I didn’t believe for a moment that he’d had anything to do with Fremont’s murder, but he was somehow connected. Everything was connected. I was more certain of that now than ever. Shani’s drowning, Devlin’s disappearance after the accident, Ethan’s alibi to the police.
I could only imagine how Devlin must have been suffering that night. Out of his mind with grief, he’d said. It would have been understandable if he’d turned to drugs to numb the pain. But gray dust wasn’t a tranquilizer or a sedative. It was a powerful psychedelic. How could something like that help him cope with his loss?
But according to Devlin, gray dust wasn’t just any hallucinogen. It stopped the heart and people died. And some of the ones who came back suffered terrible side effects.
The images conjured by that piece of the conversation were disturbing and way too macabre for a sunny morning. I tried to shove the grimness aside as I peered into the shop window. A cup of tea really would have hit the spot.
I don’t know how long I’d been standing there when it came to me that I was being watched. Not by a ghost this time. I felt no frigid breath at my collar, no icy fingers skimming along my spine. No, this was the sensation that anyone might experience when being secretly observed.
Turning, I surreptitiously scanned the sidewalk as I pretended to check the time on my phone. From my periphery, I took note of a man across the street. I couldn’t tell much about his appearance, only that he was white, a little shorter and wider than Devlin. He wore khakis with a madras blazer and a straw fedora pulled low over his face. Typical attire for Charleston. The nondescript appearance would blend seamlessly with tourists and locals alike. But the sidewalks here were still sparse, and so he stood out.
When I lifted my head to casually view the traffic, he turned away quickly and strode through the open gateway of a private alley.
I didn’t panic. For all I knew, he might have been nothing more than an admirer. I didn’t attract attention the way a woman like Mariama would have. I was hardly the type to inspire such passion. But I was young and blond and in good shape from the physical labor of my profession. I caught a male eye now and then.
Still, I couldn’t shake the notion that he hadn’t just been staring at me, but watching me.
Turning back to the bookstore window, I pretended to peer inside the store. Another face appeared in the glass, that of a handsome black man. He stood right behind me, but when I turned, no one was there.
Palmettos rustled in the rising wind and a paper cup rolled along the sidewalk in front of me. I had the notion once again that a storm brewed on the horizon even though the sky was clear. I lifted my face as something dark scuttled across the sun. A bird, I told myself. Nothing more ominous than a raven or a sparrow.
Across the street, the man in the hat emerged from the alley and I could have sworn I saw him cast his gaze in my direction. His lips were moving, but there was no phone to his ear and no one else was around. No one that I could see.
Fear blossomed, but was I just being paranoid? I’d yet to pose a single question about Fremont’s murder to any living person. No one could possibly know of our investigation and I was certain the man outside Devlin’s house last night hadn’t seen me. So why would I be under surveillance?
I started walking, slowly at first, pretending to window-shop so that I could keep track of him. But either he soon realized I was on to him or he really was just some innocent pedestrian because he turned on Market Street, losing himself in the traffic, and I didn’t see him again.
Stopping at an open-air market, I purchased a bundle of fresh flowers and some sage and headed straight home. Angus, as always, was excited to see me. I put him on his leash and gave him a quick stroll around the block, and then we had breakfast together in the garden.
For the rest of the day, I puttered around the house, cleaning out summer closets, working on
The Institute was located on the ground floor of a beautifully renovated antebellum on the fringes of the historic district. It was a plantation-style house with long, graceful columns and fern baskets swaying from three stories of shady piazzas. I parked in the back, and as I came around to the side entrance, I noticed as I always did the house across the street with the neon hand hanging from the porch. Madam Know-it-all’s.
I’d always been curious about the place and secretly amused by its proximity to the loftier Charleston Institute for Parapsychology Studies. Now that I knew the palmist had a connection to Devlin, I was even more fascinted. Clementine had said Devlin and Isabel were very close friends, but I’d seen the way he’d held her in the twilight. I’d heard the intimacy of their soft murmurs. They were more than friends. But how much more?
As I stood gazing over at the house, a blue Buick pulled up to the curb and sat there for a moment, idling. The driver wore aviator glasses that covered the upper portion of his face. That and the angle of the sun made his features nearly indistinguishable, but a glimmer of familiarity had me wondering if he was the man I’d seen earlier.
He didn’t get out of the car but sat there gazing up at one of the balconies. I didn’t think he spotted me. I was concealed by a thick rhododendron bush. My heart accelerated as I watched him.
“Amelia?”
Years of living with ghosts had schooled my nerves, and I turned casually at the sound of my name. Ethan Shaw had come up behind me, so stealthily I hadn’t heard his footfalls.
“I thought that was you.” He smiled then, his eyes crinkling with genuine pleasure as he closed the distance between us. He was a tall man, well-dressed and well-spoken, with an easygoing demeanor that I’d always found attractive. But I’d glimpsed another side of him last night at Devlin’s house. As the overheard conversation reared its ugly head, I felt a disquieting ripple along my spine. Had he really been in love with Devlin’s wife? Had he really been willing to do her bidding?
“Ethan, hi. I didn’t hear you come up.”
“I just came around from the back,” he said. “Father and I had a nice visit in the garden.”
“Oh, he’s in, then?”
“Yes.” Another puzzled stare. “Why are you in the bushes?”
“I’m not hiding, just observing.”
“What are you observing?”
“Do you know that blue car?” I asked anxiously.
His gaze moved beyond me to the street. I saw something flicker in his eyes, but he shrugged. “No, why?”
I paused. “I thought I might have been followed here.”
His brow lifted. “Why would you think that?”
I could hardly tell him about the Fremont investigation, so I muttered, “I don’t know, paranoid, I guess.”
His smile turned sympathetic. “That’s understandable after everything you’ve been through.”
“I suppose.”
He flicked another glance toward the street. “So what brings you to the Institute today?”
“I’m here to see Dr. Shaw. I don’t have an appointment so I hope he has time for me.”
“He always has time for you. As do I,” Ethan said politely, but the compliment sounded rote, as though his mind were occupied elsewhere.
I resisted the urge to glance over my shoulder. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“I’ve always been fascinated by the house across the street.”
“Bodine’s Tattoo Parlor?”
I laughed. “The house next to it. Madame Know-it-all’s. Do you know anything about her?”
“Her real name is Isabel Perilloux. She has an excellent reputation if you’re in need of a palm-reader.”
“I’m not. The last thing I want is to know about the future. I’m curious, is all.”
