Lowcountry Bonfire Read online

  Tammy nodded. “Zeke carried a lot of guilt about Mr. Yates. We used to take him casseroles, Christmas baskets, all like that.”

  “Why the guilt? What was their connection?” I asked.

  “Zeke was a rascal as a teenager. That’s what he told me anyway. Mr. Yates was always imagining the aliens were coming. Looking for flying saucers. Trying to communicate with them. The kids laughed at him, teased him, Zeke included. Then Zeke and a friend found his uncle’s old AM radio transmitter in the attic. His uncle used to run a local radio station. It was real low power—would barely reach to Charleston, Zeke said. Anyway, Zeke had the idea to tell Mr. Yates that he read somewhere that aliens tried to contact folks on that channel when the moon was full. Next full moon, he and his friend used one of those voice modulators and broadcast that anyone who could hear them should come to the field off Marsh View Drive the next day and wait for the mother ship. Apparently, Mr. Yates stood out in that field all the next day. Didn’t go in to work. He was a laughingstock.”

  “Oh, no. How old was Zeke?”

  “He was only thirteen. But it weighed on him that Mr. Yates was still alone all those years later. He felt responsible, or at least like he made the situation worse. He said Mr. Yates was one of the invisible ones.”

  “Surely that one prank didn’t change the course of that man’s life,” I said.

  “I doubt it,” said Tammy. “But I could never convince Zeke of that. We were the only people at his funeral. It nearly broke both our hearts.”

  “That is sad. It’s hard to believe anyone in this town is that isolated.”

  “Small towns can be the loneliest places on earth if you feel like you’re on the outside looking in at all that closeness.”

  She sounded like she understood that all too well.

  TWELVE

  When I’d started my day—it felt like a week ago—I’d planned to talk to Price Elliott again.

  He left the shop on Monday inside the window of when Zeke was killed. He’d also failed to mention that he and Zeke had a fight regarding his work ethics and he’d come close to getting fired. That gave him a motive.

  But after my unplanned visit with Winter, it seemed wise to interview my cousin Spencer before she had a chance to advise him not to even admit to socializing with Zeke Lyerly on account of the suspicious nature of the contents of his safe deposit box. I dropped Tammy off at Mamma and Daddy’s house and zipped back downtown. Spencer was a dentist. His office was in the professional building on Main Street.

  I found a parking spot half a block from Main on Palmetto Boulevard. To take advantage of the shade, I walked through the park that occupied our town square. It was quiet beneath the sprawling canopy the live oaks provided. The border beds burst with big blue hydrangeas and an assortment of day lilies. The garden club worked hard to make the park a welcoming centerpiece for the town.

  I exited the park in front of the courthouse and walked a block to the professional building. I had to play the family emergency card to get Spencer’s receptionist to tell him I was there. As she escorted me to Spencer’s office, she gave me a look that put me on notice. Of what, it wasn’t clear.

  I waited for Spencer in a mid-century modern leather wing-back arm chair that called the Jetsons to mind.

  Twenty minutes later, he opened the door. “Liz. This is a surprise.” He closed the door behind him and crossed the room to take his seat at his desk. He was middle aged, with good bones, sandy, thinning hair, thick-framed glasses, and an extra twenty pounds. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m so sorry to interrupt your day. I know you have patients to see about. But Nate and I are investigating Zeke Lyerly’s death.”

  “I see. How can I help?”

  “Did you know Zeke well?” I asked.

  “We were friends. We socialized occasionally.”

  “When was the last time you saw him socially?”

  “I guess that would be at the Robinsons’ bonfire.”

  “Did anything happen that night that sticks in your mind?”

  He flushed. “Look, Liz, I don’t know what someone told you, but there was nothing to it.”

  I smiled, gave him a quizzical look. “Nothing to what?”

  He stared at me for a minute, then shrugged. “Winter had a little too much to drink.”

  “I hadn’t heard that.”

  “Well, she did. She had one too many glasses of wine, and she may have been a bit inappropriate.”

