It was after nine by the time Reid dragged himself downstairs the next morning. He hated getting such a late start. Made him feel as if he’d already wasted half his day. His only excuse was that he’d had a rough night. He’d gone home from the confrontation with Dave Brody and torn his house apart searching for the note the dead woman had allegedly slipped him in the bar. Then he’d poured himself a drink and searched again.
One drink had turned into a double and the next thing he knew, he’d been sprawled across his bed with a pillow over his head to drown out the street noises. He got up at some point to check the doors, drank a bottle of water, showered and then dropped back into bed. Sunlight streaming across his face had awakened him the second time. He drank more water, went for a run and then, after another shower, some ibuprofen and two cups of black coffee, he was finally starting to feel human again.
He’d just finished cleaning up the kitchen when a sharp rap sounded at the front door. He hadn’t opened up the office yet, so he took a quick glance through the blinds. A tall man with a detective shield clipped to his belt stood on the front porch. His slicked-back hair and hawkish nose gave him an ominous air as he rested his hands on his hips, parting his suit jacket so that Reid could glimpse the shoulder holster beneath.
He turned the dead bolt and drew back the door. “Can I help you?”
The detective pointed to the plaque attached to the wall, which read Sutton Law Group. Then he glanced at Reid. “You Sutton?”
“Yes, I’m Reid Sutton. How can I help you?”
“I’m Detective Graham with the Charleston PD.” He flashed his credentials. “I’m investigating a homicide that occurred in the area night before last.”
“I heard about that.” Reid kept his tone one of mild concern while, on the inside, he braced himself. Had Brody turned over the photographs to the authorities already?
After searching every square inch of the house, Reid had convinced himself the man had made up the whole thing. Brody had no other photographs; nor had he witnessed anyone drugging Reid’s drink. No one was setting him up unless it was Brody himself.
But what if he was wrong? Reid found himself in a tricky situation, and on the slim chance that Brody could do real harm, he had to watch his step. He was an officer of the court and he believed absolutely in the rule of law. He didn’t want to mislead, much less outright lie to a police detective, but he also didn’t want to volunteer unnecessary information. The less said, the better. Inviting scrutiny was never a good idea.
“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
Reid nodded. “Whatever I can do to help, Detective.”
“Can we talk inside? It’s a real scorcher out here today.”
“Sure. Come in.” Reid pushed back the door to allow the detective to enter.
Graham stepped across the threshold and moved into the small foyer, glancing into what had once been the front parlor but now served as the reception area. On the other side of the entrance, the once formal dining room was now Reid’s office, every inch of workable space piled high with file folders, contracts and briefs.
“Excuse the chaos,” he said as he closed the front door. “I’m still getting settled.”
“Just move in?”
“I’ve been here a couple of months.”
The detective’s gaze climbed the stairs. “What’s up there?”
“My apartment.”
“Just you here?”
“For the time being.”
“Not much of a law group.”
“Not yet, but I have big plans.”
“I’m sure you do.” Graham propped his hand on the banister as he scoured his surroundings. “Nice place.”
“Thanks.”
“An old house like this can be a real money pit, but the renovated buildings in the area are going for a mint. Good investment potential.”
Reid could practically see dollar signs flashing in the detective’s eyes. “Time will tell, I guess.”
Graham dropped his hand to his side and turned with an apologetic smile. “Sorry. My wife’s in real estate. I can’t help noticing these things.”
Reid brushed past him and stepped into his office. “Can I get you something to drink? Water, coffee...?”
“Water would be great if it’s not too much trouble.”
“No trouble.” Reid walked back into the kitchen, where he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. When he returned to his office, Graham stood at one of the bookshelves perusing the contents. Reid placed the water bottle on the edge of his desk and then went around to take his seat, purposely drawing the detective away from any potential hiding spots he may have missed in his search for that note.
Graham took a seat across from Reid and uncapped the bottle. “I don’t mean to stare, but you look familiar. Have we met? I’m not so good with names, but I rarely forget a face.”
“It’s possible,” Reid said with a shrug. “Except for law school and college, I’ve lived in Charleston my whole life. I’ve practiced law here for the past five.”
“You wouldn’t be related to Boone Sutton, by any chance?”
Something in the detective’s voice put Reid on guard. “He’s my father.”
