Secrets in Savannah Read online

  Secrets in Savannah

  The Southern Sleuth Book 3

  Harper Lin

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  SECRETS IN SAVANNAH Copyright © 2020 by Harper Lin.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.

  www.harperlin.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  About the Author

  A Note From Harper

  Excerpt from “A Hiss-tory of Magic”

  Chapter One

  Savannah, Georgia, 1922

  Willie’s Club was jumping. The cool weather outside had driven everyone within a fifty-mile radius to this tucked-away speakeasy. The dance floor was packed like a can of sardines. Bathtub gin and champagne were flowing like the Savannah River. The music thudded so loud it could be heard for two miles over the engine of a Ford Model T. And Becky Mackenzie was right smack in the middle of all of it.

  After her fourth dance partner for the evening, she flopped back into her seat at the round table in front of a high-backed booth and sipped from someone’s champagne glass before patting her forehead with a linen napkin. She smiled, waved, and then leaned over to her best friend, Martha Boudreaux, to talk directly in her ear.

  “Give me a ciggy,” she said.

  “Am I seeing things, or are you and Fanny getting along better these days?” Martha asked as she pulled a cigarette from her clutch purse.

  Becky wrinkled her nose before popping the cigarette into her mouth and striking a match. “I wouldn’t say we are getting along.” She inhaled and blew the smoke up into the air. “I’m just trying to make my mother happy. She insists Fanny is depressed about leaving Paris.”

  “She doesn’t look depressed.” Martha jerked her chin in Fanny’s direction.

  Cousin Fanny had come to visit the Mackenzie tobacco plantation after visiting Grammy Louise in Europe, mostly France. At this moment, she was standing at the long bar with three gents around her ready to do her bidding for a taste of gin from her slipper.

  “No, she doesn’t,” Becky said. “She shouldn’t. Mama just bought her that new dress today to help get her out of the doldrums.” She shook her head and took another sip of champagne. “Is this my drink?”

  “It is now,” Martha replied, giggling.

  “Hello, girls!” came a female voice from somewhere inside the dancing mob. “Woohoo! Over here!”

  Becky and Martha saw a waving hand in a long black glove with a bucket of ice around the wrist.

  “That’s got to be Violet,” Martha said, laughing.

  “Of course it is. Who else has that kind of jewelry in this place?” They waved and smiled back, urging the young woman to come join them.

  Violet Darcy couldn’t help but slink when she walked. Her hourglass figure wouldn’t allow for anything else, and there wasn’t a gent in the joint who didn’t take notice. It would have been easy to hate her, except she had a heart of gold that shined through her smile and twinkling green eyes. Becky and Martha had known her since childhood. Unlike them, Violet had grown up on a piece of land that produced nothing but more siblings. She was somewhere in the middle of nine children at last count but hadn’t gone back to her family homestead in years. A father who drank and a mother who all but gave up on life were too much for the raven-haired beauty to endure. She wanted more and used the only thing she had to get it.

  “I haven’t seen you both in ages!” Violet said over the music. Her long hair hung in lavish finger waves across the left side of her face and down to her shoulders. “How’s tricks?”

  “Can’t complain.” Becky took Violet’s gloved hand in hers to inspect the ring of diamonds around it. “Was it your birthday? How do you even lift your hand?”

  “It was a gift from Leonard.” She blushed and looked at her wrist. That was when her hair fell forward, revealing the deep purple shiner over her left eye.

  “Great balls of fire, Violet! What happened?” Becky asked, her eyes wide with concern. “Your eye! Does it hurt? You poor thing.”

  “Oh, you know me. Had a little too much champagne and walked into a door. It’s nothing.” She smiled as if she believed her own lie.

  Everyone knew what kind of guy Leonard was. He was a wise guy and a Bruno who had no problem putting people in their place if he felt they needed it. And the rumor was he felt almost everyone needed it. He towered over Violet by at least a foot and was built like the Farmall tractor Judge Mackenzie used every spring to till his land. This wasn’t the first time Violet had shown up at a joint with a black-and-blue love tap from the guy. It usually led to another string of pearls, another sparkling pair of earrings, or another fur. She was the most glamorously dressed punching bag in all of Savannah.

  “Pull up a chair, Violet. Have a drink with us,” Martha urged, patting the empty spot next to her. “We were just about to get the boys to order up another round.”

  “I’d love to,” Violet said before turning around and looking across the room. But just as she was about to slide behind the table, Leonard showed up and slipped his meaty paw around her tiny waist.

  “Come on. We’re going,” he muttered.

  “Oh, okay. Sorry, girls. Maybe next time?” Violet smiled and batted the one good eye that wasn’t hidden by her hair.

  “Absolutely!” Becky replied. “We’ll save you a seat.”

