Not What She Seems: A Novel, page 17
I had an ulterior motive. I had to go. “I’ll be okay.”
“Will you?” Patrick asked gruffly, glancing at me in the rearview. “Because the last time—”
“Patrick,” Pen said, snapping her head to him in a way that would have shut me up too.
The information from Weigert reinforced my drive. The confrontation with Mama emboldened me. While I didn’t want to piss people off or start unnecessary drama, there was something about Faye I couldn’t shake, and I needed to check for myself whether I was onto something or imagining it. The Taser was too much of a coincidence. The pacemaker findings and the marks on his chest aligning with the prongs were enough for me to put things together. Law enforcement would call it circumstantial, but if I got that circumstantial evidence to the police and they tested it, or matched it with the markings on Granddad, then they could connect Faye to Granddad.
Tonight, the plan was to play nice. The wireless key that Mia had slipped me was securely in my clutch, a bag big enough to carry a Taser if I managed to employ my emerging breaking-and-entering abilities with the same success I’d done at Conrad’s. Only without the eyewitness in the end, I hoped.
Mia had wrapped her arms around herself as if she was cold and shifted from foot to foot on one of the trails we’d decided were private enough to serve as meeting places. She’d been on her way home from her shift cleaning rooms, sweat glistening from her trek down one of the many paths snaking along the mountain.
“Remember, I need this back immediately. Okay? Just in case.” Mia’s eyes were luminous in the dark, the threat of discovery heavy between us. “My shift starts at ten o’clock to help clean up after the gala.”
I’d promised.
Hours later, I was still going over my plan. Get close to her office. Use the spare wireless remote Mia had taken for me. Get into Faye’s office. Find the Taser. Prove she had something to do with my grandfather’s heart attack.
Pen looked at me again, worry wrinkling up her gala-ready face. “Last chance?”
“I’m good,” I said, feeling the exact opposite but planning to fake it until I made it.
Patrick scowled in the rearview mirror. Warning emanated from him like a beacon. I turned to the window, the blackness surrounding us, to ward it away. Better not to antagonize him.
Keep it together, Jac. Don’t lose your nerve. You’ll figure this out. You have to.
It was one thing for me to make accusations that Faye could easily bat away. In Brook Haven, I’d proved to be the unreliable one.
I was more of a stranger in Brook Haven than she was. But Granddad was a pillar of the community. He would have been listened to. There was a reason why Faye had chosen this small coastal town, and I could see why she’d stay. Southerners, while initially distrustful, could end up trusting completely, and once they did, it was hard to break their trust. And the things that earned it quickest were acts that were seemingly selfless and magnanimous. Something like restoring an eyesore, an infamous historical structure, and showering money on community interests.
The people of Brook Haven overlooked many things, even when they shouldn’t. All because they didn’t want scandal. They didn’t want a mark on their good name. They didn’t want outsiders judging them. Even if they knew someone bad was in their midst, they’d turn a blind eye. I could see why. Brook Haven was insulated, and what happened here mainly stayed here. No one wanted ugly secrets exposed that would throw the town back into the world of murderous infamy in the way Murder Manor had once done.
Faye enjoyed attention and admiration on her terms. She liked the idea of being Mrs. Tate and a big fish in a small pond. That is, until she got bored with the town and was done with it. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d done this before. Faye, I thought, was like a swarm of locusts, ravaging crops and then moving on to the next field, leaving devastation in her wake.
Patrick’s Navigator pulled to a stop in front of the brightly lit Manor. The valets, dressed in black-and-white button-downs, rushed to open the doors for us, take the keys from Patrick, and park. Somehow, I ended up between Pen and Patrick, like their good little girl.
“Hey,” I said suddenly. Patrick looked down at me warily. “You look good. Handsome and shit. Thanks for the ride and, um, show my sis a good time.” I popped out from in between them, making my way inside before Patrick could say anything to make me regret my attempt at an apology.
