Beguiled (13 page)

She remembered Nonie most of all, though. Rocking her. Comforting her. Instructing her.

“Men are unreliable,” she’d said, resting her head against Rylee’s. “They might come through in a pinch, but in the long haul, the only person you can ever really count on is yourself.” Her tears dampened Rylee’s hair. “Promise me you’ll remember that.” She pulled back, placing her hands on Rylee’s cheeks, looking her straight in the eye. “Promise me.”

“I’ll remember, Nonie. I promise.”

Rylee set the magazine on the coffee table. “I need some advice, Liz.”

“Yeah?” She lowered the towel to her lap. “What’s up?”

Rylee took a deep breath. “There’s this guy—”

Liz squealed. “Rylee, you? You haven’t dated in, like, forever.”

“No, it’s not like that. We’re not seeing each other. He’s a newspaper reporter who’s been investigating these Robin Hood break-ins, and all but one of the houses belong to clients or former clients of mine. It’s kind of creepy, to be honest, and people I care about have been hurt.”

“People you care about? You mean clients?”

“Yes.”

“Rylee.” Frowning, she untwisted her legs. “They’re clients. Not family. There’s a difference.”

“I know. I’m not saying they’re family—just that we’re . . . close.” She paused. “Anyway, this reporter guy, Logan. He thinks I can help him figure out who the burglar is. Or at least, what all the victims have in common.”

“Besides you.”

“Bottom line, he wants my help. First I said yes, but maybe I shouldn’t have.”

Liz tilted her head. “Why not? I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“You don’t think I’d be betraying my clients?”

“Rylee, what are you talking about? If somebody broke into my house, how would you be betraying me by helping bring them to justice?”

“I guess. If you put it that way—”

“What other way is there, girl?”

“It’s just . . . this particular guy.”

Liz gave her a speculative look. “Is he cute?”

Rylee smiled in spite of herself. “That’s not what it’s about.”

“That’s always what it’s about. You’re sweet, honey, and I know all you want to do is take care of your grandma. But have you ever thought you might need more than a dog in your life?”

“I have more than a dog.”

“More than a pack of dogs. In other words, a man.”

“Actually, my new client asked me to dinner.”

Liz gasped. “No! The one who knew you as a kid? The hottie lawyer?”

Rylee nodded.

Squealing again, Liz coiled her towel into a turban. “So, when are you going? Where is he taking you? What are you going to wear?”

“I told him no.”

Liz gaped at her. “
Ry-leeeeeee!
Why did you do that? I mean that’s, like, every girl’s dream. Handsome, rich, hotshot attorney falls in love with poor overworked, underpaid Cinderella.”

Rylee laughed. “I wish it were that simple.”

“But it is!”

Rylee pushed herself up off the futon. “How ’bout if I tell him you’re available?”

“You’re on. And, Rylee . . . ?”

She paused at the door.

“If you want to help that reporter out, do it. It sounds like an adventure. You’d be crazy to pass it up.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. And if we were roomies, we could talk about this stuff all the time.”

“Tempting.”

Rylee and Toro walked along King Street all the way to South Battery, passing the narrowest house in town. A white-haired man in a Navy cap stood outside, guidebook in hand, while his wife fanned herself with a folded map.

“Will you look at that, Martha? Just thirteen feet across. Thirteen feet.” He held so much reverence in his voice he might have been beholding one of the Seven Wonders of the World.

This was the city she knew, alive with people overcome by its sights. Liz could talk about this love as if it were a weakness, but she’d never understand how deeply it ran in Rylee’s soul.

Glancing at her watch, she headed back. Logan would be picking her up pretty soon. At First Scots Presbyterian, she peeked through the fence to see if Dr. Welch was around. No sign of him. But just in front of Toro’s house, she saw flashing lights.

Please, Lord. Not the Davidsons, too
.

She recognized young Officer Kirk from the night she’d chased Logan up the monument. He was standing with one foot propped inside the cruiser’s open door, his elbow on the roof as he talked into the radio transmitter. In front of his car, a second cruiser had its flashers going. Officer Munn and Nate Campbell stood on the curb next to it.

They’d boxed in a white pickup full of yard equipment. Her pace quickened as she caught sight of the lettering on the door.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Has the Davidsons’ house been hit?”