Contempt flashed across the detective’s face before he could hide his true feelings.
“I take it you’re familiar with his work,” Reid said.
“He’s a legal legend in these parts. Not too popular at police headquarters, though.”
“No, I don’t imagine he would be. But you know what they say. No one likes defense attorneys until they need one.”
“That is what they say.” Graham glanced around the room. He still seemed fixated on the house. “Long way from Sutton & Associates on Broad Street. Talk about your prime real estate. That building must be two hundred years old if it’s a day.”
“It’s a beautiful place,” Reid agreed. “But I like it just fine where I am.”
Graham canted his head as he regarded Reid across the desk. “Now I remember where we met.”
“Oh?”
“I pulled you over once when I was still on patrol. You were maybe eighteen, nineteen years old, hauling ass down the I-26 in some fancy sports car. You failed the field sobriety test so I took you in. You’re lucky you didn’t kill someone that night.”
“That was you?” Reid shifted uncomfortably. There were a lot of things in his past that he didn’t much care to revisit. He’d gone through a reckless stage that could have ended badly for a lot of innocent people. Those days were long behind him, but some of his antics still haunted him.
“A kid like you needed a firm hand,” Graham said. “But I guess your old man thought differently. He called in some favors and got you released without a mark on your record. And I was read the riot act for doing my job. Took me another five years to make detective because I pissed off some rich attorney with connections.”
“I remember that night.” Reid particularly recalled the part where he’d been used as a punching bag by a couple of thugs who’d joined him in the drunk tank. That experience had left a mark. “You had every right to take me in. I was a stupid kid back then and, yes, I am lucky I didn’t kill someone. But if it makes you feel any better, I did learn my lesson. I don’t get behind the wheel of a car if I’ve had so much as a glass of wine with dinner. I walk or I use a car service. So thank you. As for my father’s interference, I can’t do much about that except apologize. Your actions that night likely saved my life or someone else’s. I was on a bad path.”
The detective seemed unimpressed. “Guys like you always get second, third and fourth chances. Influence and money still go a long way in this town. Rules for me but not for thee, as they say. But if you really did turn over a new leaf, then more power to you.” He sounded doubtful.
“I appreciate that.” Reid sat back in his chair, discomfited by the detective’s hostility. “I don’t want to take up any more of your time. I’m sure you have a lot of people you need to talk to.”
Graham took out his phone and glanced at the screen, leisurely scrolling through a series of text messages. He seemed in no hurry to get on with the interview.
“There hasn’t been much about the case in the news,” Reid prompted. “I understand the victim was a young female Caucasian.”
Graham glanced up. “Where did you hear that?”
“People in the neighborhood talk,” Reid said. “Did she live around here?”
“I think it would be best if I ask the questions.”
“Of course. Force of habit.” Reid smiled.
“Where were you on Sunday night?”
Right to the chase. Reid took a quick breath. “I went out to a bar to meet some friends. We were there for most of the evening. We had a few drinks, played some darts. It must have been just past midnight when I got home.”
“You’re sure about the time?”
“As sure as I can be. I didn’t look at my watch or phone. The others weren’t ready to leave so I hailed a cab. You can probably check the dispatcher’s logs if you need the exact time...”
Graham didn’t take notes. Reid wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
“You didn’t see or hear anything unusual on the street?”
Reid paused. “I heard two tomcats fighting, but that’s not unusual. They’ve been going at it for weeks.”
Graham extracted a photo from his inside jacket pocket and slid it across the desk. “Do you recognize this woman?”
Reid braced himself yet again. He didn’t want to give anything away with his reaction, but on the other hand, he had nothing to hide and he only had Brody’s word for what had gone down in the bar. Best to be as straightforward as he could while taking care to protect himself.
He picked up the photo, turning his chair slightly so that he could catch the morning light streaming through the blinds. He studied the dead woman’s features. Blond hair, blue eyes. A wide smile. She was attractive, but not memorable. And yet there was something about her—
Was she the woman in Brody’s photo? Hard to tell. His snapshot had caught her in profile in a dimly lit bar while this image was straight on.
Graham sat forward. “Do you recognize her?”
“I don’t know her,” Reid said definitively. “But there is something vaguely familiar about her. It’s possible I’ve seen her before, especially if she lives in the neighborhood. Has her name been released yet?”
