Not Quite Right (A Lowcountry Mystery) (Lowcountry Mysteries Book 6) (10 page)

“I could have tried,” he grumbles, tossing his coat onto the back of a chair and loosening his tie.

I catch myself smirking at the idea of Brick, or any of the Draytons I’ve met, with dirt under their fingernails. Or in a hardware store.

Brick glimpses my amusement and rolls his eyes. “Fine, gang up on me. I’ll defer to Leo in this situation. But only this one.”

“We can duke it out in the others later,” Leo comments, striding into the kitchen and straight to the sink to wash his hands. “The windows aren’t leaking around the casements anymore, but you guys really should think about replacing them sooner rather than later.”

“What about the furnace?” I ask.

He shrugs, drying his hands and eyeing the last piece of sausage pizza. “I’d say you’ve got a couple of years. No more.”

“Good thing we’re going to Charleston this weekend, huh, Grace?” Amelia’s tone suggests a joke, but she’s not smiling.

Neither of us are looking forward to spending time with her mother, and having to ask Amelia’s parents for a loan to fix up the house makes it even worse. Still, we can’t freeze to death all winter, and since the house belongs to Aunt Karen and Uncle Wally, keeping it up is technically their responsibility. We’re just renters.

Who aren’t paying rent, but now is not the time to split hairs.

Leo takes the last slice of pizza and sits down at the table with Brick. They nod at each other, Brick looking as though he’s not sure he wants to be on kidding-around terms with Leo, and Leo oblivious to the fact that his charm does not, in fact, work on everyone. As usual, on both counts.

“Gracie says you’re going to try to get the Middletons to cough up some dirt we can use to cover up me and Mel’s—” Leo pauses “—indiscretions.”

Brick raises his eyebrows, shooting daggers my direction. I shrug. I didn’t know his helping was a secret, and it’s not like Leo’s some stranger off the street. He’s part of this, too.

“If by
indiscretions
you mean getting caught breaking into the house of a US Senator, then yes.”

“That’s what I mean,” Leo clarifies, refusing to rise to Brick’s bait.

My old friend is something of an expert on handling difficult people. He cut his teeth on his mother and siblings, then faced off with me for a decade. Brick’s good, but not that good.

“Are you going to tell us or what?” I ask, interrupting for everyone’s sake. The last thing we need is a pissing match in the kitchen. Cleaning is the worst.

“We’re waiting for Mel,” Amelia says around a bite of pizza. “I called her, too.”

As though on cue, the front door opens and closes.
 

“Where are you people?” Mel’s Tinkerbell voice is unmistakable, and the mood in the room lightens because of it.

Which is quite the feat, considering Mel’s been arrested for snooping through confidential files and sharing them with us, landing her in just as much trouble as Leo and me.

“We’re in the kitchen,” Amelia replies, though the effort proves unnecessary when Mel appears before the last word leaves her lips, her three-year-old son, Grant, trailing behind her.

Even though Millie’s due date is almost a full month ahead of Mel’s, they’re about the same size. Something about second pregnancies and stretched out bodies, I don’t know. I try not to listen in case I ever have to decide whether to get pregnant one day. That’s one instance where the less you know, the better.
 

The sight of Mel stuffs a wet lump in my throat. I can’t stop myself from being overdramatic and fling my arms around her neck, hugging her as tight as I can with her girth between us. It’s so much better than the bars of the jail cell that had separated us the last time we were together. Grant peers up at me from behind her leg, two fingers in his mouth and slobber trailing down his hand. His eyes are curious, and bright, and his mother’s eyes.

My heart clenches. What would Will do without Mel? How could Grant, and baby Mary, manage without a mother? We have to fix this, all of it, or the curse on the Draytons will have competition for the worst thing I’ve ever done.

“Gracie, for heaven’s sake, you’re choking the life out of me. Let go.” Mel pats my arm, the kindness on her pixie features wiping away the sternness of her words. She shoots a pointed look toward her son and blinks away tears.

