04 Lowcountry Bordello(20)

“Olivia’s brother? How did he get involved in all this?”

“Well, he’s just gotten out of the passenger side of your brother’s car across the street. Do you want to go ask him, or shall I?”

“Blake? Sonavabitch. Blake is out there?” I sat the pillows and my laptop on the floor and scrambled out of the chair, searching the street from my window. I grabbed my phone and tapped Blake’s name in my favorites list. On the street below, he reached into his pocket, glanced at the screen of his phone, then returned it to his pocket. On my end of the line, I heard his voicemail greeting.

“Ooooh! I cannot believe he just sent me to voicemail. I’m going down there.”



 “Probably best. I’ve only met Raylan that once, at our engagement party. And I really don’t want to get between you and Blake this close to the wedding if you don’t mind.”

I headed for the door. “Open the window. Get his attention. Keep them on the street.”

I flew down the stairs and through the foyer, catching a glimpse of Annelise and several other people in the living room. I had no time to worry about what they thought.

From the front porch, I saw Blake and Raylan Beauthorpe looking up at the third-floor windows of the bed and breakfast. Thank heaven. Nate must’ve gotten their attention.

I raised my hand and waved. “Merry Christmas, y’all.” I hurried down the steps.

Blake squinted. Then his face broke out in disbelief. Raylan, a study in bewilderment, looked to Blake for guidance.

Blake started across the street. Raylan followed.

“Liz. What in the hell are you doing?” My brother’s heart clearly was not filled with the joy of the season.

“I’m working a case. You’re out of your jurisdiction.” Blake was the Stella Maris Chief of Police. “What are you doing? Hey, Raylan.”

“Hey, Liz.” Raylan looked worried, and a little scared.

“Walk with me.” Blake nodded north on Church Street.

I grabbed his arm. “This way.” I pulled him towards the walk-thru gate into the side yard of the bed and breakfast. “Let’s get off the street.”

He retrieved his arm, cast me a look brothers reserved for younger sisters, and followed, muttering something under his breath Mamma would not have approved of.

Raylan tagged behind him, casting nervous looks all around.

When we were shielded by masonry fence columns and trees, I repeated, “What are you doing here?”

“You first.” I recognized Blake’s mule look. His eyes, the same cobalt blue as mine, held a challenge.

I blew out a breath. “I’m working a case, for heaven’s sake.”

Raylan said, “Did Olivia come to you? I tried to get her to do that weeks ago and she wouldn’t.”

“Yes, she did.” I looked at Blake.

“I came with Raylan to try to reason with the blackmailer. He’s here as Olivia’s brother. I’m here as his friend, not in an official capacity. Safety in numbers.”

I turned to Raylan. “When did Olivia tell you Seth was blackmailing her?”

“About a month ago. She’s been hiding this from Robert for years, but it’s getting harder to conceal. The money’s adding up. Lately she’s been…distraught. I just wanted to help.” I couldn’t help noticing how much Raylan favored Olivia. He was a good bit older—closer to Seth’s age. But his blond hair and aristocratic features were classic Beauthorpe.

“Have you tried talking to Seth before? Alone?”

Raylan looked away. “Yeah. I came by last night.”

“Aw, hell, Raylan,” Blake said.

Hell’s bells. Was everyone in Charleston County in the whorehouse last night? “What time?”

“About seven twenty.”

My stomach clenched. “Seriously? Where did you park?”

“Over on Murray. I didn’t want my car seen in front of that house.”

“Why not? Your aunt lives there. The house has been in your family for years.”

Raylan flushed. “You must know what goes on in there.”

I nodded. Of course I knew. I was just verifying that he knew why Olivia was being blackmailed. “So did you talk to Seth?”

“I did. He and I used to be close, when we were little. He spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ house. My grandfather and his grandmother were brother and sister. I thought I could reason with him. Appeal to his family loyalty. Apparently, he has none. He can’t get past our aunts not leaving the house to him.”

“Where did you talk to him?” I asked.

“In the guesthouse out back. That’s where he lives.”

“How long were you there?” I asked.