Chapter 61
Livvy drove up to the Saint, parked in the employee lot, then walked into the lobby. She stood and stared at the portrait of Fred Eddings. His expression was haughty, imperious. She might have the old man’s DNA, but that was the extent of the resemblance.
When she got back to the dorm, she opened her laptop and did a deep dive into her new “family” background.
She found a Fortune magazine story that talked about how the old man’s father, F. A. Eddings, had moved south from Philadelphia to open a paper bag plant in Bonaventure more than a hundred years earlier, and then bought an undeveloped eight-mile-long island of pine trees and palmettos, and then built a luxury hotel and resort named after his youngest daughter, Cecelia.
“So that’s where the name came from,” she mused, as the realization slowly settled over her that Cecelia Eddings would be her great-great-aunt.
According to the six-year-old magazine article, the Eddings family’s Georgia real estate holdings at the time were worth an estimated thirty million dollars.
“Thirty million?” she breathed. It didn’t seem real.
When she emerged from her room, Garrett was in his usual position—sprawled across the sofa in the lounge area, wearing his headset and playing Call of Duty.
She gave him a curt nod, then went back into her room to fetch her basket of dirty clothes. In the laundry room, she dumped the clothes in the washer, tossed in a detergent pod, shut the door, and started it. When she turned around, Garrett was standing nearby, leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking from a carton of milk.
“Can you not do that?” she said sharply. “Use a glass like a normal person.”
“Why? It’s my milk, and I don’t feel like having to wash a glass.”
“Like you’ve ever washed a glass in your life,” Livvy muttered. She reached around him, got a liter bottle of her favorite Diet Dr Pepper from the bottom shelf, and poured some into a glass, placing the half-full bottle back into the fridge.
“So,” Garrett said. “Heard you been talking to Chelsea about me.”
A cold prickle ran down her spine. How the fuck????
“We ran into each other in town,” Livvy said.
“Don’t believe that chick’s bullshit,” he said. “She’s a lying whackjob. Did she tell you what she did to me?”
“She, uh, mentioned it.”
“Yeah. I coulda had her arrested for sexual assault, you know that? One of my buddies is a sheriff’s deputy. He coulda slapped the handcuffs on her, thrown her in the slammer.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I got better things to do with my time. Anyway, I got her ass fired. And the word’s out in this town. Who’ll hire her now? Where’s she gonna go?”
Livvy fixed him with a cool stare. “I wouldn’t know. I try to stay out of other people’s business and mind my own.”
“Good plan,” Garrett said. He looked around the lounge. “So, where’s your sidekick today?”
“Sidekick?”
“You know. Chef Felice.”
Garrett was getting on her last nerve. “How should I know? Maybe she’s still at church.”
“Praying for all us heathens,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Some of us need prayer more than others,” Livvy snapped. “Speaking of which, where’s KJ? Haven’t seen much of him this weekend.”
“His grandparents are in town, so he’s gotta suck up to Granddaddy.”
She locked her bedroom door and texted Felice.
Where are you?
She waited while the little bubbles floated on her phone screen.
Church supper. About to leave. What’s up?
Livvy’s fingers were trembling as she typed.
G just let me know he knows we talked to Chelsea. Kinda freaking me out. I think he suspects something.
Another string of bubbles.
B cool. Leaving here now.
She put the phone down and picked up her laptop and went online to resume paying her bills, but after all the events of the day it was hard to concentrate.
“Okay, I’m outta here,” Garrett called from the lounge. She heard the front door close, and a few moments later, heard his car start.
Livvy sprinted from her room to his. She tried the door, but it was locked.
As she was walking back to her room, her phone dinged to alert her to another incoming text. From Chelsea Shalanian.
CALL ME ASAP.
The front door opened. “Livvy?” Felice called. “I just saw Garrett leave. What’s going on?”
Livvy met her in the lounge, holding up her phone. “I think the shit has officially hit the fan. Chelsea just texted me to call her.”
“Wonder what she wants?”
“Guess we’re gonna find out,” Olivia said. She tapped the number embedded in the text and Chelsea picked up on the first ring. She put the phone on speaker.
“What the hell have you two gotten me into?” Chelsea demanded. “Garrett knows I talked to you.”
Livvy and Felice exchanged worried glances.
“Did he say something?” Livvy asked.
“He didn’t have to. When I got off work today all four of my car tires were slashed.”
“How do you know it was him?”
“It was him. There was a little gift in my apartment too. A dead rat. In my bed.”
“How could he know?” Felice asked. “We didn’t say anything to anyone.”
“Someone at the restaurant must have overheard us. Probably one of the waiters he drinks or plays darts with.”
“Did you call the cops?” Felice asked.
“Hell no. His best friend is a sheriff’s deputy. They’re not gonna touch him.”
