One for the Road Page 6

  ‘Yes, it’s sad.’

  Jill knew Michael was trying his best to remain patient with her. ‘Aunt Dot suggested that I stir peanut butter into his food to see if that made a difference. Well, the peanut butter worked and Jack ate every kibble in his bowl.’

  ‘Any reason why Mrs Clark didn’t try this herself?’ he asked in a whisper.

  ‘I don’t think she and the dog ever bonded. He was strictly Roger’s, but for some reason Jack likes me. So I coaxed him downstairs and out the door with a treat so we could take a walk.’

  Michael’s face screwed into a frown. ‘You don’t even like dogs.’

  Now it was Jill’s turn to be patient. ‘No, but I happen to like this one. Plus I’m trying to help out Aunt Dot.’

  ‘Go on with your story,’ he prodded.

  ‘Next I went to the library to find out more about the bourbon feud and I met a new friend – the librarian. When I came back with my books, I asked Dot what she knows about any current feuds between the two families. After we finished our tea, I took Jack for another walk to downtown. And that brings us to the present moment.’ Jill patted the dog’s head.

  Michael pressed his fingertips to his eyes. ‘We’re here with a job to do. There are several more distilleries on the circuit after Founder’s Reserve and Black Creek. We need to finish up here and move on to the others.’

  Jill lifted her chin defiantly. ‘I’m not going anywhere until after Roger’s funeral.’

  Michael raised his palms in surrender. ‘Yes, I know that. But the point is we haven’t finished our work in Roseville.’

  ‘I believe a feud between bourbon families can be an integral part of our travel piece. Readers and tourists eat that kind of stuff up.’

  ‘Maybe so, but I was unable to shoot any video at Black Creek today. Lindy wasn’t there because nobody is back to work yet. And the security guard didn’t believe that I had permission from Mrs Clark.’

  ‘You should have called me.’

  ‘I did, three times throughout the day and left you three different voicemails. You failed to check your phone.’

  Jill pulled her cell from her back pocket. ‘Sorry. I switched it off when I entered the library, then forgot to turn it back on.’ She tapped the screen several times. ‘I won’t do that again.’

  ‘Great. In the meantime, try not to forget we’re partners. Mrs Clark needs to make some calls so the security guard will let us inside Black Creek tomorrow.’

  Anticipating Michael’s reaction, Jill cringed. ‘Uh oh, that won’t work for me. I left a message for Jamie Shelby that I have more questions about Founder’s Reserve. I’m driving out tomorrow to see him.’

  ‘We have one car between us, remember?’

  ‘Aunt Dot said I can use her car anytime. She has Roger’s truck at her disposal. But before she goes to bed tonight, I’ll ask her to make those phone calls.’

  Michael shook his head like a stubborn mule. ‘Nothing doing, Jill. We don’t know anything about this Jamie Shelby. He could be the murderer for all we know. I don’t like you being alone with him.’

  ‘I won’t be alone. On a Saturday, there will be throngs of tourists, plus all the employees of Founder’s Reserve.’

  ‘Somehow Mister-Tall-Dark-and-Rich will find a way to get you alone.’

  Jill had been thinking the same thing, but refused to give in. ‘Golly, Erickson, if I didn’t know better I’d swear you were jealous.’

  ‘Don’t flatter yourself. I prefer women with gray matter between their ears.’

  She chuckled. ‘Honest, Mike. I believe this murder might be linked to that ancient feud. Did you know that Jamie used to date Michelle Clark? I believe Michelle is a direct descendent of the Cooks who burned down the old Shelby homestead, killing Mama Shelby.’ Jill didn’t mention this was over a century ago.

  Michael blinked. ‘There seems to be plenty you’re not telling me, partner.’

  ‘Only because there has been no time. Tomorrow I will make sure you have access to anywhere you want in Black Creek. I’ll even try to get Lindy to be your tour guide.’ Jill offered an exaggerated wink. ‘Then on Sunday, you and I will spend the whole day together. We’ll drive up the mountain to speak to Michelle Clark in person, along with her dad, William, who’s the brother of Roger Clark.’

  ‘Because you’re just itching to meet more kinfolk.’ He shook his head.

  ‘No, because I want to see if Michelle’s story matches what the librarian told me and what I’ll hopefully learn from Jamie tomorrow.’