“Haley Cooper. Ring any bells?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“She worked at one of the clothing shops on King Street. Roommate says she left their apartment around nine on Sunday night to meet up with a friend at a local bar. That’s the last anyone heard of her until her body was found early Monday morning.” The detective gave Reid a shrewd look. “You do any shopping on King Street recently? Maybe that’s where you know her from.”
“Or maybe she just has one of those faces,” Reid said.
“That could be it.” Graham tucked away the photograph. “I expect the chief will put out a full statement later today, but until her name is released to the public, I’d appreciate you keeping this conversation on the down low. If you think of anything...” He placed a business card on the desk.
“I’ll call you,” Reid said.
He got up to walk the detective out, trailing him onto the porch and then stopping short when he saw Arden lounging in one of the wicker chairs. She looked the embodiment of a Charleston summer morning in a yellow cotton dress and sandals. Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun and she wore only the barest hint of lipstick. The sprinkling of freckles across her nose gave her a youthful vibrancy that took Reid straight back to the old days. She looked at once wholesome and seductive, a suntanned temptation that smelled of raindrops and honeysuckle.
“What are you doing here?” he asked in surprise.
“Just dropping by to say hello. I hope I didn’t come at a bad time.” She rose and turned to the detective expectantly.
“Arden, this is Detective Graham. He’s investigating a homicide in the neighborhood. Detective, this is Arden Mayfair, an old friend of mine.”
She shot Reid a glance before turning back to Graham. “A homicide? That’s alarming.”
“Yes, ma’am, it is.” The detective’s attention lingered a shade too long on her slender form.
“Do you have any suspects?”
“That’s not something I can discuss at the present.”
“Of course. I should have realized that you’re not allowed to talk about an ongoing investigation.” She sounded contrite, but Reid detected a shrewd gleam at the back of her eyes. That was Arden. Wheels already turning ninety to nothing.
Graham continued to size her up. “Do you live in the area?”
“No, I live back that way.” She gave a vague nod toward the tip of the peninsula. “I was just out for a stroll and decided to stop by and check out Reid’s new place.”
“You say your last name is Mayfair. As in Mayfair House on East Bay?”
“I don’t live there, but Clement Mayfair is my grandfather. Do you know him?”
“Oh, sure. I was over there just last Sunday for dinner.”
Arden blew off the detective’s sarcasm with a smile and a shrug. “I find that hard to believe. I don’t see any sign of frostbite.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She exchanged another glance with Reid. “Mayfair House has a tendency to be bone cold even in the dead of summer.”
“I see. Well, I’ll have to take your word for that.” Graham turned back to Reid. “You didn’t mention the cab company you used.”
“It was Green Taxi,” Reid said. “I remember the driver’s name. It was Louis.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard to track down. Maybe he saw something after he dropped you off.”
“It’s certainly possible.”
Graham gave Arden a brisk nod. “Miss Mayfair.”
“Detective.”
She moved back beside Reid as they watched Graham depart. Once he was out of earshot, she said, “Not exactly the friendly sort, is he?”
“I get the distinct impression he doesn’t like our kind.”
“Our kind?”
“People who grew up South of Broad. Trust fund babies.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Who does? Half the time, we can’t even stand ourselves. Not that my trust fund is anything to write home about these days. Once work begins on Berdeaux Place, I’ll be lucky to have two nickels to rub together.”
“And I’ve been disowned so...”
They shared a knowing look before she turned back to the street. “What was he doing here anyway?”
“Graham? Just what I said. He’s investigating a homicide in the area.”
“The homicide?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes widened. They looked very green in the morning light. “You never said anything last night about the murder being in your neighborhood.”
“I didn’t think it relevant.”
She said incredulously, “Not relevant? Are you kidding me? After all our talk about the magnolia blossom found at the crime scene?”
Reid tried to downplay his omission. “I figured I’d already dropped enough bombshells on you for one night. I was going to tell you, just not right away.”
Her gaze narrowed before she turned back to the street. “What did you tell the detective?”
“There wasn’t much I could tell him. I don’t know anything.”
“Why did he come to see you?”
“He’s talking to everyone on the street, apparently.”
“Then why did he get in his car and drive off just now?”
