Chapter 12
“Remember, we’re married and super rich,” I said to Reed as we approached the tall red brick building on the river off Bay Street.
He paused by the front door. “It’s weird how you say it like that.”
“Like what?” I asked, looking anywhere but at him. The sun’s rays hit me square in the eye, so I had to squint to keep my attention away from him.
Reed and I spent the last two hours together, eating and talking. I’d been dying to ask him what he meant by all the stuff he said earlier, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Every time I tried, my stomach turned into a bunch of knots.
But he kissed me. Like… really kissed me. That had to be good. Right? It meant he liked me. Hot SEALs didn’t just go around kissing women. Did they?
Did the super-hot and nice SEAL really like me? Shit.
“Your lip gets all… innocent looking,” he said, watching my expression. “How rich are we?”
“Well… I might have fibbed a little when I filled out the ‘get to know you’ survey online. You’re in oil,” I said, reaching for the door. He’d have to come up with what that meant. I never thought they’d actually call us for a tour.
Reed barked out a loud laugh. Not the yelling I expected. “Okay then. Let’s get this tour underway. You and your oil tycoon have an afternoon engagement.”
He winked at me as he opened the door the rest of the way and let me walk in first.
What did that wink mean?
I didn’t have time to ask him for clarification because as soon as the door shut behind us, a blonde in two-inch heels and a skirt that barely hit her mid-thigh greeted us. “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Rockefeller.”
Reed coughed at my last name choice, and I wrapped my arm through his to give him a tug. He couldn’t blow our cover so quickly.
“I have down on your paperwork that you wanted to view the grand triple. Is that correct?” she continued after my nod. “It’s our biggest model and has a water view. It will be perfect for you.”
“Anything for Mrs. Rockefeller. Right, babe?” Reed asked and then placed a small kiss on the side of my forehead.
* * *
Thirty agonizing minutes later, we walked out of the building together, hand in hand.
Not only did I spend the last half hour making up completely fabricated stories about Reed and my fictional life together, but he had his hands on me in some way the entire time.
Do you know how hard it is to ignore a hot guy touching you while also pretending he’s your husband?
Someone should give me an award.
Hell, I needed more cobbler with ice cream on top.
“She was nice,” Reed said as we walked onto the city sidewalk. “I really did like the cabinets in the kitchen.” He squeezed my hand when I laughed at his comment.
“It was nice, but expensive.” Way better than the 1970s apartment I’d lived in before losing my job but also a few hundred thousand more than I’d ever pay for a place, even with a water view.
Our rental was only a block away from the apartments, and we crossed onto Broad Street quickly.
We approached the Pirate House restaurant.
Its gray wooden siding and light blue shutters set the home apart from all the rest with its intentionally old appeal.
A man wearing black pants and a long black trench coat with shiny gold buttons jumped up from the bench by the restaurant’s far wall.
His black tricorn hat with a bright gold feather flopped, almost falling off his head with the movement.
A red city trolley bus pulled up to the curb and stopped. The pirate jumped on and let out a loud, “Ayyye!”
Reed shook his head as the people on the bus clapped. “This town has everything.”
My phone buzzed with an email, and I checked it quickly as he opened the gate—I still hadn’t completely figured out how—and let us into our small garden.
“Oh, no,” I said, walking through the gate.
Reed closed it behind us. “What?”
“Samantha sent us tickets to the overnight paranormal investigation at the historic theater.” I stopped by the front door to let him open it.
He did. “When?”
“Tonight.” I groaned and dropped into the chair by the small table in the front section of the home. “We have to go. Otherwise she might get suspicious.”
Just the thought of staying up until the wee hours of the morning on another evening made me yawn.
We’d been running around this town with no real leads for days.
We certainly would not find Lisa’s killer at a haunted stage theater.
Eventually, I needed a full night’s sleep.
And a viable (non ghost) murder suspect.
“Are you serious about trying to solve this case?” I asked Reed as he took off his spring coat and put it in his room.
He peeked his head out of his door. “Yeah. I’ll help you however I can, babe.”
The way he called me babe did something that my feminist upbringing wasn’t sure she liked. But I didn’t plan to stop him.
I had to ask Casey the hard questions. Genuine questions.
We had to stop beating around the bush about his mother if I wanted to solve this.
I rested my elbows on the table and placed my head in my hands as I surveyed the articles, Delaney’s case write-up, and the theory from the reporter I’d laid out.
Asking Casey questions might lead to him discovering why we were really here and eventually getting kicked out. We’d be better waiting until the last day so we didn’t risk losing our place to stay and the close connection.
“The investigation starts tonight at 10:30,” Reed said, taking the seat beside me.
He flipped through James’s report. The local reporter put a lot of thought into his case analysis, but I wasn’t fully on board with his conclusion.
