04 Lowcountry Bordello(3)

Or maybe she’d found out her husband had tried to hire me that afternoon to suss out what was behind her recent behavior. If so, even though I’d turned down the job, knowing Olivia, she would have an earful for me on the subject. She was notoriously high-strung.

I gulped down a long drink of wine and tapped the green button. “Hey, Olivia.”

“Liz. Oh, thank God. Come quick.” She was in high-drama mode.

“Where are you?” I was on my feet. Rhett hopped up, immediately on alert.

“On lower Church Street in Charleston. Near the end. A few houses up from White Point Gardens. You’ll see my car. I’ll be waiting inside it. Hurry.”

I moved towards the mudroom with Rhett fast on my heels. “I’m on my way. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I…oh sweet Lord.” Her voice broke with a sob. “I’m in trouble. Bad, bad trouble. Robert…I’ll explain when you get here. Just please come. Alone. Don’t tell a soul. Not even Nate.”

“Are you hurt? Did you call 911?” My adrenaline kicked in. I shoved my feet inside the only shoes in the mudroom—my Crocs—and grabbed a trench coat to cover my pajamas.

“No. And don’t you dare either. Promise me on your mamma’s life.”

“Are you crazy? What—”

“I trusted you,” she sobbed again. “Please come. I can’t do this alone.”

“I’m on my way. Stay put.”

Rhett barked once, as if demanding to know what was up.

“Stay. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He huffed his displeasure.

“Colleen!” I glared at the ceiling and headed down the steps to the garage.





I made the eight o’clock ferry by the skin of my teeth, only because the captain saw me speed into the parking lot and held the gate. I put the car in park, cut the engine, and took a few deep breaths, tried to clear my head. Curiosity and guilt battled for the upper hand. What in this world had Olivia gotten herself into? Should I have taken the case Robert practically begged me to take earlier that day? If I’d been following Olivia, could whatever this was have been avoided? During the interminable ferry ride to Isle of Palms, through Mt. Pleasant, and over the Cooper River Bridge, these thoughts swirled through my mind.

I pushed my luck and sped through Charleston, zipping around traffic where I could. I took East Bay all the way down the peninsula to Atlantic Street. I made a right, and half a block later turned left on lower Church, a narrow, one-way brick lane. Olivia’s red Lexus crossover sat in front of a Charleston single house on what appeared to be a double lot. The house was dark.

I pulled my green hybrid Escape in behind her and got out of the car, easing the door closed as I scanned the street. It was eight forty-five, but owing to the cold, stiff breeze and the off-and-on rain, not even a dog-walker was in sight. The sprawling live oak in the backyard, its gnarled limbs overhanging the street, heightened the eerie quality of the evening. My Escape blocked the gated drive, but I didn’t aim to be there long.

I stepped around to the passenger side of Olivia’s car. She unlocked the door and I climbed in. She didn’t look at me. Arms wrapped around herself, she rocked back and forth. Even in the dim light from a streetlamp, I could see her shivering. Several locks of blond hair had escaped her French twist. She was disheveled and appeared to be in shock.

“Olivia?” I spoke softly. “Honey, tell me what’s happened.”

She turned towards the house, then looked at me. “It’s Robert.”

“Robert is here?”

“He’s in there.” Her voice was a whispery stutter. “He’s dead.”

“What?” A jolt of electricity stunned me to the core. “Oh my God, Olivia—what happened? Did you call 911? How do you know he’s dead—for sure?”

“He doesn’t have a pulse.”

I pulled out my phone.

“I’m calling 911.”

Quick as a snake strike, she snatched my phone right out of my hand. “You can’t do that.” She stared at me all wild-eyed, like maybe she was on the brink of full-on crazy.

“What is wrong with you? We have to do precisely that. Right this second. Give me my damn phone.”

She shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. You don’t understand.” Her voice rose with each word. She put my phone in the left pocket of her blazer.

I had to check on Robert one way or another.



 “Do you know who lives in that house?”

She seemed to deflate, then nodded, subdued.

“My Aunt Willowdean. She’s my great aunt.”

“Let’s go see about Robert. Then you can tell me what happened.”