I thought about that, but I wasn’t sure I could fully agree with it.Did people lie?Sure, all the time.But I didn’t have things to hide.I’d not sugarcoated anything when Dash asked me questions about my life with Patrick that I didn’t necessarily want to answer.Which made me all the more curious about what Dash had “lied” about in the name of not making himself look bad.
“So we have two people being blackmailed at the same time,” Walt said, interrupting my thoughts.“Same method.Same payment schedule.Always Saturdays.Always Charleston.”
“And both of them decided to stop paying,” I said.“James made the decision the night Henry died.And Henry had obviously already made the decision.I wonder if their drop day was the same?If James and Henry both missed that Saturday payment then the blackmailer might have been desperate for cash.”
“And remember that Henry and Serena were already in Charleston at the Wentworth that morning,” Walt said.“I wonder if they made the decision there not to make the payment.Henry went home, thinking he was going to announce to the world that he was in love and was getting married.But he didn’t get that chance.When the blackmailer realized he missed the drop, they drove to his house, knowing he was still in Charleston with Serena, and poisoned the whiskey.Then all they had to do was wait.”
Walt grunted then got back up and rummaged through one of the boxes that had neatly been labeled as financial records.When he came back to the table he was holding several statements in his hand.
“These are Henry’s personal bank statements from May, when his relationship with Serena started, all the way to September, the month before his death.”He ran his finger down the accounts and said, “Found it.Two thousand dollars in cash withdrawn on September fourteenth.That’s a Friday, so the drop was probably the next morning.”
“That’s exactly a month before his death,” I said.“The blackmailer had a nice payment plan going.”
“There are no other large cash withdrawals like that,” Walt said.“But I do see a purchase at a jeweler on King Street for a nice mid-five figures.That purchase was made on September third.”
“He was ready to go public,” I said.“And it’s looking more and more like the blackmailer and the killer are the same person.Someone who knew James and Henry personally.Knew the intimate details of their lives, even the parts they thought no one knew about.”
Dash looked at me.“Looks like we need to pay someone a visit first thing in the morning.”
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
We leftthe island before eight the next morning.
I’d been up since three thirty, which wasn’t unusual when my brain decided sleep was no longer on the agenda.I’d showered and stood in front of my closet in my slip for longer than I cared to admit, and then I pulled out a black vintage dress with a Peter Pan collar and white buttons down the front and black Mary Janes.I pulled the sides of my hair back with combs, and made sure my lipstick wasn’t going anywhere for the next twelve hours.
While the coffee was brewing, I stood at the kitchen counter and thought about Perry Mason.I wasn’t entirely sure what that said about my mental state, but the dress felt right for the occasion.Some mornings call for armor and justice.This was one of them.
Chowder had looked at my wardrobe choices and decided to be rebellious by staying in his red-and-white-striped pajamas.I turned the television on for him and made sure it was on the channel where his favorite soap operas would come on in a couple of hours.I sympathized.There were some days I wanted to stay in my pajamas and watch soaps too.
“I should be back by lunch,” I told him.
He put his chin on his paws and exhaled.
Dash rang the bell at ten till eight.I handed him a coffee the second I opened the door.
“You look like you’re about to cross-examine someone,” he said.
“Oh, good,” I said.“It’s a fine line between Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Morticia Addams.”
His mouth twitched and I locked the front door.I waved at Mrs.Pembroke, who was staring at us through her curtains, and nodded at Mitchell Degas, who was walking his Pomeranian on the promenade closest to the sea wall across from my house.
“Everyone is very interested in your comings and goings,” Dash said once he got behind the wheel.
“You get used to it after a while,” I said.“Mostly.”
“Good thing you’re a rule follower.You’d be the topic of the town.”
I frowned at that.The way he said it made me wonder if he saw me as some straightlaced prude.I could be fun.I could have adventures.The problem was that my friend group’s adventure plans were limited to things that didn’t aggravate their arthritis or bad hips.
We crossed the bridge off the island in the early morning quiet, the live oaks still dripping from the night before, and the streets empty.We sped along the highway toward Charleston and for a while, neither of us said anything.And then I broke the silence because I wasn’t one of those people who could keep holding things in without incurring serious digestive issues.
“You know what’s been bothering me since last night?”I said, somewhere past the first exit.
“What’s that?”
“What you said.About how everyone lies.”I turned my coffee cup in my hands.“That even innocent people lie because they don’t want to be seen in the honest light of the truth.”
“I did say that.”
