Lurleen and I followed Mason along a long curved hall on the main floor to the billiard room. The hallway looked like a newer addition to the house with a row of floor-to-ceiling windows. As we hurried down the wide corridor, we could see a Japanese garden unfold outside the windows—a small pond, a draping willow tree, and carefully placed rocks along a low-lying berm. A slightly different view revealed itself with each step we took. If I lived in this house, this would be my favorite spot.
Lurleen and Mason marched ahead. The brick flooring dulled the clacking of their feet.
Three cushy chairs were spaced out in front of the windows. Beside each one was a miniature Meyer lemon tree that filled the air with its enticing scent.
Lurleen glanced back at me. “Holly Swivel Armchairs, over $1,500 each. Sweet, huh?”
It was a quiet space for introspection that ironically led to the billiard room, which was bustling with noise and activity.
I could hear three people shouting over each other as we neared the entrance to the room.
“He had it coming.” “It was lucky the damn fool wasn’t killed.”
From Savannah I heard, “I don’t pay you boys to get me into trouble. I pay you to keep me out of it.”
Mason strode through the open door with Lurleen and me at his heels. The room was a magnificent space with wood-paneled walls and a window seat stretching along one side of the room. A fireplace and bar took up most of the opposite wall. In the middle stood the pool table.
Peter Young and Frank Moran stopped talking as we entered. Savannah didn’t seem surprised to see us there.
“I guess you filled them in on what you saw, Lurleen,” she said, “about the fight. I’m glad you did—it saves me the trouble. I’m relieved to hear James will be all right. Peter, Frank, and I have been going over what happened. James was drunk and in a foul mood. He was waving around his knife as if he intended to use it. Frank and Peter did what they could to keep anyone from getting hurt.”
“Where are the police?” Mason asked.
“I convinced Buddy to leave this corridor free,” Savannah said, “so I could come and go as I pleased.”
“Unbelievable,” Mason said. “You should know Buddy is no longer in charge of this case. And police will be everywhere.”
“You have no authority here,” Savannah said. “That’s what Buddy told me.”
“When I find out who will take over the case locally, I’ll let you know. For now, I’m it.” Mason looked at her. “You’re saying Bradshaw’s injury was an accident, something done in self-defense.”
“Yes, and I’m glad no one was badly hurt. When James drinks he gets belligerent. Usually, he doesn’t remember what he’s done when he sobers up.”
She looked at Mason and the rest of us and directed us to sit on the upholstered window seat. “This is my favorite part of the house. I love the hallway, and Quinn always loved the billiard room. When he was well, he would play pool every day while I sat reading in the walkway, staring out at my Japanese garden.
“He said he made his best deals in this room.” She mimicked Quinn’s voice. “ ‘You can always size someone up by the way they play pool—braggadocio versus talent, timidity versus a determination to win at any cost.’ I suppose he could also evaluate how a man held his liquor. As I’ve said, James was never good at that. Has he told you a different story, detective?”
“He also said it was an accident and refused to say more.”
Savannah offered Mason a drink, but he shook his head.
“You act as if this incident has no connection with anything else going on in the house,” Mason said.
“I don’t see how it could. James and I are not close. We’ve always had a stormy relationship, but it’s never amounted to more than words. We are cousins after all. I can’t imagine any connection to the death of my husband or that poor reporter.”
“Really?” Lurleen whispered to me. “Who is she kidding?”
“Tell me about your relationship with James Bradshaw,” Mason said. “We can do this in private if you prefer.”
“I have nothing to hide,” Savannah said. “These men work for me. They know the whole story, and as for Lurleen and Ditie—I want them to hear the truth. James Bradshaw has always been a thorn in my side. He hated Quinn with a passion.”
“And yet, you included him in your contest,” Mason said, “when he’s known to be a bad cook and a bad alcoholic. Explain that to me.”
“Have a seat, detective. This may take a while.” Savannah offered to freshen everyone’s drink and poured herself a glass of orange juice.
“Stalling for time if you ask me,” Lurleen whispered.
Lurleen and I sat together on the window seat. Mason remained standing as did Peter and Frank.
“Sit down you two,” Savannah said to them, and they did as they were told. Savannah chose a seat on a barstool that put her at eye level with Mason and across the room from him— perhaps in an effort to maintain control of the space and her story.
“Let me try to explain the situation. James and I are cousins as I said. Our family and our disagreements go back two hundred years. This house was built in the 1820s for the Bradshaws—Calvin Bradshaw to be precise—as a summer home. He’d made a fortune off Sea Island cotton and the Gullah slaves he’d brought from West Africa to run his plantation.
“My family, the Evans family, lived in the North, on Nantucket. My ancestor Josiah Evans was the brother of Calvin’s wife, Jane. Josiah was a sea captain, a Quaker, and a staunch abolitionist. The two sides of the family had little to do with each other until the Civil War began.”
