SEAS THE DAY Read online

  “Listen to the tape. That’s why conversations in jail aren’t private, so you’ll know everything.” I unlocked the van and opened the door. “Kale’s afraid for his life. He believes he’ll die in your jail. If that happens, I won’t rest until I know the truth. I’ll go to every newspaper and TV show that’ll have me until I get to the bottom of what happened to him.”

  Lance held the open door and watched me buckle my seat belt, his dark gaze unreadable. “Are you threatening me, ma’am?”

  I shot him a killer smile. “Why deputy, don’t you know the difference between a threat and a promise?”

  If you hadn’t lived on Shell Island forever or weren’t an unabashed explorer, you’d never find Jude Ernest’s place. Old man Ferguson hadn’t added anything to make the entrance to his place stand out, and Jude must’ve adopted the same low-key philosophy. There were no mailboxes, street signs, or paved roads jutting off Island Road to indicate the driveway was anything more than a logging trail.

  A rutted, overgrown lane through acres upon acres of pine timber was the only access point, unless you came up the tidal creek, and good luck with that, there were no docks, no obvious access points to the property on the bluff.

  Ferguson had reclusive ways and spouted conspiracy theories amidst warning of the rise of the machines. He’d died a few years back. Nobody missed him for a few months, so once his place went on the market it stayed there for years. Nobody wanted to buy the house where a crazy man had lived and died.

  Then Jude Ernest arrived and the real estate sign at Ferguson’s place vanished. Most people connected the dots. Since the lawyer was a bit different, no one thought anything of his presence there.

  I missed the overgrown turn-off on the first pass, so I circled and eased back until I found it. Knee-deep brush obscured the lane completely. No one had been in or out of here in at least a month, maybe more. I crept slowly down the rough track until I came to a cable stretched tight across the road, about thigh-high. Stout posts in the tree line supported the cable, so there was no way I could drive around it.

  This barrier hadn’t been there when I was a kid. The cable looked shiny new. Jude Ernest must’ve installed it.

  If the cable was padlocked to the post, my only option was to hike the couple of miles down to the house. I didn’t want to do that. Jude Ernest didn’t know me from a hole in the ground, and he had every right to protect his property. He probably shot trespassers.

  Weapons. He might be armed. I didn’t own a gun.

  Omigosh. What if he took a shot at me? I glanced around my van for something to use for self-defense. There was my purse, my wadded up rain jacket, a few sales coupons I kept hoping to use, a pink sun hat, three empty water bottles, and two heat screens to block sunlight through the windshield on summer days. In the back I had several cases of water bottles and my service carts. That was it because I’d taken my knife roll inside for sharpening.

  My gaze settled on the glove box and a memory surfaced. Before Christmas, Chili took a pocket knife out of his pocket and gave it to me. Said I needed to keep it. That the knife would protect me.

  I clicked the compartment open and fumbled through the junk I kept in there, including my bugspray, until I found the knife. My fingers closed around it and I sighed in relief. The knife had a nice heft to it. Solid and yet it had many blades and whatnot that opened. I struggled with the main blade, chipping a nail, but I got it open. Then I flipped out all the other parts. Looked like I could turn regular screws, open a bottle of wine, and much more. I had no idea what to do with the hex-head thingy.

  I folded everything back inside the handle except the sharp main blade. Then I exited the van and doused my clothing and shoes with high-test insect repellant. Carrying the knife, I waded through the sedge grass to the cable barrier. I followed it to a rock-solid post, where the cable spliced together. That wasn’t coming apart with a knife. I traced it to the other end. Padlock.

  Crap.

  Tears threatened.

  No. I’m stronger than this. I promised Kale I’d deliver this message. I already failed Estelle. I couldn’t fail her son. Could I jimmy the lock with my knife? I yanked on the lock and the u-shaped shackle didn’t budge. The tip of the knife didn’t fit in the keyhole.

  A duo of horse flies dive-bombed my head. Rowdy insects in the woods were making fun of me. How could I do this? Failure was not an option.

