Sunset in Old Savannah Page 8

  Beth lowered herself to an upholstered chair. “Plenty of guns are thirty-eights—”

  “Think about it, Beth. The husband is out of town for a conference. Mrs. Doyle just received confirmation of her worst fears. She’s frightened, but not of a mysterious assassin hiding in her bushes. She’s afraid that her husband won’t come to his senses and dump the mistress.”

  “You think Evelyn staged this? She’s sixty years old and has probably never fired a gun in her life.” As soon as Beth spoke, Mrs. Doyle’s words trailed through her head like a radio jingle: “I know what gunfire sounds like.”

  “It doesn’t take much to pull a trigger,” Michael said. “Don’t you find it odd that she didn’t call the police? That would have been my mother’s first choice once she reached the house. And when we offered to call them, Mrs. Doyle threw a fit. She said she would make up a story to keep from filing a report. That’s pretty squirrelly in my book.”

  “Mine too, I’m afraid.” Beth whistled through her teeth.

  “She probably knows where her husband keeps the gun. She fired off a few shots into the water late at night when nobody was around. Then she called us. I just can’t figure out what she aims to accomplish.”

  Beth ran a hand through her hair. “Attention. If Lamar hears about a possible attempt on his wife’s life, he might take a hard look at the Latte Queen. This could be the kick in the pants he needs.”

  “Wow, women can be devious,” Michael muttered. “Are we going to change our case report?”

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures. And our report stands as is. We have no proof she staged the attempt. It’s just a theory. Let’s not forget who’s paying a hefty fee for our services.”

  “What’s our next step if we’re no longer looking for a masked assassin?”

  Beth smiled into the phone. Nothing like enthusiasm for one’s job. “You let me relax last night. This morning is all yours. Why not try something crazy like eating a donut or watching TV? I still plan to see Miss Mulroney for a girl-to-girl chat.”

  “Why? We supplied the client with the proof she wanted. Mr. Doyle will be home after the conference. Isn’t it up to them to work out their marital problems?”

  Beth considered how much to tell, but keeping things from her partner hadn’t worked well in the past. “It’s time for Bonnie Mulroney to go away. Lamar doesn’t need to choose between two women. I plan to convince the girl to consider community college or vocational training for a better future, and to give up manipulating married men.”

  Michael was speechless for a moment. “Didn’t you tell me that our job was to remain objective and not influence the outcome? I could’ve sworn that was you, Kirby.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Okay, I’m about to break one of my rules. But I want to improve Mrs. Doyle’s chances, so Miss Mulroney and I need to come to an understanding. Just trust me on this.”

  “Just make sure your firearm stays locked in the safe.”

  Beth laughed as she ended the call, but her good mood was short in duration. Because she couldn’t bear to face Mrs. Fletcher without a completed application or the gum-popping Crystal at the register, Beth had to sit across the street and watch Bonnie with binoculars for three and a half hours. The girl dutifully made cappuccinos and lattes wearing a smile along with her beret. Just as Beth started to jog in place to keep the blood flowing, she spotted Bonnie exiting a side entrance.

  Apparently, some employees used an alley two storefronts away for a break room since smoking wasn’t permitted anywhere near the shop’s entrance. Bonnie lit up a cigarette just as Beth approached.

  “Hi, Bonnie. Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  “You the chick getting friendly before she’s even hired? Look, turn in the application and keep your fingers crossed. That’s all I can tell you,” the girl said dismissively as she exhaled a plume of smoke.

  Beth snarled at a pimply-faced youth standing nearby. “Get lost. This is a private matter.” The force behind her directive sent him quickly on his way. Then she moved until she was inches from Bonnie’s face.

  The girl didn’t back down. “I take it you’re not looking for advice.”

  “Nope, but I’ll give you a little. Stay away from Lamar Doyle.”

  That caught Bonnie off guard, but annoyance quickly replaced her shock. “What business it that of yours? I know you’re not his wife.”

  Beth feigned surprise. “Oh, so you knew that he’s married? My mama has names for girls like you. How about if I whisper them in your ear?”