Campbell scowled at her approach. “Not that we know of.”

Her shoulders wilted in relief. She glanced through the open window of the truck, spotting a familiar profile. “George?”

The gardener glanced at her, then turned away.

Detective Campbell moved up on the passenger side while Kirk approached on the driver’s, his hand resting on the butt of his pistol.

Kirk motioned George out of the driver’s seat, making him spread his hands on the hood.

Campbell shooed Rylee away. “Move along, Miss Monroe.”

She walked a few yards ahead, then paused at the Davidsons’ gate.

Her words to Campbell yesterday rang loud in her ears.
You cannot be serious, Detective. That would be like suspecting the gardener, simply because he works south of Broad!

Had she inadvertently drawn Campbell’s attention to George?

The sense of outrage she’d felt at being questioned came rushing back.

“This is ridiculous,” she called out.

Campbell turned around, blocking her view of what was happening. Instead of leaving, she pulled Toro back down the sidewalk.

“Why are you doing this to him?”

“I’m not going to ask you again.” He warded her off with his index finger.

A black BMW pulled up in front of the pickup, Logan emerging from the driver’s seat, his button-down crisp, his sleeves rolled up.

“What’s going on, Nate? Are you taking Pendergrass in?”

Campbell never took his eyes off Rylee. “His name’s not Pend-ergrass. It’s Reid. George Reid.” He turned his attention to Logan.

“Get her out of here.”

Logan eyed the dog. “Go on, Rylee. Take the dog inside. I’ll be right here when you come back.”

“Logan . . .” She heard the plea in her own voice.

“Go on,” he said gently.

She glanced again at George. Officer Kirk had cuffed him and with one hand on George’s elbow and the other on his head, assisted him into the back of a squad car.

Whirling, she rushed through the gate and pulled Toro inside.

“This is all my fault. I served George up to them on a silver platter.”

“How do you figure that?”

Logan headed toward Slightly North of Broad, a restaurant on East Bay. His head was still spinning from the scene on the street. He’d been afraid Nate was ahead of him, and he’d been right. George Reid back in Charleston? Masquerading as a gardener? He couldn’t believe it.

“Yesterday I was trying to make Detective Campbell see how ridiculous he was being. I told him suspecting me was kind of like saying ‘the butler did it.’ Only I said it was the
gardener
.” She pressed her fingers to her forehead, her thumb ring glinting in the sunlight. “I was being sarcastic. I never meant for him to take me seriously.”

He could tell she felt bad, but there was no reason. If Pender-grass really was Reid, it wouldn’t have taken an offhand remark from Rylee to arouse police suspicions. “You had nothing to do with it, Rylee.”

“But I did!”

“Nate said his real name’s George Reid. He was handed a ten-year sentence back in ’90 for grand larceny. It was a famous case back then.”

She looked stunned. “There must be some mistake.”

“I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “They caught him hauling paintings, jewels, and other valuables stolen from Low Country estates that had been evacuated due to Hurricane Hugo. If he’s the Robin Hood burglar . . . well, it kind of makes sense.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I included the Reid case in my book.”

“Your
book
? You’ve published a book?”

Turning on his blinker, he switched lanes. “Not yet. But I’m working on it. It’s about Charleston crimes.”

“And George,
my
George, is in it?”

“Yep. The thing that made his case so interesting is that only a fraction of the stolen goods were recovered in his trailer. The prosecutors of the day speculated about a whole series of vehicles, a convoy of thieves taking advantage of the disastrous storm. But Reid was the only one they caught, and he wasn’t talking. It was a real mystery—and Reid never cracked. He just did his time and disappeared. I had no idea he was back in town.”

She fell back against the seat. “Do you really think he’s the one?

The Robin Hood burglar?”

“I think it’s entirely possible.” He couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice. This wasn’t how the story was supposed to end.

“But it doesn’t make any sense. If he’s an experienced thief, why would he donate the goods instead of hocking them?”

He smiled in spite of himself. “You mean fencing.”

“Fencing. And why would he steal relatively worthless things when there were bigger prizes to be had?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I really thought we were out ahead of the police on this. It’s a letdown.”

