Murder in South Carolina Page 3

  In the kitchen, she found nothing to indicate anyone had been in the condo. The cat carrier was sitting on the floor near the stove. Maxie’s leash was hanging across it.

  “What in the world is going on?” she demanded, but Maxie and Bubbles only looked at her. “Is there someone else in here?” she asked aloud.

  There was no answer to her question, and she knew if there was anyone else in the condo, they had to be in one of the other two bedrooms. Bracing herself for any sight, she marched to the end of the hall and opened the door. This bedroom was empty of everything except its furniture. She jerked open the closet door. Only a few empty hangers and some of Emily’s summer clothes greeted her.

  The same was true of the third bedroom. If anyone had been there, they had left nothing to indicate they had been in the condo.

  As if in a daze, Nola Dean went back into the kitchen. Without thinking, she put coffee in the automatic maker and filled it with water.

  “I know I fell on a body when I came in last night. I also know someone grabbed me and…and what?”

  She replayed the arrival in her mind. “I remember coming in and it was dark. Maxie kept barking at something. Then I fell on the body. I flung Bubbles against the wall…” She paused. “That might be my answer.”

  She went into the living room and looked at the wall. It took her a minute, but she found it. About a foot from the doorway into the hall and about a yard from the floor there was a black scratch on the wall. Running her finger over it, she felt an indention.

  “I knew I threw Bubbles against the wall. I’m calling the police.” She stood up. “And for good measure, after I take Maxie out, I think I’ll change the lock.”

  She was returning from Maxie’s morning walk when the telephone over the kitchen counter rang.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Hi. It’s Dolly.”

  Nola Dean would have recognized her even if she hadn’t told her who she was. Dolly was one of her old high school friends. She’d had the raspy voice even then. A lot of people thought Dolly talked this way to sound sexy, but that wasn’t the case at all. She’d had some throat problems as a child and it had left her voice gravely. Many who knew it was her real sound secretly envied her.

  “Dolly, it’s good to hear from you.” Dolly and her husband, Walter, lived in one of the golf communities in South Myrtle Beach, and they often got together when Nola Dean came to the coast. “How did you know I was down?”

  “I didn’t know you were here until Emily called me. She tried to call you, but when you didn’t answer either your house phone or your cell, she was concerned.” Dolly chuckled. “I told her not to worry. I was sure you were fine, just a lonely mom. I figured you probably came down here to cope with sending her off to school.”

  Nola Dean wondered if she was that obvious. “I took her to Winston-Salem yesterday and decided to come down here for a few days. Did she leave a number for me to call or should I call her cell?”

  “She said she’d call you later. She had to go register for a class or something. You shouldn’t bother her.”

  Nola Dean started to tell Dolly it was none of her business whether she called her daughter or not, but instead she said, “How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine. Did you have any trouble getting here?”

  “Yes. It was rough driving. It stormed all the way.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t pleasant.”

  “I didn’t get in until after midnight. The power was off when I arrived.” Nola Dean reached for the cup of coffee and took a sip.

  “If mine went off, it’s back on now. Is yours?”

  “Yes. It was on when I woke up.” Nola Dean debated with herself whether or not to tell Dolly about what had happened when she got in last night. She decided against it. She knew it would only upset her friend. Dolly had never liked to hear about things which couldn’t be explained. She wouldn’t even go to a magic show for that reason. Nola Dean asked, “How’s Walter?”

  “He’s on the road again. In Columbia, I think. I didn’t hear from him last night. I wonder if it was stormy there.”

  “I came through Columbia and it was beginning to rain hard there. I think it stormed all over North and South Carolina.”

  “The electricity and phones could have been out there. Walter probably couldn’t get through to me.”

  “That may have been the problem. I haven’t watched the news or weather this morning.” She wished Dolly would end her conversation. She wanted to make the call to the police and maybe to Emily.

  As if Dolly read her mind, she said, “I’m glad you’re safe. We should get together while you’re here.”

  “That sounds good. I’ll look forward to seeing you.”

  “Then I’ll call you later.”

  “Please do.” Nola Dean hung up and immediately dialed the police. She gave them the message and was told someone would get in touch with her either by phone or in person. She thanked them, hung up and then dialed Emily’s cell phone number. There was no answer.

  She called the real estate office in Greenville and her assistant manager, Danny Thurman told her everything was running smoothly. She thanked him and told him to call her if she was needed.

  A little depressed, Nola Dean poured herself another cup of coffee and spent the rest of the morning thinking of Emily and wondering if she should have told Dolly about the body.

  Chapter 4

  Detective Joe Randell read over the preliminary report on the body from the beach and pondered what the next step in the investigation should to be. He knew the first objective was to identify the man. Then to determine whether the overdose was accidentally self-inflicted, if it was a suicide or, God forbid, murder.

  Before he made any decisions, Bett Willis came up to his desk and dropped her lanky frame into the chair in front of him. She flipped a wave of light brown hair from her eye with her left hand. “I don’t think Olive Brunson is going to be much help.”