I get the message: No wailing and drama in front of the kid. We have to keep it together.

I’ve been faking it for the last several months, so I guess I can pretend to be a normal adult for another couple of weeks. After we figure out the cases against Leo and Mel, and I make sure Mama Lottie has cured Amelia and me of the Anne Bonny curse, I’m going to spend a week in my room and take only liquid meals. There’s been no time to feel sorry for myself about Beau, about how things have gone south so fast, and I deserve it. I deserve to wallow.

“Fine,” I say to Mel, plastering on a goofy smile and making a face at Grant. He giggles, and for a minute, I feel like a superhero. “Brick has something to tell us.”

Mel bends down and hands her bag to her son. “Sweetie, there’s a table in the living room where you can do your coloring, okay? Make something for Daddy.”

He grabs the bag and runs off, and a moment later the sound of crayons hitting the glass top of the coffee table finds its way into the kitchen.

Mel straightens up, with some effort, and holds up her hands. “I’ll clean it up, I swear.”

“Mel, Grace lives here, remember?” Millie says. “She won’t be able to tell a three-year-old’s mess from her own.”

I give my cousin the finger and turn to Brick, standing so that the pregnant ladies can both have seats, which they sink into without protest. Both Leo and Brick shoot to their feet and offer me their chairs. I take Leo’s, glad for the hundredth time to be back in the South where my soul belongs. Where I’ve started to believe
I
can belong, even with everything I’ve lost—Grams, Gramps, my mother, the idea that I knew my mother. Beau.

One look at Amelia reminds me of the things I’ve gained, too. Her friendship and presence in my life again is a gift. In a few short weeks, we’ll add a baby to the mix. Mel and Will, Leo… I had been away, and living without them, for so long, but I hadn’t realized how big the holes they’d left really were until they were filling them up again.

The good Lord giveth and the good Lord taketh away.

Another of Grams’s favorite sayings, and one that bothers me, in retrospect. It seems like an awfully arbitrary system. I wonder what Charlotta and her religious musings would make of that. Maybe we both have good reasons to be doubtful.

“Brick had a meeting with the Middletons about your cases,” my cousin starts, wiggling in her seat. She nods at Brick, encouraging him.

For his part, he appears grim. A little bit like he’d rather be anywhere but here, and not at all as he’d been with Millie a few minutes before. It’s as though the rest of us take a toll on him. He gazes back at Amelia for a moment, and I wonder if he’s wondering if she’s worth the headache.

If so, he’ll decide she is. People always do, because she is.

She and Brick obviously already discussed all of this, despite what Millie said about “running into” him at the library and deciding to bring him here so we could all hear his news at once. My teeth find my bottom lip, worrying at the skin. Amelia is a grown woman, and it’s her choice who she decides to let into her life. It’s just that, since we’re living together, she’s also letting him into mine.

You’d have less of an issue with Brick if Beau were at your side right now,
the more enthusiastic of my devils sneers.

You probably would have even thought it was fun, dating brothers,
his twin adds, doing a little jig on my left shoulder.

They’re right. Seeing Brick and Amelia together, at the bright beginning of something, makes my eyes burn with regret. Thinking about the fact that Mel will go home to Will, cuddle up next to him, and let him convince her that everything is going to be okay fills me with longing.

They don’t hide things from the men who care about them,
the right-shoulder devil continues.
 

Shut up.

They do, but only because Brick finally starts talking, pulling my focus from my own addled brain.

“They agreed to meet with Birdie and me in a couple of days to give us a verbal list of anything that could have been found in their house or files at the accountant’s office that could be used against them in this case.” He gives Mel a pointed look. “Other than the fact that they’re hiding money in offshore accounts. Nothing you obtained in what amounts to theft or an illegal search is admissible in court.”

I wave a hand. “We know that. Amelia’s attorney said as much before her custody hearing.”