“Assuming he’s guilty. Logan, just because the man has a criminal record doesn’t mean he’s the Robin Hood burglar.”

“You really think he’s not?”

She paused, biting her lip in thought. “Honestly? I don’t.”

He turned right onto the brick pavers lining Cumberland Street and then left into the parking garage. He pulled into a space and cut the engine. “I wish I could say the same thing.”

Shaking her head, she reached for her cell phone. With sudden resolve, she punched the buttons.

“Who are you calling?”

“I know someone who’ll believe me.”

“Who?”

“Karl.”

He stiffened. “Karl Sebastian?”

Nodding, she brought the phone to her ear. “I’m going to see if he’ll help George.”

“No, wait,” he said. “I think—”

“Yes. Hi. This is Rylee Monroe. May I speak to Karl, please? . . . Thank you.”

He tried again. “Rylee. Karl’s firm may do both estate and criminal law, but the only one who’s good at both is Karl’s dad. Not—”

“Karl! Oh, thank goodness you’re there.”

Logan couldn’t help the flash of irritation that whipped through him. He’d called Sebastian, Lynch & Orton half a dozen times trying to get through to Karl. And she managed it on the first try.

“I need your help.”

“My help?” The silence of the closed car and parking garage allowed Logan to hear Karl’s voice leaking out of her earpiece. Rylee saw him lean closer and tilted the phone so he could hear better. “Has that cop been pestering you again?”

Logan narrowed his eyes. Nate might not be a saint, but Logan still counted him as a friend.

“Not me, exactly,” she said, smoothing the hair at the nape of her neck. “But George.”

“Pendergrass?”

“Yes. And you’re not going to believe this, but his real name is George Reid and he’s a convicted felon and has just been arrested as the Robin Hood burglar, but I know he didn’t do it, Karl. I just know it!”

A hum of silence.

“Karl?” She looked at Logan with a frown, as if he was somehow responsible for Karl’s lack of response.

“Sorry,” Karl said. “You kind of took me by surprise there.”

“I know. Me too.” She yanked on her hem. Her orange halter dress had a band just below the bust and a bunch of long-limbed yellow cranes toeing the hem. “Anyway, you told me to call if the police bothered me again, and since George has worked for your family much longer than I have, it just made sense that you’d—”

“Slow down, Rylee. Slow down. Where are you now?”

“I’m with Logan Woods.” She turned those big brown eyes on him and smiled.

“The reporter?” His voice was sharp.

Her smile faltered. “Yes, we’ve been trying to see if we could—”

Logan shook his head and cut a finger across his throat.

“ . . . could, er, find some time to go to lunch.”

A beat of silence.

“Do you think that’s wise?” Karl asked, his tone strained.

She fumbled with her phone, pressing the lower-volume button on its side, avoiding Logan’s gaze the whole time.

Too late, princess
.

He could still hear a faint mumble, but he could no longer make out Karl’s words. Logan tapped the steering wheel with his thumb.

What was wrong with going to lunch with him?

“No, we’re just friends.” She picked at a snag on her dress, red creeping up her neck. “He’s not interviewing me. We’re just . . .

visiting.” She cringed.

Leaning back against his door, Logan crossed his arms.

“Listen.” She flicked the bangs away from her eyes. “I’m in a parking garage and I can barely hear you. But you will help George, right?”

She shot Logan a quick look. “Yes . . . I will . . . See you then.”

Hanging up, she tossed the phone in her bag. “Well, he’s going to see what he can do for George.” She gave him an overly bright smile. “So? You ready?”

He didn’t budge. “Karl Sebastian is a rich, spoiled playboy who eats girls like you for breakfast.”

She hugged her bag close. “He’s not like that.”

“Really?” He leaned closer. “You must not read the gossip columns, then. My buddy who works in the society section says Karl has a new woman on his arm every week, every day sometimes.”

Stiffening, she put her hand on the door.

He reached across and grabbed the handle. “Has he been hitting on you, Rylee?”

She placed her hand on his wrist, removed it from the door, and pushed it back to his side of the car. “You’re moving into territory where you don’t belong, Logan.”

He wanted to argue, but what was the point? If she couldn’t see through a guy like Sebastian, nothing he could say would make a difference. He shrugged in surrender. “You’re right. I am. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”