04 Lowcountry Bordello(22)

I looked up at her. Have you learned anything helpful?

“Long-term,” said Colleen, “the best way to protect Robert and Olivia is for her to convince Miss Dean to evict all the tenants and sell that house and move over to Bishop Gadsden. It’s a lovely retirement village over on James Island.”

I know where Bishop Gadsden is. I meant did you learn anything about what went on in that house last night?

“Nothing common sense hasn’t already told you. Thurston Middleton departed for the next life from that parlor at seven thirty-five last night.”

Was he the intended victim? Can you at least tell me that much?

“I can tell you this. Because he’s on the Stella Maris town council, and therefore important to my mission, I would’ve known if Robert were in mortal danger. No one intended to kill him.”

That helps, thanks.

“Liz?” Nate looked at me quizzically. “Everything all right? You’re staring at that window awfully hard.”

“Just thinking.” I gave him my best imitation of a reassuring smile.

Make sure you get all the girls out of harm’s way before you turn this over to Sonny. And know that I’ll be with Olivia when she needs me. And then she was gone.

What had I been thinking about? Something important hid from me in a dark corner of my mind. The pineapple. I called Olivia. “I need you to think back to last night. Close your eyes and visualize what you saw.”

“All right,” she said, subdued.

“That wooden pineapple was on the fireplace mantel near the far right-hand side of the room when you and I went into the parlor last night.”

“Someone must’ve cleaned it off and put it back while I was waiting for you,” she said.

“Is that where it belongs? On the mantel?” I asked.

“That’s right,” she said.

“And the body on the rug, how was it positioned? Which way was his head pointing?” I asked.

“Towards the door,” she said.

“Thanks, Olivia.” I ended the call and told Nate what she’d said.

Nate said, “He was on his way out when he was struck from behind with an object from the other side of the room.”

“Which implies several things,” I said. “He wasn’t attacked by someone who tiptoed into the room behind him. He had to have known someone else was in the room. They would’ve interacted, maybe argued.”

“The light would’ve likely been on when the murder occurred—not turned on after the fact. Hard to imagine one of them wouldn’t have turned on the light.”

“Exactly. I’ve been in that room in the dark. For someone to locate the murder weapon and strike with accuracy as the victim was leaving without stumbling over the coffee table…that’s highly implausible. Our culprit knew exactly who he or she was killing.”





Seven





At five ’til twelve, Olivia texted me: Almost there.



“Nate,” I said.

“I’m headed down. Video’s rolling.” He hustled across the room and out the door.

I moved to the left-front window and cracked it a few inches. Then I slipped an amplifier in my right ear and grabbed the binoculars.

Moments later, a black limousine negotiated the turn onto lower Church Street. It crawled down the narrow brick lane, with the right-side wheels on the sidewalk at times in order to pass a parked car. It stopped in front of the driveway at 12 Church Street. The driver stepped out. He was a portly gentleman with white hair and a beard, who looked remarkably like Santa Claus in a black suit and chauffer’s cap. He opened the left passenger door, and Olivia the party girl emerged holding a champagne bottle in one hand and a bouquet of champagne flutes in the other, her keys dangling from a finger.

“Thank you, Santa Baby,” she cooed at the driver. “I’ll be right back with my friends.”

“Yes ma’am.” He nodded and took in the rearview as Olivia sashayed down the sidewalk in a red dress and heels.

Just before she reached the door, Nate, who was walking in the opposite direction, bumped into her.

Olivia stumbled and squealed.

The driver’s nose lifted, like a hound sniffing the breeze. He took a step in Olivia’s direction.

Nate grabbed her shoulders and steadied her. “Pardon me, ma’am.”

In her outside voice, she said, “That’s quite all right, handsome. Why don’t you come along with us? I’m just going inside to get my friends. We’re going to have a Christmas party. We have the limo for the whole day.”

The driver returned to an at-ease position by the car door.

Nate let go of Olivia’s left shoulder, then her right. Only because I knew what was happening and had the benefit of binoculars, I saw him slip her keys out of her fingers. “Thank you, ma’am. I’d better not. My wife’s expecting me.”