Chapter 61
Adrian met her and Litha on the sidewalk in front of the Loeffler mansion. “I’ll get that for you, Miss White. And the cat.”
She handed over the leash, giving him a grateful smile. “I’ve got to run a quick errand. Thanks, Adrian.”
She hurried through the square, north, toward the river.
At the tourist shop, she climbed the back stairs to Boney’s apartment.
It was locked. She reached up for the key on the ledge and let herself in.
The place was quiet. On the dirty linoleum floor of the kitchen sat a large duffel bag, stuffed full.
She pushed open Boney’s door and saw the stripped mattress and bare floor. She walked into the room and looked around. All his clothes were gone. Even the framed picture from the windowsill. She turned to see a girl standing in the doorway.
Mari, in underwear and a Savannah Bananas T-shirt, eating a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. “He was on his way out of here this morning. The police made him leave his bag.”
Ingrid tried to compose herself. “Where was he going?”
“He said he was heading north. He has family in Boston, I think.”
Ingrid looked around again. “Did he tell you why?”
“No.” She slurped a giant spoonful of cereal.
“He got home pretty late from the wedding last night—this morning—but I was asleep.” Mari gave her a wry look.
“Look, Ingrid. I don’t know half of what he and Miles get up to, and I’m pretty sure none of it’s on the right side of the law, but Boney’s solid. You know that.”
“Yeah.”
“I never thought he would do something like that.”
“No.”
She slurped milk. “Oh my God, just think about it. All that Savannah Sauce money is going to the daughter now, right? Your friend.”
“Right.”
“And her mom, too, I guess. Some reward for being a wino and a hit-and-run driver, huh? Winding up with a gajillion dollars.”
“Yeah.” Ingrid moved back toward the kitchen and the door. “Thanks, Mari. Sorry to barge in on you.”
“No, I get it. If you hear anything, let me know. A couple of us were going down to the jail to see him, but they said we weren’t allowed.” She set the bowl down. “You know, he was the one who set Scoot Loeffler up.”
Ingrid kept her expression neutral. “No way.”
Mari nodded. “When he came in that night, the night she had her accident—he was crying in his bedroom. I mean, sobbing like a baby. I asked him about it the next morning, but he blew me off, but my friend said she saw him at Peregrin. Buying Scoot drinks.”
Ingrid shook her head. “Wow.”
“I don’t know what those guys have against the Loefflers.”
“Yeah. Me neither.”
Mari gave her a brief, one-armed hug, and Ingrid clattered back down the stairs to the cobbled street, letting herself be carried away by the current of tourists. She was too tired to cry.
When she got back to the Loeffler house, overheated and pouring sweat, she was greeted in the hallway by Sailor.
Barefoot, she looked pale and tired in a T-shirt and shorts, her hair tied in a knot.
Ingrid gave her a gentle hug. She worried that if she held her friend too tightly, the girl might shatter.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” Sailor said.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s the will,” Sailor said. “Usually there’s this whole probate period before they can read it.”
Ingrid nodded even though she wasn’t sure what that meant.
“But Brooks says since most everything is held in trust, we don’t have to go through probate.” She sighed. “I don’t know. It’s a legal thing.”
“Of course,” Ingrid said.
“Brooks wants to read the will tomorrow because so much of what Dad wanted for the company—the leadership and everything—isn’t known. He wrote it all in there.”
Ingrid nodded.
“Mom will be there, and Jude, but I want you to come, too, Ingrid. I need you. Promise you’ll be there with me.”