04 Lowcountry Bordello (9 page)

A nook recessed in the back kitchen wall hid the back staircase on the left. To the right was a walk-in pantry. Straight ahead, a door led to steps that went down into the garage. I flipped a light switch. The gold Cadillac likely belonged to Miss Dean, and the large black Dodge truck must’ve been Seth’s. I took pictures of the license plates for documentation.

I checked the shelves on the back wall, and every corner of the neat garage. No bloody tarps, no hand truck with or without blood smears. No stairs led from this level to the living area above. I turned off the light, closed the door, and headed up the back staircase.

At the top of the steps, to my right, just before the master bedroom, a slim door I’d mistaken for a closet led to a landing over the garage. Charleston single houses typically had straightforward floorplans. This home felt a bit like a maze.

On the landing there were three doors. To my left was an exterior door leading to steps to the parking area. The doorplate on the right hand door identified it as the Rutledge Room. No Rutledge was on the current rent roll. I opened the door. It was decorated in keeping with the remainder of the house with one exception. Unlike the other rooms, this one had no rug on the pine floor. There was no photo, no clothes, no personal items.

I exited the Rutledge room, stepped towards the last bedroom in the main house, and stopped short. The nameplate read Huger. The ledger had only one line for Huger, so I had assumed there was one Huger renter. Did he require two rooms? Were there two Huger men involved? I opened the door. Just inside was an entry hall, leading into a large room with a sitting area. It was roughly the same size as the master bedroom in the main house, and it had a spacious modern bath with a deep, jetted tub and separate oversized shower.

There was no photograph on the bedside table in this room. The hostess tray held only bourbon, but a small wine cooler filled with champagne was hidden inside an antique console that had been retrofitted. The other side held a small refrigerator filled with fruit, cheeses, olives, et cetera.

The furniture yielded no portfolio, but in addition to a drawer full of lingerie similar to what I’d found in Heather’s room, an entire drawer full of gadgets greeted me. I had to look through them—the portfolio could be on the bottom. I reached in my tote and pulled on a second pair of gloves.

There were clearly labeled bottles of massage oil in a variety of flavors, tubes of lubricants, and a wide variety of things that, while I had no personal experience of, I recognized. But there were also items that genuinely perplexed me, left me feeling curious, and unsophisticated.

Was this adventurous play what drove married men to mistresses? Were there some games they couldn’t bring themselves to ask their wives to play? I picked up a yellow and purple tear-drop-shaped object that could’ve be a child’s toy or a dog’s chew toy. I tilted my head and scrutinized it.

The damn thing started to vibrate. How did you turn it off?

“You almost finished?”

I jumped three feet. “Oh!”

“Slugger? What’ve you got there?”

I felt myself turn fire-engine red. “I swear I don’t have the first idea. I’m just trying to turn it off.”

Nate didn’t even try to hide his grin. “Let me see if I can help.” He took it from me, did something to it, and it stopped vibrating. He set it on the dresser.

“What is that?” I asked.

“A massager.” He smothered a chuckle.

“How do you know that?”

He shrugged. “They’re fairly common.” He looked into the drawer and whistled.

“Each of the girls had a hidden portfolio with ID. This is the last room. One of the other girls hid her private papers in the bottom of her lingerie drawer.”

“You gettin’ yourself an education?”

“I wasn’t aware I needed one.”

“Now don’t go puttin’ words in my mouth. Do you want me to finish looking in there?”

“No, I’ll do it.”

He looked at me for a long minute, continuing to grin. “All right then. Where do you want me to start?”

“I haven’t checked the bed or the closet.”

“I’ll start with the bed. That’s quick work.”

I turned my attention back to the drawer. I wasn’t going to pick up anything I didn’t have to. I moved a few larger items to the top of the dresser, then slid the smaller things from one side of the drawer to another to check the bottom. What was the glass egg-shaped thing for?
Oh sweet baby Moses in a basket
. Handcuffs. Tassels. Clamps. I made quick work of clearing that drawer bottom. Once I was sure there was no portfolio, I put everything back and closed it firmly.

“You wouldn’t believe some of this stuff,” I said as I turned towards Nate.

He was examining something at the top corner of the bed. “I believe I would.”

“What did you find?”

“Restraints.”

