04 Lowcountry Bordello Read Free Page B

moment. Her eyes were a bit crazed, but to be honest, that wasn’t all that unusual for Olivia.
    A board creaked. Then another. Someone was coming slowly down the stairs.
    Olivia froze, a terrified look on her face. Her eyes dropped to the pineapple. She returned it to the mantel and stepped away.
    “Who’s they-ah?” a woman’s voice called out.
    Olivia took a deep breath, seemed to compose herself. She crossed the room quickly and stood by me. “It’s me, Aunt Dean.”
    “Olivia? I thought you’d left dahlin’.”
    “I decided to sit a spell in the parlor. The Christmas tree is so lovely, I was just enjoying it. Have you finished your shopping?” She crossed back into the foyer, tugging me along.
    I stopped at the doorway to the parlor, disentangled my arm from Olivia’s, and grabbed my iPhone from her pocket. I snapped a series of photos, making sure to get overlapping images. Then I videoed a panorama for good measure before sliding into the foyer behind Olivia.
    Aunt Dean descended the last three steps slowly, holding the banister. I pegged her at mid-eighties. Her snowy hair was in a single braid that lay across her shoulder. A long, thick gold robe covered whatever she wore underneath all the way up to her chin. Her monogrammed slippers matched the robe. When she reached the floor, she looked up at us.
    Olivia said, “Aunt Dean, do you remember my friend, Liz Talbot?”
    “I can’t say that I do.” Aunt Dean studied me.
    I could only imagine what she thought, with me in a trench coat cinched tightly over pink and grey polka dot pajamas, with lime green Crocs. But Aunt Dean was clearly a lady. Her face betrayed no dismay.
    “I’m certain you’ve met,” Olivia said. “Several times, in fact. Don’t you remember chatting at the Poinsett wedding last summer?”
    I marveled at Olivia’s flair for improvisation under stress. Not only had I never met her Aunt Dean, I didn’t have the first idea which of the Poinsetts had gotten married last summer.
    “Now you know, my dear, my memory isn’t what it once was. So nice to see you, Liz,” she said, as if nothing whatsoever was amiss.
    “Nice to see you too, Miss Dean.” I offered her a sunny smile. Whatever Olivia was into, this sweet old lady couldn’t be involved. My protective instincts stirred.
    “Would you girls like a sip of something? I had a mind to pour myself a glass of sherry.”
    “No ma’am, none for me—thank you,” I said. “I’m driving.”
    “We need to be heading on out.” Olivia crossed the floor and hugged her aunt. “Good night, Aunt Dean.”
    “Good night, dahlin’. Good night, Liz. Y’all be careful out there now. The streets are a dangerous place for young ladies. Nothing good happens this time of night.”
    I glanced at my watch. Nine twenty. Surely Miss Dean had been out past nine. Perhaps owing to the early dark this time of year and the weather it seemed later.
    “Yes ma’am,” Olivia said.
    “Good night, Miss Dean,” I managed to get out while Olivia pulled me out the front door and closed it behind us.
    Once outside she fell apart all over again, rocking and shaking. I put my arm around her waist and guided her into the passenger seat of my car. Once I had her settled, I climbed into the driver’s seat.
    “What have they done with Robert?” Olivia said. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.” She seemed to be praying. It wasn’t like her to take the Lord’s name in vain.
    Being an Occam’s Razor enthusiast, I liked to eliminate the most obvious answers first. I pulled out my iPhone and dialed Robert Pearson.
    He answered on the first ring. “Liz?”
    I went weak with relief. “Robert? Are you all right?”
    Olivia gaped at me.
    “Of course I’m all right.”
    “Where are you?”
    He sputtered. “At home, of course, with the children. But I have no idea where Olivia is. If you had only listened to me this afternoon, at least—”
    “All right, all right, all right. I’ll take the case. But