  “Inappropriate? In what way?”

  “She…” He looked flustered. “She flirted with Zeke, okay? But it was nothing. She did it to get a rise out of me. It worked.”

  “It made you angry?”

  “Well, yes. But not angry enough to kill him, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  “Tell me about this party.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Skip and Margie invited folks over for a bonfire. They set up a grill on the beach, smoked some chicken. It was fun.”

  “Who all was there?” I now wanted to know everything there was to know about this party.

  “Winter and me. Skip and Margie, of course. Zeke and Tammy. Coy Watson and his date…Crystal is her first name. I don’t know her last name. Pete and Brenda Carter. Humphrey Pearson was there with Connie Hicks. That’s it.”

  “Did anyone else have too much to drink?” I asked.

  He raised an eyebrow, tilted his head, looked sheepish. “We all did, to tell you the truth.”

  “Aside from that night, did you ever have any reason to suspect anything was going on with Winter and Zeke?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Did anything else happen that night that seems remarkable to you in any way?” I asked.

  He was quiet for a moment, then looked away, then back. “This probably didn’t mean anything either. It was that kind of night. Things got a little out of hand.”

  “So noted.”

  “Zeke went for a walk on the beach. He asked if anyone else wanted to go. Tammy was cold. She stayed by the fire. That Crystal girl Coy brought…she’d been flirting with Zeke outrageously. I think that’s why Winter backed off. The show Crystal put on was embarrassing. Regardless, she took off after Zeke. Tammy was upset. She tried to hide it, but it was plain as day.”

  “Did Zeke do anything to encourage Crystal?”

  “Not that I saw.”

  “Anything else?”

  He winced. “Yeah. Humphrey…”

  “What about Humphrey?”

  “He took it upon himself to cheer Tammy up. If you ask me, he was sitting way too close to a married woman. He’s always liked Tammy a little too much. But if it were my wife, I’d be thinking he crossed a line. The way he tucked the quilt around her, talked to her real soft, brought her drinks…it just looked bad.”

  “What time did you and Winter leave?”

  “Around two. We walked home. We both had too much to drink.”

  “Probably smart.” I nodded. “Now don’t go gettin’ mad at me, but I need to ask you where you were Monday late afternoon, early evening.”

  He tilted his head at me and raised an eyebrow. “I left the office at five thirty. Went straight home. Had dinner with the family at seven.”

  I stood to leave. “Thanks, Spencer. I appreciate your time.”

  It was unlikely Spencer killed Zeke. I’d never known him to have that kind of temper—the kind a man would have to have to kill somebody because his wife got flirty. But just then I couldn’t help but think that Spencer, who didn’t work out and had likely never been in a situation where he had to defend himself, was perhaps the kind of guy who might use poison if he felt driven to murder. Coy and Price were both young and strong, and likely thought they were bulletproof. I didn’t see either of them choosing poison as a weapon.

  THIRTEEN

 
Carter’s Exxon was on Main Street, a few doors down from The Cracked Pot. In addition to gas, oil, and whatnot, they sold the typical things you found in a convenience store. It was clean and cheerful, as mini-marts went. I decided to swing by on my way home. An electronic tone announced me.

  Pete was behind the register. What with his neatly trimmed brown hair and plastic-framed glasses, Pete had always called to mind Clark Kent. He was preppy in a studious kind of way—not that there’s anything wrong with it. Always somewhat reflective, that Wednesday afternoon he was downright subdued. I guess finding your friend in the trunk of a car would do that to a person.

  “Hey, Liz.”

  “Hey, Pete,” I said. “Is Brenda around?”

  “Yeah, she’s in back. How’s it going? The investigation, I mean.” He spoke as he walked towards the hall that lead to the back room.

  “Good, good.” I smiled.

  “Brenda, could you come out here?” Pete called down the hall.

  “How are you holding up?” I asked.

  He drew a long breath, shook his head. “I’m okay. It was just such a shock, you know?”

