04 Lowcountry Bordello (18 page)

At four fifteen, Nate said, “He’s on his way out.”

“Roger that.” I pretended to dig in my purse. A few minutes later, Dr. Calhoun walked towards me in khakis and a long-sleeved, blue button-down.

I looked up from my purse and smiled.

He smiled and pressed the down button.

“Oh, I feel so silly. I was distracted and forgot to push the button.”

“It happens to me some days.”

The elevator arrived and we both stepped on. In my ear, Nate said, “Taking the stairs.”

The elevator doors closed. Two seconds later, I said, “Dr. Calhoun, I apologize in advance for this shameful breach in etiquette.”

He gave me a quizzical look. “How do you know my name? Are you a patient?”

“No, I’m a private investigator.”

He stiffened.

“I have no desire to hang your dirty laundry out on the line. If you’ll answer two quick questions for me, I’ll be on my way. Has anyone attempted to blackmail you regarding your patronage of the house at 12 Church Street?”

He stared straight ahead, not acknowledging my presence. The elevator doors opened on the first floor. Dr. Calhoun took off at a fast clip. I kept pace. Nate fell in behind.

“Dr. Calhoun? Did you see anyone doing anything unusual Monday night as you were leaving? This could be very important.”

He kept walking and didn’t say one word.

“Of course, I could stop by the house later and speak with you and your wife, if that’s more convenient.” A beauty queen, Julia had said—likely a vindictive one.

Dr. Calhoun said, “If you show up at my house, I’ll call the police.”

“That’d be great,” I said. “It would save us all a lot of time.”

He stopped on the sidewalk.

“Perhaps you should stop by the psychiatry department while you’re here. Or maybe schedule an MRI. If it turns out your mental problems are caused by a brain tumor, give my office a call to schedule a consult.”

He crossed the street to a parking garage.

I followed, with Nate a few steps behind. “Truly, if you answer my questions, you’ll never see me again.”

Dr. Calhoun stopped at the garage entrance. “I don’t know what house on Church Street you’re referring to. I haven’t visited any house on Church Street this week, or in recent memory for that matter, so I could hardly have seen anyone as I was leaving.”

I didn’t care the teensiest bit for his tone. “I have photos,” I said. “I can put you and your car at that house many, many nights.” Okay, so I exaggerated.

His face took on a menacing look. “Are you trying to blackmail me?”

“Not at all. But I’d like to know if someone else has attempted to blackmail you.”

He stared at me, didn’t say a word.

“Did you see anyone inside the house Monday night as you came in at approximately seven-eighteen, or as you were leaving at approximately eight thirty-five?”

He got in my face. A bit of spittle was on his lip, giving him the look of a rabid dog.

Nate stepped between us. “Back off.”

Dr. Calhoun gave himself a little shake, composed himself. “This young woman is in need of medical attention.” He turned and walked away.

“He has a quick temper,” I said.

“Indeed he does,” said Nate. “And he’s disinclined to be helpful. Slugger, I think we need to pack up our toys and go home. Sonny will get to Dr. Calhoun soon enough. You and I have a honeymoon to plan. We’ve given Robert more than the day we promised. Olivia is shed of her blackmailer. Our work here is done.”

“All right,” I said. “I just hate leaving puzzle pieces on the table.”

“Come along and I’ll see if I can distract you from worrying about your puzzle.” His smile worked better on me than anyone.

We held hands and walked towards the Explorer, which was parked one level up in the garage.

Nate’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen. “Here we go.”

He pressed the button to accept the call. “Mother. Have y’all made it in?”

He looked at me, his expression one of a trapped animal. “That sounds nice. What time were y’all thinking?…You want us to pick you up?…All right then. See you soon. Bye now.”

I said. “They’re here?”

“Just checked into the Market Pavillion hotel over on East Bay. You’ll never believe where Dad made dinner reservations.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yes. Rut’s New South Cuisine is very convenient to their hotel and they’re tired from the trip.”