  Michael downed the remaining bourbon in his glass, jumped to his feet, and picked up the bottle. ‘Just once I’d like to win an argument with you.’

  Jill stood too. ‘This wasn’t an argument, only a practical way to handle the assignment. Let’s chow down in the kitchen. You have no idea how much food Dot’s friends brought over.’

  ‘If you’re talking cucumber sandwiches and mini quiches, you and I are heading to a restaurant. No discussion, Curtis.’

  In the kitchen, their hostess had just pulled out the sandwich tray along with several casseroles. ‘Ahh, two of my three guests are here. We have homemade lasagna, sweet potato casserole, roast turkey, sliced roast beef, and several salads.’ Glancing from her to Michael, Dot pulled the covers off the huge party tray and the lasagna.

  ‘It’s up to Michael, Aunt Dot. He’s kind of a picky eater.’

  Michael took one look at the party tray and meaty casserole. ‘We’re staying, Mrs Clark. I’ll go get washed up.’ He headed toward the lavatory.

  ‘Jill, will you run upstairs to see if Lieutenant Harris would like to join us?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said after a brief hesitation. Taking the steps two at a time, Jill headed down the opposite hallway to the room next to her partner’s. Just as she lifted her hand to knock, the door opened and before her stood the muscular and rather imposing state trooper.

  ‘Good evening, Miss Curtis, what can I do for you?’ Nick Harris looked just as surprised as she felt.

  ‘How on earth did you know I was there?’

  He looked about to say something then changed his mind. ‘Just a lucky guess. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Friends of our innkeeper dropped off a ton of food, and since the cops haven’t released Mr Clark’s body, she can’t schedule the funeral.’ As it occurred to her he was the cop who hadn’t released Uncle Roger, Jill lost her train of thought.

  ‘Go on, Miss Curtis.’ Harris leaned against the door jamb.

  ‘Mrs Clark doesn’t want the food to go to waste, so she invited Michael and me to eat with her tonight. And she sent me up to fetch you.’ Jill felt her cheeks grow warm. ‘I mean, sent me upstairs to invite you.’

  Harris stared at his well-polished leather shoes. ‘That is very kind of Mrs Clark, but the coffee and pastries this morning were more than enough. Please thank her on my behalf.’

  Jill kept the door from closing with her foot. ‘Why can’t you make a grieving widow happy by eating some food?’ She didn’t ask the question so much as she demanded an answer.

  A tiny smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. ‘Truly, I would love a home-cooked meal, but considering why I’m here, it’s not a good idea.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because this is a homicide investigation and until I come up with someone better, the person who found the body and the bereaved spouse remain the chief suspects.’

  That shut her up in a hurry. ‘Oh, I see.’ Keeping her foot firmly planted, Jill crossed her arms. ‘I would hate to tell that to Mrs Clark, so why don’t I make you a plate and bring it up later? I’ll knock and leave. You won’t have to set eyes on me again tonight.’

  ‘That would be very nice. Thanks. Now I’d better get back to work.’ He hooked his thumb at the open laptop on his desk.

  ‘Good night, Trooper Harris.’ Unnerved by the man’s cool composure, Jill withdrew her foot.

  Not until she was halfway down the stairs did she think of a few snappy com
ebacks: You’d better get busy if a sixty-five-year-old woman and a travel writer are your chief suspects. Or maybe: If you really think one of us is a killer, why would you eat food touched by our hands? When she reached the kitchen, Jill plastered on a smile and made up an excuse.

  At dinner Michael ate enough to feed a village. Aunt Dot merely picked at her food, although she did share an amusing anecdote about the person who prepared each dish. Afterwards, the innkeeper fixed a tray for the hard-working cop who couldn’t pull himself from his computer. This time Jill tiptoed as she delivered the meal.

  Nevertheless, Harris opened the door as she bent to set his dinner on the floor.

  ‘Thanks, Miss Curtis.’ He took the tray from her hands. ‘It looks like I’ll have enough for several meals. What’s under the foil?’

  ‘Sliced meat and cheese, several pieces of bread, lasagna, potato salad, yam casserole and two kinds of salad. Since there’s a fridge in every room, I recommend the hot food for tonight, and saving the cold cuts and salads for tomorrow.’ Jill stepped back from the doorway.

  ‘Look, I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings. Even if I personally don’t think you’re a murderer, I must maintain police protocol.’