“We should leave here by ten if we want to make it on time. Traffic won’t be bad, but you never know how long we’ll wait for the Uber. ”
I nodded absentmindedly. “I want to ask James Jones a question.”
“Okay,” he said, probably questioning my quick change of topic. It was only quick for him. We’d been having an entire conversation in my head. I just hadn’t filled him in on it yet.
I voice-to-texted my message to the reporter asking to speak again.
His response came quickly.
“He’s recording an on-location segment for tonight’s news program,” I said to Reed, giving him the text details. “We need that Uber now.”
“Where’s he at?” Reed asked, opening the Uber app on his phone.
I organized the scattered articles into a neat pile. “Bonaventure Cemetery.”
“Wonderful,” he replied but scheduled the ride.
* * *
“This place is…” Reed said as we walked down a dirt road in the middle of Bonaventure Cemetery searching for our meet-up point with James.
I scanned a gravesite with a large overgrown Oak Tree covered in weeping Spanish moss as the backdrop highlighting a white marble statue of a kneeling woman. “Hauntingly beautiful.”
“Yeah, that fits,” he said and abruptly turned right. “There’s the news van.”
We followed the path to where James and his mole stood off to the side while a tall woman panned out her camera into the cemetery.
“Before we leave, I want to find the Bird Girl statue,” I said to Reed. It wasn’t part of the case, but I’d read about a previous murder in the city and the book about it that made the statue famous. That murder case was technically solved, although the offender never did jail time.
“They moved the bird statue,” James said, turning toward us.
I scuffed my shoe on the walkway. “This city moves all the good stuff.”
He nodded. “Tourists ruin everything.”
What did they have against tourists in this town? Why did every time someone say that word they make it feel like an insult?
“I’ve already filmed my part of the video segment. Janet is getting B-roll now. It’s a magnificent piece about the volunteer grave cleaners. You should watch it tonight on the ten o’clock.”
We’d be on our way to a haunted theater by that time, but I told him we’d tune in. “I read through your report, and I’m curious why you don’t think the robbery theory has any claim to it?”
He snorted. “Who robs an old woman in a bar but doesn’t take her purse? Someone trying to make it look like a robbery. Casey had the means to kill his mother, knew where she’d be, and wanted his inheritance early. It’s that easy.”
“What about the waterfront apartments on Bay Street? Lisa had real beef with them. You don’t think it could have gotten out of hand between her and the developer?”
James gave me a loud scoff. “No. Sure, Lisa was pissed, but the garden ladies lost, fair and square. They were more than halfway finished with the building at the time of her passing. Half the town loves them and the other half hates them. That’s life in Savannah.”
Reed moved a few paces away, checking out a different marble statue on top of a grave.
“She never argued with a construction worker or anyone on the board?” I had visions of a fiery woman involved in a screaming match with a worker while she stood on the sidewalk waving a protest sign.
He shook his head. “The company is really just one man. You want to know the biggest horror about him?”
“Yes!” My eyes brightened and my hope blossomed. That’s the entire reason we’d made the Uber trip.
James’s camerawoman started packing up her gear. “The developer is from… out of town.” He said “out of town” like it was its own curse word. His expression even fell at my lack of reaction. Did he expect me to fall over in dismay?
“The garden circles hate out-of-towners. I’m sure Lisa was angered about the building blocking the view, but she was most upset he wasn’t born in Georgia. She’d lost her husband to a stroke five years ago, and the rumor is the ER doctor was also a carpetbagger.”
“That’s kind of weird.” That was weird. Right?
Reed nodded from his position a few feet away. At least he agreed with me.
James tipped his head and puckered his lips before answering. “Not when you’re from the South.”
The sun just descended the tops of the trees outlining the cemetery, and I shivered with the loss of heat. Even if it was only mentally. I did not want to be caught in the historical cemetery after dark.
We made quick good-byes with the reporter, promising again to watch his news segment and update him if we found any new clues in the case. He’d already heard about the recovered ring and thought it proved his case for Casey as the killer even more.
“It feels like we’re missing something,” Reed said as we got out of the Uber back at our rental. We’d have just enough time to grab a quick dinner and get ready for the theater.
I waited for him to open the gate in what had become our routine. “I agree, but I don’t know what we’re missing.”
Everyone thought finding the missing ruby ring would break the case wide open, but no one expected it to be right outside Lisa’s home in the bushes. Had she lost it there or did the killer bring it home with them and chuck it in the bushes?
“Reed, look at this,” I said, pointing at the door to our place.
He hurried to close the gate and then rushed over. “What the hell.”
Thumb tacked to our door was a sheet of paper folded in half. Reed ripped the paper from the blue door and held it open so we could both read it.
I know why you’re here. I have something I want to talk about.
Come find me tomorrow.
Casey.