Low Country Liar Read Free Page B

green in color over a complementing brightly printed blouse with long sleeves.
    Hats had become her passion in the last year and Lisa wore one now, a matching green turban that gave a touch of sophistication to the overall effect. A silkily blond wisp of hair had escaped the hat, trailing the curve of her neck. Lisa tucked it beneath the hat and adjusted the large gold stud of her earring.
    Satisfaction sparkled in her eyes, their color enhanced by the green of her outfit. She liked the image of the woman looking back at her, professional yet definitely feminine. Her gaze slid to the bone-colored handbag in her left hand. Inside was a slip of paper with Slade Blackwell's business address.
    Lisa had no doubt he would see her this morning, regardless of whether or not she had an appointment. He wouldn't turn away the niece of Mitzi Talmadge. Once she was inside the door, he would not find it so easy to be rid of her.
    "Would you like breakfast now, miss?"
    Glancing toward the sound of the voice, Lisa saw the long-suffering Mildred standing just inside the doorway and smiled. "No, thank you, Mildred. I function much better on an empty stomach."
    "Beg pardon?"
    "It doesn't matter." Lisa didn't bother with an explanation of her statement and ran a smoothing hand over her hip. "If Mitzi asks where I am, tell her I've gone to see an old friend."
    As often as she had heard Blackwell's name in the past twenty-four hours, it did feel as if she had known him a long time and disliked him for an equal length.
    "Will you be home for lunch, then?" Mildred inquired in a voice that was wearily patient.
    Lisa hesitated. "No," she decided. "I'll be back sometime in the afternoon. What time is Mitzi generally through for the day?"
    "It depends, miss. It depends," was the answer, indicating that anything more definite was quite beyond her.  
    Concealing the amused smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth, Lisa wished the housekeeper a good day and walked out of the ornately carved front door into the midmorning of a March day. The air was balmy, the sun bright, not a hint of a blustery March wind to be found.
    The lovely old mansion was narrow and long. The house didn't actually front the narrow street in Old Charleston; its entrance door opened onto the portico running the length of one side. Lisa's heels clicked noisily on the smooth stone as she walked to the false house door opening onto the street from the portico.
    Closing it behind her, she heard the rumble of carriage wheels and the steady clop of horses' hooves. Lisa paused to watch a horse-drawn surrey around the narrow street corner, its fringe waving with the motion.
    Tourists sat in the seats behind the guide, taking a carriage tour of Old Charleston. They had obviously seen her coming from the mansion, Lisa realized, and they stared openly. She smiled and waved, knowing they believed she was a full-fledged Charlestonian instead of a tourist like themselves.
    The carriage ride looked like a fun way to tour Old Charleston, whose history encompassed the Southern manner of gracious living, the sad days of the Civil War, and beyond that, the era of Colonial America. Lisa glanced around the immediate neighborhood. Magnolia trees and massive oaks, with their leaves and branches draped by Spanish moss, towered beside and above fine old homes. The colorful splash of flowers seemed to be in every lawn and garden, creeping along fences and spouting from stone urns.
    Lisa squared her shoulders. There would be time enough to do some sight-seeing later on. For the time being; she couldn't be distracted by the beauty around her, not until after she'd had her confrontation with Slade Blackwell. The click of her heels made a purposeful sound as she started out.
    It was a short walk along the stagecoach-wide street to Meeting Street, where Lisa was able to obtain directions to the law offices of Courtney Blackwell & Son. Slade Blackwell was, of course, the "Son." The office, too, was located in