04 Lowcountry Bordello(5)

I marveled at Olivia’s flair for improvisation under stress. Not only had I never met her Aunt Dean, I didn’t have the first idea which of the Poinsetts had gotten married last summer.

“Now you know, my dear, my memory isn’t what it once was. So nice to see you, Liz,” she said, as if nothing whatsoever was amiss.

“Nice to see you too, Miss Dean.” I offered her a sunny smile. Whatever Olivia was into, this sweet old lady couldn’t be involved. My protective instincts stirred.

“Would you girls like a sip of something? I had a mind to pour myself a glass of sherry.”

“No ma’am, none for me—thank you,” I said. “I’m driving.”

“We need to be heading on out.” Olivia crossed the floor and hugged her aunt. “Good night, Aunt Dean.”

“Good night, dahlin’. Good night, Liz. Y’all be careful out there now. The streets are a dangerous place for young ladies. Nothing good happens this time of night.”

I glanced at my watch. Nine twenty. Surely Miss Dean had been out past nine. Perhaps owing to the early dark this time of year and the weather it seemed later.

“Yes ma’am,” Olivia said.

“Good night, Miss Dean,” I managed to get out while Olivia pulled me out the front door and closed it behind us.

Once outside she fell apart all over again, rocking and shaking. I put my arm around her waist and guided her into the passenger seat of my car. Once I had her settled, I climbed into the driver’s seat.



 “What have they done with Robert?” Olivia said. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.” She seemed to be praying. It wasn’t like her to take the Lord’s name in vain.

Being an Occam’s Razor enthusiast, I liked to eliminate the most obvious answers first. I pulled out my iPhone and dialed Robert Pearson.

He answered on the first ring. “Liz?”

I went weak with relief. “Robert? Are you all right?”

Olivia gaped at me.

“Of course I’m all right.”

“Where are you?”

He sputtered. “At home, of course, with the children. But I have no idea where Olivia is. If you had only listened to me this afternoon, at least—”

“All right, all right, all right. I’ll take the case. But only with Olivia’s full knowledge and cooperation.”

“How the hell is that going to work?” His frustration erupted through the phone.

“I’ll explain it when I see you. And Olivia is fine—physically, at least. She’s with me. We’re in Charleston. We’ll be on the ten-thirty ferry back to Stella Maris. See you shortly.” I ended the call and turned to Olivia.

“Robert is fine. He’s at home with Campbell and Shelby.”

Relief battled disbelief on her face. “But whose body was on the parlor floor?”

Just then I was thinking Olivia was likely having some sort of psychotic break involving hallucinations. “Is your aunt safe in that house tonight?”

Olivia laughed harshly. “Of course she is.”

“How can you be sure of that if you think someone was killed in there? That doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

“Trust me. No one is going to hurt Aunt Dean. She is well-defended. She’ll likely never even have to use the twenty-two she carries in her robe, or whatever else she happens to be wearing. She sleeps with it under her pillow. Has for years.”

I felt like I was missing too many pieces to this puzzle. “Olivia, who do you think killed somebody in the parlor with the pineapple?”

“Well, it sure as hell wasn’t Professor Plum.”

I closed my eyes and drew a breath for strength. “Olivia.”

“It had to’ve been Seth.”

“Who is Seth?”

“Seth Quinlan. He’s my second cousin on Daddy’s side. We don’t talk about him much. He’s illegitimate.”

“Did you see him here tonight?”

“No, but he lives in the guesthouse. It had to be him.”

“Why is that?”

“Liz, you have to promise me you won’t breathe a word of any of this.”

“I can’t promise you any such of a thing. What I can and do promise you is that I will do everything in my power to help you. You know I will.”

She grabbed my hand and squeezed, then nodded. “Seth has been blackmailing me for years.”

I squinched my face at her. “We’ll come back to that in a minute. Who would he have killed, and why?”

“It could’ve been anyone.”

My frustration was building. “Olivia. What do you mean by that? Clearly, it couldn’t have been anyone.”

“Well it damn sure could’ve been a lot of people. That…” she gestured towards the house, “…is the classiest bordello in town. Patronized by gentlemen from some of the most prominent families in Charleston. And Aunt Willowdean is the madam.”