04 Lowcountry Bordello(14)

“You’re too close to this case. Clearly you are incapable of being objective.”

“Listen,” said Colleen. “You cannot turn this over to Sonny yet. As soon as Charleston PD goes into that house with a search warrant, the people they need to talk to are going to cover their tracks. One of them will do that by killing more innocents. Okay, innocents may not be the exact right word. But it’s not their time.”

“Alternate scenario?” I closed my eyes as soon as I spoke.

“I can’t think of a single one,” said Nate.

“Exactly,” said Colleen. One of her gifts was to see what would happen if people made different choices. She called these alternate scenarios.

Nate took the East Bay Street exit off the end of the Cooper River Bridge. “We need to find Sonny and tell him everything that happened last night and wash our hands of this entire affair forthwith. We haven’t cashed the check. Give it back to Robert.”

“Nate, please. Let’s just dig a little further. I have a feeling there’s more going on here than we know.”

“Oh, I’m dead certain you’re right about that. But we are flirting with an obstruction charge.”

“Not until we know the cases are connected. We have no evidence of that. You know how fertile Olivia’s imagination is. She probably hallucinated that body in the parlor. I have photos, remember? Olivia must’ve recalled what Robert was wearing. She was nervous being in that house. It was dark…You and I are working a blackmail case.”



 “What are you not telling me?” Nate asked. “It’s not like you to be irrational.”

It killed me not to tell him. But I couldn’t. The consequences would be losing Colleen for the rest of my mortal life. “Nothing,” I said. “We just need time. My fear is, the second the police start investigating that bordello, everyone connected to it is going to do whatever is necessary to protect themselves. I want to know who all are involved—and I want as much information on them as possible—before they have a chance to hide evidence. And I don’t want one of my bridesmaids dragged into a high-profile murder investigation right before our wedding. Mamma would have a stroke.”

Nate fell silent.

“Turn right on Atlantic,” I said. “Left on Church. Then make a right on South Battery.”

He followed my directions and within a few minutes, I spotted Olivia’s car.

“There.” I pointed.

Nate tapped the horn twice as he rolled close. The red Lexus pulled away and Nate slid the Explorer right into the parking space. He turned off the car and turned to me. “In deference to your mamma’s health, I’ll give this case the day we promised Robert. That’s it.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s against my better judgement.” He climbed out of the car and waited for me on the packed dirt pathway that bordered the north side of the park.

“Mine, too,” I said. But he couldn’t hear me.

“Good job,” said Colleen. Then she vanished.

I got out and joined Nate. For a moment, we both just stood there taking in the pandemonium. Emergency vehicles lined Murrary Boulevard on the other side of White Point Gardens. A stiff December wind battered the crime scene tape that formed a perimeter around the middle of the park. Beyond that, uniformed police officers kept the press and the public at bay. Eager young reporters were broadcasting live.

Inside the yellow tape, a white tent had been set up between the Moultrie Monument and the bandstand. The tent served two purposes. It shielded the victim from public view, and protected the immediate area from the thick, low hanging clouds that threatened more rain. No doubt the body, the coroner, and the detectives were inside. Crime scene techs combed the surrounding area.

Nate said, “Whoever moved that body certainly wasn’t concerned with hiding it. Just wanted it out of the house.”

“We need to talk to Sonny. If Thurston Middleton was killed where they found his body and they know that, then there’s no connection. The problem is, if Sonny verifies the body was moved, we’ll have no choice but to tell him everything. Damnation. We can’t talk to Sonny. Not yet.”

“And with that in mind, we should probably leave before he pops his head out of that tent, sees us, and wonders what our interest in his case could possibly be.”

“We need to get inside that house. We need to learn everything we possibly can, as fast as we can.”

“Let’s get you out of this chilly wind. We can sit in the car and plot how best to commit breaking and entering on a whorehouse.”

“It’s not breaking and entering if one of the owners gives us a key,” I said.