LOWCOUNTRY BOOKSHOP by Susan M. Boyer

Author:Susan M. Boyer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: private investigators;women sleuths;Southern fiction
Publisher: Henery Press
Published: 2018-04-18T17:37:16+00:00

THIRTEEN

Charleston is blessed with so many wonderful culinary experiences. Often on date night, Nate and I try one of the newer restaurants that have sprung up over the last few years. But Poogan’s Porch is one of a few restaurants that is nearly as familiar as Mamma’s dining room. Housed in a charming yellow Victorian built in 1888, it feels like home. The menu, heavy on Southern comfort food artfully prepared, never disappoints.

We were seated in the far corner of the back dining room, next to a wall of windows overlooking the courtyard. Nate took a quick look at the wine list while the waiter filled our water glasses.

“We’d like a bottle of the Sass Willamette Valley Pinot Noir,” said Nate. “And if you would, go ahead and get us some of the mac and cheese, fried green tomatoes, and ribs and pickles started.”

When the waiter stepped away, I said, “Thank you for not making me choose between the mac and cheese and the fried green tomatoes.” Nate loved the ribs.

“You said you were famished. When your wife is famished, a smart man feeds her as expeditiously as possible, preferably with her favorite foods.”

“You are a very smart man.”

“You know we’ll never eat all of that and our entrees.”

“I very well could tonight.” I studied my menu. “I think I’ll have the filet mignon, but with asparagus instead of the broccolini.”

Nate grinned. “You’re going to eat the steak and the blue cheese and ricotta dumplings.”

“I might get to some of the asparagus,” I said.

The waiter returned with our wine and went through the presentation efficiently. When he’d filled our glasses and moved away, Nate raised his glass. “To the prettiest lady I know.”

“You are too kind, sir.”

“Nonsense. I’m simply making an observation.”

We both sipped our wine.

“Yum,” I said.

“Hard to beat a Willamette Valley pinot noir,” said Nate. “You’ll never believe who one of Phillip Drayton’s pall bearers was.”

I smiled sweetly, tilted my head. “James Huger?”

He drew his eyebrows together, looked around. “Where is she?”

“Colleen? I haven’t seen her today, which is odd, come to think of it. She promised me we’d talk.” I mentally pushed the dream away with both hands.

“How did you know about Huger?”

“I actually spoke with him this afternoon.” I brought Nate up to speed on the couple at the bookshop, the episode with the limo, The Planter’s Club, and our invitation to visit.

“So, these women, they communicate via bookmark,” said Nate.

“Exactly.”

“Why use a bookshop at all? Why not have women pop into the resale shop on King Street and leave a message they need help?”

“My guess is because it’s common knowledge that proceeds from that store support victims of domestic violence. Often those victims have limited freedom. If their abusers saw them going into that store, that could make it harder to escape.”

“Okay, so they leave a bookmark in a specific book that is guaranteed to always be in stock. And that tells these women what?”

“It’s a request for pickup. Like manually ordering a rescue Uber. They communicate locations that way.

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