  “I take it she didn’t know the man.”

  “Never saw him before.”

  “How about the crowd? Didn’t anyone know him?”

  “One couple thought he looked like a man staying at a condo beside the one they were renting. They said he’d been there a day or so and sat on the balcony watching the rain yesterday. I have their names and the address where they’re staying if you want to talk with them.”

  “I will. We have to start somewhere.” He looked at his companion and silently wondered why anyone as pretty as she was wanted to become a police detective. She could easily pass for an actress or a model. He didn’t voice this opinion though. He knew she’d interpret it as the thoughts of a male chauvinist or maybe even the dreaded sexual harassment. Instead he asked, “What do you think of this as a first case, detective?”

  “I wasn’t expecting anything so complicated.” She smiled at him. “But I know I can learn a lot from a case like this.”

  “You’re right about that. You’ll see how slow the law can move sometimes.” He ran his fingers through his dark hair. As it separated between his fingers the sprinkles of gray seemed to show more.

  “Again, we might get lucky,” he said. “Somebody might find his wallet on the beach and we’ll know right away who our victim is.”

  The phone on his desk rang. “Yes,” he said into the receiver.

  “We got a call that I thought might interest you.”

  “What is it, Gary?”

  “Some woman said she came into her condominium last night and fell on a body. Said somebody put something over her mouth and she passed out. When she got up this morning, the body was gone. Sounds pretty weird to me, but you said to call if anything came in.”

  “Sounds like a nut to me.”

  “I thought so at first. Then I remembered that nobody except those on the beach knew about the stiff yet. I got the woman’s address. She’s almost a half-a-mile from where he was found.”

  “Let me have the address.” He scribbled it on a piec
e of paper. “Thanks, Gary.”

  When he finished the conversation he handed the piece of paper to Bett. “I guess we might as well start with the nut calls. This woman says she found a body in her condo last night. Somebody knocked her out and the body was missing this morning.”

  Bett looked at the paper then back at Joe. She was not smiling when she said, “That’s the complex where the couple said they thought the man was staying.”

  “Let’s talk to those people first then we’ll go check this lady out.” Joe cocked his eye. “Maybe I was wrong about her being one of the crazies. This could be our first lead.”

  * * * *

  Nola Dean decided she needed to eat a bite of something before she went to the grocery store. Pulling out a package of cheese, she wondered how old it was. It didn’t have any mold on it, so she smelled it. Though she wasn’t sure how cheese should smell, she decided it was okay. She put it between two slices of bread, plopped it in a Teflon pan and wished she had some butter.

  After the sandwich browned a little, she put it on a saucer, got a glass of water and went to the sofa in the living room. While waiting for the cheese to cool, she picked up the remote and snapped on the television. The pretty raven-haired anchor woman was saying, “Here is the film of the event on the beach in the Cherry Grove section of North Myrtle Beach earlier this morning.”

  Nola Dean’s blood ran cold when a reporter stuck the microphone up to a plain clothed policeman and said, “Detective Randell, can you tell us how long the body had been on the beach when it was discovered?”

  “At this time we’re not absolutely sure. The coroner will be determining the time of death.”

  She watched in horror as a sheet-clad body was loaded into the waiting vehicle.

  “And could you tell us the name of the victim, Detective?”

  “The victim has not yet been identified.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell us, sir?”

  “Not at this time.”

  Nola Dean’s appetite was gone. She set the sandwich on the coffee table and waited for more of the story, but instead the reporter thanked the detective and switched back to the station. The weather came on.

  She clicked off the TV and closed her eyes, wondering if the body was the one she’d fallen on last night. It was too much of a coincidence not to be.

  The phone rang and she jumped. She then laughed at herself for being so edgy.

  Picking it up, she was delighted when her daughter said, “Hi, Mom.”

  All thoughts of the body fled from her mind and thoughts of something being wrong with her daughter filled her with fear. “Emily, Sweetheart. Is something the matter?

  “Of course not, Mom.” Emily laughed. “I called because your number came up on my cell. I see you got the phone working. I asked Mrs. Overton to call you this morning.”

  “Yes, she called.”

  “Everybody was talking about the terrible weather at the coast, and I was concerned about you.”

  “That’s sweet, dear, but I’m fine. The weather is great, too. It’s sunny and warm here today.”

  “Glad to hear it. Hope you have fun and meet a nice man and fall madly in love while you’re at the beach.”

  “Emily, you know the last thing on my mind is a man.”

  Emily sighed. “I know that, Mom, but you’re young and beautiful. You need a man in your life.”

  “I had Link and you know what a disaster that turned out to be.”

  Emily laughed. “I know. But don’t let one failed romance stop you. Keep looking. Well, I gotta run.”

  “So quickly?” She wanted to keep Emily as long as she could.

  “I’ve got to get to orientation. We’ll talk later. Love you, Mom.”

  She hung up before her mother could say good-by. Nola Dean wanted to cry but fought it. She reached for the cheese sandwich and bit into it. It was cold but she didn’t notice.