  I could load my purse with water bottles and hike to the house. I knew the way. But Kale wouldn’t have sent me here if I couldn’t get through. Think, River. I studied the stout lock again, turning it over in my hands and running my fingers over its surface. There. Near the keyhole in the bottom. A small circular disc the same color as the lock. What was that about? I opened a smaller knife blade and a few minutes later, pried off the disc. Beneath it lay an irregular opening. Six-sided.

  Like the hex blade on the knife Chili gave me. Coincidence? I didn’t think so. I was supposed to open this lock and go down this road. I wrangled the tool in the opening until it clicked. Exulting silently, I drove my van over the dropped cable, then locked the cable again, in case anyone followed me. No point in making it easy for anyone else to get down the lane.

  What had the Bolz family gotten into, I wondered as I bumped down the grassy tract, hoping I didn’t bust an axle on my van. Mobile phone coverage was spotty in this area of Riceland County. If I broke down or got a snake bite, I was on my own.

  So I’d do my best to make sure that didn’t happen. I’d stay on the road, creep along, and when I walked in the tall grass, I’d stomp my feet like the Bolz boys taught me all those years ago. I wasn’t a true outdoorsman, but it amazed me that a city lawyer would suddenly go off the grid like this.

  One thing for sure, Jude Ernest would have an interesting story to tell.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The ramshackle house looked forlorn. Paint had long since been a wistful memory for the cottage. The metal roof wore a beyond-chic rusted patina. The windows glinted darkly in the clear light of day, and tall grass ringed the porch steps. If Jude Ernest lived here, he didn’t use the front door.

  I shut off the motor and got out of the van, Chili’s knife palmed in hand. “Mr. Ernest? Kale Bolz sent me out here.”

  No answer. I repeated what I just said, louder.

  Nothing.

  I trudged through the grass, mounted the three wooden steps, and knocked on the front door. “Hello?” I called loudly. “Anybody home?”

  I tried the knob. Locked. I tromped down the creaky stairs. What now? My mission had been clear. Come here and tell this lawyer that Kale needed legal representation.

  Had this wilderness trek been for nothing? Did Jude Ernest even live here anymore? If I left him a note, would he see it? Kale needed a lawyer today.

  I’d come so far. Might as well circle the house and try the back door. If it was open, I could leave a note in the kitchen.

  Heart in my throat, I waded through the knee-high grass, promising myself a shower and tick check as soon as I got home. I called out again. “Hello, anybody here? This is River Holloway. Kale Bolz sent me.”

  I rounded the house and a shambling hulk of a man sat on the back steps smoking a cigar. My feet stopped moving. Several facts registered at once. The birds were still chirping, the grass was trampled back here though not a manicured lawn by any means, and an old Jeep slumbered nearby.

  The knife felt uncomfortably hot in my hand. I held it out of sight. “Mr. Ernest, I’m here on behalf of Kale Bolz. He needs your help.”

  “Heard you the first coupla times, cutie.”

  The gravel-laden voice and the nickname sounded familiar. A name from my childhood surfaced. “Uncle Jay?”

  “Yep. In the flesh, though I’ve gone to seed.”

  Gone to seed fit the matted gray hair, tangled beard, darkened skin, camo clothing, and stout boots. When
I knew him, he’d been one of a succession of Estelle’s citified beaus, each of whom we’d been instructed to call uncle this or uncle that. Uncle Jay hung around longer than most. I hadn’t seen him in ten years, hadn’t known he was a shyster lawyer in Savannah.

  He drove a nice car back then and flashed cash around, taking Estelle and the boys out to dine at nice places. He’d always had a kind word for me too.

  “Wow. I didn’t recognize you. What happened to you?”

  “Life happened. It knocks you down enough times, you take the hint to do something else.”

  “Where’s the big car?”

  “Repo man snatched it. Lost a few cases in a row, made bad investments, that sort of thing.”

  The pungent scent of the cigar didn’t cover the acrid smell of his unwashed body or dirty clothes. “You got running water out here?”

