100 Proof Murder Page 5

  ‘What are these, Ma?’ he asked softy.

  ‘Oh, that was Inez’s idea.’ Julie rolled her eyes as she filled the coffeemaker with water. ‘Inez thinks I’m getting forgetful. She’s the one who forgot to send her goddaughter a birthday card.’

  ‘What kind of things have you been forgetting?’ Nick set out two mugs and the jug of milk.

  ‘Once I forgot to bring in the laundry. One time. Yet Inez acted like I went to Kroger in my underwear.’ Julie pulled a package of cookies from the shelf and shook half the bag onto a plate. ‘Sorry about store-bought sweets. If you’d told me you were coming I would have baked.’

  ‘Store-bought is just fine. Let’s get back to the laundry. Didn’t you notice it hanging on the line the next day?’

  She screwed up her face. ‘No, I didn’t. I was fall cleaning that week and had plenty on my mind with the church bake sale.’ Surreptitiously, Julie glanced out the window.

  Checking to see if the laundry was still there? Nick thought it wise not to press her too hard. He filled their mugs as soon as the machine stopped gurgling and opened the lid on the milk. The sour smell almost knocked him flat, yet Julie didn’t seem to notice. Nick turned on the faucets and poured the contents down the drain, trying not to breathe. ‘Do you have non-dairy creamer?’ he asked.

  ‘Sure, honey, but I thought you’d sworn off preservatives.’ She pointed at the top shelf of her cupboard.

  ‘We’ll make an exception for today.’ Nick added a tablespoon to both mugs. ‘How are the Post-its working? Have you missed any doctor appointments?’

  ‘Not to my knowledge. Sit down, son, and stop wandering around. Have a cookie.’

  Dutifully, Nick devoured an Oreo in two bites. ‘What’s wrong with the garbage disposal?’

  Mom’s face went blank. ‘Nothing, why?’ Julie added two spoonfuls of sugar and carried her mug to the table.

  ‘You have a reminder not to use it.’

  Julie scanned the kitchen surfaces until she found the note. ‘Oh, yeah. Once when I was doing dishes a fork slipped down the drain. Now the disposal makes an awful racket if you use it.’

  ‘I’ll turn the breaker off in the cellar and call a plumber. Lots of people would switch on the disposal out of habit.’ Nick studied her over the rim of his mug.

  ‘Would you stop worrying about me? There’s nothing wrong with my memory. Inez is the one going batty.’

  ‘I’m glad you two are neighbors. You can look out for her and Carlos, and she can keep an eye on you.’

  Julie took a small bite of cookie. ‘I’m glad we are too, but don’t you think these notes are over-the-top?’

  ‘I don’t know, Ma. If they help, you should leave them.’

  ‘I plan to, if for no other reason than to make you and Inez happy.’ She leaned over to pat his hand. ‘Now, while I figure out something for dinner, you run upstairs with those sheets. Take your coffee and cookies with you.’

  Just as if he was twelve instead of thirty-two, Nick did as he was told. In his old room he found everything as he had left it, including Star Wars posters on the walls. But the room looked smaller and shabbier than he remembered and smelled faintly like mothballs. He found his high school jacket still hanging in the closet with proud letters for football, track and baseball. Hopefully his mother wouldn’t insist he take it home with him. He didn’t want it anymore, yet he wasn’t ready to pitch it in the trash either.

  For a while Nick sorted through the clothes he’d left behind in the closet and drawers and the stack of CDs next to the bed. He should have packed everything up for the Salvation Army long ago instead of leaving it for someone else to deal with. Before he returned to Louisville he would take care of the eluvia of his youth. But right now he had bigger problems on his mind: the laundry, the milk, the unpaid bills, the Post-its. His mother was denying anything was wrong with her memory, yet there were too many instances to be a coincidence. One thing was for certain – he needed to talk to his sisters right away.

  That evening for dinner his mother served hot dogs without buns, coleslaw with Italian dressing instead of mayo, and frozen French fries without catsup. He had no idea how much was forgetfulness or how much was because he dropped in without calling first. Few people who lived alone kept a well-stocked refrigerator. He certainly didn’t.