I felt a little jolt of joy. “That will give us another go at Henry. See, fate intervened on behalf of my puzzle. I’m going to have to freshen up. It’s a good thing we went ahead and paid for another night at the bed and breakfast. But I really need a change of clothes. What time is our reservation?”

“Not ’til seven. We have plenty of time to go shopping.”

“Why Mr. Andrews, you say the sweetest things.”

“Now see, here is the part where I was looking forward—after the wedding—to being able to say something like, ‘Mrs. Andrews, you look so beautiful in everything you put on, it’s a pleasure to take you shopping.’”

“It bothers you, doesn’t it? That I want to keep my name.”

“Sometimes. You bring out the old-fashioned in me.”

“But it doesn’t—”

The sound of rubber on concrete, taking a corner too fast, interrupted me.

A familiar BMW hurled towards us.

Nate shoved me between two parked cars, then leaped after me. I scrambled for balance, grabbing ahold of the sedan in front of me with one hand and Nate with the other. We steadied each other. The car blew past us. The driver slammed on brakes, tires screeching.

The car rolled backwards at an angle, coming to a stop inches from the backs of the cars we’d taken refuge between. Through tinted windows, we could clearly see Dr. Calhoun. He revved the engine twice, then drove off.

“I’d say that was meant to convey a message,” said Nate.

Twenty-One

The Scoop car pulled to the curb on East Bay. Nate tipped the driver, hopped out, then circled around the back of the car. He opened my door and reached in to offer me his hand. I smiled my thanks, my eyes holding his smoky blues.

Nate murmured in my ear, “You look stunning. I can’t wait to unwrap my Christmas present.”

“So that’s what this new dress is?” I grinned. “Wrapping?” I’d picked out a darling gold shimmery dress with a fitted waist and flared skirt at Anne’s on King Street and still had time to stop by Bob Ellis for a pair of strappy heels of a suggestive height.

“Absolutely.” He laced his fingers through mine and we waited for the Scoop car to drive away.

Across the street, the entrance to Rut’s New South Cuisine was decked out in full holiday regalia. Garlands of fresh greenery with white lights and bows draped the large glass storefront windows and the double door. Ivy topiaries with more lights and bows in large gold pots stood on either side of the entrance. Our favorite restauranteur stood just outside the door chatting with a group of folks like they were old friends.

Traffic cleared and we crossed East Bay. Henry Prioleau caught sight of us. He patted the man he’d been speaking to on the back and stepped in our direction. “Well, look who’s here. Y’all joining us for dinner again this evening? That’s twice in one week. We must be doing something right.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. He opened the door for us. The noise level inside hit me like a wall.

“We’re meeting my parents,” Nate said. “I believe they may already be here. Andrews, party of four?”

“Of course,” said Henry. “Are y’all celebrating a special occasion with us this evening?”

Nate and I exchanged a glance. Henry didn’t wait for a response. He escorted us three steps to the first in what appeared to be a line of hostesses. “The remainder of the Andrews party is here. Y’all enjoy your dinner.” He hovered a moment, then stepped back towards the door.

The hostess looked at him as if she’d missed her cue. Finally she said, “Hey, how are y’all?”

“We’re fine, thanks,” said Nate.

“Are y’all celebrating a special occasion with us this evening?”

There wasn’t a simple answer to that question. Nate said, “Just the season.”

I could barely hear him over the cacophony of too many voices straining to be heard above the baby grand piano, at which someone was playing “Winter Wonderland” at three times the customary speed.

“Welcome!” The hostess’s smile was wide and bright. She led us towards a sweeping staircase.

“Maybe it’ll be quieter upstairs,” Nate said in my ear.

“If not, I predict your mother is not going to be happy. And she already isn’t happy.” Glynneth Sloane McBee Andrews had not been happy when I married her older son. She quite possibly held me accountable for him turning out to be a scoundrel of the first order.

“Now, Slugger, that’s not true.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. He put his hand on the small of my back and we proceeded to the top of the steps. At the landing, the hostess paused at another hostess stand. An older woman standing there said, “Hey, how are y’all?”

