telling what kind of trouble she could cause.”
I nod. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Claude’s brow arches above his lenses. “I wonder, Miss Emma, if you find it as interesting as I do that you are acquainted with the Beaumonts and Miss Whittaker?”
“I can’t really say, since I don’t know how interesting you think it is. This is a small island. Just about everyone knows everyone. And it doesn’t explain why you were in Beau’s study without him.”
Claude rubs his chin with his long, spindly fingers. “It is a small island. Tell me, how does someone like you come to know someone like Miss Delia?”
What he’s really asking is how a little white girl like me—or as the Gullah say, a
“Oh, I suspect you could if you tried.”
I shake my head. “Nope, nothing comes to mind.”
He leans close, way past the boundary of my personal space and whispers in my ear. “Let me offer you a bit of advice. You may want to steer clear of your dear old friend. My investigation of the museum robbery is far from over and I’ve developed some promising leads that all seem to end at her rickety doorstep. When I’m through, she may be looking at hard time.” He chuckles. “Though of course, given her advanced age she isn’t likely to have much of that left. I’d hate for you to get caught up in this nasty business.”
I take a step back. “Do you seriously think a feeble, old lady in a wheelchair broke into the museum?” I work to sound extra snarky and indignant, but the tiny tremor in my voice reveals how scared I am of his power.
“Perhaps. And maybe she had some coconspirators. You never know who an investigation like this may implicate. It’s one of the great joys of this job. The mystery.” He nudges closer. “The hunt. The capture.” His cologne hangs in the air, a nauseating mixture of patchouli, burned smoke, and a hint of something that reminds me of a Jolly Rancher candy.
Realizing I can turn the tables on him, I cross my arms and stand my ground. “You only have this job because of Beau. What do you think he’d say if he knew you were in his study? I’m betting he’d wonder how you got in, seeing as he’s got the key literally chained to his body at all times.”
Claude’s reptilian smile slips for just a second. “How do you know my visit isn’t part of my job? Perhaps my investigation has led me to look at the most unusual of suspects. Perhaps even the victims themselves.”
“Huh? How’s that supposed to work?”
“Can you imagine the real culprit might hire me to redirect the investigation and throw suspicion off themselves? Mr. Beaumont is one of the chief donors to the King Center, which stands to earn a substantial insurance settlement as a result of the robbery. As for his private concerns about a burglary here at High Point Bluff, well, the payout for a stolen ruby of that caliber would be substantial.”
I snort. “You’d really turn on your boss like that? Beau got you this job. Without him, you wouldn’t even be here.”
“Oh, I suspect I would have found a way to St. Helena eventually. Mr. Beaumont may have brought me to this island, but my only allegiance is to righting wrong. A heinous crime was committed on this island, and I’ll stop at nothing to make the culprit pay.”
Whoa, and I’m the emo one? Okay, so we stole a couple of artifacts—one of which had been stolen from its rightful owner—what we did wasn’t totally right, but it wasn’t exactly what I’d call heinous, either.
“Trust me, Beau Beaumont didn’t rob the museum or steal his own family’s ruby necklace.”
“No, but perhaps your father, Jed did. He is Beau’s sole employee, is he not? Ever loyal. Perhaps to a fault.”
My heart seizes. In a matter of moments, he’s gone from threatening to prosecute Miss Delia to dragging Beau and my father into this. I remember how he nudged Sheriff Walker into thinking Missy’s death was from natural causes. I’m not sure how he accomplished that little trick, but there’s nothing stopping him from unleashing his power to mess with my dad. And since the sheriff seems inclined to do whatever Claude wants, my dad will be in the slammer faster than he can spell turpentine.
“That’s impossible. My father would never do anything like that. Ever.”
He shrugs. “I only go where the evidence leads me. Now, you can either tell Beau you saw me in his study and risk where I might take my investigation, or we can forget this entire conversation ever took place and I can get back to my job.”
I don’t have a choice, do I? If I say anything about Claude being in the study, there’s no telling what accusations he’ll lodge against Beau and my dad. I almost couldn’t care less about what happens to Beau, though he shouldn’t be arrested for something he didn’t do. It’s my dad I worry about. He’s just the caretaker who’s got nothing to do with Beau’s shady dealings or what Cooper, Jack, and I did this summer.
My shoulders droop as I step aside. “I guess we’re done here.”
“Nice necklace, by the way. I haven’t seen anything like that since I was in Louisiana.” He brushes past me and slithers down the hall toward the great room.
I grind my teeth. He may have won this round, but there’s no way he’ll win the next. I’ve got hoodoo magic and the element of surprise on my side. And I fully intend to use them.
But first, I’ve got to warn Miss Delia.
Chapter Fifteen
Except I can’t do anything until I take care of my soaked and still-clinging dress. I charge up the stairs to Cooper’s room, tear it off, and blot the remaining cranberry juice on my skin with a towel he left tossed on his bed. Then I throw open his dresser and root for some clothes that might fit me. The best I can find is a pair of running shorts with an elastic waistband and a too-big T-shirt that hangs off my shoulders like a sack.
There’s no time to rinse this chintzy sundress. Instead, I ball it up and tuck it under my arm, then race back to the great room. Taneea is nestled in the corner of the sofa next to Cooper, and Jack’s perched on the arm, tracking her every move. Claude and Beau are deep in conversation on the opposite sofa. Though Claude’s still wearing those god-awful blue sunglasses, I feel the weight of his stare as I cross the room to where Cooper and Jack are.
I sit on the coffee table and lean close, keeping my voice low to prevent Claude from overhearing. “Hey, guys, listen. There’s something we’ve got to do.”
Taneea snorts. “Nice outfit.”
I glare at her.
“Hey, those are mine,” Cooper says.
I furrow my brow. “And?” Since when is it a problem that I borrow some of his clothes? He always lets me wear his shirt as a cover-up at the beach.
“Am I going to get them back? That’s one of my favorite shirts.”
Is he for real? “Uh, yeah, as soon as I wash it. But right now I
He gestures toward the door. “Okay. So go.”
“But I need you to take me.”
His face falls flat and his eyes—now the soft gray hue of a pussy-willow catkin—look hollow. “I’m exhausted. Can’t we go tomorrow?”
Taneea strokes his arm. “Of course you are. You’ve been through a lot.”
He turns to her and smiles. “Thanks. It’s been harder than I thought.”
Jack scoffs. “Really, dude?”
Cooper turns to him, his face drawn. “Yeah. It would be nice if you showed a little sympathy.”
Jack throws his hands up. “Sorry.”
“Hey, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you give me that tour you promised? I want to see the whole plantation.” Taneea pushes off the sofa and hitches her ugly bag over her shoulder, then threads between the sofa and the