I turned and made haste for the closet, which was a walk-in. I flipped on the light. An eclectic wardrobe greeted me. Everything from business suits to summer frocks to racy cocktail dresses. And leather pants, silk blouses, and all manner of lingerie. An entire wall was shelved for shoes, most sporting high heels with a message. While the variety of clothing was perplexing, the closet was nowhere close to full. Unlike the other rooms, there didn’t appear to be clothes a college student would wear to class or out with friends.

A built-in unit in the back right was partially lined with pegboard and had shelves below it. This section held all manner of paddles, straps, and whips, et cetera, many hanging from hooks on the pegboard. I’d known this was coming as soon as I’d heard the word “restraints.” I’d heard about the
Fifty Shades of Grey
. No wonder this couple had the room over the garage. And no wonder the girl next door had moved out. I’d bet these were not quiet neighbors.

I ignored the implements and searched the shelves and hatboxes for the portfolio.

Finally, I emerged from the closet. “There’s no portfolio here,” I said. I gave Nate the Cliff’s Notes version of what I’d found so far, and the Huger puzzle.

“It’s five past six,” he said.

“Hell’s bells.” I glanced at my phone. “No further texts from Olivia.”

“We’ve got to move.”

I gave the room a final glance to make sure everything was as we’d found it.

“Which one of them do you suppose is the dominant?” Nate’s tone was casual.

“I couldn’t possibly care less.”

“You sounded a little like your mamma just then.” He grinned.

I arched my left eyebrow at him, turned, and strode out of the room.

Nate followed. “Do you have everything you came in with?”

“Yeah. Just my tote.” I did a quick double check. Everything was there. “You?”

“Yeah. I took all the equipment out of the boxes and left those in the car. Brought everything over in this trash bag, which now has Velcro backing in it and not much else.”

We crossed into the main house and moved quickly down the steps and out the front door. Once we were on the front porch, I locked the door behind us. Then we moved to the end of the piazza closest to the door leading to the street. Here we had more cover from the view of anyone strolling down the sidewalk who happened to glance over the fence. The front part of the side yard wasn’t nearly as private as that on the other side of the garden wall, where the pool was located. We both stripped out of our coveralls and put them in the trash bag.

“Ready?” Nate asked.

My phone dinged a text. I glanced at the screen. Olivia:
Turning onto Atlantic
.

“Hurry,” I said.

Nate opened the door, and as nonchalantly as if we did this every day, we walked onto the sidewalk, him carrying a large black trash bag. We crossed the street on a diagonal, and passed directly through the gate at the bed and breakfast. Nate went to stash the bag in the Explorer. I did a quick scan of the street. A couple walked from the direction of South Battery up Church. They seemed lost in conversation. On the other side of the street, a jogger kept a steady pace towards South Battery.

The nose of the limousine appeared at the corner. Nate grabbed my hand and we dashed up the steps.

Showtime.

Nine

Gloves or no gloves, pawing through a whorehouse filled with other people’s pleasure gadgets deserved a thorough soap scrub with a generous hand-sani chaser. I craved a hot shower, but there was no time.

At six twenty, I called. “Miss Dean, this is Liz Talbot, Olivia’s friend? We met last night.”

There was a pause where I imagined she was recalling my odd attire. “Yes, my dear. What can I do for you?”

“I apologize for the short notice, but I need to speak with you privately as soon as possible, regarding a matter of great urgency—Olivia’s troubles?”

“Oh, dear. I’ve been out all day, and I’m completely exhausted. Could we talk in the morning, perhaps?”

“I’m so sorry to press you. It’s a terrible breach of manners, really. But I truly need to speak with you this evening.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to rally, then, won’t I? How soon can you be here?”

“I’m in Charleston, nearby, in fact. I could be there in five minutes.”

“Give me ten if you don’t mind. The door to the piazza is unlocked.”

“Thank you so much, Miss Dean. I’ll see you shortly.” I ended the call.

Nate slipped the headphones from his ears to under his chin. He’d listened over the wiretap he’d installed earlier. “Well done.”

“Nothing to it. I won’t be long.”

“Take your time. Get what we need. I’ve got this.”

“We’ve got a lot of work to do.” I wanted to get back to my research on Thurston Middleton and pull all the pieces together about the women who lived across the street and the men in their lives as quickly as possible.

“Agreed.”

We’d positioned a small chest to Nate’s right and put both laptops there so he could monitor the screens and watch the house at the same time. I pointed to the corner of the display on Nate’s laptop. “I managed to get feeds from all fifteen cameras up, but the images are small. Some of them are dark because no one’s in the room—no sound or motion. You’ve got eight on your laptop and seven on mine. Why did you put a camera in the vacant room?”