“Great,” said Nate.

“Are y’all celebrating a special occasion with us this evening?” Her smile was even wider and brighter than the hostess’s.

“Just the season.” Nate smiled.

“I just want to personally welcome you!” she said.

We nodded and smiled our thanks.

The hostess led us past her and into a room where it was thankfully, a few decibels quieter—at first. The farther we went towards the back wall, the louder the din. I spotted the Andrewses at a table near a front window. Nate and I waved at the same time.

Mr. and Mrs. Andrews stood as we approached. Mr. Andrews looked fit and distinguished, just a bit of grey at the temples. Blessed with timeless beauty, Mrs. Andrews’s classic blond bob, high cheekbones, and flawless skin attested to her superb gene pool. One of the many things she held against me was, owing to a bad case of endometriosis that led to a complete hysterectomy, I would not be giving her grandchildren.

“Darling.” Mrs. Andrews reached for Nate.

“Mother.” He stepped in and gave her a hug.

“Liz, good to see you,” said Mr. Andrews.

“Good to see you too, Mr. Andrews,” I said.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake. If you can’t call me Zach, I don’t know who should.” He stepped around his wife to give me a quick hug.

“Elizabeth,” she said. She didn’t enunciate it quite as clearly as my own mamma when she was displeased, but somehow it came out sounding like I was in trouble.

“Hey, Mrs. Andrews,” I said.

“You must call me Glyn.” It came out sounding like a pronouncement.

Progress. In the entire time I’d been married to Scott, she’d never suggested such a thing. Glyn was what her friends called her.

I smiled. “Glyn. It’s good to see you.”

Nate and his dad exchange a quick handshake-half-hug-shoulder slap.

“Hey, Dad,” said Nate.

“Son.”

The hostess hovered until we were all seated. “Tyler will be your head waiter. He’ll be with you in just a moment.”

“It’s terribly loud in here,” said Glyn.

“Yes, it surely is,” I said. “I didn’t realize it, but the wall behind us opens to the staircase. The piano music is funneled up to this end of the room.”

“I’m sorry about that,” said Zach. “The restaurant is highly rated on TripAdvisor.”

“I’m sure we’ll grow accustomed to it,” I said. “And I’ve heard the food is divine.” This was a stretch. But clearly, Zach had tried to pick a pleasant restaurant. We all had our happy faces on. I wanted to keep it that way.

“How are y’all this evening?” A young gentleman in dark slacks and shirt with a tie stepped up to the table.

“We’re well, thank you,” said Zach.

“I’m Tyler. I’ll be serving you this evening.” His smile was freakishly gay, his energy level positively zippy.

Was everyone who worked here on something?  

Tyler handed us menus and left the wine list with Zach. “If you’d like, I can send over the sommelier to help with a wine selection.”

Zach said, “I’m sure we can figure it out. Shall we start with cocktails?” He glanced around the table.

“Please,” said Glyn.

“I’ll have Woodford Reserve on the rocks,” said Zach. “A Grey Goose cosmopolitan for my wife.”

Nate said, “Wood Reserve, rocks, and the lady will have a Grey Goose pomegranate martini.”

“Very well then.” Tyler smiled, nodded, executed an about face, and disappeared.

“How many times have y’all been greeted and asked if you were celebrating a special occasion?” Nate grinned.

“I’ve lost count,” said Zach.

“How was your flight?” I asked.

“Fine,” said Zach. “We arrived safely, on time, and our luggage arrived with us. You can’t ask for much more than that these days.”

“I remember when flying was a treat,” said Glyn. Her forehead creased. “I declare, it’s amazing that piano player’s fingers can move so fast. I’ve never heard ‘Jingle Bells’ at quite that pace.”

Her right hand moved to her temple. I couldn’t help but notice the two carat round diamond ring with sapphire side stones. I’d returned it to her when Scott and I divorced. It had been Zach’s mother’s ring and was meant for Scott’s wife.

