2 Lowcountry Bombshell Page 7

  “Before breakfast? What’s up?” Nate followed.

  I filled him in on Calista McQueen, the particulars of her case, and the man who’d been watching her house.

  “Any chance he was doing anything besides surveillance on her?”

  “Possible, but doubtful. Hers is the only house within half a mile along that stretch of road. And he went to comical lengths to keep me from seeing his face. If he’d just parked there to check a map or some such innocent thing, there’d’ve been no need for him to light out of there in such a hurry.”

  “True. Do you think this Harmony’s death is connected to Calista?”

  “Hard to say. Think about it. Harmony was killed in what appears to be an execution, by someone she knew, at approximately the same time Calista hired me because she’s afraid someone will kill her. On the surface of it, it seems it would be an odd coincidence if her death wasn’t connected to Calista somehow.”

  “That it would be. Breakfast?”

  “I’ve got yogurt, blueberries, and granola. That’s what I’m having. I’m afraid I don’t have eggs and bacon on hand.”

  “I can make do with girl food this morning. I’ll throw some yogurt together while you check out that tag.”

  “Thanks.” I took a deep breath and willed my brain to work. Nate was all kinds of distracting. Being involved with my partner and still getting work done was going to be an adjustment.

  I logged into one of my subscription databases. After a few clicks, I stopped and stared at the screen in disbelief.

  James Edward Davis owned the Camry with California plates that had been parked outside Calista’s house. The same James Edward Davis who had married Norma Jeane Mortensen on June 19, 1992 in Los Angeles, exactly fifty years after James Edward Dougherty had married another Norma Jeane Mortensen.

  How had he found her after all these years?

  Calista had interrupted me the day before when I’d been working on profiles, and I’d left in a hurry to go to Charleston with her. I hadn’t had the chance to dig into Jim Davis yet. Had he been in cahoots with Gladys and Grace? Or, like Calista, had he been a victim of their schemes to turn her into Marilyn reborn and make her their meal ticket? I was busy creating his timeline when Nate set a bowl of yogurt on the desk.

  “Find him?” he asked.

  “Yep. Calista’s first husband. This may be the strangest case we’ve worked since that guy hid his stripper-girlfriend’s Indian python in his ex-girlfriend’s mobile home.”

  Nate shuddered. “I hate snakes. Wonder what this guy wants with his ex-wife after all this time.”

  “I was wondering the same thing. I’d like to ask him.”

  “Well, why don’t I start trolling hotel parking lots looking for the car while you finish finding out what you can about him online?”

  “Sounds like a plan. Thank you.”

  He grinned. “I’m an easy dog to hunt with, Slugger.”

  I laughed. “I’d start with Isle of Palms, then work my way outward from there to Mt. Pleasant, then the greater Charleston and North Charleston areas. My hunch is he’s close.”

  “Great minds.”

  We ate breakfast, both lost in our own thoughts. I struggled to keep my mind on Calista’s problems and off what a dramatic turn my own life had just taken. It was strange how Nate was at once so familiar and suddenly so foreign to me. I needed to focus on Nate my partner and best friend, and think about Nate my lover after I knew Calista was safe.

  NINE

  I tracked Michael down at a construction site in Mt. Pleasant. He was restoring a home near the waterfront in the Old Village.

  I’m reasonably certain Nate would not have approved of my excursion, but it hadn’t taken me long to find out all there was to know about Jim Davis. He’d worked at Lockheed since he was nineteen and had never remarried. He had no criminal record and no children. If I wanted more answers about him, I was going to have to think up some new questions.

  Michael was one of a handful of people on Stella Maris who had met Calista. I needed to interview him as a part of the investigation. That’s what I would tell Nate and it was the truth. But I also needed to tell Michael he and I wouldn’t be going out Friday night, or any other night. I needed to do that in person. Michael and I had a lot of history. I owed him that much.

  “Liz!” Michael called across the yard when he saw me. He looked so happy to see me.

  I felt just awful. “Hey, Michael.”

  “I’m so glad you stopped by I was thinking we’d go to Anson tomorrow night if it’s okay with you. It’s short notice, so we’ll have to eat a little early. They’re booked from seven on.”

  “Michael, I can’t go tomorrow night.”

  “Would Saturday night be better?”

  A little piece of my heart broke. I struggled to make the words I needed to say to Michael come out of my mouth. I stalled. “Can we talk about that in a minute?” I stepped into the shade of an enormous oak. It was late morning already and the heat was brutal. “I need to ask you something.”

  Michael followed me. “Shoot.”

  “You know Calista McQueen, right?”

  “Sure, you remember. I took you through her house. We just got the occupancy permit a month or so back. She’s had decorators in there ever since. I think she’s moved in.”

  “She has. I just met her yesterday. What do you think about her?”

  “What do I think about her?”

  “Yeah, I mean…is she pretty?”

  “What? You said you met her.”

  “Just please answer me. What does she look like?”

  Michael shrugged. “She’s not ugly or anything. Kinda plain. A little on the shy side. Liz, what’s this about?”

