny.
He nodded. “The girls petted the reindeer for few more minutes, then we told them we needed to find a spot to watch the fireworks. We took a couple blankets and spread them in the grass a ways back from the gazebo—out of the crowd.”
“Did your parents make it back in time for the fireworks?” I asked.
Kenny pressed his lips together, shook his head.
“No,” said Tallulah. “Not the beginning of them, anyway. Daddy and Maitland came back first. It was maybe ten after nine? Mamma showed up a few minutes later, then Dahlia.”
“Do you recall what color coats everyone was wearing Saturday night?” I had seen the group of them, and I had seen Drum help Holly into her coat in Edisto. But I couldn’t remember what Dahlia Jane or Tallulah had worn.
Tallulah gave me a funny
look. “I had on a cream-colored wool coat. Mamma wore her black leather coat. Dahlia Jane had on a red wool coat. You know what our dads were wearing. Oliver wore a black leather coat, and Kenny his brown leather jacket.”
Tallulah wasn’t the second woman Janet Batrouny had seen leaving the marina. Neither was Dahlia Jane. “Back to the timeline,” I said. “The two of you and Oliver Flynn were with the girls continuously between the time your fathers ran out of the park and when Mrs. Hartley—your mother—returned?”
“Oh no,” said Tallulah. “Oliver went home before the fireworks started. It had been a long day, and well…” She drew in a deep breath, started to say more, then smiled a tight little smile, tucked her hair behind her ear.
“Did Oliver know C. C. Bounetheau?” Given how territorial Oliver seemed to be with Tallulah, it seemed curious to me that he’d voluntarily leave her alone with Kenny.
“Not that I’m aware,” said Tallulah.
Just then I was remembering how someone who knew C. C. Bounetheau knew Oliver Flynn. That’s what Dwight had said. That was how they’d found out who Tallulah was—through Oliver.
At two o’clock, we were still sitting vigil for the ballistics report. Oliver had left for his office. Kenny and Tallulah were visiting with their parents, and Nate and I were talking through our plans for finding C. C. Bounetheau’s will and trust documents once we were inside Rutledge & Radcliffe. Nell answered the phone, which rang non-stop, and we all enjoyed the Christmas songs Elvis Glendawn played on his guitar. He’d propped open the cell block door and sat in front of it so our guests could hear it as well.
Blake came back through the front door of the police station carrying a large black trash bag. He held it up victoriously. We followed him back to his office. He put the bag on his desk and opened it. Inside was a soaking wet red Santa sack. Blake pulled open the drawstring.
“It’s all inside the bag,” said Blake. “Someone took his watch, cell phone, and wallet, threw them inside with the wrapped snow globes, tied it up tight, and tossed the whole thing in the water right by where Dwight Goodnight parked the boats. These snow globes are big—they’re heavy. They anchored everything. It all shifted a bit, but this sack wasn’t hard to find.”
LOWCOUNTRY BOUGHS OF HOLLY Page 17