“What is this, an inquisition? I don’t know why he drove off. Maybe I was his last stop. I didn’t ask for his schedule.” Reid watched her for a moment as she watched the street. “Why are you here? Something tells me you didn’t just drop by.”
“No, I came for a reason,” she admitted. “I have a proposition for you.”
“A proposition? For me?” He ran fingers through his hair as he gave her a skeptical look. “The guy you couldn’t get rid of fast enough last night?”
“That’s not true. Things started out a bit rocky. You did catch me by surprise, after all. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone in the garden, least of all you, and then you dropped your bombshells. Was I supposed to welcome you with open arms after that? I was a little preoccupied in case you didn’t notice.” She paused, slipping her hands into the pockets of her dress as she gave him a tentative smile. “The evening ended well enough, didn’t it?”
He had been trying not to think about that kiss. The way she’d instantly parted her lips in response. The way, for just a split second, she’d melted into him. No one could melt like Arden. No one had ever made him feel as strong and protective and at the same time as vulnerable. “I guess that depends on one’s perspective,” he said.
Her smile faded and she grew tense. “I didn’t come over here to pick a fight.”
“Okay.”
“I just...” She seemed at a loss as she closed her eyes and drew in a long breath. “Do you smell that?”
“You mean the jasmine? It’s all over my neighbor’s fence. Gets a little potent when the sun heats up.”
“No, Reid. That’s the scent of home.”
Something in her voice—or maybe it was the dreamy look on her face—made it hard for him to keep up the pretense that her presence had no effect on him. He said almost sharply, “You didn’t have jasmine in Atlanta?”
“Of course we did, but not like this. Not the kind of fragrance that sinks all the way down into your soul. There’s no perfume in the world that can touch a Charleston summer morning.” She hugged her arms around her middle as she drew in the scent. “I’ve missed this city. The gardens, the people, the history.”
“Since when did you become so sentimental?”
“I get that way now and then. Comes with age, I guess. I even have my maudlin moments.” She turned with her perfect Arden smile. “Would it be forward of me to admit that I missed you, too?”
Now it was Reid who had to take a deep breath. “Forward, no. Suspicious, yes. What are you up to, Arden?”
“Let’s go inside and I’ll tell you all about it.”
He nodded and had started to turn back to the door when he spotted a familiar figure across the street. Dave Brody stood on the sidewalk, one shoulder propped against a signpost as he picked at his nails with a pocketknife. He dipped his head when he caught Reid’s eye and gave him an unctuous grin.
“Go on in,” Reid said. “I’ll be right back.”
Arden followed him to the edge of the porch. “Where are you going?”
“Wait for me inside. This won’t take a minute.”
He hurried down the steps and across the street. This time Brody didn’t run away. He waited with that same oily smile as Reid approached.
“Morning, Counselor. Mighty fine company you’ve got waiting for you over there on your front porch.” He nodded in the direction of Reid’s house and then lifted the hand with the knife to wave at Arden.
Reid glanced over his shoulder. Instead of going inside, she lingered on the porch, watching them from the shade. He could almost hear the wheels spinning inside her head. He turned back to Brody. “I told you last night, she’s off-limits. That means don’t wave at her. Don’t talk about her. Don’t so much as glance in her direction.”
“Touchy, aren’t we?” Brody pushed himself away from the post. “And I told you I have no interest in your girlfriend so long as you help me get what I want. I gave you the night to make your decision so here I am.” He spread his arms wide as he moved toward Reid, displaying his ominous tattoos. “What’s it going to be, Counselor?”
Reid frowned. “Not so fast. Did you have anything to do with a police detective showing up at my door this morning?”
“No, I did not, but I’m flattered you think I have that kind of sway, considering my background and all. I couldn’t help noticing the good detective—Graham, was it?—didn’t look too happy when he drove away just now.”
“How do you know his name?”
Brody gestured with the knife. The action seemed innocent enough, but Reid had no doubt it was meant as subtle intimidation. “He’s been hanging around the neighborhood ever since the body was found. Surprised you didn’t know that. Been preoccupied, have you?”
Reid wasn’t buying any of it. “Are you sure you didn’t say something to him? Maybe put a bug in his ear that caused him to come sniffing around my place?”