  Calista had dressed for Michael like she did when she went into the diner. “I’m just curious about her. She’s my new neighbor, after all. I’ve got to get her a casserole made.” Talking to Michael about Calista beyond asking the questions I needed answered violated client confidentiality. I didn’t want to lie to him. But there were simply things I couldn’t discuss with him. I offered him my sunniest smile.

  Michael wasn’t buying it. “You didn’t come over to Mt. Pleasant to ask me what your neighbor, who you’ve met yourself, looks like.”

  “Was she always alone when you met with her?” I looked at him with a silent plea.

  “This is about some case, isn’t it?” He gave me a look that let me know he was biting back most of what he thought.

  I gave him a part wince, part smile look, which was open to interpretation. “Was she alone?”

  He relented. I felt sick on account of that was likely because he cared about me. “Most of the time. Robert Pearson was with her once. And we met with the Glendawns a couple of times about the property. There at the last some guy came with her for walk-throughs. She said he was her yoga instructor. Whatever. It wasn’t any of my business.”

  “Did you know Elenore Harper was working for her as a housekeeper?”

  “No, that’s news to me.”

  “Did you install a security system?”

  “Yeah. I sub-contracted that. I usually go with ADT, but she insisted on this outfit from Los Angeles. They were involved from the get-go. That place is a fortress.”

  “What about outside? Does she have perimeter security?”

  “Sure. Cameras, motion detectors.” His irritation level was rising.

  “They’re well hidden.”

  “That’s a fact.”

  “Is all of that stuff monitored?”

  “Now that I don’t know. She would arrange for that service just like any other utility. But who would have all that stuff installed and not have someone monitor it? Will you please tell me what’s going on?”

  “It’s related to
a case. I’m sorry, I really can’t.”

  Michael’s brow creased. “See, every time you talk to me about a case, I start playing that scene in my head where you’re on Blake’s Jet Ski getting shot at. Have you thought at all about what I mentioned, about training to be a paralegal?”

  Not this again. I put my hand on his arm. “Michael, I appreciate your concerns for my safety. It’s sweet of you. But I like my job. I’m not looking to change careers.”

  He retrieved his arm, put his hands on his hips, and stared at the ground. “I want a family, Liz. Your job is not one that compliments motherhood well.”

  I took a deep breath. Michael had clearly read far more into our weekly dinners than I’d intended. Okay, I’d been on the fence at first, and maybe I hadn’t clarified things for him when I climbed down. And even if Nate wasn’t in the picture, even if I still felt the same way about Michael, the never-ending argument over my career would make a future with him impossible.

  There would never be a good time for this conversation. “Michael.” My eyes watered. “Michael, a little part of me will always love you. But you and I, we’ve had our time. We’re just not the same people we were in college.”

  “I thought we were getting to know each other again.”

  I closed my eyes and nodded. “We have been. And what we’ve learned is that we want different things now.”

  “How can you say that? We both want a life with family and friends—a life on Stella Maris. We’re island people, you and me.”

  “That’s true. But you want a traditional family life. Nothing about my life is traditional anymore.”

  “Look, if your job means that much to you, forget I said anything. We’ll work it out. I do want a family. With you. I can’t see anyone else being the mother of my children. But we can wait until you’re ready.”

  The more I let this drag on, the more I was going to say things that hurt us both. Better to make it quick and clean. I steeled myself and looked him in the eye. “I’m not going to be the mother of your children, Michael. We’re not going to be getting married.”

  He looked like I’d slapped him. “I thought we were going to give this time.”

  “We have. Please, Michael. I never meant to hurt you, and it’s killing me that I have. But I’m never going to be the kind of wife you want.”

  “Don’t say that, now. Look, let’s talk about this over dinner Saturday.”

  “I’m afraid not,” I said gently.

  “What do you mean?”

  I needed to make him accept this, for both our sakes. “I mean we won’t be going to dinner Saturday night. We’ve gotten reacquainted, like we talked about. And it’s clear to me now that I’m never going to feel the way about you that I once did—the way you want me to. The way you deserve, Michael.”

  “This has something to do with Nate, doesn’t it?” His tone turned ugly.

  “I need to go.”

  “You’ve already married one Andrews. How did that work out?”

  “That was just mean. I’m leaving now.” Marrying Scott Andrews may well have been the single worst decision of my entire life. But Nate was nothing like his cheating scoundrel of a brother. I started walking towards my car.

  “Liz, wait. Please.”

  “There’s nothing more to say.”

  “You might be finished talking for now, but that won’t stop me from trying to change your mind. I will change your mind. Dammit, Liz. We walked away one time. Please, let’s don’t do this again.”

  “We’re done.” I climbed in the car, started the engine, and stirred up the dust in the driveway as I left. I wasn’t in love with Michael anymore. But I did care about him. And he sure could piss me off.

  TEN

  It had been less than twenty-four hours since Calista and I had met with Sonny about Harmony’s murder. I hadn’t heard from him since. That didn’t particularly surprise me—he was conducting a murder investigation. This was his case. A Charleston PD case, not a Stella Maris case, so I had far less leeway to meddle. But Sonny didn’t seem to be pursuing the angles that pertained to Calista. Naturally, those were my priority.