Livvy swallowed hard. “He told me tonight he knows we talked to you. We’re kinda freaking out over here.”
“Yeah, me too. Anyway, I’m outta here. Soon as they finish putting new tires on my car.”
“Where will you go?” Felice asked.
“My uncle owns a barbecue place in Tennessee. He’ll give me a job.”
“Damn, girl,” Felice said. “You gonna let him run you out of town like that?”
“Yeah, Felice, I am,” Chelsea said, her voice cracking. “I know what he’s capable of now. You two better watch your backs. One more thing.”
“What’s that?” Livvy asked.
“You know how I told you Garrett was messing around with Misty? The chick at the spa? I got bad intel. Turns out Misty is engaged. To a massage therapist. A girl massage therapist.”
“So… who’s M?” Livvy asked.
“His side piece,” Chelsea said. “That’s all I know.”
Livvy’s hands were shaking by the time the call ended.
“Garrett spooked you that bad, huh?” Felice sat on the bed beside her. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“It’s not just him,” Livvy said.
“What’s going on? You wanna tell me about it?”
She needed to talk to someone, Livvy thought. And surprisingly, Felice felt like the only person who might understand.
“You know how I told you my whole life it’s been this big dark secret about who my father was? Well, my mom just told me, and it’s totally nuts. I’m shook.”
“How nuts?” Felice asked.
Livvy leaned against the bed’s headboard. “When I was a little kid, I’d make up stories about who my dad was. Sometimes he’d be a superhero, like Batman, or a really cool movie star, like Matthew McConaughey.”
“I get that. I always knew who my father was, but I wished he was Denzel,” Felice said.
“But what my mom told me today, it’s mind-blowing, and from what she says, it’s also potentially life-altering.”
Felice grabbed her arm. “Are you gonna tell me who he is?”
Livvy took a deep breath. “Nobody else can know about this, okay?”
“I swear, I won’t say a word. Would you please just tell me before I explode?”
“Fred Eddings is my biological… I can’t call him a father. He was never that. Sperm donor. That’s all he was.”
“Whaaaat?” Felice grasped both her hands. “How?”
Livvy repeated an edited version of the revelation her mother had just shared.
“How awful. For your mom, and you,” Felice said. “She never reported it to the cops?”
“She never told anyone. She was too ashamed. Like it was her fault she got raped.”
“Damn, that’s messed up,” Felice said. “But, she didn’t make him pay? At all?”
“He made her sign a nondisclosure agreement, and in return he paid off my granny’s house and gave her money to finish school, and fifty thousand, to take care of my expenses.”
“Only fifty thousand? Chump change! That family’s gotta be worth millions and millions.”
“I found a magazine story from six years ago that said the old man’s real estate was worth thirty million,” Livvy confided.
“How come your mom’s finally telling you all this now?”
“Now that Fred Eddings is dead, there’s a chance I might get an inheritance.”
“You definitely should,” Felice said. She snapped her fingers. “Damn! Pretty soon, you could be a millionaire. You definitely won’t be slumming it with me here in this dorm.”
Livvy looked around at her room. “This isn’t slumming, and I actually kinda like living here with you. Anyway, I have to talk to Mrs. E’s lawyer. There was some funny business with the old man’s will, and my mom says Ric Eddings isn’t going to give up any share of his inheritance without a fight.”
Felice’s eyes widened. “This means you and Parrish were secretly related, right? You’d be her aunt.”
“I guess that’s right. Another reason why we have to figure out who killed her. I got the name of a woman in the Saint’s purchasing department. I’ll reach out to her tomorrow and try to set up a face-to-face. And I’m gonna ask to meet with Mrs. E. What about you?”
“I went into the restaurant before we opened for brunch. Fortunately, one of the bartenders is pretty careless with his key card. He left it hanging from a nail in the kitchen, so I was able to get into the liquor storage area. Unfortunately, I didn’t see anything suspicious.”
“Doesn’t mean there isn’t anything going on,” Livvy said. “Here’s something. As soon as Garrett left a few minutes ago, I tried to get into his room. The door was locked.”
“So? You always keep your door locked, and so do I.”
“We lock our doors to keep him out. Wonder what he’s hiding in there to keep us out?”
“Oh no,” Felice said. “No way. Don’t even think about it.”
“All I’m saying is, let’s get into his room and take a look around.”
“You just told me the room is locked. I’m a chef, Liv, not a burglar. I don’t know how to break into a locked room, and neither do you.”
Livvy opened her laptop. “I bet there’s a YouTube tutorial that can show us how.”
“There is no ‘us.’ I’m not getting arrested for doing a B and E. Besides, what about KJ? What if he comes in and catches us in the act?”
“He won’t. Garrett said his family’s in town and he’s at his grandparents’ house.”
“It’s almost nine o’clock. He could be back here any minute. The answer is no.”