  “How about if you just get lost?” This time Bonnie blew a plume of smoke into Beth’s face.

  Beth yanked the cigarette from her lips and tossed it toward the gutter. “Those will kill you if you’re not careful.”

  “I’m calling the cops. You’re harassing me!” Bonnie pulled out her phone.

  “Go ahead. We’ll sort this out at the station. Somebody took a shot at Lamar’s wife early yesterday morning. And I’m the investigator hired to find out who it was, besides being Mrs. Doyle’s close…personal…friend.” Beth backed Bonnie up against the building.

  “Leave me alone! I didn’t shoot at anybody. I don’t even own a gun.” Bonnie pushed Beth’s shoulders with both hands. Her behavior was brave, but a hitch in her voice gave her away.

  “Sure, I’ll leave you alone. Just as long as you leave Mr. Doyle alone. He’s way too nice a guy for the likes of you. Oh, and by the way, your little plan of getting pregnant wouldn’t have worked. So find another means of support. Why not go back to school? You’re not too old.” Beth headed for the street.

  “I’m not planning on getting pregnant,” she called when Beth was ten paces away. “Lamar loves me, and I’m going to be the new Mrs. Doyle.”

  Beth turned around as a dozen retorts crossed her mind. But seeing the girl’s earnestness, she swallowed them down. “Take my advice and fall in love with someone your age. Life will be better for everyone.” Beth stomped from the alley without a backward glance.

  Funny how up until the end she had wanted to grab Bonnie’s shoulders and shake vigorously. She hated the girl’s low self-esteem and even lower ethical code. But what does wanting to throttle someone say about my good Christian character? It wasn’t that she had no compassion for Bonnie, but one mistreated party per love triangle was enough.

  Beth left the car where it was and spent the next two hours walking the city streets. Michael was right—the landscaped squares throughout the downtown area were gorgeous. What a lovely town. What a lovely day. With their case wrapping up—she hoped with a happily-ever-after ending—she looked forward to their mini-vacation.

  When she returned to the hotel, Beth found Michael with his nose in a science fiction novel in one of the chaises on the roof. He tossed the book down when she approached.

  “Where have you been? How long does it take to chat at Cool Beans with a twenty-four-year-old? I’m sure you two weren’t catching up on old times.”

  “Sounds like you missed me. I’m touched.” She dropped onto the opposite chaise lounge and laid her hand across her heart.

  “I was worried, Beth. I thought you got arrested for doing something stupid.”

  “Will I ever live down one night in jail?” She scowled at him. “I don’t have a violent nature, but I did have to wait for Bonnie’s break time. After she and I came to an understanding about the future, I walked around town. You told me to enjoy the historic district while we’re here, so I did. You were supposed to update the case file and our expense report.”

  “The paperwork is done, but next time check in with me.” Michael’s anger faded. “I have news on our case.”

  Beth reached for his water bottle. “The floor of the Homewood rooftop utopia is all yours.”

  “Mrs. Doyle called about an hour ago. She was locked in the bathroom, whispering.”

  The hairs on Beth’s neck stood on end. “Did someone take another shot at her?”

  “No, she’s fine
. Quite joyous, in fact. She called her husband first thing this morning and asked him to come home. Lamar told his boss that his wife was sick and he needed to leave. He arrived around noon, and they’ve been talking ever since. When he ran out to the store, she decided to give us an update.”

  “Sounds like they might be able to work things out.” Beth drained the last of the water.

  “It’s much better than that. Lamar said Bonnie was the biggest mistake of his life and swore he would never stray again. He agreed to go to marital counseling, and he’s already called their minister for an appointment. He’s willing to give going to church another try. Mrs. Doyle said he’s stayed away since their son died.” Michael laced his fingers behind his head. “Evelyn is so relieved, she’s paying our expenses for another week, along with a generous bonus, and plans to give Nate a glowing report.”

  Beth scrunched the plastic bottle between her fingers. “That’s it? Lamar gets caught red-handed, comes home with his tail between his legs, and she’s willing to forgive and forget?”