Those specially invited to attend the dinner portion of the gala were mostly there and listening to Faye as she discussed the renovations and gave them a tour of the new Moor Manor, especially the hedge maze. Neither Nick nor Sawyer were around that I could see. I saw my mother greeting guests and decided to be proactive and dutiful, since later I might be arrested for breaking and entering.
“Mama,” I whispered in her ear, giving her a peck on her cheek from behind.
She startled, stopped midsentence, and turned to see who’d touched her. When she saw me, she showed at first delight, and then, when we both heard Faye over the din, the delight turned to anxiety.
I held both hands up. “Be not afraid,” I said, quoting a famous religious song. “I come in peace,” I finished, quoting a nonreligious movie.
She excused herself from the couple she’d been speaking to when I’d interrupted and took my arm, her deep-purple chiffon gown swishing alongside my simple black nonswishy one. She pulled us to a corner, looking around to make sure no one was in hearing distance. I braced myself, unsure what I could have done wrong in the two minutes I’d been here.
She looked flawless, like a movie star, and she eyed me. “How are you?”
“You look beautiful.” It was something Daddy would have told her, had told her when she dressed like this. Her looking like this and my dad not being able to see it hit me in a way that was unexpected. I put a hand on my stomach to settle myself.
She smiled quickly, smoothing the front of her dress shyly, like the compliment had caught her off guard. “Thank you, baby. You do too.” She swept me with a critical eye. “Where are your earrings?” She looked at my septum ring. “But that’s still there.” Her upper lip curled in a hint of disgust.
I touched my earlobes. I knew there was something I’d forgotten.
“Honey, you know you shouldn’t leave without them. They complete the whole look.” She touched several parts of my face and the top of my off-the-shoulder dress, adjusting things that were perfectly fine. I squirmed in her clutches.
“Just try, okay?”
“This is me trying.” It was never enough. I forced a smile for the covert eyes on us. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
She lowered her voice and leaned in closer. “Please, Jac, with Faye . . . just smile and nod, okay? Just like at cotillion studies. Smile, nod, and short and sugar replies. Or nothing at all if you can’t. Let’s get through the night with no added complications.”
“Why’d you insist I come, then?” I asked, gesturing to the ornate decorations and the people in their evening best. “If you’re so worried about how I’ll act.”
She leaned in. “I don’t know what crazy notions you have about that woman, but even still, I won’t give her or the public the satisfaction of thinking they got the best of a Brodie.”
I was stunned. Mama didn’t believe me but didn’t want the other side thinking they’d won either. I was so busy trying to make the deductions that all I could do was utter a docile “Yes, ma’am” while thinking of when I’d get a chance to break into Faye’s office, the remote burning a hole in my purse.
“Can you stick to Pen and Patrick?” She wanted my kid sister and her fiancé to babysit me. “For me? Please?” Her eyes pleaded. I swallowed down the hurt and how small I felt at her expectation that I might wreck her important night.
“Mama, I know how to act.”
She rubbed my arm. “I know you do. It’s just you know people are getting used to you being around again, and they may want to bring up things from the past.”
Daddy was the “things from the past” she meant.
“I just don’t want you to be triggered and”—she searched for the softest blow—“react.” She could be Mayor Tate’s second-in-command. She had the politician talk down pat.
I imagined the look on her face when I produced the evidence on Faye. Mama wouldn’t be jumping to cosponsor anything else with a maybe murderer.
“Hey, ladies, stop looking so serious. Aren’t we at a party?” My Ghanaian Nigerian bestie Soul Train danced toward us to music only she could hear. Sawyer was the only Black person I knew who could not dance but thought she could. “I have arrived.”
“Lord,” Mama muttered under her breath. “The girl has no rhythm. How’s that possible when both her parents are from the motherland?”
I covered my mouth in a failed attempt at laughter suppression, an ugly giggle escaping through my fingers. The mood lightened exponentially, and finally I could breathe.
