Ugh. I can hear Miss Delia’s voice in my head cursing the fact that he’s learned my first name. But all’s not lost. It’s only my nickname, and my last name’s still under wraps.
Beau laughs. “It sure is. Though not half as pretty as she is.” He winks at me, then nudges Claude’s arm with his meaty elbow. “You’d never guess it, but Emma and Jack are twins. Don’t look a lick alike.”
Claude shakes his head. “Not a lick.” He seems positively delighted.
Beau continues, his chest gurgling with every excited word. “Their daddy is my caretaker. He and I used to run wild on this island when we were boys. The Guthries have worked for the Beaumonts for generations. Just as I suspect old Jack here will end up working for my son, eventually.” His lips part in a knowing grin.
Jack shakes his head. “No, I won’t.”
“No, he won’t,” Cooper says at the same time.
Beau waves his hand. “That’s what all the Guthries say. But time has a way of proving them wrong. Just ask your daddy about how he swore he was going north to make his own way. Yet when your momma kicked him out, where’d he go? Straight back here to High Point Bluff.” He erupts in laughter, which rattles in his chest and kicks off a coughing fit that causes him to wince and clutch at his side.
White-hot anger boils in my gut. I hate when he belittles my father and detest even more when he speaks of my mother. He has no idea what happened between them. No one does, actually, since neither one of them has ever told Jack or me why they divorced, but whatever the reason, it’s between them. It’s none of Beau’s business, and it’s certainly not Claude’s.
Sheriff Walker clears his throat. “So y’all found her this morning?” He hiccups then covers his mouth. “Excuse me.”
Cooper nods. “Yes, sir. It was quite a shock.”
“I called 9-1-1 as soon as we found her,” Jack adds.
“But it was pretty obvious she was…well, you know.” I shudder at the memory of her lavender shoulder and blue-black gums. “There wasn’t anything we could do.”
“I’ll bet it was difficult.” The sheriff’s stomach rumbles. Rubbing his uniform with his palm, he hiccups again, this time with more force. “Goodness, forgive me. I let Thomas talk me into the blue-plate special this morning at Daisy’s. Looks like that wasn’t the best decision.” Chuckling, he looks back at his notebook, stares for a moment, then strokes the black-and-white whiskers in his trimmed beard. He looks a little confused.
Claude tilts his head and peers over his blue glasses. “Did you have any other questions, Sheriff?”
Staring at the paper in his hand, the sheriff bites his bottom lip. Blinking several times, he flicks his wrist, flipping the cover closed. “No, I think that about covers it.” Though he doesn’t look entirely convinced.
Seriously? I’m no supersleuth, but even I think there’s plenty of stuff left to ask. Like for instance, was Missy sick or did she have any health problems? Did she take any weird drugs? Did she have any enemies? Plus a whole list of other questions a kindergartener could probably come up with. Not to mention a query about the solarium. He had to have seen that disaster area. Isn’t he at least wondering what the heck happened in there?
Claude peers into the sheriff’s eyes. “So what can you tell us? Do you have a cause of death?” His stark- white teeth gleam.
Sheriff Walker hiccups again, this time hard enough to shake his chest. “I probably shouldn’t say anything until the coroner completes his examination.” He scratches his head and looks around the room. “I suppose it can’t hurt to tell you there were no obvious injuries.”
Claude narrows his gaze. “So you’re thinking natural causes?”
Sheriff Walker nods as he rubs his stomach. “Possibly, though you can never be sure without an autopsy, especially with someone so young.” Another hiccup leaps from his mouth, snapping his head back. “Especially when we find an unusual substance near the deceased. It’s usually best to wait for the toxicology reports.”
Beau wails. “I won’t allow my sweet sugar bee to be cut up.” His chest shudders and he swallows a sob.
Claude puts his finger up. “What type of substance?” He bores into the sheriff with his stare.
“We’re not sure, actually.” He blinks a few times, then glances at his notes. “Black, tar-like. None of us has ever seen anything like it before. It could be something, or nothing at all. There’s no way to know for sure until we hear back from the lab.”
“And if you don’t find anything, you’ll be right back where you started. With natural causes,” Claude says as if it’s a predetermined certainty.
The sheriff nods. “Yup. Natural causes. Sounds about right.”
Sheriff Walker hiccups again, but this time, his lids bulge and his cheeks puff outward. “Forgive me, that scrapple is getting the best of me.” He jumps from his chair, then scrambles out of the library. His footfalls carry down the hall. A moment later, the powder-room door slams shut.
Claude turns to Beau. “I think I’ll check on the deputies’ progress upstairs. I’m guessing they might need a little assistance. When I’m through, why don’t we meet in your study to finish our discussion about the museum?” He pushes off the sofa, flattens the creases in his black suit pants, and straightens his tie.
Beau beams even though a minute ago he was on the verge of weeping. “Excellent idea, Corbeau.”
My body hums with a sick, antsy feeling. What the heck is going on? Claude seems happy to jump into this investigation—maybe too happy. Doesn’t he already have his hands full with the museum heist? Does he really need to get so involved in this one? And now that I think of it, the whole natural-causes thing was his idea. How did he get the sheriff to agree so easily? Maybe there was a little something extra in that virgin mint julep after all.
I have no idea why but I’m suddenly feeling as ill as Sheriff Walker. Desperate for fresh air, I could race to the windows and throw them open, but that would only keep me in this musty, old room. I’ve got to get out of here. Now.
I turn to Cooper. “I’m not feeling too well. I need to get outside and breathe. Maybe sit on the beach for a while.”
He nods. “Sure. Whatever.” But he doesn’t meet my eyes; instead he keeps his gaze trained on his feet.
I pause, surprised he didn’t offer to come with me like usual. Normally he’d grab any chance to get out of here and flee the craziness of this house and his father’s cruelty. But this is no ordinary day and it’s not fair to expect him to act like it is. Missy’s death was a shock, but it’s obviously brought up horrible memories of his mother. He needs space to process this. But I need a cool sea breeze and the sun’s warm rays to purge the queasiness churning my stomach.
Jack shoots me a look, silently asking if I want his company. I shake my head. Cooper needs him more than I do right now.
“Okay, I’ll see you later then.” I reach for Cooper’s hand, but he pulls it away and waves good-bye instead.
“See you.” Again, he doesn’t look my way.
“Yeah, see you.” Squelching the twinge of worry wiggling at the back of my mind, I rise to my feet and climb over his outstretched legs.
Exiting the library, I head down the hall toward the foyer. Just as I’m rounding the corner, Claude steps into my path.
“So,
Chapter Eleven
I suck in a breath and blink, transfixed by his slippery, almost serpentlike grin. “Uh, yeah, thanks. Me too,” I manage though it’s a giant lie. In fact, I could have gone the rest of my life without ever seeing him again and I’d have been happy. But now he knows my relationship to the Beaumonts and my name, a fact that will likely flip Miss Delia’s lid.