“Now that sounds downright paranoid. You’re the lawyer. Don’t it stand to reason he’d be talking to everyone in the neighborhood? Of course, it could be that word has already gotten out about your activities on the night in question. Or...” Brody shaded his eyes as he peered across the street. “Maybe someone else put that bug in the detective’s ear. The same someone who’s trying to set you up. Seems to me like you’ve made a powerful enemy in this town.”
“And just who is this enemy?” Reid demanded. “Does he or she have a name?”
Brody dropped his hand to his side and shrugged. “How would I know? I’m just a guy who happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
Reid thought about that for a moment. “Okay, let’s say I do have an enemy. If this person is already talking to the police, then how does it benefit me to help you?”
“A fair question, but you’re forgetting something, aren’t you? I have photographs that prove someone drugged you. I believe that’s called exculpatory evidence? And then there’s the matter of some video footage that happened to come my way.”
Reid’s pulse quickened even though he wasn’t about to let Brody prod him into a reaction. “What footage?”
“I’ll be happy to email you a copy for your edification, but for now a little preview will have to do.” Brody took out his phone. “Amazing what they can do these days. Sure is a lot fancier than the one I had when I got sent up.” He scrolled until he found what he wanted. Then he moved into the shade and held up the phone so that Reid could view the screen.
The video was grainy and greenish, like the feed from an outdoor security camera. Reid appeared in the frame and stood silhouetted at the entrance of the alley. Then he ducked under the crime scene tape and walked quickly to the spot where the body had been found, crouching beside the bloodstains as he glanced up to scour the windows and balconies that overlooked the alley. In actuality, he had been wondering if anyone had heard the victim’s screams, but to the police, it might appear that he had come back to the scene of the crime to determine whether or not he’d been seen.
“I’m not a cop, but that looks mighty incriminating to me,” Brody said.
Reid glanced up. “Where did you get this?”
“Like I said, it just happened to come my way and I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“That video doesn’t prove anything.”
“Maybe, maybe not, but people get convicted on circumstantial evidence every day of the week. No one knows that better than me.”
“Your situation was completely different,” Reid said. “The evidence against you was overwhelming.”
Brody looked as if he wanted to dispute that fact, but he let it pass with a shrug. “You’re right. The video and those photographs won’t send a guy like you to prison, but at the very least they can instigate an uncomfortable conversation with the cops. A perp walk is all it would take to scare off a sizable portion of your clientele. But there’s no need for it to come to that. You help me find Ginger Vreeland and nobody sees any of this but us.”
Reid glanced over his shoulder. Arden was still on the front porch waiting for him. He could imagine the questions going through her head. He nodded and gave a brief wave to let her know he’d be right there. “Even if I could find Ginger Vreeland after all these years, do you think I’d give you her name and address so that you can terrorize the poor woman?”
“You’ve got me all wrong, Counselor. I’ve got no beef with Ginger. She had to claw and scratch for everything she got just like I did. If somebody made her an offer she couldn’t refuse, I can’t fault her for taking it. I would have done the same thing in her place. All I want to know is who paid her to leave town and why. If it was Boone Sutton, then I want to know what she wrote in that little black book of hers every time he came calling. I bet, deep down, you’d like to know that, too.”
“You’ll never touch him,” Reid warned.
“We’ll have to see about that, won’t we? Like I said last night, the best place to go looking is in his personal papers. A little birdie tells me that your mama spends a whole lot of time all by her lonesome in that fancy house on Water Street. I bet she’d dearly love a visit from her one and only son.”
“Leave my mother out of this.”
“That’s up to you. If you can’t or won’t finish the job, then I’ll have no recourse but to have a little chat with Mrs. Sutton. Find out what she knows about her husband’s affairs. No pun intended.” He went back to work on his nails with the pocketknife.
“All right, you win,” Reid said. “I’ll do what I can to find Ginger Vreeland, but she’s been gone for ten years. The trail is ice-cold by now. I’ll need some time.”
“I’ll give you till Friday. If you haven’t made what I deem as sufficient headway, we’ll have to reevaluate our arrangement. But fair warning, Counselor.”
Reid waited.
Brody’s gaze hardened as he moved out of the shade and stood peering across the street at Arden, running his thumb along the sharp edge of the knife blade. “I wouldn’t go getting any ideas about trying to double-cross me. I have friends in low places. You know the kind I mean. Hardscrabble guys that would slit a man’s throat—or a woman’s—for not much more than the loose change in your pocket.”