Thank God for Sawyer, who joined us sporting a deep-red velvet pantsuit, immediately dialing the building tension between Mama and me down several degrees. Sawyer dropped an arm over my shoulder. “We’ll be on our best behavior, Mrs. B.”
Mama’s lips twisted as if to say both of us were full of shit.
I smiled and nodded, promising I wouldn’t get into anything tonight, knowing I was lying through my teeth.
We parted ways with my mother. She returned to the foyer to continue her cohosting duties while Sawyer and I set out to do what we’d come to do. We integrated into the group Faye had gathered to take a tour of Moor Manor’s restoration.
“I want a look at that maze.” Sawyer grinned, linking arms with me. “I hear it’s amazing.”
I groaned. “She’ll show upstairs, right?”
We followed along the outskirts, prepared to slip away the first chance we got. Sawyer looked around. “I’m sure she’ll want to show the guest rooms. This place has more buzz than the Isle of Palms. Nothing beats quaint, with the opportunity to spend a night in the antebellum, minus all the ugly shit, of course, bless their hearts.” She got southern there.
Ugly shit was an understatement.
Even I couldn’t deny that Faye had done a remarkable job with the estate. The house, the grounds, the maze . . . the maze was going to bring everyone in. It was taking a slice of British lifestyle and setting it right in the backyard of Southern Living. It was really hard to believe how much had been done so quickly. And how different and full of life the Manor looked compared to all the years before, when it was busy living up to its nickname.
Ten minutes later, Sawyer leaned in again. “I still can’t believe I agreed to this. I work with cops. I can’t be an accessory to breaking and entering. I should have ignored your call,” she muttered, smoothing the sides of her chic pantsuit. “You are freakishly calm about breaking into someone’s locked office, come to think of it.”
I pushed away an image of me in Conrad’s condo, searching for his precious notebooks. “I saw it on Law and Order.”
Sawyer shot me another dubious look. “Which one?”
“All of them.” I gestured to the group. “Pay attention. The mermaid is speaking. There’s a quiz after.”
Sawyer snickered, the deep-red velvet pantsuit hugging the curves of her body. She looked awesome. Her natural hair bloomed above her like a halo, shimmering in the light from good moisturizing, with a thin gold chain pulling her coils up and away from her face like the regal African queen Sawyer was.
Faye, in her long, mermaid-like, shimmering emerald gown, walked us throughout the lighted grounds. Rows of lawn lights swirled beneath our feet, illuminating the network of pathways. Above, strings of white lights laced through tree branches, giving the premises an ethereal ambiance, the maze adding an extra touch. I guess this really was Murder Manor no more.
We finally had our chance when Faye guided us through her precious maze and the back doors heading back into the house to tour the upstairs. None of the guest rooms were occupied, the inn having not officially opened yet. Sawyer coughed, our signal for me to prepare to get inside the office. She moved on with the rest of the tour while I remained behind, feigning the need to use the restroom. Not that anyone but Sawyer noticed. She flashed one hand at me. Five minutes. I acknowledged that I understood, feeling a little like 007 and liking it.
With the coast clear, I tried the door handle, just in case I lucked out and she’d left it open. No such luck. I pulled out a tiny black oval wireless remote from my purse, sending a silent thanks to Mia for coming through with the win.
I held the remote close to the knob and pressed the button, at first hearing nothing. The knob didn’t give when I pushed down on it. I took a quick look around, checking if anyone was there. Down the hall, I could hear Sawyer asking questions, keeping the group occupied and the hall clear.
I shook the remote and pressed again, this time hearing a faint click. I twisted the knob quickly and slipped inside the dark office. I didn’t dare turn on any lights. I waited until my eyes had adjusted to the darkness with only the moonlight to guide me, then went immediately to the desk. I wasn’t going to be greedy, looking for more evidence than I’d come for. I had little time, not sure how long it would be before anyone noticed my absence.
The desk was clear, the Taser not on top as it had been the other day. I went around the back of it and opened the drawers. The drawer second from the bottom gave me what I wanted. I pulled the black plastic-and-metal object from the drawer and held it up in the moonlight. This might be the thing that had killed my granddad. Finally, something had gone right. I owed Mia and even Mrs. Harris big time. They’d believed me about Faye and had gotten me in here.
