LOWCOUNTRY BOOMERANG by Susan M. Boyer

Author:Susan M. Boyer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: cozy mystery;mystery series;Henery Press;beach reads;summer books;Southern fiction
Publisher: Henery Press
Published: 2019-07-31T13:36:28+00:00

FOURTEEN

When most people thought about Shem Creek, they imagined the stretch where it flowed into Charleston Harbor, not far from where the shrimp boats tied up and you could buy shrimp so fresh it was just caught that morning. They saw the bridge on Coleman Boulevard, and all the waterfront restaurants—Red’s Icehouse, Vickery’s, Shem Creek Bar and Grill—and the boat landing. But Shem Creek continued deep into Mt. Pleasant, and though it narrowed substantially before it reached Bowman Road, several communities between there and the business district had lovely views. Tucked into a shaded neighborhood off Anna Knapp Boulevard, Trina Lynn Causby’s condo sat on the banks of Shem Creek.

It gave me pause, breaking and entering on the day of her funeral. But I was on the side of the angels, wanting nothing more than to find the truth about what had happened to her and to bring her killer to justice. I parked the Explorer—Nate and I had switched cars for the day because I needed gas and he was a gentleman—in front of an adjacent building, grabbed a tote with a crossbody strap filled with the things I was most likely to need, and strolled down to the creek bank. Trina’s condo was a first-floor end unit in a building with eight homes, four down, four up.

Through the screened porch on the back, I noticed the security system sticker on the window. The company used a Wi-Fi signal and door and window sensors. I’d have to disable it. I continued around to the front of the building. Thankfully, the front door was recessed and hidden from view of the random neighbor who might walk by. I pulled out a Wi-Fi jammer, activated it, and slid it back into my tote. Then I slipped on a pair of nitrile gloves and used my pick set to let myself in.

As I eased the door open, I listened intently for the beeping of an alarm, just in case I’d miscalculated. All was quiet. I carried my bag inside and relocked and bolted the door behind me. Should family show up, or Sonny and Jenkins, I’d need time to get out.

It wasn’t a large condo, maybe 1,100 square feet, with two bedrooms and two baths. But it looked cozy for one or two people. With light-colored hardwood floors, it was decorated in soft neutrals—sand, cream, and white—with blue and green accents. It was clean and uncluttered. Trina had clearly been a neat freak, or perhaps she’d just cleaned.

The floor plan was simple, with two bedrooms and a laundry closet off the foyer, and a living room with sliding doors to the screened porch. To the left of the living room was a dining area open to a galley kitchen. The window shades were the variety that virtually disappeared when open, and the curtains on the sliding doors were pulled back letting in lots of natural light. Mature oaks shaded the back of the condo. A variety of shrubs and grasses lined the bank of the creek beyond.

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