Bite the dust, p.23
Bite the Dust, page 23
“What?”
“Erin never had to save a penny. Phyllis Mays is a different story. Phyllis recently came into money but never explained how. It’s not any of my business, but most people aren’t ashamed to say they’ve inherited or earned some extra money.”
“You think she’s embarrassed to name the source?”
I doodled a dollar sign on my notes. “What if she got the money buying lottery tickets? Her husband is against the lottery, so she has to keep it a secret.”
“You buy lottery tickets at the grocery store or gas station. Public places where she could be seen by neighbors and parishioners. I don’t see how she’d keep that a secret.”
“Do you remember the ace of hearts I found?” I quit doodling. “The news has mentioned traveling poker games around Myrtle Beach. We saw Dylan rushing out of Peter’s house. It looked like he was carrying a poker table. Phyllis was there too. What if they’re involved in some kind of illegal gambling operation?”
“Your theory would explain why Phyllis didn’t reveal how she came into the money.” Marc rubbed his hands together.
I jumped up. “Let’s go get ice cream.”
“Really? Why?”
“Most Friday nights Pastor Mays and Phyllis go to a movie and out for ice cream at Scoop It Up. They joke about popcorn being their main course and ice cream is their dessert. We should hurry in case they went to an early show.”
“Fine. I’ll drive.”
Sunny seemed tired, so I left her with a doggy bone and full water bowl. In no time, I sat in the passenger seat of Marc’s truck and directed him around the back roads so we’d miss the major vacation traffic.
I tapped my toes. Heyward Beach in June. Even my shortcut was crowded. If we could only get to the ice cream shop in time. “Thanks for coming with me.”
“You’ve got me hooked on finding the killer. This is more than the research I used to do for my old law firm, and I’m enjoying it. But we need to stick together and be careful.” He braked at a stop sign and our gazes collided.
My mouth grew as dry as a desert in August. Marc supported my quest to find the killer.
The car behind us honked, breaking our moment of closeness. Solving a murder for the first time, and also meeting a man I cared about at the same time rocked my equilibrium. No more boring Andi Grace. I was on my way to the ice cream shop with a fabulous man.
As long as we arrived in time for me to speak to Phyllis, I’d have another puzzle piece. Big or small, it’d give us a clearer picture of Peter’s murder.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I SCOOPED THE LAST bite of rocky road into my mouth as Phyllis walked through the ice cream shop’s glass door. She dashed to the ladies’ restroom, and I followed while Marc worked on his banana split.
There were only two stalls and two sinks in the pink-tiled room with a hot air hand dryer. I made plenty of noise washing my hands, and soon Phyllis took her place at the other sink.
I smiled but felt my jaw tighten. “We need to talk.”
Her eyebrows rose. “About?”
I blocked the door and turned the dead bolt. Nobody could walk in and interrupt our conversation.
“Have you lost your mind? Larry will be waiting on me to order. What’s going on, Andi Grace?”
“I was about to ask you the same question.” I stood between her and the door to freedom. “How did you get extra money?”
She frowned and shook her finger at me. “Honey child, that’s none of your business.”
I straightened and threw my shoulders back. “You can talk to me or Sheriff Stone. Might be less embarrassing to confess right here.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong.” Her reddening face said otherwise.
“Then you won’t mind telling me about the money.”
Phyllis clamped her lips together.
“You know Peter was murdered. It could be tied in to the gambling at his home.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Larry can never find out. Please, you can’t tell him.”
At this point, the facts were still muddled. I truly had nothing to blab. “I won’t tell your husband, but I won’t promise to keep it from the sheriff. What’s going on?”
Phyllis took a few deep breaths.
I pushed. “Do you gamble?”
The blood drained from her face, and her eyes bugged. “How’d you know?”
“I saw you race out of Peter’s house one night after his death. Don’t you think it’s morbid to meet at a dead man’s home to gamble?”
She shuddered. “Yes. Once I heard the location, I almost backed out.”
“But?”
“I’m hooked. I need help, and I don’t know which way to turn.”
“Is Dylan King in charge?”
She waved both hands as if fanning her face. “Yes, but he has a partner.”
“Who is it?”
“A young guy from Georgetown. A football player, I think. He pretty much stays in the background.”
“Did you kill Peter?”
“No.” The word came out swift and fierce. “I have an alibi. I was at an auction the night Peter died. I saw Paula Houp and her niece. We spoke. Lots of people saw me.”
Okay. Easy enough to check. “How often did you play at Peter’s?”
She twisted her wedding band around her finger. “Once Thomas King began working on Peter’s house, Dylan held gambling nights at the plantation when Peter was out of town.”
“Who else is involved?”
“Nobody you’d know. Some locals from Myrtle Beach and some tourists. A few men join us from Conway.”
Her words jolted me. “How do tourists know about the gambling ring?”
“It’s possible they heard about it from hotel employees.” Phyllis shrugged. “Can we keep this between ourselves?”
I placed my hands on her shoulders. “You need to tell Larry before somebody else does. I won’t, but one day he’ll find out.”
