“Right. I forgot.”
“The only possible connection that young woman had to our family, or our house at Tybee, was that she was married to Frank Ragan, who was our son’s football coach at Cardinal Mooney,” Creedmore said. “As president of the alumni association and the football booster club, I entertained the whole team multiple times over the years. There’s a chance she accompanied Frank to some of those affairs, but I couldn’t say for certain.”
“Oyster roasts,” Dorcas said. “We had an oyster roast the Sunday after Thanksgiving every year for the whole team and their families.”
Mak scribbled a few nonsensical words in his notebook. He wondered if it was just his imagination, or whether Dorcas Creedmore was a little bit glassy-eyed. A little bit stoned.
“What difference does it make? This is all ancient history.” The husband drummed his fingers on a spindly-legged glass-topped end table.
“It makes a difference because we’ve heard rumors that Lanier Ragan was sleeping with one of the members of Frank Ragan’s football team.”
Dorcas gasped and her husband shot her a dirty look.
“Rumors don’t mean a damn thing,” Creedmore said. “Cardinal Mooney usually dresses out about seventy boys every year. Are you tracking down all their parents and asking them these kinds of insulting questions?”
“I will if I have to,” Mak said. “Naturally, I’m wondering how Mrs. Ragan would have gotten to know one of these teenaged boys that intimately. It’s my understanding that Lanier Ragan tutored your son during his senior year.”
“I don’t remember that,” Creedmore said.
“I hired her to tutor Little Holl,” Dorcas said meekly. “Senior year, his grades had dropped a little. It was Coach Ragan’s idea. She tutored a few of the other players too.”
Creedmore shot her an annoyed look. “Nothing sinister about that,” he said.
“Maybe not. I’m wondering, were you two aware of the parties your son used to have at the house on Chatham Avenue?”
Creedmore waved his hand dismissively. “Old news. They were high school kids. Didn’t you ever have a few beers when you were in high school?”
“Oh, sure,” Mak said. “But none of my friends’ parents had a swell beach house like yours.”
“I don’t understand what you’re getting at,” Dorcas said. “These were all good boys from good families. They wouldn’t have anything to do with this tragedy.”
“What I’m getting at, Mrs. Creedmore,” Mak said pointedly, “is that Lanier Ragan was last seen by her husband sometime before midnight on February sixth, 2005. Seemingly vanished into thin air. Her car was found, stripped, in a shopping center parking lot in a high-crime area of Savannah a few days later. Nobody was ever arrested. Now, all these years later, we find her billfold in the walls of an old house on Tybee. A home that was, until very recently, owned by your family. A home that you’ve already said Mrs. Ragan possibly visited more than once. And, as you yourself confirmed, Lanier Ragan did private tutoring for your son, who was a member of Frank Ragan’s football team.”
“I’ve heard about enough of this crap,” Creedmore said. Grunting with the effort, he pushed himself off the sofa. “My wife and I are offended by your insinuations about our son. I suggest you don’t repeat these slanderous remarks, because if you do, I’ll be forced to retain counsel.”
37
Dress Rehearsal
Da-dum. Da-dum, da-dum, dum, dum, dum … Mo flinched when he heard the ringtone. It was nearly midnight. Da-dum, da-dum, da-dum. He sighed and picked up. “Hi, Rebecca. What’s up?”
“Mo, I have the most fabulous news. Jada Watkins has asked for an exclusive on the Homewreckers story!”
Mo rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Should I know who that is?”
“You should, but I guess I’m not surprised you don’t. She’s the East Coast correspondent for Hollywood Headliner. It’s a huge get for us. Especially since she’s coming on location to interview you and Trae and Hattie.”
“You mean, here? To Savannah?”
“Of course. We had to move heaven and earth to arrange it, but she’s flying in tomorrow, and will be on set with you on Friday.”
Mo blinked. “Not this Friday. Right? Because that’s impossible. I’ve just spent the past three hours juggling…”
“Of course this Friday. She and her crew will be there at nine A.M. She’ll want to talk about the latest on the wallet-in-the-wall drama, and of course, the fire, and naturally, the ‘smoldering romance’ between Trae and Hattie.”