Free Lowcountry Bombshell (A Liz Talbot Mystery) by Susan M. Boyer Page A

office.
    “Before breakfast? What’s up?” Nate followed.
    I filled him in on Calista McQueen, the particulars of her case, and the man who’d been watching her house.
    “Any chance he was doing anything besides surveillance on her?”
    “Possible, but doubtful. Hers is the only house within half a mile along that stretch of road. And he went to comical lengths to keep me from seeing his face. If he’d just parked there to check a map or some such innocent thing, there’d’ve been no need for him to light out of there in such a hurry.”
    “True. Do you think this Harmony’s death is connected to Calista?”
    “Hard to say. Think about it. Harmony was killed in what appears to be an execution, by  someone she knew, at approximately the same time Calista hired me because she’s afraid someone will kill her. On the surface of it, it seems it would be an odd coincidence if her death wasn’t connected to Calista somehow.”
    “That it would be. Breakfast?”
    “I’ve got yogurt, blueberries, and granola. That’s what I’m having. I’m afraid I don’t have eggs and bacon on hand.”
    “I can make do with girl food this morning. I’ll throw some yogurt together while you check out that tag.”
    “Thanks.” I took a deep breath and willed my brain to work. Nate was all kinds of distracting. Being involved with my partner and still getting work done was going to be an adjustment.
    I logged into one of my subscription databases. After a few clicks, I stopped and stared at the screen in disbelief.
    James Edward Davis owned the Camry with California plates that had been parked outside Calista’s house. The same James Edward Davis who had married Norma Jeane Mortensen on June 19, 1992 in Los Angeles, exactly fifty years after James Edward Dougherty had married another Norma Jeane Mortensen.
    How had he found her after all these years?
    Calista had interrupted me the day before when I’d been working on profiles, and I’d left in a hurry to go to Charleston with her. I hadn’t had the chance to dig into Jim Davis yet. Had he been in cahoots with Gladys and Grace? Or, like Calista, had he been a victim of their schemes to turn her into Marilyn reborn and make her their meal ticket? I was busy creating his timeline when Nate set a bowl of yogurt on the desk.
    “Find him?” he asked.
    “Yep. Calista’s first husband. This may be the strangest case we’ve worked since that guy hid his stripper-girlfriend’s Indian python in his ex-girlfriend’s mobile home.”
    Nate shuddered. “I hate snakes. Wonder what this guy wants with his ex-wife after all this time.”
    “I was wondering the same thing. I’d like to ask him.”
    “Well, why don’t I start trolling hotel parking lots looking for the car while you finish finding out what you can about him online?”
    “Sounds like a plan. Thank you.”
    He grinned. “I’m an easy dog to hunt with, Slugger.”
    I laughed. “I’d start with Isle of Palms, then work my way outward from there to Mt. Pleasant, then the greater Charleston and North Charleston areas. My hunch is he’s close.”
    “Great minds.”
    We ate breakfast, both lost in our own thoughts. I struggled to keep my mind on Calista’s problems and off what a dramatic turn my own life had just taken. It was strange how Nate was at once so familiar and suddenly so foreign to me. I needed to focus on Nate my partner and best friend, and think about Nate my lover after I knew Calista was safe.
    NINE

    I tracked Michael down at a construction site in Mt. Pleasant. He was restoring a home near the waterfront in the Old Village.
    I’m reasonably certain Nate would not have approved of my excursion, but it hadn’t taken me long to find out all there was to know about Jim Davis. He’d worked at Lockheed since he was nineteen and had never remarried. He had no criminal record and no children. If I wanted more answers about him, I was going to have to think up some new questions.
    Michael was one of a