“The news will crush him and ruin our marriage.”
“Have a little faith. Your husband loves you.” I gave her a quick hug and turned to unlock the door. “Tell him.”
She avoided eye contact.
Two teenage girls in swimsuits stood, waiting for the restroom. The skinny youth wearing a neon green bikini said, “You’re not supposed to lock others out.”
“Sorry.” I hurried to Marc. “Ready to go?”
“Let’s roll.”
I smiled at Pastor Mays, who stood to the side of the counter, no doubt waiting on his wife before ordering. I hoped she confessed the truth to him before he found out another way.
SATURDAY MORNING, I met Marc at Peter’s place. My place unless Danny and his family fought me for it. His mom had threatened me, and the woman was tenacious. But I’d give it all up to have Peter back. Alive and well.
I inhaled deep of the fresh morning air. Marc and I sat on the tailgate of his truck drinking Daily Java coffee and whole grain bagels slathered with cream cheese. The river lapped the shore with a soothing sound. A brilliant bluebird flew past us, stopping in a pine tree. In the distance a frog croaked.
Marc lifted his coffee cup. “Nice way to start the morning. Thanks.”
“Seemed like the least I could do since you’re taking me around the property.” This was the day to explore more of the massive property.
“I find it strange Peter never gave you the full tour.”
I shrugged. “We mostly talked about dogs, my family, and my business.” The bagel in my belly morphed into a lump of concrete. Had I deluded myself all these years thinking Peter and I were such good friends? “It seems like we weren’t as close as I imagined.” The question that kept tugging at the edge of my mind returned. “Why do you think he helped me when we barely knew each other?”
Marc stared straight ahead. “I don’t rightly know. Maybe he was one of those people who saw a problem and took action. Like you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re trying to find the killer, despite no training.” He sipped his coffee. “Your parents died, and you sacrificed for your brother and sister to have a better life. You see a problem and act. Admirable trait—if it doesn’t get you killed.”
Cold seeped into my bones. “Do you think Peter found a problem and died for it?”
“If you ruled out Regina and a lovers’ spat, I’d focus on money trails.”
“Money. Like gambling, Thomas adding on the room, and the Richard Rice Plantation’s financial issues.”
“Very good trails to follow.” Marc leaned my way. His hand came out, and he ran his thumb over my lower lip. “Cream cheese.”
Heat flooded my face. I hoped like everything I didn’t have it in my teeth as well. At that very moment I decided the next time I’d buy fruit cups.
Marc chuckled. “Ready to roll?”
I swallowed the last sip of my coffee and held out the brown paper bag. Marc added his trash to mine, and I crammed it in the corner of his truck. “Let’s do this.”
I climbed behind him on the four-wheeler, and Marc took off so fast I was forced to wrap my arms around his midsection. Okay, so maybe I wanted to snuggle close to the man.
Marc slowed at one point. “Cotton fields are to the north. Rice fields are close to the river. A farmer rents the field over there and grows pumpkins, potatoes, and peas.”
“All start with the letter P.”
“Clever.” We sped up a path big enough for a tractor.
“How did Peter manage everything, in addition to his regular job?”
“He didn’t sleep much, and he hired help for some areas. A lot of the buildings need work.” Marc pointed out the breeding stables, which were in a different structure than the coach house, where the coach horses had been kept originally. We passed the greenhouse, gardener’s house, kitchen garden, flower garden, storehouse, spinning-house, guest quarters, smokehouse, old kitchen, and icehouse, and, of course, Peter’s plantation house, where Marc drew to a stop. “What do you think?”
“It’s too much. There’s no way I can care for all of this property.”
“What about your plans to expand your dog business?”
My stomach swirled. “I just never imagined how big the property is. Did you show me everything?”
“This is all Peter showed me. Why?”
“What about slave quarters?” I slipped off the vehicle, and he followed me to the back steps. I sat in the shade, still waiting for a reply.
“This land is only a portion of the original plantation. The slaves had homes, but they’re on somebody else’s property now.” He sat next to me.
“Are they on your land?”
“No. Compared to the other landowners, I have very little. I was focused on property on the river for boats.”
“Makes sense.”
Marc removed his hat and ran his hand through his hair. “Now that you’ve seen it, do you think you’ll keep the place or sell it off?”
Sadness overwhelmed me. “I feel unworthy of inheriting so much. I’ve been comfortable in my little home and decided you’re right. Taking care of this place could suck the life right out of me.”
“Does that mean you’re selling?”
“I don’t know. Peter didn’t want to sell, and he trusted me with it. I’ve got a lot of praying and thinking to do before I make a decision. I’m really a simple girl. No dreams of being rich.”
The sound of an approaching vehicle brought me to my feet. “Do you hear that?”
“Yep. Somebody’s coming.”
I ran to the front of the house and a black van appeared. Dylan. Whether he was here to help his dad or set up for a poker game didn’t matter. I intended to discover the truth.
Chapter Thirty
DYLAN WAVED AND drove to the back of the plantation house.