“Can’t hurt anything. You never know. Someone could duck in there for a private phone call.”

I shrugged. “Also, on this tab,” I clicked to another window, “my photo stream. All the photos I’ve taken so far on this case have uploaded.”

“That will come in handy, thanks.” 

“Okay, normally, I’d tape my conversation with Miss Dean, but since we’ll have a record of it from the feed, I won’t bother with that. She’ll be more forthcoming if I don’t pull out my iPhone and ask.”

Nate’s brow creased. “I like conversations that are admissible in court best, but in this case, I agree.”

I verified the contents of my tote—Sig, Taser, pepper spray, hand sanitizer—along with my cosmetics bag, et cetera. Then I popped in my earwig and tucked a thin transmitter coil under my sweater. “I’ll do a communications check from the street.” I leaned in for a bye kiss.

He put his hands around my face, brushed back my hair. “Be cautious.”

“Always.”

“That is not even a third cousin to the truth.”

“Back soon.” I was out the door.

From the sidewalk in front of the bed and breakfast, in a quiet voice, I said, “Everyone in their rooms?”

“Sound quality is fine.” Nate’s voice was in my right ear. “And no. Miss Dean is in the right hand parlor. Amber and Lori are in the front parlor by the Christmas tree. Dana is in her room reading. Heather is in the kitchen.”

“Roger that.” I crossed the street, opened the door, and climbed the steps to the porch. I glanced in the second window to the front parlor.

Amber and Lori must’ve heard me on the porch. Both of them stared towards the windows.

I knocked on the front door.

Miss Dean opened the door immediately. “Come in, child. Let’s talk in the keeping room.” She gestured to my right.

I headed into the parlor.

Behind me, Miss Dean said, “Girls, let’s all freshen up before dinner.”

I didn’t hear a response, but shoes on hardwood told me Amber and Lori were heading upstairs. I passed from parlor to dining room, and waited for Miss Dean to catch up.

When we entered the kitchen, she also told Heather to freshen up before dinner. Must have been code for “go to your room,” especially considering I knew they’d all already had dinner. Heather responded without comment as well. Miss Dean did not introduce us.

When we reached the keeping room, she said, “Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything?”

“No thank you, ma’am. I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice.” I sat on the end of the sofa closest to a chair that looked well-used.

Miss Dean settled into it, then looked at me expectantly. “Please, tell me what I can do for you. You mentioned Olivia’s troubles. Is she all right?”

“Yes, Olivia is fine—for the moment. But I’m afraid things are about to take a turn for the worse unless we act quickly.”

Her blue eyes locked onto mine.

“Tell me everything.”

“I will. But first I need your word that you will not mention any of this to Seth.”

She sat back a little.

“Very well. You have my word.”

“Olivia is afraid of him.”

“That’s absurd. Seth is family. Yes, he’s upset with the terms of Mary’s will—and mine. This is his home. Has been for most of his life. But he would never harm Olivia—or anyone, for that matter.”

I studied her carefully. Miss Dean was likely good at poker. “That may very well be. But we can’t take any chances.”

“I’ve given you my word. I’ll say nothing to Seth.”

“All right. You’ve heard, no doubt, about Thurston Middleton’s death.”

She covered her mouth with her hand, closed her eyes, and shook her head. “Ghastly business, that.”

“Did you know Thurston Middleton?”

“Why, of course I did. He was my neighbor. Lived just a block down on Meeting Street.”

“Can you think of any reason why he would’ve been inside your house last night?”

“What? Goodness no. Why would you ask me such a thing?”

“Because the reason Olivia called me last night—the reason I left home in my pajamas to rush over here—is because she found a dead body in your front parlor.”

She stilled, sized me up with her eyes, deciding how much to trust me. I let my statement lie there. The longer she was quiet, the longer she failed to protest such an assertion, the more likely she either knew it was true, or knew it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibilities.

Finally, she said, “The poor girl has been under so much strain. It’s no wonder she’s hallucinating. I would’ve dealt with the issue between her and Seth and saved her so much anxiety. I only wish she’d come to me sooner.”

“Have you? Dealt with Seth? Can Olivia now stop paying him blackmail money?”

She looked away. “I’ve taken steps. Spoken to a few family friends I trust.”

“Why not speak directly to Seth? Are you afraid of him as well?”