I played with my current engagement ring. It had been Gram’s—my grandmother’s—engagement ring. Nate would’ve bought me anything I wanted, but I wanted to wear Gram’s ring. It was a lovely emerald cut stone, too pretty to leave in a box. For the first time, I missed having something he’d given me on my hand. Three more days.

“…to Florida to see us in the spring.” Zach and Nate had been chatting.

Glyn said, “Yes, of course you must come. Before it gets too hot. We’ll likely go back to Greenville for the summer. Or somewhere farther north. I can’t stand the heat the way I once could.”

“Highlands, North Carolina is nice,” I said. “The summers there are milder, I understand.”

Tyler brought our cocktails. As he set them in front of us, he said, “Sir, I’ll be happy to send the sommelier over to help you select a wine.”

Zach’s smile was tight. “No, thank you.”

Tyler did his about face again.

Zach raised an eyebrow, took a deep breath, and let it out. “Let’s toast, shall we? Welcome back to the family, Liz.” He lifted his glass.

I started to giggle, but smothered it.

Glyn said, “Zachary, really.” She sipped her cosmopolitan.

“Thank you so much,” I said.

Nate smiled. He was happy his parents were here. Things hadn’t been easy for their family since Scott had fled the country.

The piano player raced through “The Christmas Song.”

A gentleman in a suit approached the table. “Hey, y’all. I just wanted to stop by and make sure everything was all right here. How’s your dinner?”

Zach said, “We haven’t ordered yet. Our cocktails were just served.”

“I hope they’re all right,” said the gentleman, who hadn’t identified himself.

Glyn smiled, “They’re fabulous.”

“Wonderful,” said the anonymous gentleman in the suit. “Enjoy your dinner.”

He’d no sooner left, than another gentleman approached the table. “I’m Eduardo, the sommelier. May I help you select a wine for your dinner?”

Zach appeared to have trouble forming a response.

Nate said, “No, thank you.”

“It’s really no trouble at all,” said Eduardo.

I sipped my drink.

Glyn took a long pull of hers.

In carefully parsed words, Zach said, “No. We would like to choose our own wine, thank you.”

The sommelier left. We all drank. The piano raced through “Oh Christmas Tree.”

Zach said, “Perhaps we should decide on food.”

We all studied our menus. The dishes did sound delicious—lots of creative variations on Southern standards.

“Why don’t we start with some oysters?” Nate said.

We all agreed that sounded good. The shrimp and blue cheese grits were calling to me. In short order we’d all decided on entrees. Zach chose a pinot noir that would work well with the steaks he and Nate had chosen, my shrimp, and Glyn’s vegetable plate.

As soon as we’d placed our order and the menus had been cleared, I reached into my bag and pulled out the Purell. I smoothed on a generous coat. Who knew who all had handled those menus and what they might be carrying? I returned the hand sanitizer to my purse and glanced up.

Glyn stared at me. She executed a dramatic eye roll and downed the last of her drink. She set down the glass and looked at Zach.

Zach flagged down a waitress. “Could you please send Tyler by, and let him know we’d like another round of cocktails.”

“Certainly, sir.” Her expression was something akin to fear. Happy fear. She scampered away.

“Excuse me,” I said. “I’ll just run powder my nose.” I had no intentions of going to the ladies room. I avoided public restrooms whenever possible. But they were likely near the back, where I’d have a good view of the room.

When I found the restrooms, I took in the scene before me. In addition to the waitstaff, several gentlemen in suits or sport coats, along with two women, one of them the older woman who’d been at the upstairs hostess stand, worked the room. They seemed to be performing an odd square dance, moving from table to table in time to the frenetic music. One of the dancers was Henry Prioleau.

I noticed a recessed area in the wall between the two restrooms. I stepped into the hallway. To my right was the elevator Nate and I had ridden to the third floor offices. It would be an easy matter to take it down and slip outside. I pondered our timeline for a moment. If Henry had slipped out, his intention had been to visit Heather. Since he didn’t arrive, something had changed his plans.

“Did you get lost?” Henry stood in the doorway to the hall. His expression was openly hostile.

