Arissa was honest when she said, “I can’t see how, but my interest is personal, looking to fill in a few holes.”
She nodded. “I’m afraid I’m getting close to being too old also. I remembered him visiting towns, but I couldn’t remember why. I went through his calendar. I still have them. My mother taught me never to throw anything away.”
Arissa leaned up, her focus on the old leather datebook. “What did you learn?”
“It was for one of his pro bono cases. Harley used to help those who couldn’t help themselves.” Her voice grew softer. “I don’t like the term but drug addicts. He helped get them clean, looked for family because the chances of someone staying clean increase when they have family to support them. He was looking for information on one of these clients. Unfortunately, I don’t have a name, but I do have an address. He did about ninety-five perfect of his pro bono work out of a shelter on Tenth Street, the one next door to the Sacred Heart Hospital.”
“So he was looking for family?” Arissa clarified.
“I’m not sure. Either looking for family or looking for his client, most likely a woman since the majority of those cases were women. Sometimes they ran off and he’d track them down.” Another sad smile, her focus drifting past Arissa as she remembered. “He never gave up. It was one of his most admirable traits.”
Arissa sank back in her chair. Harley’s death notwithstanding, Arissa’s interest in the man was why Harley had come to Summerville in the eighties, and based on what Marguerite shared, he was either looking for one of his down on their luck clients, or anyone who knew them. Arissa was making assumptions, huge leaps, but Harley showed up in Summerville looking for anyone who had moved to town within a two-year window of his visit. According to Penny during their talk at bingo, the Weathers’ arrival to Summerville was within that window. Was it possible Catherine was the one Harley was looking for? Was that Catherine’s secret, she’d been dependent on drugs, so much so that she’d lived in a shelter? It was sad, heartbreaking, but she wasn’t a victim. She got clean, found her way. Hank would only admire her knowing that.
“I really appreciate you taking the time to see me, especially under the circumstances,” Arissa said softly.
“It was nice to think of him, his life, and not focus on his death. Thank you for that,” Marguerite whispered. Silence settled for a minute before she added, “I hope I was helpful.”
“You were. Do you know if that shelter is still around?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I think maybe I’ll stop by. See if they remember anything,” Arissa shared.
“It’s hard work, the turnover is pretty high, but it is a federally funded shelter, which means they keep everything…have to because of the bureaucratic red tape. You might have to go through dusty boxes, but you should be able to track down who was there during the time you’re interested in.”
Arissa was willing to do whatever was needed to bring peace to Hank. “Thank you.” Her gaze moved to the pie plate and hoping to get a smile she confessed, “That pie is delicious.”
A little smile before Marguerite said, “My own recipe.”
The words just tumbled out. “Would you be willing to share it, not just with me, but as a featured summer pie for Southern Charm magazine?”
Her expression showed her interest, but more some of the sadness lifted too. “I must confess; I did look you up before you arrived. And may have made this pie in the hopes of impressing you.”
“Consider me impressed. It’s the best key lime pie I’ve tasted and I’ve tasted a lot.”
She was out of her chair, moving like a woman thirty years younger. And considering how solemn she’d been during their talk, it brought a smile to Arissa’s face. “I have a copy of the recipe on the counter.”
* * *
Later that day, Arissa brought Danielle with her to see Detective Sean Fowler. He had called her, asked for her to come to the station.
“I’ve never been inside a police station before,” Danielle said, looking around. “It looks a lot like the ones you see in those crime shows.”
Arissa grew warm thinking about Hank, his office and how much she loved going to his station.
The sergeant that greeted them wasn’t anything like Jo, quiet, reserved and when she glanced up, instead of a smile, they got a frown. Nostalgia hit Arissa hard. Her legs went a little weak because she was risking fucking up things with Hank by going against his express orders. Nothing was worth risking what was growing between them, and still she felt compelled to keep pulling at the string…for him.
“Can I help you?” the sergeant asked.
“I’m Arissa Haywood. Sean Fowler is expecting me.”
“One second.”
Danielle leaned closer. “Are you freaking out? I’m freaking out a little.”
Arissa glanced over at her. “Why are you freaking out?”
She twisted her fingers. “I once shoplifted the most perfect color lipstick. You think he’ll know. Can they spy criminals with just a look?”
Arissa’s mouth opened, then she closed it and grinned.
A tall man, with blond hair and blue eyes moved through the bullpen, stopping when he reached them. He smiled; a dimple peeked out on his one cheek. “I’m Detective Fowler. Thank you for coming in, Arissa.”
He reminded her a bit of Hank. The same confident way of moving, the same sharpness behind his eyes…cop eyes. She gestured absently to Danielle. “This is Danielle. We work together.”
“She’s my boss,” Danielle said, too brightly. Arissa looked over at her, but her focus was solely on Sean and she was grinning, that grin she got when she was attracted. Arissa looked back at Sean, noticed his gaze lingered a little longer than was polite on Danielle. Then Danielle blurted out, “I stole lipstick when I was twelve. It