  After they ate and he’d washed the dishes, Nick told his mother he wanted to drive around town and reminisce. But instead he drove straight to the Nelson County Sheriff’s Department. After introducing himself and flashing his badge, Nick got straight to the point.

  ‘I know your deputies have a large county to patrol, but whenever one happens to be in Lorraine, I would appreciate them driving past 1815 Hickory Street. My mother, Julie Harris, lives alone and, for the first time, I’ve noticed memory impairment. If your deputy sees anything out of the ordinary, I would appreciate a call.’ Nick laid his card on the desk.

  ‘We’d be happy to check on the welfare of Mrs Harris. I’ll send a message out, Lieutenant.’ The sheriff tucked the card in his shirt pocket.

  ‘My mother doesn’t believe she has a problem, so until my family figures out how to handle this, let’s keep these drive-bys under the radar.’

  The thin, rawboned officer nodded. ‘I understand. We’ll maintain discretion unless the situation demands immediate intervention.’

  ‘I appreciate it.’ Nick shook hands and left, feeling somewhat relieved. At least he’d made law enforcement aware of the situation and provided contact information. On his way home, he bought a fresh gallon of milk and entered a tidy kitchen with all burners off, dishes done, and countertops sparkling. When he peeked into her bedroom Nick found his mother snoring softly. Maybe Inez Diaz had exaggerated the situation. Everyone gets a little forgetful as they age. One or two incidents might not mean anything.

  Nick climbed the steps to his room, stretched out on his bed and pulled out his phone. He still had one thing left to do that day … something that had him smiling before Jill even picked up the phone. Maybe Jill could shed some light on his dilemma, maybe not. But at least she would leave him with a sweet image to dream about.

  When Jill returned to the hotel after lunch with Alexis Scott, Michael still wasn’t back from Churchill Downs. That was a very good sign. Her partner occasionally annoyed the people he videotaped, but hopefully that hadn’t happened at the most famous racetrack in the country. Jill had time to shower, change into comfortable clothes, and learn all she could about Lorraine, Kentucky from the internet, which turned out to be not a whole heck of a lot. Her new boyfriend was from a town which made Mayberry look like a metropolis. Jill hoped whatever was wrong with Mrs Harris wasn’t serious and he would soon be back in her arms.

  Before she began seeing her life as a succession of song lyrics, Michael strolled in and dropped his equipment bag on the couch. Thanks to Nick’s impromptu trip she wouldn’t have to cancel dinner with her partner two nights in a row. ‘Hey, Michael. How did it go?’

  ‘Fine and dandy, missy. Just like you, I might have a new best friend.’ He grabbed a Coke from the mini fridge.

  ‘Really? Paul Broadhurst liked you?’ Jill rocked back on her heels, feigning shock.

  ‘Don’t sound so surprised. Once I’m around men of my own ilk, not moonshiners like your mountain kinfolk, I relax and get along well. No offence,’ he added.

  ‘None taken. I’m happy for your newfound success. Did you take plenty of video?’

  ‘Tons. Paul let me interview him for over an hour while we shared a pitcher of mint juleps. Then he put out a sandwich tray and made us a pot of coffee. With the time it took to tour the grounds, I was there almost five hours.’ Michael grinned like a cat that fell in a bowl of cream.

  Five hours? Either Broadhurst and Alexis were really good friends, or the beverage manager had owed the distiller a serious favor. Either way, Jill was happy for Michael. ‘If you have no plans, let’s have dinner together. I want to hear the whole story, plus I might have a tidbit
or two to share with you.’

  ‘Great, but I’ll pick the restaurant. We’re in bourbon country and I want to leave no stone unturned.’ Michael headed straight to the bathroom for another shower, which also rarely happened, so today was a red-letter day all around.

  After much vacillation they ended up dining at the hotel bar, where the food was wonderful and the conversation … lively. Michael couldn’t stop talking about the week-long festivities and elegant parties that led up to the Derby. Jill absolutely knew they would come back to cover the event in May.

  Michael was on his second drink before he finally came up for air. ‘So how did things go with planning the funeral?’

  ‘What?’ she asked. Unfortunately, Jill forgot she hadn’t told him the whole truth.

  His forehead furrowed with wrinkles. ‘So why did you go see Miss Scott?’

  ‘As it turned out, her mother already took care of the funeral details. The memorial service will be on Saturday. Alexis needed my help with another matter.’

