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marriage.
     
    From the elaborate ironwork front gate with its
    historically registered lantern standards, down to the
    reproduction hinges on the back doors, Lute had
    spared no expense to make his house the most talked
    about in Charleston.
     
    That he had achieved. It wasn't necessarily the
     
    most admired restoration, but it was certainly the
    most talked about.
    He had battled with the Preservation Society of
    Charleston, the Historic Charleston Foundation, and
    the Board of Architectural Review over his proposal
    to convert the ancient and crumbling warehouse into
    what was now the Charles Towne Plaza. These organizations,
    whose purpose was to zealously preserve
    Charleston's uniqueness, control zoning, and limit
    commercial expansion, initially had vetoed his proposal.
    He didn't receive permits until all were assured
    that the integrity of the building's original brick exterior
    would not be drastically altered or compromised,
    that its well-earned scars would not be camouflaged,
    and that it would never be defaced with marquees or
    other contemporary signposts that designated it for
    what it was.
    The preservation societies had harbored similar
    reservations about his house renovation, although
    they were pleased that the property, which had fallen
    into a sad state of disrepair, had been purchased by
    someone with the means to refurbish it in a fashion it
    deserved.
    Pettijohn had abided by the rigid guidelines because
    he had no choice. But the general consensus
    was that his redo of the house, particularly the interior,
    was a prime example of how vulgar one can be
    when he has more money than taste. It was unanimously
    agreed, however, that the gardens were not to
    be rivaled anywhere in the city.
    Smilow noticed how lush and well groomed the
    front garden was as he depressed the button on the intercom
    panel at the front gate.
    Steffi looked over at him. "What are you going to
    say to her?"
    Waiting for the bell to be answered from inside the
    house, he thoughtfully replied, "Congratulations."
    CHAPTER 4
     
    but
    even rory smilow wasn't that heartless and
    cynical.
    When Davee Pettijohn gazed down the curving
    staircase to the foyer below, the detective was standing
    with his hands clasped behind his back, staring either
    at his highly polished shoes or at the imported
    Italian tile flooring beneath them. In any case, he appeared
    totally focused on the area surrounding his
    feet.
    The last time Davee had seen her husband's former
    brother-in-law, they were attending a social function
    honoring the police department. Smilow had
    been presented an award that night. Following the
    ceremony, Lute had sought him out to congratulate
    him. Smilow had shaken Lute's hand, but only because
    Lute had forced it. He had been civil to them,
    but Davee surmised that the detective would rather
    rip out Lute's throat with his teeth than shake his
    hand.
    Rory Smilow appeared as rigidly controlled
    tonight as he had been on that last occasion. His bearing
    and appearance were military crisp. His hair was
    thinning on the crown of his head, but that was noticeable
    only because of her bird's-eye view.
    The woman with him was a stranger to her. Davee
    had a lifetime habit of sizing up any other woman
    with whom she came into contact, so she would have
    remembered if she had met Smilow's companion.
    While Smilow never looked up, the woman
    seemed avidly curious. Her head was in constant motion,
    swiveling about, taking in all the appointments
    of the entryway. She didn't miss a single European
    import. Her eyes were quick and predatory. Davee
    disliked her on sight.
    Nothing short of a catastrophe would have brought
    Smilow into Lute's house, but Davee chose to deny
    that as long as possible. She drained her highball
    glass and, making certain not to rattle the ice cubes,
    set it on a console table. Only then did she make her
    presence known.
    "Y'all wanted to see me?"
    Following the sound of her voice, they turned in
    unison