I was about to leave, but I remembered what Mia had mentioned about the office. She thought there was a secret room or passageway in here. Rumor had it the house was filled with them, and since I was here, why not see if what Mia and the rumors touted was true?
I moved closer, trying to see where there might be a false part of the wall. I picked a shelf at waist level and tugged. No give. I went as far as to knock in a few random areas like I’d seen on TV. Every sound was the same as the one before. I didn’t have the first clue how to find the false door of a secret anything. I’d missed the 007 course back in college, and maybe Mia was wrong. The secret room was yet another rumor about Murder Manor. My phone buzzed.
Sawyer: ’s up time to
I wish she used her words like a normal adult.
I made it out of the office, checking that I’d left it the way I’d found it—sans Taser, of course—and hurried downstairs as quickly as my heels would allow. I passed a well-dressed older Black man in a plum suit. I offered a small wave and remembered my Brodie manners. His reply was automatic; then he did a double take, which slowed my step. I just knew this old guy wasn’t checking me out. The glint of what I thought at first was lust was instead recognition. I tensed, unsure where this was going to lead, my experience thus far putting me on high alert.
“Maybe you can help me,” he said in a deep baritone, “but this is where MJ Brodie was chief of police?” There was an accent I couldn’t place, southern, but not South Carolinian.
My guard ticked up. Strangers bringing up my dad made me wary.
He studied me, head cocked to the side and toward me, so I noticed the flesh-colored hearing aid wire coming out of his ear. “And his daddy just passed?” He said it as smooth as silk.
I relaxed. Okay, this was about Granddad.
“Granddad’s funeral was over a week ago. Were you in the military with him? Or in SLED?” I smiled. “Or maybe you’re from the Armchair Detectives?”
None of them had come, but they’d watched the live stream of the funeral.
He blinked, confused.
“Yeah. Chief Brodie,” I said. “I mean, he’s been dead for some time. And his dad—my granddad—just passed not too long ago.” Emotion forced me to look away, and he gave me the time I needed to look back and continue.
He was looking at me oddly, like a light had switched on in his eyes, his earlier recognition confirmed. He let out a satisfied sigh, nodding his head like he’d achieved something. “And your mother . . .” He narrowed his eyes as he tried to recall. “Angie?”
I huffed a laugh. “Angie? Who’s that? She’d lose her shit if someone called her that. Better call her Angela, if you value your life.”
I almost missed the twitch of one of his eyebrows and how the corner of his mouth tightened ever so slightly. But then he erased all the tenseness, replacing it with a killer megawatt smile.
He was back to nodding. Tall, broad shouldered, rich mocha skin. In his hand was a cowboy hat with matching boots on his feet. Bet there was even a buckle on his belt. If I was a betting girl, I’d say Texas.
I half expected him to say Want me to rustle up some grub, little lady? And then dip his hat at me like they did in all the old westerns.
“I do value my life,” he said introspectively, like he’d taken my warning seriously and made his decision.
“She’s at a dinner now, or about to be at one,” I said, glancing through the double doors into the formal dining room, where the dinner was beginning without me. “But I can introduce you to her if you’re thinking of paying last respects to Granddad.”
I made a move like we could go in together. I was sure Faye wouldn’t mind. She was the ultimate hostess and wouldn’t turn someone away, at least not with everyone watching.
He thought about it, tilting forward to look into the dining room full of chattering people. “No, I don’t want to make a fuss. That’s a private party, so I can catch her soon, I’m sure. I’ll just look around a little at the artwork and maybe around the grounds.”
“Sure, okay. There’s a garden maze in the back that the new owner had put in. It’s pretty unforgettable, if you don’t mind being out there in the dark and alone. This place has a pretty sordid history.”
He chuckled. “Murder Manor.”
I was impressed. “You know it!”