  “Yes, it was that.”

  “I’m sorry you had to see that. I should’ve…” He rubbed the back of his neck, at a loss.

  “There was nothing you could do,” I said. “My goodness, it wasn’t your fault. It’s a wonder that didn’t give you a heart attack.”

  Brenda Carter stepped onto the sales floor. “Yes. It is a wonder.” She gave me an expectant look. Slim, cool, and naturally pretty, Brenda had the grace of a ballet dancer.

  “Hey, Brenda. I’m sorry to bother y’all, but I was hoping you could help me out with a few things.”

  “Of course.” She moved closer to Pete, sideling up to him.

  He put an arm around her. “We’re still a bit shaken, I’m afraid. What can we help you with?”

  “I know y’all are friends with Zeke and Tammy Sue. I wondered if either of you noticed anything off with Zeke lately. Did he seem like something was troubling him?” I asked.

  Brenda looked at Pete.

  He seemed to ponder that. “I’ve given that a lot of thought these last couple days. I didn’t notice, to be honest, before Zeke’s death. But I do think something was bothering him.”

  Brenda’s forehead creased, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Why do you think that?” I asked.

  Pete shrugged. “He just seemed distracted. Usually, Zeke was a happy-go-lucky guy. For the last month or so, he just wasn’t himself.”

  “Did you see him often?” I asked.

  “Sure,” said Pete. “We had lunch together a couple times a week, at least. Sometimes, if he had a slow day, he’d stroll down here. Other days maybe I’d walk his way.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?” I asked.

  “Hmm…I guess it was Saturday night. We went to The Pirates’ Den for dinner. Zeke and Tammy were there. We stopped by their table to say ‘Hi.’ They asked us to join them, but we needed some alone time. With two teenage boys, that’s hard to come by in our house.”

  “Brenda, what about you? Is that the last time you saw Zeke?” I asked.

  “Yes, it must’ve been,” she said.

  “And did either of you speak to him on the phone after that?” I asked.

  “I did,” Pete said. “I called him late Monday morning to see what time he was headed to the diner for lunch. We were going to meet there at noon, but then he drove by here a little after eleven and said he needed to run home instead.”

  That accounted for the call I’d seen on Zeke’s cell. “Brenda?”

  “No, I didn’t speak to him by phone after Saturday,” she said.

  “Pete, did Zeke discuss his business with you much?” I asked.

  “Sometimes.” He shrugged. “Back when we did service and such, we would’ve been competitors. But we stopped all that years ago. We’re mostly involved in the convenience side of things these days. The gas, well, you know. It’s all self-service. But I still know some of the suppliers he uses. Used. Sometimes we talked shop.”

  “Did he discuss personnel with you?”

  Pete winced. “You mean Price.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yeah, he told me he was having problems with Price. Said he showed up late all the time. Was always wanting to leave early for something,” said Pete. “Said he spoke to him, and Price got a smart mouth. I think if he weren’t Charlie Jacobs’ grandson, Zeke would’ve fired him on the spot. When he gave him attitude.”

  “Did he ever mention if Price’s habits improved?”

  “He didn’t, but he just told me that he’d given him a talking to last week. What day was that?” He squinted, looked towards the ceiling. “Thursday. The special at The Cracked Pot was meatloaf. I can’t believe I’ll never have lunch with him there again.”

  Brenda pulled him tighter and patted him on the chest.

  “I know you miss him.” I waited, gave them a moment. Finally, I said, “Pete, I don’t know quite how to ask you this delicately, but I have to ask. You know how Zeke was always the one with big stories, right?”

  Pete smiled a little. “Yeah, of course. That was just Zeke.”

  “Right.” I returned the smile, but I was thinking about that safe deposit box. “Did you ever think any of that was true?”

  He gave me a quizzical look. “The NASCAR stories? The bull riding thing? He told me once he was a fighter pilot. Another day, it was a helicopter pilot. I mean, I loved Zeke like a brother. But come on, Liz. All of that was a figment of his overactive imagination. He was like…Walter Mitty. He lived in a fantasy world. No. I never thought that stuff was real.”