Savannah stopped talking to take another sip of juice. “Do you know the history of this area, detective?”
“Some, but I’d like to hear from you the part that is pertinent.”
“Beaufort and the surrounding area, including Veracrue, was occupied early in the war by the Union forces.”
“As a result of the Battle of Port Royal,” Mason said.
“November 7, 1861. It is not a date Southerners forget,” Savannah said. “It was the beginning of the end of the Old South. All the plantation owners fled. Many left their slaves behind. Calvin Bradshaw contacted his brother-in-law Josiah for help. He wanted someone in the house to protect his things and keep the place from being looted. He knew only a Northerner would be allowed to do that. I guess he was counting on the idea that blood was thicker than water.
“Josiah agreed to do what he could for the sake of his sister. He had recently retired, but he was still a Quaker and an abolitionist. He came as much to help the slaves as his relatives. While some slaves were freed and given the land they’d been working, many south of here remained in bondage.
“Josiah lived in the house, protected it from looters, and offered his services to the Union forces. For a while, the house was used as a hospital, but Josiah had grander ideas. He made it a safe house on the Underground Railroad. He constructed hiding places in the house and built a tunnel to the river. It remained a treacherous journey north by boat, but some made it.”
“So, I was right when I said you had a secret way of getting to the billiard room,” Lurleen said.
“You were right,” Savannah nodded. “A door next to the fireplace leads to my office upstairs. And another door underneath the small carpet by the hearth leads to the tunnel and the river.”
Danny entered the room as Savannah finished speaking.
“I’m glad I found you,” Danny said. “The chief’s lawyer just arrived. I agreed to give them half an hour alone.”
“Savannah’s giving us a history lesson related to the house,” I said.
“I didn’t think there was an Underground Railroad here,” Lurleen said. “I knew some courageous people helped slaves escape, like Roberts Smalls and Harriet Tubman.”
Danny couldn’t stay quiet.
“You know about them?” he said, smiling at Lurleen. “Robert Smalls helped his family and friends escape slavery on a confederate ship in 1862—he doesn’t get nearly the fame he deserves, and Harriet Tubman led a Union raid that freed 700 slaves.”
Savannah nodded enthusiastically as Danny talked. She seemed delighted to move the conversation away from current events.
“Why did you keep the tunnel open?” Mason asked.
“That was Quinn’s idea. I think he believed he might need a quick escape route at some point, and I liked the idea of preserving the history of the house.”
“He knew he was in danger?” Mason asked.
“He thought he was,” Savannah said. “It was always hard to sort out Quinn’s paranoia from what might actually be happening.”
“He and Bradshaw remained enemies?” Mason said.
“Yes. Quinn didn’t approve of James and the feeling was mutual. Quinn thought James was a low life, no matter how he tried to dress himself up as a Southern gentleman. Still, he was part of my family, so I insisted we be civil. Then when James lost the questionable deed to the house in a poker game with Quinn, the gloves came off. ”
“When was that?” Mason asked.
“A year or so ago. James had been trying to get some lawyer to take his case and finally did, I think. Then the poker game happened, and he lost any hope of getting back this house.”
“Do you think Quinn cheated?” Lurleen asked.
At first Savannah looked shocked and then changed her expression as if she were removing a mask among friends. “Quinn knew how much I cared about this house, so I wouldn’t put it past him. James was drunk as usual. Afterwards he claimed Quinn had cheated him out of his rightful heritage. No one at the table backed him up.”
“You’re giving Bradshaw a solid motive for Quinn’s murder,” Mason said.
“I suppose I am. I think James was determined to get the house back no matter what the cost.”
“You still haven’t explained why you included him in the contest,” Mason said.
Savannah paused. “Frankly, detective, I felt sorry for him. He’s lost everything he values—the house, his career. He was a lousy food critic, and I thought I might give him a new start.”
I didn’t buy that explanation. From the look on Lurleen’s face, she didn’t either.
“How is it the Evans’s side of the family came to own the house the Bradshaws built,” Mason asked.
“After the war, these houses were sold off for pennies to the dollar. That’s when Josiah bought it. He agreed to let Calvin buy it back from him when he got on his feet, but that never happened. Calvin drank or gambled away whatever money he was able to make, just like James. James will tell you a different story,” Savannah said, “but he knows the truth.”
As Savannah finished speaking, Chris burst into the room.
“We have a situation,” he said.
“Another one?” Savannah asked. “What now?”
Chris looked around and closed his mouth like a snapping turtle, so fast and sharp I wondered if it hurt.
He stood next to Savannah at the bar and whispered, “Olivier is here.”
“You don’t have to whisper,” Savannah said to Chris. “They know I have a son. Olivier is here? As in waiting at the Charleston Airport to be picked up?”
“Here, as in sitting in your office,” Chris said. “He just arrived.”