“You’re kidding,” I said.
“Serious as a church picnic without potato salad.”There was a startled yelp and Bea said, “For heaven’s sake, Deidre.I’m going to have your license revoked.”
I looked at Dash.He was smiling.He could hear the whole conversation without being on speaker.
“Did Ainsley believe it?”I asked.
“He said he was shocked.Hard time for all of them with Henry’s death, and then this on top of it.James insisted everything discussed stayed between them.Didn’t want Henry’s legacy tarnished with donors catching wind of it.His suggestion was to bring in a new CFO with more experience dealing with this kind of thing, let him sort it out, cover the discrepancies for the sake of Henry and the foundation, and move on to a new chapter.They all agreed.Unanimously.Ainsley said James is very protective of Henry.”
“It makes sense,” I said.“We got something too.I need you to find out what you can about a past board member.Byron Jameson.We think his daughter may have been Henry’s secret lover.”
“Now that does make things interesting,” she said.“If I make it home alive I’ll start digging first thing.”
The call ended on another reprimand to Deidre, and I looked at Dash.
“Are you planning to feed me before we go see Jennifer Hollis?”I asked.
He grinned and reached over to take my hand.“You’ve had a good day.You deserve it.”
“Good.Because you’ve got about eleven minutes before my hanger kicks in.”
We found a sandwich place on the water between Mount Pleasant and the Isle of Palms and sat outside with the breeze coming off the sound and ate until I stopped being a danger to polite society.Dash had a Cuban.I had a shrimp po’boy that dripped down my wrist twice and I didn’t care even a little.
Jennifer Hollis lived in a pale green house three blocks from the beach with a wide front porch and mature palms in the yard.She was somewhere in her late fifties, lean and no nonsense, with dark hair pulled back and reading glasses pushed up on her head.She came to the door in jeans and a linen blouse and shook both our hands before we’d said a word.
“Sheriff Beckett,” Dash said.“Thank you for agreeing to see us.”
“Come on in,” she said.“I just made tea.”
Her kitchen table was where she took us.She poured without fussing about it and sat across from us.
“We’re looking into Henry Wainwright’s death,” Dash said.“We understand you served on his foundation board.”
She nodded.“Six years.I was the youngest member when I joined.Thirty-two years old.I’d been doing medical research in Charleston— decided early on I didn’t want to practice, but I wanted to stay close to medicine somehow.Henry thought my background was a good fit.”She looked at her glass.“I thought the world of him.”
“What was he like to work with?”I asked.
“Steady.That’s the word I’d use.You always knew where you stood with Henry.He ran a board meeting the same way he probably ran his clinic—efficiently, but he made sure everyone had their say before he called the vote.”She smiled a little.“He had a gift for making people feel heard even when he’d already made up his mind.”
“Did the board get along?”I asked.
She laughed.“For the most part, yes.When Henry and James first selected the original board members they were friends, philanthropists, and other doctors they’d gone to school with.I don’t think they ever planned for the foundation to grow as large as it did.
“By the time I came on, only a few of the original board members were still there.Joni Brummel, Byron Jameson, Dawson Caine, and Kevin Lyans.The rest of us were chosen for more strategic purposes as the foundation grew.It was a good mix of businessmen and medical professionals by the time I came on.But when you put twelve people in a room with strong opinions and money on the table, there are going to be disagreements.We had more than a few.”
She turned the diamond band on her right hand.
“Anyone ever get violent?”Dash asked.
“Not really,” she said.“Robert Ainsley threw a sandwich at James once, but then they were playing golf together the next day, so it blew over.Byron Jameson was pretty legendary for his temper.He was kind of a hothead and he liked to yell, but in the end he’d almost always vote with what Henry thought was best for the foundation.He and Henry went to med school together, so he wasn’t shy about pushing back.Most of the time Henry just let him run until he was done and then moved on.”
“Were they close?”Dash asked.“Outside the board?”
“They golfed together, and spent some time together outside of the foundation when their schedules lined up.They were both doctors and Byron was a surgeon at the hospital, so their time was limited.”
“How did Byron take his death?”I asked.
“Hard.We all did.But Byron went quiet in a way I hadn’t seen from him before.He resigned from the board about eight months later.Just a letter, no explanation.I always thought the grief just took the wind out of him.”