  “No, I know it couldn’t all be real, of course,” I said. “But did he ever talk to you seriously about what he was doing for the twenty years he lived elsewhere? Did you ever think maybe some of it was real?”

  Pete gave a look like maybe I’d suggested the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy were coming over to my house for cocktails at six. “He talked plenty. Zeke loved to talk. Was he ever serious? I never thought so. I always figured he’d been in the Army the whole time, maybe traveled overseas a bit.” He shrugged, shook his head. “The rest of it…no, he never said anything I took to be the truth.”

  I couldn’t stop thinking about the hidden guns, the money, the passports. That stuff was real. Had anyone really known Zeke Lyerly? Or was he so delusional he imagined threats that didn’t exist and concocted elaborate escape plans?

  “I guess that’s all I have for now,” I said.

  We said bye and all that.

  On the way to the car, I was musing three things. Who was Zeke Lyerly? And Brenda Carter surely didn’t have much to say. She seemed almost deferential to her husband. And Crystal Chapman was very likely what had zapped Zeke’s joie de vivre, one way or another.

  FOURTEEN

  “Were you even going to tell me about the damn passports?” Blake was yelling when he climbed out of his car. Rhett barked hello and ran in a circle around the Tahoe.

  “Of course,” I said. “I just finished telling Nate.” We’d pulled into the driveway at the same time and were walking up the steps. “Come inside. Our brains will melt out here.” It was uncommonly hot for June. I hurried up the steps and into the house.

  Nate, Blake, and Rhett followed me into the kitchen. I refilled Rhett’s bowl in the mud room off the kitchen, then pulled a pitcher of water with lemon and mint out of the refrigerator, filled glasses with ice, and poured. “Here,” I said. “We’ve got to stay hydrated.” I climbed up onto one of the counter stools.

  “You sound like your mamma.” Nate grinned, drank deeply.

  “Please. I’m an amateur.” I turned to Blake. “Who told you about the passports?”

  He set his glass on the counter. “Winter. She was all atwitt
er. Said she was going to fill out some damn report, but felt obligated to tell me as well. For some reason, she didn’t seem to trust that you’d tell me.”

  I said, “She holds me responsible for Gram and Mamma not approving of Willa’s hobbies. I’ve never said a word about it. I like Willa just fine. Winter has a chip on her shoulder.”

  “Winter said it usually took a lot longer to get an executor appointed by the probate court. What do you know about that?” Blake asked.

  I explained about Robert’s visit to Mamma and Daddy’s house and the letter from Zeke. When the words CIA came out of my mouth, Blake tipped back his head and stared dramatically at the ceiling. “This is Zeke we’re talking about. CIA my ass.”

  “Well, how else do you explain all those passports?” I asked.

  Blake righted his head, seemed to ponder that. “Did they look real?”

  “Real enough to get Winter all worked up,” I said. “Yes. They looked real.”

  Nate looked at me. “You find this credible? Zeke as a CIA agent?”

  “Given what we found at his house and in the safe deposit box, I do,” I said. I told Blake about the hidden storage at the Lyerly home and all the guns. “Then there’s Zeke’s unnatural aversion to being photographed and all things to do with the internet.”

  Blake stared at me, practically vibrated with frustration. “You’re telling me there’s a damn arsenal in the Lyerly house. And you let it sit there all day and didn’t call me.”

  I coated my voice in honey. “Well, I knew you’d been all through that house yesterday. I figured there was nothing there you hadn’t already seen.”

  He cut me a look not filled with brotherly love, then blew out a breath. “I’ll get Cooper to inventory everything and put it in evidence. Sounds like some high-dollar stuff of questionable legality.”

  “Remember I told you Daddy and the mayor had hired Zeke to thin the hog herd?” I asked.

  Blake squinted. “Yeah. That’s been a while back.”