  Violet waved and blew a kiss to Becky and Martha before turning her back and snuggling into Leonard’s arm. Just as the diamonds on Violet’s wrists sparkled and caused the ladies to look on with envy, Violet sparkled on Leonard’s arm, making the men feel that same envy.

  “She could do so much better,” Martha snapped. “If Teddy ever thought he could sock me one, I’d pick up the heaviest thing I could get my hands on and give it right back.”

  “I know you would,” Becky replied.

  She watched them leave and felt a strange twinge in her stomach. Something wasn’t right. Aside from the obvious—that Violet Darcy was a sweetheart of a gal mixed up with a real goon—something else had shifted in the air. Becky looked around and didn’t see anything strange or out of place. She chalked it up to the bad that surrounded Leonard and let it go.

  “Do you think she really loves him?” Martha asked.

  “I do. I think she really loves Leonard and would do anything to prove it to him. And as crazy as this might sound, I think he loves her. As much as a gorilla like him could,” Becky added. “But one thing is for sure. His way of showing that love is different from just about every other man in the world.”

  “Do you think she’ll ever leave him?”

  “I don’t know. Violet would have to find herself the
only guy in Savannah who was willing to cross not just Leonard but his group of associates, and those guys ain’t much for being told what to do.” Becky finished the glass of champagne in front of her.

  “You aren’t just whistling Dixie,” Martha concurred.

  “But I do pray she finds a fella like that. Someone who can take her away to start fresh. She’s got such a good heart. It seems like a waste to give it to Leonard Brennan,” Becky replied before waving to Teddy.

  Theodore “Teddy” Rockdale was Becky’s neighbor, Martha’s main squeeze, and everyone’s chauffer. His flivver could hold everyone if they all inhaled, and he was as charming behind the wheel as he was everywhere else. He waved back and hurried over.

  “Bring us another round, would you, darling?” Becky batted her eyes.

  “Absolutely.” He leaned over and shouted in Martha’s ear, “Please don’t tell me your dance card is full!”

  “I’d give them all the bum’s rush for you, Theodore,” Martha replied before giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

  “Hot dog! Let me get you ladies a little more ambrosia, and we’ll show them how it’s done.” Teddy turned on his heel and strutted back to the bar. He returned with a champagne cocktail in each hand and a shot of gin on top of his head.

  “Your ability to stand upright is amazing,” Becky teased.

  “I’m a man of many talents. Ready?” He extended his hand to Martha, who took a quick sip of her drink before accepting and letting him whirl her onto the dance floor, where they were all but swallowed by the crowd.

  Becky was alone at the table. She’d danced with half the gents in the place already and chatted with their girls along the way. Every few seconds, someone new would wave hello to her or shout her name. Becky was popular and well-liked by just about all the regulars, with the exception of Cousin Fanny, who had an inherent dislike for anyone who was of the same gender as she.

  As Becky looked around the room, she caught a glimpse of Violet slipping into a full-length fur, with Leonard watching everyone around. He wanted a girl who looked like Violet because it made him feel like a big shot. But Becky was sure that Leonard probably didn’t even know how to spell her last name, as he wasn’t all that interested in who she was but rather what she was. And what she was was the most beautiful arm ornament in Savannah.

  Just as she was thinking this, she saw Leonard looking right at her. With a smirk, she raised her glass to him before taking a sip. He didn’t show any emotion but instead leaned over to one of the goons sitting at the corner table in the shadows, jerked his thumb in Becky’s direction, and whispered a few words. The other guy looked at Becky, who waved again. He didn’t smile either but just nodded.

  “What are you doing making eye contact with those kinds of men?” Fanny asked as she finally left the men at the bar and crashed down into the booth, bumping into her cousin. She was well lit and became even more annoying when she was.

  “I’ve seen them around. They don’t scare me,” Becky said, still casually watching Leonard lead Violet out of the club, with two other men following close behind.

  “They’re gangsters. As sure as I’m sitting here,” Fanny said. “And I don’t know who that barlow thinks she is sashaying around showcasing those diamonds.”

  “Why, Fanny, don’t tell me you’re jealous of Violet,” Becky poked.

  “Jealous of her? I don’t think so. I had plenty of fine beaus in Paris who were simply dying to drape me in jewels and finery. But Grammy Louise wouldn’t hear of it. There’s a name for girls who acquire their accessories that way,” Fanny said.

  “What is that name, Fanny?” Becky asked only half listening.

  “A belle-de-nuit. That’s a woman of the night.” She put her finger against her nose and looked at Becky seriously. “And if you aren’t careful, well, birds of a feather. You know the saying.”

  That was the last thing Becky was worried about being called. Funny, the people she knew at all the speakeasies and juke joints would never think of her that way. But ask at her mother’s beauty parlor or at the last Ladies’ Auxiliary meeting, and they might say it was a distinct possibility.