“Goodness gracious, no. Why would I be afraid of Seth?”

“I can’t think of a reason, unless he’s a bit unstable to begin with, and the prospect of losing his home has unhinged him.”

“He won’t ever lose his home. That provision is in both Mary’s will and mine. He is to live in the guesthouse for the rest of his life or until he chooses to leave. Olivia is to continue to employ him as handyman unless he quits.”

“Why not just leave the house to him? You must know the problems this creates for Olivia.”

She shook her head slowly.

“Seth has no head for business. He couldn’t manage the boardinghouse on his own. He would end up losing it. It’s our family home. Olivia must take care of our family legacy. It’s a matter of duty. She’s the last remaining Beauthorpe woman.”

“So again, why not speak to Seth yourself about how family doesn’t blackmail family? If you’re not afraid of him, that is.”

“Seth is mercurial. I didn’t want an incident with him. I’m an old woman. I don’t like drama. I thought it would be better for all of us to let friends handle the matter. Maintain peace in the household.”

“Who did you ask for help?”

“I’d rather not say. This is a family affair.”

“Getting back to Olivia, and her ‘vision,’ don’t you find it odd that she had this experience the evening before Thurston Middleton turned up dead in White Point Gardens, not a block away?” I said.

“Well of course it’s odd. Odd things happen every day. But his death has nothing whatever to do with us.”

“So you are certain Thurston Middleton could not possibly have been in your home Monday evening?”

She hesitated, looked away.

“I wouldn’t go quite that far. I can’t think of a reason why he would be. That doesn’t mean he didn’t have one.” Miss Dean was practiced in the art of ambiguity.

“Can you tell me who all
was
in the house Monday night, to the best of your knowledge?”

“And how will that help Olivia, pray tell?”

I shrugged. “It’s possible someone played a practical joke on her.”

Miss Dean raised an eyebrow at me.

I returned the gesture. “It’s also possible someone murdered Thurston Middleton, who was in your parlor for reasons unknown. Then the killer, or someone else accustomed to cleaning up messes around here, moved the body to a bench in White Point Gardens.”

“You’re suggesting Seth killed Thurston and moved the body?”

“That’s one possibility among many.”

“That’s preposterous. In the unlikely event that Thurston was in my house, why on earth would Seth kill him? He’d be more likely to offer him a drink.”

“So they knew each other.”

“Yes, of course. As I said, we were neighbors.”

“But if someone else killed Thurston, and Seth found the body. He would remove it from the house to avoid exposing the house to police scrutiny during an investigation, would he not?”

“What are you implying?”

“Just that Seth would know you wouldn’t want the police marking the parlor off with crime scene tape, interviewing your residents, making their family members uncomfortable coming to visit and all.”

“Miss Talbot, I fail to see how this discussion will help my Olivia in any way. As I mentioned on the phone, I’m exhausted. I don’t think I can help you.”

“Liz,” Nate said into my ear, “get out of there. Seth is leaving the guesthouse. Could be heading your way. Nothing to be gained by tangling with him.”

I stood and handed Miss Dean my card.

“If you think of anything, please don’t hesitate to call.”

She stared at my card for a moment. “You failed to mention you were a private investigator.”

I passed through the kitchen. “Did I? My goodness gracious. I’m so sorry. You know, I’ve been under a great deal of stress myself. Forgive me. Yes. I am a private investigator. Robert and Olivia are my clients.”

Nate said, “I’ve lost him. Should’ve put a camera outside.”

“And what have you been hired to do, exactly?” Miss Dean followed me, moving quicker now than she had earlier.

“I’m afraid that’s confidential. You have my card. Good night, Miss Dean.”

She followed me to the front door. “I’ll see to it Seth leaves Olivia alone. I’ve already told her I would do that. There was no need for you to get involved in our private family business.”

I winced, my hand on the doorknob. “Yeah…if it weren’t for the body in the parlor, I’d almost agree with you. But you see, it became my business when Olivia called me and asked me to come over. After that point, if a crime was committed, I could be an accessory after the fact, or perhaps be charged with obstruction, if I don’t give the information to the authorities.”

“
Liz
. He’s coming in the back door to the keeping room.”

I continued, “Oh, and one of your family members hired me. There’s that. Good night, Miss Dean.”

I closed the door behind me, then listened to the sounds of her locking up.

“I’m out. Heading back.”

“That was too damn close.”

“Listen to them. I’ll be right there.”