  He gave a slight head shake. “Haul it in.”

  “Electricity?”

  “You ask a lot of questions, Miss Nosy Parker. My turn. How’d you get through my gate?”

  Keeping my distance, I showed him the knife. “I used this.”

  He sat up straighter, his eyes alight with interest. “Where’d you get it?”

  “Chili gave it to me before Christmas, told me to keep it in my van.”

  “You know where he is?”

  “He’s missing. I’m looking for him. Have you heard the other big news?”

  “Guessing Kale turned up if you’re here. Didn’t know Chili was missing. That’s huge news in my world.”

  How did I tell him Estelle was gone? “There’s more news, and it isn’t good. You kept company with Estelle at one time, so it may be hard to hear this.”

  “Something happened to Buttercup?”

  I nodded.

  “Spit it out girl. She in the hospital?”

  “No. She died. I found her on the kitchen floor. She’d been severely beaten. I called an ambulance, but she died on the way to the hospital.”

  Jude Ernest let out a string of cuss words that blistered the air. “Who did it?”

  “The sheriff’s office investigated, but there are no leads.”

  His chin quivered. “She still at the morgue?”

  “No. Someone paid for the cremation and arranged her funeral, which was a few days ago. The anonymous requester specified I take the ashes.”

  He pondered that while drawing on the cigar. “She always thought of you as her daughter.”

  “Estelle and her sons were my friends. After my father died, Estelle and the bridge club were the only friends Mama had. Estelle was a good friend.”

  “What is this world coming to?” he asked.

  Like I knew. I had an even better question. “Why has so much happened to the Bolz family in the last six months? Kale faked his death, Estelle died from a beating, and Chili is missing. Two alleged cousins trashed her house. Those can’t be coincidences. What were they into? Did Kale bring this tragedy on their heads?”

  “Kale is a good boy. Not too deep, but he always minded his manners.”

  “When’s the last time you saw Chili?”

  “I haven’t seen him in nearly a month. He visits regularly on high tide, bringing me supplies from town on his launch.”

  “Didn’t you wonder why he didn’t show?”

  “I figured something important came up.”

  “It did, and he’s gone to ground. Are you afraid for your life too? Is that why you hide in the woods?”

  “Nobody is after me. Got tired of people criticizing my every move. Except for the Bolz family and now you, no one knows where I am.”

  “People know. Rumor around the island is you bought this place.”

  “I did no such thing. I’m squatting. Chili said the man that lived here died. Figured no one would mind if I laid my head out here in the midst of such natural splendor. I never want to see a stoplight again.”

  Squatting? “What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you rent or buy a normal place and live like the rest of us?”

  “Can’t do it. Burnt the hell out. I need to process all that I saw and did in Savannah.”

  “You’ve been here for months, so you should be better by now. In any event, Kale expects you to be his lawyer. He’s in big trouble.”

  “Gotcha. I’ll do my best to help him. I’ll swing by Estelle’s place and take a shower before I head to the jail.”

  “Weren’t you listening? Two men tore up Estelle’s house. Knocked out the walls, drilled through the ductwork, and poked holes in the floors. Crime scene tape is on all the doors.”

  “You mentioned that before, but I didn’t realize the property damage was so extensive. Damn. Who did it?”

  “Ralph Ferarrelli and Anthony Barnegas.”

  The color drained from his face. “I recognize those names. They’re dangerous men. We gotta get Kale in federal custody as soon as possible.”

  We’d get back to the two scary men in a minute. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Mr. Ernest, but are you a real lawyer? You didn’t get disbarred?”

  “I’m as real as they get. Just got tired of chasing ambulances. I found out the hard way that clients who file claims lie, and that crooks aren’t the only ones who get pissed at being ripped off.”

  “People are looking for you?”

  “No one’s looking for me. I dropped out of society. My mailing address has been Estelle’s business for the last two years. I’m not a complete vagrant. The IRS can find me, if they want me.”

  “Shower at my place, if you like. Do you have lawyer clothes?”