  ‘Don’t worry, by the time you catch the real bad guy, I will have recovered from your painful insult.’ She gazed into his gray eyes and winked. ‘Bon appetit, Trooper Harris.’

  The moment she reached her own room, her cell phone started buzzing in her pocket. ‘Hello?’ she asked, not recognizing the caller ID.

  ‘Hi, Jill. It’s Jamie Shelby. I got your message. Great minds must think alike. I’d planned to call you later about going out tomorrow night.’

  ‘Can we get together for lunch instead? Mrs Clark might need my help in the evening.’

  ‘Of course.’ His voice was as smooth as his well-aged bourbon. ‘What time shall I pick you up?’

  ‘No need to drive to Roseville. I’d rather come to Founder’s Reserve.’

  ‘Shall I plan lunch for two or will your videographer be joining us?’ he asked after a slight pause.

  ‘Michael has to head back to Black Creek tomorrow, so it’ll just be me.’

  ‘Perfect. I would like to show you one of our old-fashioned stills in an area that’s off limits to the general public, and I remember how grain bothers Mike’s allergies.’

  So much for having people around at all times. ‘I’d like that, but please don’t go to any trouble with lunch. A hot dog and Coke from your snack bar would be just fine.’

  ‘You, Miss Curtis, won’t be any trouble at all. Just tell the person at the front gate you’re my guest. That way I can meet you out front with the golf cart.’

  ‘Sounds like everything is settled. See you tomorrow.’ Jill hung up, excited about seeing a still from a bygone era.

  But that night Jill had trouble falling asleep. Could Jamie possibly be a murderer? He’d been with her for most of the evening. What would be his motivation? Roger Clark’s distillery was much smaller and doubtlessly less profitable, judging by Jamie’s Lexus and Roger’s beat-up Ford pickup. If something was definitely going on between the two families, she planned to figure out what.

  SIX

  Saturday

  The next morning Jill was up at the crack of dawn. She even beat Aunt Dot downstairs, so she had plenty of time to start the coffee and set out the last of the muffins, along with a spiced Bundt cake yet to be sliced. One of Dot’s friends had created perfect seashell scallops all around the cake with buttercream icing. After Jill lined up plates, forks, and cups on the counter, she fed Jack his peanut butter-laced kibble and hitched him up for a run. Although Jack’s spirit seemed willing, his short beagle legs had a hard time keeping up, so they dropped their pace to a fast walk and still managed to get plenty of exercise. When they entered the kitchen thirty minutes later, Nick Harris and Michael Erickson were at the table, drinking coffee and eating spice cake.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Curtis,’ said Harris, rising to his feet. The well-mannered cop had on running shorts and a T-shirt which showed off biceps usually seen only on workout shows.

  Michael, however, ignored her and greeted only the dog. ‘Hey, Jack. How’s it going, buddy?’ He scratched the dog behind the ears.

  ‘Good morning, Lieutenant. I’m surprised you’re hungry already, considering the size of last night’s dinner.’ Jill poured herself a cup of coffee.

  ‘I took your advice and ate only the hot food. Then I made two big sandwiches, one for today with the pasta salad, and another for tomorrow with the potato salad. I haven’t eaten that well since I went home at Easter.’

  ‘Where’s home?’ Michael asked in between bites of cake.

  ‘A small town called Lorraine, Kentucky, not that far from Louisville. How ’bout you?’

  ‘Jill and I were both born and raised in Chicago, but she’s taken quite a shine to Roseville. If Mrs Clark doesn’t invite her to stay permanently, she might be forced to marry Jamie Shelby so she doesn’t have to go back to the city.’

  Jill felt blood rush to her cheeks as she glared at her partner. ‘Have you been already hitting the rye whiskey or simply lost your mind?’

  ‘I’m merely expressing an opinion on what I have observed.’ Michael returned her glare. ‘You’re either smitten with small town life, or by an eighth-generation master distiller, who’s waiting in the wings for Daddy to kick so he can inherit an empire.’ He added a negative inflection to the final word.

  ‘What’s gotten into you? Could you at least save your venom for when we’re alone? Trooper Harris will think Chicagoans are a pack of ill-bred jackals.’

  Harris set down his fork. ‘Michael and I were talking while you were out with the dog. I believe he’s worried about you going alone to Founder’s Reserve. Hence, his attitude.’