  “I’m sure Mr. Doyle was duly remorseful.”

  “If it were my husband, he’d have to crawl across hot coals on his belly.”

  Michael looked at her oddly. “Since neither of us has been married, let alone for forty years, we’ll have to trust our client’s judgment. At any rate, the case is closed and our work is done. I thought I’d hop on the sightseeing trolley that stops in front of the hotel. Care to join me?”

  Beth shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m going to the gym to burn off calories on the machines. After that I’ll be right here on the roof, either soaking in the pool or reading in a chaise. I thought I’d pick up a romance novel in the gift shop. There’s so much I don’t understand about love, I don’t even know where to start. Later on we can split a pizza or nachos if you like.”

  “And go to Wild Adventures tomorrow?”

  “Yep. A promise is a promise.”

  EIGHT

  As Saturdays go, yesterday had been the best one Michael had had in a long time. The weather had been sunny and breezy but not hot. And the crowds hadn’t been too bad for a weekend. They had left the hotel by seven o’clock, arrived at the amusement park a little after nine thirty, and spent the next ten hours on the rides. He learned more about his partner during those hours than in the several months he’d known Elizabeth Kirby.

  Beth ate hot dogs with mustard and relish, preferred iced tea over Coke, and doused her chips with vinegar instead of catsup. She loved roller coasters, except those that spiraled upside down in a corkscrew. Those left her rubber-legged and green around the gills for the next twenty minutes. She didn’t mind getting wet, either from water rides or the occasional summer cloudburst, but humidity turned her wavy hair into a mane of long ringlets. All she’d needed was a pinafore to look like a children’s book character, although Michael would never mention that in a million years. The one thing Beth didn’t like was any kind of physical familiarity. Even an innocent hand on her shoulder made her nervous.

  So it didn’t matter how much fun they had at the amusement park or how well they got along as partners. It didn’t matter that he loved her sense of humor, her smile, and the way she could fall asleep just about anywhere. Beth would always keep him at arm’s length. If she ever found out his feelings toward her were no longer platonic, she’d be on the next Greyhound bus to Natchez.

  When they’d gotten back to the hotel, Beth headed to her room with a new stuffed monkey and a bag of cotton candy. Michael went up to his room sunburned, mildly dehydrated, and absolutely certain he’d never know the joy or heartbreak of marriage. But he would rather spend his life as Beth’s friend than live his life without her.

  Sunday morning began with a disagreement. Although they both decided to attend church, they couldn’t agree on where. “I’m going to New Covenant Church on Bull Street,” he announced over coffee. “Their service should be the closest match to the evangelical I usually attend. Is that okay with you?”

  “Why would you want the same old, same old?” Beth bit off a piece of muffin. “We both grew up in small towns and went to tiny churches painted white, where everyone knows everyone. I want a three-hundred-year-old cathedral with a bell tower, Tiffany stained glass windows, and flying buttresses.”

  “You don’t even know what a ‘buttress’ is, flying or otherwise. Besides, Notre Dame is in Paris, not Savannah.” Michael broke his whole-grain bagel in half.

  “I’ll know one when I see one. I googled historic churches and picked out Christ Church, also on Bull Street. It’s described as the ‘Mother Church of Georgia.’ Afterward, I’ll find out who throws the best Sunday brunch in town. Then I want to spend the rest of the day in Forsyth Park. The bellman said it’s the best spot to people watch.” Beth tossed the rest of her muffin in the trash. “Why don’t I meet you here around noon?” Without waiting for his reply, she marched through the front entrance, her hair fanning across her shoulders, her skirt blowing in the breeze.

  Michael watched her until she disappeared and then headed to his choice of services, which of course was held in a church with white clapboards and clear windows. Maybe he was plain toast in a designer cupcake world, but familiarity was reassuring, especially because his new career provided sufficient excitement.

  After church he found a bench outside the hotel where he could read the newspaper and wait for his partner. His phone rang just as Beth walked up to him. “Michael Preston,” he said without looking at the caller ID.

  “Mr. Preston?” asked a familiar voice. “This is Evelyn Doyle.”