“I must have.” I pushed past him and walked back into the dining room. It was in constant motion. If one of the folks moving from table to table were off the floor for a while, would anyone notice?

I navigated my way back to the table. Our second round of cocktails had arrived and Glyn had already downed half of hers.

Nate stood and held my chair for me.

Glyn said, “Ah. Such a gentleman. Someone raised you right.”

“Yes, someone did,” I smiled.

Nate said, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to give you.”

I tilted my head at him.

“We never did go shopping for engagement jewelry.” He pulled out a large velvet box.

My heart went to fluttering.

“This was my grandmother’s. She left it for me to give my wife.” He opened the box.

The diamond and sapphire necklace was spectacular. The stones glittered in the candlelight.

“
Ohh.
Nate, it’s gorgeous.”

“Shall I help you put it on?” he asked.

“Please.” I lifted my hair, trying hard not to think of the matching ring on Glyn’s finger. Did she wear it all the time, or did she wear it for me special?

Nate closed the clasp and I let down my hair. “Thank you, sweetheart. I’m honored to have this lovely family piece.”

Glyn finished her cosmopolitan. “Zach, would you order me another drink, please?”

Zach looked at her for a three count. She returned the stare. He flagged down the waiter. “Anyone else?”

“No, thank you,” Nate and I said in unison.

Finally, Tyler brought our oysters. I needed a little food on top of a martini and a half. We passed them around. Everyone but Glyn took two.

“Darling,” said Zach, “won’t you try one of the oysters?”

“No thank you,” she said. “Ah. There’s my cosmopolitan.”

One of the waitstaff set it in front of her.

A few sips in, she said, “Have you children considered adoption?”

Nate said, “We have plenty of time to think about that, Mother.”

“Nonsense,” she said. “You want to have children when you’re young enough to run after them. Past a certain age it gets so much more difficult.”

Whatever Nate might have said in response, I’ll never know. Henry Prioleau appeared at our table. “Hey, how are y’all this evening?”

“Fine.” Nate forced a smile.

“You know, it’s the strangest thing,” Henry said. “I checked our reservations for Monday night. It bothered me so bad to forget a customer. We didn’t have a reservation in either of your names Monday night.”

“That’s odd,” Nate said. “Computers so often lose things, don’t they?”

“How’re the oysters?” Henry’s fake smile nearly reached his ears.

“They’re excellent,” said Nate.

“Wonderful, wonderful. Are y’all celebrating a special occasion with us this evening? Well, I guess you are. The big day’s almost here. Did you work everything out for your rehearsal dinner?”

My insides clenched.

Glyn said, “Really? Are we never going to hear the end of this rehearsal dinner business?” She downed half her third drink.

Nate said, “Mother, everything is fine. We just had a last-minute glitch, but it’s all been taken care of.”

Henry said, “Y’all enjoy your dinner.” He moved on to the next table.

“Honestly,” said Glyn. “You’d think the steak Oscar for a hundred the first time you married one of my sons would’ve satisfied our rehearsal dinner obligation.”

“Mother,” Nate said, “the rehearsal dinner is a non-issue. Would you like some bread?”

“Bread? You know I don’t eat bread. I work hard to maintain my figure.” She gave me an appraising look. Glyn was likely a size four.

At five-eight, I was a size ten. I was comfortable with my size. I was fit. All during my three-year marriage to Scott—and even during our engagement—Glyn had sent me diet and self-help books. I glanced out the window.

Zach said, “Perhaps tonight you could make an exception.”

A server arrived with our salads. He placed them in front of us and pulled out a peppermill.

Glyn said, “There’s dressing on this salad. And croutons. I specifically asked for no dressing or croutons.”

The server smiled and nodded.

“I’m terribly sorry. I’ll replace it right away.”

He took Glyn’s salad and disappeared. He returned momentarily with a new one.

As he set it in front of her, Glyn said, “I’d like another cosmopolitan.”

Zach said, “My dear, do you think that’s wise?”