The High Tide Club

“That’s what I hoped you’d say,” Brooke said. “I also don’t want to drag Varina into any kind of trouble since, as far as we know, she’s the only living witness to … that night.”

The library door opened, and Louette emerged. “They want to talk to y’all,” she said.

* * *

Brooke was relieved to see that a blanket had been placed over Josephine’s body. Kendra Younts was busily dumping Josephine’s medications into a plastic bag, and Sheriff Goolsby was sitting on the chintz wing chair, scribbling in a small notebook.

“Y’all can come in,” he said without looking up from his notes. “Just finishing up here.”

“Okay, Howard,” Kendra said. “I’m gonna bring in the stretcher if you’re all set here.”

“All set,” the sheriff said.

He looked up at Brooke and seemed puzzled. “You look awful familiar. Have we met before?”

“Probably. I’m a lawyer, and I think our paths have crossed at the courthouse.”

He snapped his fingers. “Now I got it. You’re Brittni Miles’s lawyer, right?”

“Afraid so,” Brooke said, laughing. “But please don’t judge me by my clients.”

“I’ll try not to,” Goolsby said. “That is one crazy little gal, though. You know she went on a hunger strike because my deputies wouldn’t bring her a Diet Dr. Pepper?”

“She’s still in your jail? I thought her stepfather was going to bail her out.”

“Not yet. If he doesn’t come get her pretty soon, though, we’re fixing to take up a collection and bail her out ourselves.” He closed his notebook and rested it on one knee. “What’s your connection to Mrs. Warrick?”

“She hired me a couple of weeks ago, in a legal capacity, to help her find the heirs of her oldest friends. And she also wanted me to draw up a new will.”

“And did you do that?”

“We ran into some complications. It turns out that one of the people she wanted to leave a bequest to, the daughter of her late best friend, is my mother, Marie Trappnell. Which is why she hired me in the first place. Once I realized we had a conflict, I suggested she hire Gabe, who I used to work for in Savannah.”

Goolsby nodded at Gabe Wynant. “Savannah, huh? You know Wayne duBose?”

“I know Sheriff duBose quite well,” Gabe said. “We’re in Rotary Club together.”

“Wayne’s a good man,” Goolsby said. “Comes down here fishing with me when he can get away from the big city.” He tapped his notebook with a pen. “I think we’re about set here. I’d heard Mrs. Warrick was terminally ill, and the housekeeper confirmed that. She was on some pretty strong new pain meds, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“And she consumed some alcohol at dinner last night, even though the housekeeper warned her against mixing the pills with alcohol?”

“That’s correct,” Gabe said. “We finished dinner around ten o’clock, and I helped her from the dining room because she was somewhat unsteady on her feet.”

“Did she seem okay, otherwise?”

“She was groggy,” Brooke said.

“And there were some dogs in here? The housekeeper mentioned she might have tripped over them?”

“Two Chihuahuas,” Brooke said. “Teeny and Tiny. You rarely saw Josephine without those dogs at her feet. I guess Louette must have put them in another room now. But they were here this morning when I came down.”

“Okay, then,” Goolsby said. “Kendra and I agree, this is a textbook accidental death, likely alcohol-and-drug-related. Hell of a way for the old lady to go, though. She was pretty much a legend around here. Her family did a lot of good in this county.”

“She told me her father was always very community-minded, even though he wasn’t originally from here,” Brooke said.

“That was way before my time, of course, but my granddaddy used to talk about what a fine person Mr. Bettendorf was. What happens to all of this now?” Goolsby asked. “She never had any kids, did she?”

“No children, no close surviving family,” Gabe said. “And unfortunately, as far as we can tell, she died intestate.”

Goolsby blinked. “I thought you said you did her will.”

“I did, but she died before it could be witnessed.”

The door opened, and Kendra Younts wheeled in a gleaming chrome collapsible stretcher.

“Son of a bitch,” the sheriff said.

Gabe pointed at the stretcher. “That might not be necessary. Mrs. Warrick specified that she wanted to be buried in the family plot here on the island. According to Louette, she even has a handmade casket out in the barn. So why transport the body over to the mainland when it’s just going to end up back here?”

“That’s a pretty unusual request,” Kendra said.

Brooke imagined the coroner mentally calculating the amount of money her family’s funeral home would not be billing to Josephine’s estate. No transport. No embalming or cremation. No bronze coffin, no visitation in the Younts Mortuary’s Palmetto Parlor, no hearse …

“Josephine Warrick was a pretty unusual woman,” the sheriff said. He nodded at Kendra. “We’re agreed it’s an accidental death, but I think we might want to touch base with her doctors to confirm their diagnosis of her illness and all. So we’ll go ahead and take her over to the morgue at the hospital just in case. Afterward, we can release the body to be brought back over here.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Brooke agreed.

“First thing Monday, I’ll petition with the court to be named administrator of the estate,” Gabe said. He stood and handed business cards to the sheriff and the coroner. “Please let me know if you have any questions, and of course, I’d appreciate it if you could notify me when the death certificate is ready.”

Brooke quickly left the room before they began transferring Josephine to the stretcher. The dining room was empty and had been cleared of all traces of breakfast. When she went looking for more coffee, she found Louette and Shug standing in the kitchen. Shug had his arm around his wife’s waist, and Louette’s head rested on his shoulder. Their backs were to her, but she could hear Louette’s racking sobs from where she stood.

She backed out of the room to leave them alone with their grief.

* * *

She was walking back toward the living room when she heard scratching and whining from behind another door.

Brooke opened the door slightly, and Teeny and Tiny came scrambling out, barking indignantly and flinging themselves at her ankles.

On an impulse, she scooped them both up and cradled one under each arm. “Hey, girls,” she crooned. “Poor little girls. I guess we sort of forgot about you in all this excitement.”

One of the dogs raised her head up and began licking Brooke’s neck. She read the tag on the collar. “So you’re Tiny.” She held the dog at arm’s length. “How am I gonna tell you apart from your sister? Oh, okay. Your ears are way longer than Teeny’s. And no offense, but you’ve kind of got an overbite. How did I miss that?”

The back door opened, and C. D. poked his head inside the hallway and cleared his throat.

“Hey, uh, Brooke. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Of course. Did you already take the sheriff back to the dock?”