  “Estelle stored my stuff in her attic. I didn’t want it anymore, but she said she’d hang onto my clothes. Not like those suits would fit now anyway. I’ve dropped thirty pounds living off the land and eating Chili’s spare fish.”

  “You can try my brother’s clothes. Or we can visit the thrift shop for something quick. Kale needs an advocate who can work the system.”

  “A fed owes me a favor. Soon as we hit civilization, I’ll ring her.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” I used my knife as a pointer. “What do you know about Ferarrelli and Barnegas?”

  “I know we don’t want anything to do with their kind. Not sure who they’re working for now, but they’re fixers.”

  “You think they killed Estelle?”

  “Evidence will prove who killed Estelle, but if I were a betting man, I’d lay odds they had a hand in it.”

  “I wish I could prove it.”

  He stood, stretched, and pointed to my hand. “You gonna stab me?”

  “Nope. Just being cautious.” I folded the knife blade into the hilt. “I didn’t realize I knew you when Kale asked me to contact you. The Uncle Jay I once knew was kind. I hope that’s still true.”

  He shot me a fierce grin. “Kind to the ones I love, a shark to my opponents.”

  “Even better. Kale needs a shark in these treacherous waters. Maybe he’ll open up to you, and we can find out where Chili is.”

  “You think he’s alive?”

  I nodded, feeling sure. “Somebody sent the money and arranged for Estelle’s funeral. It wasn’t Kale, and it wasn’t you. That leaves Chili. He must’ve had cash reserves hidden somewhere and then made that anonymous donation. That’s the only thing that makes any sense. He must’ve gone to ground and is following your example of living off the land.”

  “Hard to believe I’m a role model for anyone, but that’s neither here nor there.” He gestured to his Jeep. “Drive around the house on the same path you walked just now. We’ll exit the back way.”

  “There’s another way in here?”

  “Yeah. That’s why I like this place. The boys hunt in these woods. They helped me hack out a path to an old fire trail in the woods. We don’t use it often, so it looks as overgrown as the front entrance.�
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  I glanced at the tall grass with growing uncertainty. “Your vehicle has a high clearance. My van doesn’t. I need it for my catering business. I won’t get stuck, will I?”

  He grinned, showing straight white teeth. “If you do, I’ll pull you out. No worries, cutie.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  True to his word, Jude Ernest pulled me out of a hole in the nonexistent road. When we arrived at my place, I checked the van for damage and was relieved to see it was in good working order. I also noted several missed calls on my phone.

  They had to wait. Jude took scissors to his beard and shaved his face in the guest bathroom while I stripped. Three ticks were crawling on my clothes, but none were attached to my skin. After a brisk shower, I dressed and started the washing machine. Meanwhile, Jude bathed.

  I searched my brother’s closet for clothing options for Jude. The suit from Mom’s funeral was the only one Doug had. For an agonized moment I stood there holding the hanger, realizing I had no right to give his suit away but also realizing he didn’t need it today. Jude would return the suit when he was done with it. A suit had no place in his reclusive lifestyle.

  I laid out the suit and other clothing selections on the bed and hurried to the kitchen to fix Jude something to eat. He would be hungry enough to eat anything, but I wanted to make a good impression. I thawed out a container of shrimp gumbo and another of steamed rice. I’d recently learned how to make quick breads in coffee cups in the microwave. Not the same as pan-baked cornbread, but it worked in a pinch.

  It looked so sunny outside, I opened the back door, leaving the screen door latched and allowing spring-fresh air to fill the room. As I warmed the food and poured glasses of iced tea, I heard drawers opening and closing upstairs. The lawyer came down in a pair of Doug’s workout shorts and a T-shirt. “Smells amazing down here.”

  I frowned at his attire. No way could he wear that to court. “Suit didn’t fit?”

  “Nope. Thanks for trying. The sleeves and the pants legs were too short. Looked like I jumped into them too far. Let’s catch a bite and then visit the men’s shop in the plaza. I can afford to buy a suit.”