“Right, but now you’ve insulted them and you’ve forced them to show a losing hand in a very public way.” Brick pauses, and if it’s for dramatic effect, it’s working. “They’re not the kind of people you want to piss off.”

“Well, it’s too late for that, and besides, maybe it’s time they learned what happens when you get on the wrong side of the Harpers.” Amelia lifts her chin, staring defiantly into Brick’s eyes. There’s a pop and a sizzle about her when he’s around that she struggles to hold on to when he’s not, but with every spark of her old personality showing itself, I believe more and more that it could stay.

And it makes me like Brick Drayton, damn him. Or at least, grit my teeth and tolerate his presence. For Amelia. That’s what all this is for, what everything is for—her and Jack.

“You really think they’ll tell you anything?” Mel asks, eyeing my cousin with curiosity. Her gaze slides back to Brick but doesn’t change much. She hasn’t figured them out, either, which is interesting. I know she and Millie talk quite a bit, and I figured they chat about more than just baby stuff. Maybe I’m wrong, but I wish Amelia would confide in someone about her friendship—or whatever it is—with Brick. It’s obvious she doesn’t feel as though the subject is safe to bring up with me, and hadn’t even before things with Beau and me had gone south. Hopefully just for the winter.

“They’ll tell us. They’re refusing to write it down, but they know the best way to build a defense is to be prepared to head off any unexpected accusations. I don’t know if there’s going to be anything we can use, though. We’ll have to wait and see.”

I have my own reservations as to whether or not the Middletons will reveal the worst of their transgressions, even to their attorneys. Paul Adams signed a nondisclosure, which means anything he tells us isn’t admissible in court. Anything we find won’t get Mel and Leo off unless we have the kind of proof that they’ll want to keep out of the papers. I mean, there’s always the possibility that they missed someone with the nondisclosures who would be willing to testify, but shedding an ugly light on the Middletons in the courtroom isn’t going to save my friends.

Last time I checked, the excuse that
they’re terrible people and deserve it
doesn’t play in front of a judge. Sometimes I think it should.

“Thank you,” Amelia says, her hand brushing Brick’s shoulder. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

Leo’s eyes meet mine, and I can feel Mel’s gaze on the side of my face. They’re thinking the same thing I am, probably, which is…
or not.

We can’t afford to wait for the Middletons to fashion their own nooses. It’s long past time for us to go out and buy some rope.

Chapter Six

M
el and Leo decide to come with Millie and me to Charleston to see Paul Adams the next day, but in the car on the way there we’re still trying to talk them into joining us for dinner afterward with Aunt Karen and Uncle Wally. Mel knows Aunt Karen and is about as thrilled at the idea of spending the evening with her as she would be with her own mother—who is just as awful, in my estimation—but Leo’s being swayed by the promise of a free dinner at McCrady’s. It’s fancy and the chef is famous, but I know he’ll be disappointed by the size of the portions. Not that I plan to tell him anything of the sort before we rope him into coming along.

We’re stopping to see Paul Adams first, and the house on the quiet, tree-lined side street looks the same as it did the last time we were here. The landscaping is pristine, and the blue shutters look as though they’ve been given a recent coat of paint. What’s new is the For Sale sign in the front yard, and the big, red Sold placard slapped diagonally across the front.

“Is he moving?” Leo asks.

I shake my head, because obviously I have no idea. A twist in my stomach sets me on edge, no matter how many times I tell myself it probably doesn’t have anything to do with him talking to us a few weeks ago.

But he hadn’t mentioned he was moving. Living in this part of town, in a house like this, costs millions; people don’t simply up and leave.

“One way to find out.” Mel steps onto the front porch, her expression grim and determined, and rings the bell. It’s nice to have her and Millie here. There are things people will do for pregnant women that they wouldn’t dream of doing for anyone else.

Like spill secrets they legally agreed to never reveal.