Anger surged through me, and I dashed behind him. When I rounded the corner, Dylan stood by the van with wide eyes.
Marc had planted himself in front of the boy. Arms crossed and ball cap on backward showed how serious Marc was. While Marc might only be a few inches taller, he appeared to tower over Dylan. Must’ve been all those amazing muscles.
I didn’t need a man to fight my battles, and I jumped into the fray. “Dylan, I wasn’t expecting you this morning.”
“I came to help my dad.”
“He’s not here.”
“Sometimes I start without him.”
My temple throbbed. “Did he give you a key?”
Dylan reached into the van. My breathing hitched in my chest. Was he going to pull a gun?
Marc stepped in front of me.
Dylan tugged his keys from the ignition and held them in front of us. “Don’t see how it’s any of your concern, but I’ve had a key for some time.”
Marc didn’t budge. “It’s Andi Grace’s business because Peter left the plantation to her. We’ll follow you inside.”
Dylan strode to the door. “If it’s Andi Grace’s house, why don’t you have your own key?”
My key sat in my SUV’s cup holder, but I didn’t tell him.
Sure enough, Dylan’s key didn’t work. He turned and faced us. “What’s going on?”
I held my head high. “We changed the locks when we discovered you were holding poker games, gambling nights, or whatever it is you’re doing here.”
“Me?” His voice squeaked.
“I’ve got a witness. Did Peter discover what you were doing and confront you?”
“What? You’re crazy.”
“Somebody murdered Peter. Was it you?”
“No way.” He backed away from me with hands up. “I’m not a killer.”
“Somebody murdered Peter, and you had a key to the place. You’re up to no good. Maybe you didn’t want Peter to turn you over to the cops. The two of you argued, and you pushed him. He fell, hit his head, and died.”
He shook his head so hard it should’ve have given him vertigo. “No. I admit we gambled here, but that’s all.”
He probably wouldn’t hurt Peter on purpose, but it could’ve been an accident. “You’re not welcome here, Dylan. Not to help your dad finish and not to have parties.” I took a step closer to make my point. “Do you understand?”
“Yeah.” He spit on the ground then marched to the van.
Marc followed him and spoke loud enough for me to hear. “There’s also a new security system. Your father doesn’t know the codes. Andi Grace is giving you a second chance. I suggest you take it.”
Dylan’s reply was to jump in the van and take off with tires squealing and a cloud of dust.
I joined Marc. “Thanks for having my back.”
“Anytime. I think he got the message.”
Sandy particles from Dylan’s quick departure continued to float through the air. “Me, too. The question is, did he kill Peter?”
“I don’t know, but stay alert.”
“Trust me, I will. I’ll also keep him on my suspect list.”
Marc nodded. “Good girl. I’d say we’ve had enough excitement for one morning. Let’s go to the river.”
“Sounds like a nice plan.”
Marc and I took his kayak on the river and followed the property lines on the water of the original plantation. Afterward, we ate sandwiches and raw veggies on his dock. Sunny and Chubb chased each other on land and splashed in the water. It had turned into the perfect summer day. The only disappointment was Nate had gotten tied up helping a new widow who couldn’t make up her mind on what she wanted. Lacey Jane and Juliet backed out when they heard Nate couldn’t make it. I suspected a little match-making, but in this case, I didn’t mind.
I allowed myself to breathe, and God’s peace flowed through my veins.
Marc pulled water bottles out of his cooler and handed me one. “You look relaxed.”
“I am.” I nodded and drank deeply from the Tervis bottle Marc had given me.
“Spending time on the river is always good for me.” Marc stretched his lean, long legs from where he now sat in an Adirondack chair on the dock.
I considered his words. “You know I’ve had a lot of fun times on the water, but today was different. Not fun exactly, but peaceful.”
“When things got crazy growing up, and I had no control over my life, I hightailed it to the nearest river, lake, or beach. Life still makes more sense to me when I’m around water.”
I ran my hands over the smooth chair arms. “Did you make these?”
Marc nodded. “Yes. Years ago. Woodworking also helps me get centered.”
Over the years, I’d learned to lean on God for survival. He’d give me wisdom about the plantation. I refused to become a slave to a piece of property, but I’d be smart with my inheritance. “Marc, inheriting this land might open the door for a conversation with George Reeves.”
He raised his black Ray-Ban sunglasses and speared me with his gaze. “Bad idea.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s a great idea. I can contact him and say I heard he’d made an offer to Peter. I’ll set up a time to meet him, and when we get together, I’ll bring up Peter’s murder. It’ll unfold naturally. Easy peasy.” My face grew warm. Too bad I’d ended my argument with a childish phrase.
“What if Reeves killed Peter?” Marc leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs.
“You said he wouldn’t kill over something so insignificant.”
He held up his hands. “It’s only a theory. Not worth risking your life.”
“I’ll only agree to meet him in a public place.” I scooted to the edge of my seat.
“If you arouse his suspicions, he might try to hurt you later.”
“I’ll take Sunny with me.”