  Considering their investigation was done, her call caught him by surprise. “Yes, ma’am. How are you?”

  “Is Miss Kirby with you? I tried calling her, but she didn’t answer.”

  Michael gestured for Beth to move closer. “She’s standing next to me. I’ll put you on speaker.”

  “I’ve been taken to the Tybee Island police station. An officer said I could have an attorney present during questioning, but I didn’t know if I should call our lawyer or just have you here. Both of you know what’s going on better than Alfred Singleton.”

  Michael locked gazes with Beth, whose eyes were growing rounder by the moment. “Why do the police want to question you?” he asked.

  “Because I’m the one who…who found…Lamar.” She spoke in breathy gasps and then started weeping. “He’s dead. My beloved husband is dead. What should I do, Mr. Preston?”

  Glancing around at the passersby, Michael clicked the phone off speaker and angled it so Beth could hear as well. “Tell us what happened, Mrs. Doyle.”

  “I don’t know. That’s just it…I don’t know how this happened.” Horrible, wrenching sobs punctuated each of her sentences.

  “What do you remember about Friday?” Beth asked, practically nose to nose with Michael.

  “Lamar came home early from his seminar and we talked, just like I told Mr. Preston. Then he went to see…that woman…to end things on Saturday.”

  “And when he returned from Miss Mulroney’s, did you have an argument?” Beth prompted after Mrs. Doyle remained silent for several moments.

  “Oh no. He hugged me and said it was over. I was so relieved. I didn’t even want to hear the details.”

  “What happened next?” Michael elbowed Beth to one side.

  “I asked Lamar if he wanted to stay in that night. I had asked the maid to fix us a light supper before she left. Lamar said yes, anything would be fine. He just wanted to be home.” Mrs. Doyle’s words broke into sobs. She struggled to continue. “We talked during dinner. Lamar…he promised to attend counseling with me. Then I…I walked the beach. I wanted to give thanks that the nightmare was finally…over. When I went to bed, Lamar said he would join me as soon as his television show ended.”

  Michael heard noise in the background. “The officer says I have to get off the phone,” said Mrs. Doyle, sounding agitated. “Could one of you come for me? I must get home and start making funeral arrangemen
ts. There is…so…so much to do.”

  “Of course, but please finish telling us what happened,” Beth insisted.

  “When I woke up this morning, Lamar wasn’t in bed. I assumed he’d gotten up early and gone down to the beach. He does that sometimes. He loves to watch the sun rise. I saw him in one of the chairs on the deck. At first I thought he was sleeping, but then I saw the blood. I shook him and called his name, but he was… he was gone.” The rest of her words became unintelligible.

  “Mrs. Doyle, this is very important.” Beth pulled the phone from Michael’s hand. “Have you been arrested?”

  “No, I don’t think so. But I have no way to get home.” She sounded meek and almost childlike.

  Michael wrestled his phone back. “The first thing we need to do is get ahold of Alfred Singleton. We’ll call him for you. Don’t answer any questions until Mr. Singleton gets to the Tybee Island police station. Do you understand?”

  “And we’ll come too, Mrs. Doyle,” interjected Beth, hovering over his arm. “You’ll see us either at the station or at home.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Preston, Miss Kirby. I am in your debt.” The well-mannered, soft-spoken woman hung up, leaving the two partners thunderstruck on the sidewalk. Even though there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky.

  NINE

  Beth had never had a very high opinion of lawyers, and Alfred Singleton did nothing to change her mind. Fortunately, his number was accessible through Google, and he picked up on the third ring. But that’s where their luck ran out. As succinctly as possible, Beth explained who she was and the reason for interrupting his Sunday afternoon.

  Singleton’s response was less than professional: “Are you telling me Lamar is dead? I just saw him last week at the club.”

  “I assure you I wouldn’t joke about something like that.” Beth glanced at Michael, who rolled his eyes. In his car on their way to Tybee, he could hear every word the attorney said.

  “And Evelyn asked you to call me? Who did you say you were again?” A hint of impatience shaded Singleton’s question.