  Michael’s gaze rolled up to the ceiling. ‘Spill your guts, Curtis. I knew this morning you were up to something.’

  ‘I am not, but she asked me to go to the police department with her. After she’d been so helpful, how could I say no?’

  Michael set down his roast beef sandwich. ‘And she just happened to hear about Roger Clark’s murder?’

  ‘Roger was another master distiller, same as her dad,’ Jill said defensively. ‘Of course I mentioned that I helped my aunt make funeral arrangements.’

  ‘Did the police believe your theory about Mr Scott being murdered?’

  ‘It was Alexis’s theory, not mine. They’re not buying anyone’s theory. They’re waiting for the results of the autopsy. Homicide will jump in if and when the medical examiner finds something suspicious.’

  Michael took another bite of sandwich. ‘How could someone fill out the death certificate without an autopsy?’

  ‘Ahh, now you’re asking the right questions!’ Jill shook a French fry at him. ‘Several physical signs indicated a heart attack, so based on that, his age, and a stressful career, the deputy coroner thought myocardial infarction at first until he talked to Mr Scott’s doctor. He asked Mrs Scott if she would want an autopsy but she declined. Doesn’t that sound suspicious?’ Jill gave the fry another shake, then popped it in her mouth.

  ‘Hmmm, maybe, maybe not. Let’s hope for Alexis’s sake Mrs Scott had nothing to do with it. It’s hard enough to lose your dad, but sending your mother to the Big House would be a tough load to carry.’

  Suddenly Ray, the charismatic bartender with an incredible sense of hearing, dropped a glass into the sink. The ruckus drew everyone’s attention and a round of applause.

  Jill frowned and narrowed her eyes. ‘Ray and I need to chat after dinner. He’d better not be writing a gossip blog or they’ll find his body floating in the Ohio River.’

  ‘Shush,’ Michael warned. ‘Never issue death threats in public, not even in jest, especially with your track record of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.’

  Jill swallowed another forkful of fish and pushed away her plate. ‘I can’t eat another bite. What do you want to do now? Walk the streets of Louisville? Have a bourbon nightcap in some hole in the wall?’

  Michael stretched and motioned for the check. ‘Nah, I’ve had enough bourbon for one day. I’m going up to transcribe my interview with Broadhurst while details are fresh in my mind. And you’re not walking the streets alone.’ He scribbled his name and room number on the bill. ‘Play nice somewhere inside the hotel. Maybe you can find a haunted attic or a tunnel beneath the river.’

  The moment Michael left the bar Ray appeared in front of her. He removed her glass of iced tea and replaced it with a sparkling cocktail. ‘I thought your partner would never leave.’ Grins didn’t get any wider than Ray’s.

  ‘Thanks for this, but I’ve got a bone to pick with you, mister.’ Jill took a tiny sip of her drink.

  ‘Where would you like to begin? An arm? One of my legs? My jawbone seems like a good starting point.’ Ray ran a finger along his chin.

  ‘You were eavesdropping while Michael and I were discussing a very private matter. What exactly do you do with the info you glean from customers?’ Crossing her arms, Jill offered her meanest expression.

  ‘Nothing!’ he exclaimed, dropping his voice to a whisper. ‘Honest, dear woman, I would never repeat a word of it. Listening is simply a harmless hobby for a lonely old man.’

  Jill leaned forward. ‘How could you be lonely with all that flirting you do?’

  ‘In deference to my late wife of forty years, I only flirt with women I have zero chances with. I intend to remain single until I meet Jenny on the other side of the pearly gates.’ Ray placed his hand over his heart.

  ‘Are you really a widower?’ she asked as her phone began to buzz.

  Ray stared at her. ‘No one who’s been happily married would lie about that. Answer your phone, Miss Jill. Your secrets are safe with me. Maybe it’s your handsome state cop. That drink’s on me.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Jill picked up her glass and carried it to a table beyond Ray’s earshot. One glance at the screen told her it indeed was her handsome cop. ‘Hey, Nick. How’s life in Lorraine? How’s your mom?’

  ‘Lorraine hasn’t changed a bit except for new green recycle bins for each house. The situation with my mother isn’t so simple an answer. She looks OK, maybe a little thinner, and she insists she’s fine. But the next-door neighbor alerted me to some memory issues, like hanging out the laundry and forgetting about it.’

