InSight

along the Intracoastal Waterway and resembled a set design from Gone with the Wind. Luke expected a rush of hoop-skirted belles frolicking on the lawn and Scarlett herself sashaying through the front door.
    The chauffeur opened the rear door of the limo, and Luke stepped out to find a starched butler reminiscent of another era waiting at the columned entrance. He escorted Luke through a massive foyer into a large antique-filled living room. He’d seen homes like this in magazines, and the bankroll necessary to obtain them exceeded his range of comprehension.
    Carlotta Gentry lounged on a covered veranda that swept the back of the house, overlooking the water as sailboats and yachts passed on review. Luke imagined the panorama alone accounted for the multi-million dollar price tag. He pulled himself back to earth and remembered why he came.
    Formally dressed in a royal blue silk dress and jacket with pearl and diamond earrings and necklace, Carlotta Gentry exuded an air of royalty. Her flawless makeup and surgically-enhanced face were in sharp contrast with the veined and spotted hands that betrayed her years. She stroked her ring finger over an imaginary strand of misplaced hair and inspected him as if he were bird shit that had plopped uninvited on her veranda. When she spoke, she half-turned on purpose to put him at the greatest disadvantage. Luke disliked her immediately and almost heard the tone of her voice from the way her mouth moved. She mocked him and meant to.
    * * * * *
    C arlotta indicated a chair, but didn’t offer to shake McCallister’s hand. The detective was a rare work of art. A woman was never too old to appreciate a handsome man, and Detective McCallister’s magnificence wasn’t wasted on her. Tall, muscular without being overly developed, with features off enough to keep him from being a pretty boy. Somehow it all worked. He reminded Carlotta of her dear departed husband, who stopped women in their tracks whenever he was in their midst. McCallister even flashed the same bright blue eyes.
    She patted her perfectly groomed hair as if she were a teenager, then chided herself for the moment of vanity. “Why are you in Charleston , Detective McCallister?”
    He took the chair she indicated facing the waterway. “Please speak directly to me, Mrs. Gentry. I’m deaf, but I read lips, as you well know.”
    “Really.” She faced him with an arched brow and her best condescending smile, honed by years of practice. “Obviously not from birth. You speak too well.”
    “You arranged this meeting, Mrs. Gentry, so don’t act like you know nothing about me. In fact, you probably know as much about me as the record permits, and you knew it before I arrived in Charleston .”
    “Not everything, Detective, but I suppose I could find out if I wanted to. I’ll ask again, what is it you want, and why did you barge in on Dr. Scanlon?”
    “What is it you want, Mrs. Gentry? Why are you harassing Abigael Gallant?”
    She didn’t like being questioned, especially by someone so obviously inferior. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Abigael is in Hub City —doing well, I hear. Why would I harass her? Frankly, seeing you in the flesh, I don’t understand why someone who looks like you would be interested in a gangly, awkward girl like Abigael, even if you are deaf. Unless, of course, you don’t think yourself worthy of a normal woman. Maybe underneath your handsome exterior, you have an inferiority complex. Something in your childhood, perhaps?”
    She watched his reaction. Maybe his lip-reading wasn’t as good as she’d been told. But then she saw the angry flush on his face and knew he understood every word.
    “To be honest,” she continued, “I never understood what Stewart saw in Abigael either. But at least then she wasn’t…defective. Tell me, Detective McCallister, what is it that makes her so attractive to men? I presume she has special talents in the bedroom. Is that it? Must have inherited that from her lowlife mother.”
    She twisted the knife, begging for a reaction. His body tensed. She saw his determination to avoid being goaded into losing his cool, but that wouldn’t last. She was a master at finding her adversaries’ weaknesses and turning the knife until it hurt. That’s how she maintained control.
    “Abby couldn’t care less what you think about her, and neither do I. She’s a hundred times the woman you are, Mrs. Gentry. All I want to know is why you’re