But Livvy was already scrolling the pages of YouTube. She looked up and grinned. “Bingo. Check it out: How to unlock a door without a key.”
“No no no no no,” Felice chanted, heading for her own room. “I don’t want to hear it.”
Livvy watched the video, which made it look fairly simple. She didn’t have what the tutorial called a Spam key—the kind that came on cans of processed meats or sardines—nor did she have a flattened paper clip or a bobby pin. But she did possess two items the YouTube video suggested: a credit card and the tiny screwdriver that she’d bought to try to repair her favorite pair of sunglasses.
“Felice!” She banged on her friend’s door. “C’mon. I need you.”
“Go away. I’m sleeping.” Felice’s voice was muffled.
“Fine. I’ll jimmy the lock by myself. All you have to do is be the lookout.”
No answer. Livvy knocked again. “C’mon. I know you’re not asleep. And if I get caught and go to jail, you’ll be living here alone with those two jerks.”
The door opened. Felice had changed into her pj’s. “Let’s get this over with.”
Livvy stood in front of Garrett’s door and took a deep breath. She tried to insert the miniature screwdriver into the keyhole, but her hands were shaking so badly she dropped the tool. She watched with horror as it slowly rolled under the doorjamb.
“Shit!”
Felice was standing in the open front door, gazing out into the darkness. “Hurry up, okay? The mosquitoes are already swarming me.”
“I’m a little jumpy,” Livvy reported. “Maybe I’ll have a glass of wine to calm my nerves.”
“Just don’t get so calm you fall asleep on the job.”
Livvy opened the fridge and uncorked the sauvignon blanc bottle. There was just over a glass left, a nice friendly pour, so, taking a cue from Garrett, she chugged the rest, then discarded the empty.
She rummaged around in the kitchen’s utensil drawer until she came up with what she hoped would be a substitute for the now-missing screwdriver: the tiny stainless steel pick Felice used to extract meat from blue crab claws.
After the wine her hands seemed steady although her heart was thumping crazily. Following the YouTube tutorial, with her right hand she slowly inserted the pick into the keyhole, and somehow managed to depress the tiny button hidden inside the doorknob. She turned the knob with her left hand.
“I’m in!”
Livvy flipped the light switch. Felice stood behind, peering into the room.
“What a pig! How does someone live in a garbage dump like this?” She sniffed and made a gagging sound. “Nasty! Why am I not surprised?”
Livvy stepped inside, avoiding a mound of clothing. The floor was scattered with debris, empty beer bottles, and dirty dishes. The bed was unmade. The closet was empty.
“That’s weird.” Livvy peeked under the bed and opened dresser drawers, most of which were empty. “Felice, I think Garrett’s moved his stuff out of here. I think he’s gone.”
“Good,” Felice said.
Livvy retrieved the screwdriver that had rolled under the door. “Come on. Let’s check KJ’s room while we’re at it.”
Felice groaned but went back to her lookout post without an argument.
Livvy used the pick again, with the same results. The door swung open and she felt for the light switch.
KJ’s room looked as pristine as it had on move-in day. The bed was made with military precision, the floor swept clean. She opened the closet. It was empty, with the exception of a couple of faded polo shirts and a cluster of wire coat hangers.
“It looks like he’s moved out too,” she said. “Wonder what that means?”
Livvy checked the lounge area, then came back to the kitchen to find Felice standing in front of the open refrigerator. “Garrett’s gaming console is gone,” she reported. “He’s definitely moved out. KJ too. I don’t like it. Something’s going on with those two.”
“Whatever it is, it can wait until morning,” Felice said, setting her jug of kombucha on the countertop. “Want some?”
“No thanks,” Livvy said, yawning. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Felice.”
“Drink some kombucha. It calms your nerves,” Felice advised. She’d only poured a few ounces of the home brew before Livvy’s phone rang, startling her so badly she knocked over the plastic jug.
“Shit!” Livvy grabbed for her phone, rescuing it from the rapidly spreading pool of liquid on the counter.
It was her mother. “Liv? Did you reach out to Traci? She’s waiting to hear from you.”
Livvy looked over at Felice, who was mopping up the kombucha mess and glaring at her.
“Not yet,” she said, annoyed. “I’ll call her in the morning.”
“You’re stalling. I know you. It’s your favorite avoidance tactic.”
“Mom! Quit nagging. I said I’d call, and I will.”
“That’s all I ask,” Shannon said. “Good night, baby. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Livvy hung up and grabbed a roll of paper towels. “I’m sorry,” she told Felice as she swiped the paper towels across the counter.
“Never mind.” Felice picked up her glass and took a few sips of kombucha.
“Back to the guys. When I see Traci tomorrow I think we need to tell her everything we know about those two.”
“Now you’re talking sense,” Felice agreed. “Let’s lock up and go to bed. I’m dead.”