04 Lowcountry Bordello(17)

Six





Fifteen Church Street was a lovely brick English side-hall house. Similar to Charleston single houses, the narrow end of the house faced the street, but with the front door leading to a hall that ran the length of the house. According to BedandBreakfast.com, it was built circa 1842 and was currently owned by Jack and Annelise Simmons. Nate pulled through the gate, as we’d been instructed, and down the narrow drive all the way to the back. The car would be hidden from all but the most inquiring eyes.

Thankfully, we kept essential equipment, a change of clothes, and overnight necessities in each of our cars for emergencies such as this. We walked back around front and climbed the steps. On the landing, we looked at each other.

“I always wonder whether to knock on the door at a bed and breakfast. It’s a business—”

“And it’s also someone’s home.” I shook my head at him and knocked.

“They’re certainly in the holiday spirit,” said Nate.

The stair railing and every window were festooned with pine boughs, gold ribbon, magnolia blossoms, and white lights. Poinsettias lined the steps. The wreath on the door was a work of art.

Mrs. Simmons welcomed us into the hall, which ran down the right side of the house. She was a lovely woman, with a chin-length blond bob.

“Thank you for letting us check in so early, Mrs. Simmons,” I said.

“Please, call me Annelise. No problem at all. We’re happy to have you with us.”

“You have a lovely home,” said Nate.

The buttery yellow walls with white trim, gleaming floors, and gilded accents spoke of good taste and regular maintenance. The scents of the season—pine, cinnamon, and cookies baking—enveloped us. LeAnne Rimes crooned “Hard Candy Christmas.” Annelise needed some happy Christmas music.

“Thank you so much.” She went about the business of getting us checked in. “So y’all are locals, then?” she asked as she handed us our key.

“That’s right.” Nate smiled. Sometimes I wondered if he knew the effect that smile had on women. “From time to time we just like staying over downtown. Walk to dinner. It’s nice.”

“Well, you won’t be needing my overview of the area, then. But I do hope you’ll join us for our social hour at six. We’ll have wine and cheese. We can get better acquainted then. I’m afraid the weather’s too bad for us to be on the verandah. We’ll gather in the living room.”

I leaned in closer, spoke in a soft voice. “To be perfectly honest, Annelise, Nate and I are getting married Saturday. We desperately need some alone time. All the wedding preparations—you know how hectic that can get.”

She returned my smile. “Congratulations. I understand completely. Well, if you feel like company, we’ll be here. Breakfast is served between eight and nine thirty.”

We thanked her and carried our things to the third floor. The Rose Room was aptly named. The walls were a lovely shade of pinkish red—it’s easy for red wall paint to lean towards tacky, but this room was anything but. A black iron queen-size bed with a shelf of sweetgrass baskets above sat between two windows. A day bed and an armchair would give us room to spread out and work. The remaining décor was a mix of period pieces and wicker.

I crossed the room and checked out the view. From either side of the bed I could see rooftops, treetops, and beyond those, the harbor. On a clear day, this would be a beautiful vista. Looking down, I could see part of the south end of Church Street. Far more important to us were the windows on the front of the house.

I moved to the right front window. Diagonally across the street was the bordello.

“This was a stroke of brilliance.” Nate peered out the left front window. “I need to walk around the block to be sure, but it would appear the only way to leave the property without resorting to going over or through some mighty thick shrubbery is to pass by these windows. I suppose one could hop the fence and slip through the yard to the left, but why would they? They don’t know we’re watching.”

I stepped into the adjoining bath. A third window there offered another view.

“Only the killer—and the person who moved the body, assuming that’s not the same person—would connect the body in the park to that house. The rest of the benefactors will have no reason to suspect anyone would be watching. And we need to keep it that way. If one of the clients is our guy, he may not be bold enough to come back in the next twenty-four hours, but the process of elimination may point us in the right direction.”

“So what we need is for all the other patrons to be horny this evening. Then we can focus on whoever doesn’t show up.” Nate stepped away from the window. “I’m going to walk around the immediate neighborhood. I’ll grab the binoculars, the camera and tripod, and the mobile hotspot from the car on my way back in. Anything else you think we’ll need?”