Read Online 04 Lowcountry Bordello by Susan M. Boyer - Free Book Online
Authors: Susan M. Boyer
Tags: Women Sleuths, cozy mystery, Murder mysteries, british cozy mysteries, mystery books, detective novels, murder mystery series, english mysteries, murder mystery books, female detective, private investigator series
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the upholstered armchair over to the corner between the right front window and the window facing south on Church Street. Then I grabbed a couple pillows from the daybed and fashioned a lap-desk. So much had happened so fast. I hadn’t had a chance to process everything.
My instincts were to dig straight into deep background on Thurston Middleton. But I needed to organize my thoughts. Like evidence, I needed to log and tag each fact. This case felt like a bowl of spaghetti in my brain. So many pieces already piled on top of each other and twisted together. I needed to sort what we knew into possibilities—feasible theories, or narratives of the crime. I pulled out my laptop and started a case file.
Because I had no proof there’d been a body in 12 Church Street the night before, and I had unequivocally witnessed—and documented—a body-free parlor, I started with what I knew: Seth Quinlan was blackmailing my client’s wife. Olivia had gone to the house the night before to meet with her aunt. While there, she’d seen what she believed to be a body in the parlor. With excruciating detail, I documented the lack of evidence indicating a murder had been committed on the premises.
Then I created a profile on Seth Quinlan. I logged into a subscription database and located his birth certificate. No father was listed. He was roughly twelve years older than us. I checked public records. He owned no property I could locate except a 2010 Dodge truck. He had no adult criminal record, and no civil suits had been filed against him.
I was able to pull a copy of his driver’s license from another database. At six feet three inches tall, two hundred twenty pounds, with long, unruly, medium brown hair, and hazel eyes, he was a nice enough looking man in an outdoorsy kind of way. I wondered why he’d never married, moved away from his aunts.
A quick property search told me The Willow-Mary Trust owned the house at 12 Church Street. It didn’t take long to verify that Willowdean Beauthorpe owned half interest in the trust, and Olivia Beauthorpe Pearson had inherited the other half. This kind of information is only available if you know what to look for, which accounted for why I’d missed it a couple years back.
Only after I’d documented all the facts did I allow myself to create a sub-file labeled “Speculation.” Here is where I would list all the possibilities. Speculation and possibilities were not admissible in court.
I heard Nate on the stairs before the door opened.
“Annelise sent up cookies.” He set down the camera equipment, then crossed the room and bent to give me a kiss that made me lose every thought in my head. When he stood, his smoky blue eyes held mine. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
“We need to wrap up this sordid business so we can go back to dreaming about our honeymoon.” He handed me a napkin with two iced Christmas tree cookies.
“That gets my vote.” I refocused, with great effort. “If you want to put the camera here, I can move. I thought the angle was better from the left window.”
“This will work just fine.” He went about setting up the tripod and camera.
“I’ve documented thoroughly how I don’t think there was a body in the house across the street last night.”
“That might well come in handy later. We can hope neither of us ends up on a witness stand, but I wouldn’t put money on it.”
“Purely as a hypothetical exercise, if there was a body, the only person who couldn’t’ve been responsible is Aunt Dean. She was upstairs with Olivia while Robert was wandering around downstairs in the dark with a flashlight. At that point, there was no body. Aunt Dean was still upstairs when Olivia came down and found the body.”
Nate canted his head towards his shoulder, looked skeptical. “If we believe everything our clients have told us thus far. They have both been less than forthcoming.”
“Right.” I inhaled deeply. “So for the moment, I see
My instincts were to dig straight into deep background on Thurston Middleton. But I needed to organize my thoughts. Like evidence, I needed to log and tag each fact. This case felt like a bowl of spaghetti in my brain. So many pieces already piled on top of each other and twisted together. I needed to sort what we knew into possibilities—feasible theories, or narratives of the crime. I pulled out my laptop and started a case file.
Because I had no proof there’d been a body in 12 Church Street the night before, and I had unequivocally witnessed—and documented—a body-free parlor, I started with what I knew: Seth Quinlan was blackmailing my client’s wife. Olivia had gone to the house the night before to meet with her aunt. While there, she’d seen what she believed to be a body in the parlor. With excruciating detail, I documented the lack of evidence indicating a murder had been committed on the premises.
Then I created a profile on Seth Quinlan. I logged into a subscription database and located his birth certificate. No father was listed. He was roughly twelve years older than us. I checked public records. He owned no property I could locate except a 2010 Dodge truck. He had no adult criminal record, and no civil suits had been filed against him.
I was able to pull a copy of his driver’s license from another database. At six feet three inches tall, two hundred twenty pounds, with long, unruly, medium brown hair, and hazel eyes, he was a nice enough looking man in an outdoorsy kind of way. I wondered why he’d never married, moved away from his aunts.
A quick property search told me The Willow-Mary Trust owned the house at 12 Church Street. It didn’t take long to verify that Willowdean Beauthorpe owned half interest in the trust, and Olivia Beauthorpe Pearson had inherited the other half. This kind of information is only available if you know what to look for, which accounted for why I’d missed it a couple years back.
Only after I’d documented all the facts did I allow myself to create a sub-file labeled “Speculation.” Here is where I would list all the possibilities. Speculation and possibilities were not admissible in court.
I heard Nate on the stairs before the door opened.
“Annelise sent up cookies.” He set down the camera equipment, then crossed the room and bent to give me a kiss that made me lose every thought in my head. When he stood, his smoky blue eyes held mine. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
“We need to wrap up this sordid business so we can go back to dreaming about our honeymoon.” He handed me a napkin with two iced Christmas tree cookies.
“That gets my vote.” I refocused, with great effort. “If you want to put the camera here, I can move. I thought the angle was better from the left window.”
“This will work just fine.” He went about setting up the tripod and camera.
“I’ve documented thoroughly how I don’t think there was a body in the house across the street last night.”
“That might well come in handy later. We can hope neither of us ends up on a witness stand, but I wouldn’t put money on it.”
“Purely as a hypothetical exercise, if there was a body, the only person who couldn’t’ve been responsible is Aunt Dean. She was upstairs with Olivia while Robert was wandering around downstairs in the dark with a flashlight. At that point, there was no body. Aunt Dean was still upstairs when Olivia came down and found the body.”
Nate canted his head towards his shoulder, looked skeptical. “If we believe everything our clients have told us thus far. They have both been less than forthcoming.”
“Right.” I inhaled deeply. “So for the moment, I see
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