Chapter Fifty-Five Savannah
| Fifty-Five |
Savannah
Just as she was about to pull out of the driveway, Savannah’s ringtone sounded and she fished her phone out of her purse. Swiping up, she drew a breath when she saw it was from Henri.
“Hello?”
“Is this Savannah?”
“Hi, Henri. Thanks for calling me back.”
“How can I help you?”
“Did you get fired because of me?”
He sighed. “Not your fault. I shouldn’t have said anything to you. Please don’t say anything to your husband.”
“You tried to warn me about something. Do you think we could meet somewhere and talk?”
“Look, I don’t want to get involved. Bennett Bryson is this town’s golden boy. And I don’t need him finding out that I’m badmouthing him.”
“It’s just—” Savannah hesitated. “I know you were good friends with Poppy. If you’re suspicious that her death wasn’t an accident, I’d like to know why.”
“She was thinking of leaving him. She found out something about him and she wanted me to help her make sense of it. We made plans to get together when they got back from the Hamptons. But she didn’t live to make it. That bastard killed her.”
“You don’t believe Poppy fell from the boat?”
He scoffed. “No fucking way. I know that son of a bitch killed her. But if you tell him I said that I’ll deny it.”
“Why—”
“I have to go. Please don’t call me again. If I were you, I’d get as far away from him as possible.”
Savannah put the phone down with a shaking hand. Why was Henri so convinced that Poppy’s death hadn’t been accidental? And why wouldn’t he pursue it with the authorities if he was so convinced? It was probably just a case of petty jealousy. Felicia had said the two men didn’t get along.
She needed to talk to Isabel and find out more. Reluctantly, she picked up her phone, went to Isabel’s contact, and typed:
S: Can we meet?
Her text tone pinged immediately.
I: I’ve been waiting for your text.