  The following morning, after a long night of dancing, Becky woke up with the sorest feet she’d ever had. As she tenderly walked barefoot downstairs, unsure how she was going to fit into her shoes, she heard her parents talking. There had been a murder.

  “It says here she was last seen at a popular nightclub last night. My goodness, Judge, you don’t think Becky could have known her?” Kitty Mackenzie asked as she rustled the newspaper.

  “Knew who?” Becky asked as she winced and wiggled her toes when she entered the dining room.

  “Morning, honey,” Kitty said. “Paper says her name was Violet Darcy. Poor thing was found dead last night.”

  Chapter Two

  “I know the Darcys,” Judge Mackenzie said before taking a sip of coffee. “A tragedy in that household. So many beautiful children, and a decent piece of land if the man had any desire to work it.”

  “Violet? Dead? What happened?” Becky snatched the paper away from her mother and quickly scanned the article.

  “The article says she was found in the alley not far from where she lived. I find it interesting that a young lady, not married, could afford an apartment in that neighborhood.” Kitty’s back stiffened as she took a sip of coffee.

  “Oh, Mama, Violet was a sweet girl. She didn’t deserve this.” Becky read the article, which said not much more than what her mother had relayed. “Oh my. This says she was shot. They suspect she was a casualty of rival gangs. I find that rather convenient.”

  “What do you mean?” Kitty asked. “Oh, Becky, I do hope that you aren’t involved with such people. It doesn’t take but once to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Mama, I’m always in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s why I have so much fun.”

  Becky folded the newspaper and handed it back to Kitty. She sat down at the dining room table with her mind full of images of Violet, who she had just seen last night. The paper didn’t mention the black eye. It also didn’t mention whether any jewelry was found on her. Becky, knowing this wasn’t just some accidental death, was sure someone had come along and taken the ice from around her neck and wrist. Probably Leonard himself, after he shot her. It would save him the trouble of buying Violet’s replacement something new.

  Becky finished her coffee and a hunk of cornbread before excusing herself.

  “Where are you going?” Kitty asked.

  “Well, it’s a toss-up. I was thinking of either robbing the First Federal Bank of Savannah in the middle of town or going out to do some sketches of nature. Which do you think is more prudent?” Becky asked her mother seriously.

  Judge chuckled behind the paper he’d snatched from Kitty.

  “Don’t you go on encouraging her. Rebecca Madeline, you are the thorn in my side.” Kitty sighed.

  “All right, Mama. For you, I’ll stick to the right side of the law. I’ll just be out and about drawing the lay of the land.”

  “Now you be back in time for lunch. We have a visitor joining us.”

  Those words froze Becky in her tracks. She shifted from one foot to the other and looked at her mother with her right eyebrow raised.

  “Who is joining us for lunch?” Becky asked.

  “His name is Roland P. Welch. He’s a fine fellow. Kin to the Merriweathers on his grandmother’s side. Now, he’s a slight bit older than you, but maybe that is your dilemma. The young bucks around here are just too juvenile for you. A man with a bit more worldly experience might be just the ticket,” Kitty said with a simper on her lips.

  “Mama, you know I’m seeing Adam White. He’s been nothing but a perfect gentleman every time he’s set foot on this property,” Becky huffed.

  “He has. I just don’t think you should limit yourself. The world is a big place, and Roland has seen quite a bit of it. He can show it to you. It’s about time he settled down
as well.” Kitty said all this as if it made perfect sense.

  Judge looked over his paper at her. “Kitty, how much older is this Roland P. Welch?” he asked.

  “Oh, not much. Five, maybe ten years Becky’s senior. Give or take a year or two,” Kitty replied proudly.

  “Mama, you are the thorn in my side,” Becky huffed before heading upstairs to get her sketchbook and retreat to the Old Brick Cemetery that was behind the Mackenzie tobacco field.

  Just as she was getting to her room, Cousin Fanny appeared from the water closet. She looked a little worse for wear, with dark circles under her eyes. But no one ever noticed her eyes when Fanny walked into a room. Today would be no different.

  “Morning, Fanny,” Becky said. “Feeling all right?”

  “I’m just fine,” she lied. “I hear you have a gentleman caller paying you a visit today.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Aunt Kitty told me about it yesterday. I do believe she has a splendid idea, but I don’t think a man that much your senior should be calling on you. A man with experience doesn’t have to be old. Like Stephen Penbroke.” Fanny cleared her throat.

  “Why would you bring him up?” Becky squinted at Fanny as if she might be able to catch a glimpse of her motive.

  “I can’t help it, Cousin Becky. I see something in the two of you. I know it isn’t my place. I’m just being honest.” Fanny smiled. “Well, I don’t expect you to take my word for it. Just because I did successfully matchmake several of my acquaintances in Paris, who would have otherwise been roaming around lonesome and miserable for heaven knows how long, that doesn’t give me any authority over your love life.”