“Lanier Ragan helped me so much, after my dad went to prison and Mom left town. Aside from you and Cass, she was my biggest champion. Then I find out she had this whole double life. I mean—sleeping with a high school kid? One of her husband’s football players?”
Zenobia shook her head. “Well that mess was all kinds of wrong. But there’s good and bad in all of us, the Bible says. It doesn’t mean your teacher didn’t do some good in her life. Doesn’t mean she deserved to get her head bashed in and buried in an old septic tank like she did.”
“You’re right, Zen,” Hattie said.
“You still haven’t told me how that Elise woman got you so upset.”
Hattie made a face. “Can’t keep anything from you, can I?”
“Worst poker face I ever saw,” Zenobia said. “Spill it.”
Hattie quickly sketched an outline of the secret that Elise Hoffman had just confided.
“So—the two of them were out there at the beach, the night Lanier Ragan went missing? And she says Davis had a thing for that woman?” Zenobia said. “And you’re thinking maybe he had something to do with it?”
“Maybe. I begged her to call the detective who’s in charge of the investigation, but she won’t. And she made all kinds of threats if I call the cops.”
“What are you going to do about that?” Zenobia fixed her with the same gaze she had leveled on both Cass and Hattie during their high school years—the one she’d leveled at them when inquiring about homework, curfews, boy troubles, and all other manner of teen dilemmas.
Hattie picked up her phone. “I’m gonna call him and tell him everything Elise just told me.”
“Good. And then what are you going to do about the other stuff that’s weighing you down?” Zenobia asked. “Because I know it’s not just the house. You’ve worked on problem houses before. This is something different. Isn’t it?”
Hattie bit her lip.
“Quit stalling. It’s about a man, isn’t it? That good-looking California designer?”
“Sort of. He, uh, wants us to have a relationship.”
“And what do you want? He’s good-looking and single, got money in the bank, I imagine. What’s holding you back?”
“Trae’s all those things you just said. But something is … off. Mostly little things. But today, we found out he told one of our crew to cover up a jury-rigged wiring job before the inspectors came out. Luckily, this guy noticed scorch marks around where the wires were spliced, and he pointed it out to Cass, who told Tug.”
“And Tug had a fit, which he was right to do. Can’t have substandard wiring. Don’t need another fire out there.”
“I agree.”
Zenobia cocked her head. “There’s something else, too.”
“Yeah. I think … he’s just not a good guy. Not for me, anyway.”
“That’s my girl.” Zenobia stood up and patted Hattie’s hand. “You got a moral compass, Hattie Kavanaugh. Didn’t get it from your daddy or your mama, and I can’t take credit for it, but you always did know how to do right. So go on and do it. Stop second-guessing yourself.”
58
A Family Affair
Hattie called Makarowicz on her way back to the island. The call went directly to his voicemail, but he called back a couple minutes later.
“Hattie? How can I help you?”
“I, um, was wondering how your investigation is going. Have you questioned Holland Creedmore?”
There was a prolonged silence at the other end of the line.
“I’m not just snooping,” she added. “Something’s come up.”
Mak coughed, clearing his throat. “This is just between us. Understand? I brought Junior in for questioning, and I talked to his parents, too. Junior admits he and Lanier were having an affair. Says she texted him that night, asking him to meet her at the beach house—and she told him she was pregnant.”
“Oh my God,” Hattie said.
“His story is that she never showed up.”
“Do you believe him?” Hattie asked.
“I believe part of what he said,” Makarowicz said. “His parents have a more unbelievable story.” He filled her in on most of the tale the Creedmores had spun.
“Wait.” Hattie gasped. “Are you telling me they found Lanier’s body, hid it, went back out to get rid of it, and it was gone?”
“Crazy, huh?”
Hattie was stopped at the light at Victory and Skidaway Roads. Her house was only a few blocks away. She wanted to go home and hug Ribsy and forget all about the ugliness Elise Hoffman had just spewed back in her office. But that damned moral compass of hers was pointing her back toward the beach.