  Jim Davis had been stewing in my brain like a pot about to boil over. I wondered if Jim Dougherty had ever remarried. Hells bells, I’d been listening to Calista too much. Nevertheless, on the way back home, I swung by Barnes and Noble in Mt. Pleasant. My natural curiosity was piqued by this biography of Marilyn Calista had mentioned. I loved the Book and Grind in Stella Maris, but a quick phone call verified they didn’t have it in stock. I didn’t have time to wait for them to order it.

  It’s not that I believed Calista was in imminent danger because she was Marilyn’s doppelganger. But if Colleen had taught me anything, it was that there’s much more to this life than what we could perceive with our five standard senses. I was open minded enough to be wary of the Marilyn angle.

  I snagged a copy of the seven-hundred-page Spoto biography, another title called The Marilyn Monroe Treasures by Jenna Glatzer, and Marilyn’s autobiography, published more than a decade after her death.

  Then I headed for the Isle of Palms connector and voice-dialed Nate.

  “How’s the research coming?” he asked by way of greeting.

  “Okay. Let’s just say Jim Davis appears too boring on paper to have nefarious intent, but that in itself could be a red flag. I just picked up a Marilyn Monroe biography. You wouldn’t believe how many books there are on her. I picked up a couple of others.”

  “What for?”

  “I’m curious. How goes the search for Mr. Davis?”

  “I’ve checked every hotel and vacation rental on Isle of Palms. I haven’t spotted the Camry, and he’s not registered anywhere under his name.”

  “That was quick. What did you do, hack the reservation systems?”

  “Does that sound like me?”

  “Why, yes, as a matter of fact.”

  “You make a fair point, Slugger. Just accept my word that Mr. Davis is not residing on the Isle of Palms at present unless he is using a false name, in which case I would posit the theory that he does have nefarious intent. I should add that the plate number of his car does not appear on the registration records anywhere.”

  “So, are you headed into Mt. Pleasant now?”

  “I am.”

  “I probably passed you. Keep me posted.”

  “Will do. By the way, I have reserved a table for our date tomorrow evening at Anson. Seven-thirty.”

  Of course he had. Well, they both had good taste in restaurants. “Sounds good. What do you want for dinner tonight?”

  “As long as you’re at my table, I couldn’t care less.”

  “You are a sweet-talker. Mamma always told me to be wary of sweet-talking boys.” I hated how his sweet-talking ways reminded me of his brother, Scott. You couldn’t believe a solitary thing that came out of Scott Andrews’ mouth. Nate was not Scott. I had let Michael get into my head. I shoved him out.

  “Your mamma is a wise woman. You should be very wary of me.” There were a great many suggestions in his tone.

  “I’ll remember that. I’ve got to get back to work. I declare you are a distraction.”

  Nate laughed.

  I loved his laugh. I smiled. This was Nate I was talking to. “Bye now.”

  When the call ended, I turned up the music. “Hemmingway’s Whiskey” was playing. The brooding melody and lyrics sent me into a reflective mood. Thinking about Scott was enough to drive me to drinking whiskey.

  I stopped by the house to grab something to eat and call Calista. My reading material would have to wait. I made a pimento cheese sandwich, poured a glass of diet Cheerwine, and took my lunch to my desk. My mamma makes the best pimento cheese in the world. I’d scored a take-home bowl when I’d dropped by Monday afternoon. Be
tween bites, I called Calista and made an appointment to see her at two.

  Then I had an idea. I pulled up Jim Davis’s online profile. He’d never remarried, but he had family. His father had passed away a few years back, but it looked like his mother lived with his sister and her family. Maybe someone in the household knew where Jim was and what his intentions were. I could have used spoofing software to disguise where I was calling from, but decided to let that work in my favor. The truth or its third cousin might be my best hope.

  I tapped in the number. On the fourth ring, a woman answered.

  “Mrs. Davis?”

  “Yes?”

  The mother. How to play this? Maybe not the truth. I quickly donned my sweet-but-slightly-ditzy persona. “Ma’am, my name is Suzanne Thompson. I’m calling from South Carolina?”

  “Is Jimmy all right?” The woman sounded alarmed.

  I calculated her approximate age. Mid-sixties? I didn’t want to go around scaring anybody’s meemaw. “Oh, yes ma’am. I saw him just this morning.”

  “That’s a relief. He hasn’t called but once since he got there. I worry, you know.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I understand. It’s a long way from California.”

  “What can I help you with?” she asked.

  “Well, ma’am, Jimmy came into the diner this morning for breakfast. I waited on him myself. He’s a good tipper.”

  “Jimmy?”

  “Yes ma’am. But he left his wallet in the booth. Ma’am, would you happen to know where he’s staying? He didn’t mention it, and I’m sure he’d like to have his wallet back.”

  “Oh. Yes. He said he was at the Hampton Inn. I don’t know if there’s more than one of those in Mt. Pleasant or not.”

  Score. “Yes ma’am, there are two of them. But it won’t take but a skinny minute for me to call and find out which one he’s staying at. Then I can leave his wallet at the desk for him, or he can come back by and get it, either way.”