  * * * *

  When Dolly Overton returned from her walk on the beach, she felt sure she’d have a message from Walter. She was wrong.

  The only message on the answering machine was the dentist office reminding her she had a nine o’clock appointment on Friday.

  A little frightened but more angry, she clicked off the machine and went in to take another shower. She’d show him. She’d go to the mall and spend a wad of money. She knew nothing would make Walter madder than that, and she felt completely justified. It was still the best revenge she could think of.

  She was blow drying her hair when the doorbell rang.

  “It’s about time he got home,” she seethed and bounded out of the bathroom.

  She was reaching for the door when it occurred to her that Walter had no reason to ring the bell. He had a key. She pulled the terry robe a little tighter and opened the door.

  “Sorry to bother you Mrs. Overton, but I couldn’t get this parcel in your box.” The mail carrier handed her a large manila envelope.

  “That’s all right Mr. Clifton.” She took the package. “Thank you.”

  Closing the door she looked at the address, expecting it to be addressed to Walter. To her surprise it had her name on it, and she was sure the writing was Walter’s.

  She went back into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Ripping the top off the envelope she pulled out the contents.

  The note on top was definitely in Walter’s handwriting. It said:

  Dolly, old girl. If you’re opening this package it means one of two things. I’m either dead or I’ve left the country. Either way, I’m out of your hair forever. The enclosed papers will help you settle things legally. Have a nice life.

  Walter

  Stunned, Dolly read the note again. It didn’t make sense. What did Walter mean? Have a nice life, indeed. She was living the good life now. How could it be better? Though their relationship was a love/hate one, it was a relationship which she never had any intention of breaking up.

  Finally she moved to the other papers. There were several. The deed to the house—made out to her, the title to the Cadillac—in her name, the checking account had been switched to her name as well as the savings account and a couple of CD’s. The last item was an insurance policy made out to her in the amount of one million dollars.

  There was also a second smaller manila envelope. She opened it. Inside was a safety deposit box key with a second note. It read, “Dolly I’m betting I’ll be able to get out of town and you won’t get to use the insurance. Therefore, you’ll probably have to go to work to support yourself in the style you like to live. In the meantime, you’ll find several thousand dollars in this box. Don’t tell anyone you have it and you’ll be able to get by without paying taxes. Don’t worry about me. I’m taking plenty with me. So if you insist on showing everything else to the police, hide this money for yourself. Be smart for once in your life.”

  “You son-of-a-bitch,” Dolly said between her teeth. “I’m smarter than you think I am. I hope you are dead so I can get the insurance and the money in the box, too. As for calling the police, I may burn all this and wait and see what happens.”

  Without knowing why, she then burst into sobs. “I’m not crying because I loved you, you bastard,” she said aloud. “It’s just that I don’t like surprises. And boy, is this a surprise.”

  She continued to cry.

  Chapter 5

  When she hadn’t heard from the police by one o’clock, Nola Dean decided to go to the grocery store and to the hardware to get the lock she needed. Afraid to leave Bubbles and Maxie in the condo in case the intruder came back, she put Bubbles in his carrier and leashed Maxie.

  It took a little over an hour to get the things she needed and fifteen minutes to make the trips up and down the elevator to get everything inside. Of course part of the time was spent looking in every possible hiding place in the condo before she felt safe enough to close the door behind her.

  The groceries were all put away and a small chicken casserole was bubbling in the oven when she deci
ded to tackle the lock. It was a harder job than she realized and she was close to calling a locksmith when the elevator on her floor opened.

  In case she had to run inside and shut the door, she got up from her kneeling position.

  A man and a woman stepped into the hallway. She saw right away that not only was he the tall, dark and handsome type, but he looked vaguely familiar. The woman was also tall and lanky with short silky brown hair. Nola Dean was sure the shades she wore hid green eyes and velvet lashes.

  The pair made her feel dowdy in her cut-off jean shorts and pink scoop-neck T-shirt, with almost all of her hair in a pony tail—a few strands of it had slipped out and hung limply, tickling the side of her face. Of course she was bare footed and she was sure the make-up she’d worn earlier had disappeared as soon as she’d started wrestling with the lock.

  Of course, she once again knelt to work on the lock, they’d have to be staying in one of the condos beyond mine, so they’d have to pass right by my door. Oh, well. Grin and bear it. All you have to do is speak as they go by. Just keep working.

  But they didn’t go by. They stopped.

  “Ms. Buckingham?” The man looked down at her.

  “Yes,” Nola Dean muttered, and stood.

  “I’m Detective Joe Randell.”

  Of course. I saw him on television. How could I forget so quickly?

  He went on, “This is my partner, Bett Willis.” They flashed identification at Nola Dean.

  “How do you do?” she said to both of them.

  Bett Willis removed her glasses. “Hello.”

  Nola Dean saw she’d been right. The detective’s eyes were green.

  “May we come in and talk with you a few minutes?” he asked.

  “Of course.” She pushed open the door. “Please don’t let my dog out.”