  Jill turned her focus on the cop. ‘Don’t tell me you agree with this madman? I’m simply having lunch and getting more info about one of the oldest distilleries in Kentucky.’

  ‘I don’t agree or disagree. I’m just mediating between two work colleagues.’ Harris’s expression became unreadable.

  ‘Thanks, Switzerland, but I have a job to do today and so does Michael. Mrs Clark made the necessary phone calls, so you can shoot all the video you need in Black Creek. She even asked Miss Lindy to serve as your guide at double her hourly rate, if she doesn’t have anything else to do. I mentioned how you’d flirted shamelessly with her,’ Jill added for a little revenge.

  Michael’s blush equaled if not surpassed her earlier one. ‘Good, it’ll be nice to spend time with a pleasant female for a change.’ The videographer filled his travel mug from the carafe, grabbed the last muffin, and stomped up the steps.

  ‘Do you two always spar like this?’ Harris watched her over the rim of his mug.

  ‘Only when we’re not mudwrestling in the alley or taking aim at each other with slingshots.’ Jill wrapped a piece of spice cake in a napkin.

  ‘Brings back happy memories of growing up with three sisters.’

  ‘Someday you’ll have to share those with me, but right now I need to hit the shower and pick out my outfit. With any luck, I’ll have a marriage proposal by sundown.’

  Harris’s deep laughter filled the kitchen. ‘Just don’t use up all the hot water,’ he called after her.

  Jill had no idea why she’d joked about a marriage proposal. Marriage was the last thing on her mind, no matter how rich and charming Jamie Shelby might be. He was certainly attractive. But a salt-of-the-earth, stand-up kind of guy he was not. And according to her grandmother, that was the only kind worth marrying.

  Jill had finished showering and was back in her room when Michael left for Black Creek Distillery. She knew because he thumped his equipment bags all the way down the stairs. She’d wanted to say goodbye but by the time she threw on some clothes and reached the hallway, he was gone. All she could do was wave since her window wouldn’t open, but Michael never looked up. Everything would be OK, though. They’d had far m
ore serious spats than this, yet neither went to the boss to demand a new partner.

  Jill dressed in a long print skirt and sleeveless blouse, checked on Aunt Dot, let Jack out in the fenced backyard, and left for Founder’s Reserve. Since she’d fussed with her hair more than her normal two minutes, she kept the windows rolled up and turned on the AC. Why she’d primped so long for a man clearly not her type was a mystery. Despite everything she’d learned from the friendly librarian, she still felt flattered by his flirting during the tour.

  As Jamie had promised, once she identified herself at the front gate, the guard directed her to park in the VIP area and told her Mr Shelby would join her shortly. Jill had barely locked Dot’s car when Jamie pulled up in a golf cart. He jumped out wearing a polo shirt open at the neck, khaki Dockers, loafers with no socks, and a Panama straw hat.

  ‘Who looks like a tourist today?’ she teased.

  ‘That’s the look I was going for. I wanted the world to know I took the day off.’ Jamie swept off his hat and bowed low. ‘I’m one hundred percent at your disposal, ma’am. Your chariot awaits.’

  Jill accepted his hand and climbed into the golf cart. ‘Such manners – did you just graduate from charm school or did I time-travel back to the nineteenth century?’ she asked, spotting the bouquet of flowers in the cup holder.

  ‘Neither. My mama raised me to be a gentleman and some lessons are too ingrained to forget.’ Jamie turned the key, and they headed for the paved path around the building and into the gardens. ‘Those flowers are for you, but if you’re too independent to accept such a blatantly sexist gift, we’ll pass an abandoned cemetery along the way. We can spread them around there.’

  She fingered a velvety petal. ‘I usually make an exception for flowers, but an old cemetery sounds like an interesting angle for my travel feature.’

  Jamie took his foot off the accelerator, letting the cart coast to a stop at the top of a rise. Jill gazed around at the cultivated gardens with gazebos and patios for parties and flagstone paths for strolling in the moonlight. Ahead of them lay nothing but cornfields and fenced pastures. She noticed a few cows lazily chewing their cud under a cloudless blue sky. ‘Who’s buried in this abandoned cemetery?’ she asked. ‘Native Americans chased off their land by the first white settlers? Or maybe some of the Cooks who tangled with the Shelbys one time too often? How about some tax revenuers from the Roaring Twenties or still-busters from Prohibition?’