  ‘Sounds like something I would do,’ Jill murmured.

  ‘I know. We’re all forgetful at times. It’s hard to draw a line. For supper tonight, Mom served hot dogs without buns and made coleslaw with Italian dressing.’

  ‘Ahh, I might not be the best person to discuss “normal kitchen practices”.’

  Nick’s laugh lifted Jill’s spirits. ‘You’re the right person for me. I also noticed Mom put Post-its all over the kitchen, yet still forgot to pay her utilities.’

  ‘Does she have money in her account? Maybe she’s broke.’

  ‘I checked. She has over ten grand in her checking account, thanks to my dad’s pension and social security.’ Nick released an exasperated sigh. ‘If it wasn’t for the neighbor’s intervention, Mom’s utilities would’ve been turned off.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Jill asked.

  ‘Nothing until I talk with my three sisters. In the meantime, I plan to make myself useful. Rake leaves. Clean out the gutters. Have the garbage disposal fixed. Bag up everything I left behind. And put her bills on auto-pay.’

  ‘You’re a good egg, Harris.’

  ‘No, I’m not, but I want to be.’

  ‘Not to change the subject, but could you check into Dennis Donagal, if you have time, under the radar, of course. He owns a small distillery that sued William Scott for stealing trade secrets. Donagal lost his five-million-dollar lawsuit, which made him hoppin’ mad. That could be a motive for murder, according to Alexis, William Scott’s daughter.’

  ‘Sure, as long as you realize I’m not getting professionally involved in this case, even if it turns out to be murder.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘Right now I hear Mom stirring around downstairs. Let me call you tomorrow when I have a better idea when I’m coming … back to Louisville.’ Nick hesitated as though about to say more but then didn’t.

  ‘The sooner the better, big man. Sleep tight and dream only of me.’

  ‘That goes without saying. Goodnight, Jill.’

  When Nick hung up, Jill was left with an uneasy feeling. He had started to say ‘coming home’ but changed his mind. Did that mean Nick no longer considered Louisville his home? What a fine how-do-you-do after she’d snagged a two-week assignment here.

  Jill chugged her champagne cocktail, stifled an unladylike burp, and headed to her room. She’d lost her desire to snoop dow
n employee-only passageways or find the hidden staircase to a rooftop garden in the grand old hotel. Would she become just another romance novel cliché? A woman kept from the man she loved by life’s obstacles? Perish the thought.

  The next morning when Jill awoke in a tangle of bed clothes, she had only one thought on her mind. And it wasn’t the AWOL state investigator. Today was Thursday, meaning it was time to get some serious work done on her bourbon tour article. But how does one tactfully approach a grieving daughter who’d just lost her dad? Say … I know you’re down in the dumps, but can I get inside Parker Estate Distillery to see what makes them tick?

  Michael had already advised her to write off this distillery and take tours of the other three. But the introduction Alexis made with Mr Broadhurst had been worth its weight in gold to a journalist. Who knew what other contacts Alexis had up her sleeve? Besides, Jill refused to move on to the next distillery when Alexis needed her … or at least needed someone objective outside the family. Once the matter was settled with William Scott’s untimely passing, Alexis could get back to work at the company her grandfather started. And Parker Estate might benefit from Jill’s positive slant on bourbon in general and their brand in particular.

  Michael, who’d fallen asleep at his keyboard last night, was hard at work on his Churchill Downs segment. So Jill headed down to the hotel’s coffee shop for breakfast alone. After two eggs fried in butter, country ham, and toast with strawberry preserves, she dialed Alexis’s cell number. ‘Good morning, Alexis. This is Jill Curtis.’

  ‘Are you kidding me? I was just about to call you.’

  ‘How fortuitous.’ Jill heard chomping in the background.

  ‘Mr Shea, the funeral director, received a directive from the M.E.’s office and transferred my father. His autopsy will be next in the queue. I’m so grateful.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything.’ Jill sipped her coffee.

  ‘You told me to stop the cremation and went with me to the police. Without you giving me courage, I would never know the truth.’

  ‘You still might not.’ Jill bit her tongue as soon as the words were out.