The Restorer

“But now you’re here to bring it all back to life.” He beamed down at me, his small, white teeth gleaming in the candlelight. “Oak Grove is actually two separate cemeteries, you know. The older area especially has a number of important historical features, including at least a couple of markers carved by the Bighams,” he said, naming a famous family of stonecutters.

“I’m particularly fascinated by the Bedford Mausoleum,” I told him. “But I haven’t been able to dig up much history on it.”

“Ah, yes, the Bedford,” he murmured, and exchanged another glance with Ethan. “I would love to discuss it further, but I can see poor Ethan’s eyes are glazing over.”

“Another time, then.”

“It would be my pleasure. My office is located in the humanities building, second floor. Stop by anytime.”

“Thank you. I may take you up on that.”

“I hope you will. In the meantime…enjoy your dinner.” He backed away from the table, turned and almost smacked into Temple.

“Daniel.”

“Temple.”

They spoke for a moment and then Temple took her seat at the table and shuddered. “Weirdo.”

“Daniel? He’s not so bad,” Ethan said. “But he does tend to suffer from tunnel vision.”

“He gives me the creeps. I don’t trust anyone whose skin is that pale. Unless they’re dead, of course.” Temple shook out her fresh napkin. “He tried to commit suicide, you know.”

“What? No. He’s not the type.” Ethan scowled at her. “What on earth gave you that idea?”

“I saw him come out of the biology lab one day. He was still adjusting his cuff—have you noticed how he always wears long sleeves even in summer? Anyway, I saw the scar.” She smoothed the napkin over her lap. “I suppose I shouldn’t speak so harshly about the poor fellow. We’re all a bit strange when it comes right down to it. You, me, Camille, Daniel. Maybe there was something in the water at Emerson.”

“You may be onto something,” Ethan said, eyes twinkling. “Amelia seems to be the only normal one at the table.”

Whatever that means.

“Speaking of strange,” Temple said. “Isn’t that John Devlin?”

My smile disappeared and I whirled in my seat. “Where?”

“Don’t be so obvious,” Temple scolded. “Over there. In the corner.”

He was seated alone at an out-of-the-way table that would have allowed anyone else to fade into the woodwork. But not Devlin. Even across the crowded restaurant, his magnetism was conspicuous.

My eyes lingered for only a moment before I turned back to Temple. “How do you know Devlin? No, don’t tell me. You had a torrid affair with him at Emerson.” I was only half joking.

“Don’t I wish,” she said with a knowing smile. “If he was at Emerson, we moved in different circles. I didn’t recognize the name when you mentioned it earlier, but now that I see his face, I remember him. We met a few years ago here in Charleston. I’d come down to examine some human artifacts that were found at a construction site, and Devlin and his partner were in charge of the investigation. He was young and had just made detective. The older cops teased him about his first homicide being nothing more than a few teeth and some vertebrae. It was all just good-natured ribbing. Then a young woman showed up—Devlin’s wife, I later learned—and the atmosphere changed. I can’t explain it. It was like she cast some sort of spell over us. We were all enthralled and she lapped up the attention like a kitten with a bowl of fresh cream.”

I found myself leaning forward in anticipation. It was all I could do not to glance back at Devlin. Silently, I urged Temple to continue, but I needn’t have bothered. This was Temple, after all.

“Devlin went to talk to her—how she even knew where to find him, I have no idea—and the whole time they stood there, I couldn’t stop staring at them.” Temple’s fingers tangled in the gold chain around her neck. “They were quite literally the most stunning couple I’d ever laid eyes on. And even though they were in the middle of a heated argument, there was something so primal and hungry about the way he stared down at her…the way their bodies unconsciously strained toward one another as if nothing—not time, not distance, not even death—could ever keep them apart.”

My breath quickened and I could feel the slow burn of a flush creeping up my neck. I fought temptation, lost and glanced over my shoulder.

Devlin stared back at me.

Thirteen

“Her name was Mariama,” Ethan said quietly.

Temple and I glanced at each other. Her brows rose slightly as she turned back to Ethan. “What an unusual name. And I noticed you used the past tense.”

He nodded, but didn’t clarify. “My father knew her family and he brought her to Emerson. Very bright young woman, but she had a hard time merging her personal beliefs with the science.”

“What were her personal beliefs?” Temple asked.

“What you get when you mix superstition and religion. Part Methodist, part witchcraft with a smidgen of voodoo. Her people were Gullah descended,” he said. “Atlantic Creoles.”

“That explains the gorgeous complexion and hair,” Temple murmured.

I knew a little about the Gullah history in the Sea Islands and the strong connection to the Rice Coast during the slave years. Until a few decades ago, some of the sects in South Carolina and Georgia had remained so isolated from society that certain words, names, even songs in their language could be traced directly back to Sierra Leone. Their belief in joso—witchcraft—could also be traced back to their African roots.

“Interesting that she would hook up with a police detective,” Temple said. “That must have been quite a culture clash.”

“Especially when you factor in his background. He’s from the same old Charleston that produced Camille Ashby. People with their pedigree don’t take lesbian lovers or Creole wives. But John never put much stock in tradition. He was already the black sheep long before Mariama came along.”

“Do tell.” Temple propped her chin on her hand and leaned in.

“Don’t look so eager,” Ethan said. “It’s not nearly as decadent as your story.”

“Pity.”

Ethan grinned. “John gave up a position in the family law firm to join the police force. It may not sound like that big a deal, but his decision went against an age-old legacy and a lifetime of expectations. I doubt he and his grandfather have spoken two words since the day he graduated from the academy.”

Temple sat back in her chair. “How do you know so much about him? Is he a personal friend of yours?”

“He is, as a matter of fact.” Ethan smiled at her over the rim of his glass. “And, anyway, this is Charleston, darling. Everyone knows everyone.”

I said nothing to any of this. I thought it a little disrespectful to be discussing Devlin’s personal life in such intimate detail. His table was far enough away and there was so much chatter in the restaurant that I knew he couldn’t hear us, but I was uncomfortable with the discussion just the same. Temple and Ethan apparently had no such compunction. They were like a pair of chattering magpies.

“So what happened to his wife?” Temple asked.

Ethan’s eyes clouded. “It was a horrible accident. Her car went through a guardrail and plunged into a river. She was trapped inside the vehicle and drowned.”

An image of Devlin’s ghosts rose before me.

“Was she alone?” I heard myself ask.

“No, sadly, their four-year-old daughter was with her. Their deaths very nearly destroyed John. He took six months’ leave from the department and just disappeared. No one knew where he went, but rumors eventually surfaced that he’d been checked into some sort of private sanitarium.”

“Can’t believe everything you hear,” Temple said. “But it does give a juicy twist to the story.”

Their voices faded as the air grew electric. I wanted to believe it was my imagination, but I knew better.