One for the Road Read online

When the firemen released their hold, Michael wrapped an arm around Jill’s shoulders. ‘Better late than never, I suppose.’

  Jill hugged him fiercely as hot tears flooded her eyes.

  ‘Everything OK here, Lieutenant Harris?’ The discombobulated voice of Sheriff Adkins floated into the elevator.

  ‘I believe so, Sheriff,’ Nick answered.

  ‘How was I to know you got stuck in a two-story elevator?’ Jill said to Michael, still hugging him tightly. ‘I thought maybe you asked Lindy to go out for fast food with you.’

  ‘It’s three stories, Miss Smarty-Pants.’ Michael pulled away from her. ‘Now stop crying. I’m fine.’

  ‘I saved you a plate of leftovers for dinner.’ Jill wiped her face with a tissue.

  ‘In that case, let’s get out of here. I am starving.’ Michael thanked and shook hands with each fireman and deputy. Then he turned to the two in charge. ‘Thanks for responding, Sheriff Adkins, Lieutenant Harris. I’m in your debt. Who knew they would cut the power to the distillery while I was finishing my video?’

  ‘The power hadn’t been cut to the rest of the facility,’ Harris said softly. ‘But let’s get you back to the B and B for a good meal and we’ll sort this out later.’ He aimed a meaningful glance at Jill.

  ‘Come on, Erickson. We’ll take your car, but I’ll drive. Who knows how you’ll act after food and water deprivation?’

  Jill met the gaze of the Kentucky state trooper, then pulled her partner towards the front door.

  Yep, something is definitely amiss in Black Creek Distillery.

  Once they were back to Sweet Dreams and Michael was gobbling his dinner in record time, Jill turned to Nick. ‘What are your thoughts?’

  ‘That it’s time to drive out to the Maxwell house. Would you like to tag along? You did promise to beat the tar out of him if Elmer doesn’t cooperate.’

  ‘You bet I do, as long as Michael doesn’t mind being left alone.’

  Her partner scowled. ‘Go, I’m fine. As soon as I eat my share of the dessert, I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  ‘It’s great how you two look out for each other,’ Nick said, once they were inside his car. ‘I wish I had a friend like that.’

  ‘I suppose, but usually Michael and I just drive each other crazy.’ Jill relaxed against the headrest as she conveyed a few amusing stories.

  When they reached the Maxwell house, all friendly banter ceased. ‘You stay behind me, Jill,’ Nick ordered. ‘And let me do the talking.’

  ‘Heigh-aye, Captain,’ she agreed with a salute. But unfortunately no one was home to question. Although the front door had been locked, the back door stood ajar as Nick and Jill rounded the house.

  ‘Elmer Maxwell?’ Nick called, stepping across the threshold. ‘It’s Lieutenant Harris of the state police. We’re coming inside.’

  As the two made their way from room to room, they found kitchen cupboards open, something sticky spilled on the floor, clothes hanging from drawers and others strewn across the bed.

  Nick squatted to rummage through papers on the floor. ‘At the risk of stating the obvious, the Maxwells seemed to have left in a hurry.’

  ‘That must move Elmer up your list of suspects at least several notches above me.’ Jill leaned against the doorjamb.

  Nick rose to his feet and dusted off his hands. ‘It does look a tad suspicious. Let’s go talk to the neighbors.’

  They had no trouble finding a neighbor as they exited the house. Under the auspices of bringing in laundry, a middle-aged woman leaned precariously over the fence.

  ‘Have they moved?’ the woman hollered without bothering with introductions.

  ‘So it would appear, ma’am.’ Nick and Jill closed the gap between them.

  ‘I knew it! I told my husband not to loan him money, but he did anyway.’ The woman’s face flushed brightly. ‘Maxwell probably used it for the next race.’

  ‘You’re saying Elmer liked to bet the ponies?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Not just racehorses. Maxwell would bet on football, basketball, anything with odds. Too bad he never had much luck.’ The woman stuffed her bedsheets into the basket with renewed fury. ‘If you see that lowlife before we do, tell him we want our money.’ With that the neighbor positioned her basket on her hip and stomped toward the house.

  On their way to the car, Jill jumped in front of Nick and stopped. ‘OK, Maxwell had a gambling problem, which means he was probably in desperate financial straits. Surely that moves him to the top of your list.’ She crossed her arms.

  Nick appeared to ponder the question. ‘Maybe, but I’m not ready to rule you out quite yet.’

  His smile and subsequent wink were so downright flirtatious, Jill had no idea if he was serious or not. And that gave her plenty to think about on the drive and while she was trying to fall asleep that night.

  EIGHT

  Sunday morning

  Jill found Aunt Dot already sipping coffee and eating a cinnamon roll when she walked into the kitchen the next morning.

  ‘Good morning, Jill,’ Dot greeted. ‘You’re not going to church wearing that, are you?’

  Jill glanced down at her Bermuda shorts and T-shirt, then at Dot’s black silk dress and high heels. ‘Good grief. Do I have time to change?’

  ‘Yes, you do,’ Dot said, beaming. ‘And I’ll save you a sweet roll.’

  Jill bolted back up the steps. It wasn’t that she never went to church. She attended every Christmas and Easter, plus whenever she stayed overnight at her parents’ or grandmother’s house. And Dorothy Clark being a churchgoer certainly didn’t surprise her. But with the funeral scheduled for Tuesday morning, Dot would attend church two times in three days … and so would she.

  After a quick perusal of her wardrobe, Jill chose the cotton skirt and blouse she’d worn yesterday to lunch with Jamie Shelby. Luckily, she hadn’t balled it up and tossed it in the corner like usual. With a quick flick of the hairbrush, Jill coiled her long hair in a topknot and secured it with a clip.

  ‘You look very sweet,’ Dot declared when Jill returned to the kitchen. ‘Mind eating your cinnamon roll on the way?’ She grabbed her purse and headed out the back door.

  ‘I don’t mind at all.’ Jill wrapped the roll in a napkin and followed Dot to the garage. ‘Say, have you seen Michael this morning?’

  ‘No, neither of my male guests is up yet.’ Dot climbed into the car and backed carefully down the driveway. ‘After the ordeal your partner suffered, he deserves to sleep in.’

  Jill nodded while nibbling her breakfast. Thinking about her partner’s ‘ordeal’ had kept her up most of the night. Yesterday had to be the worst day of Michael’s life. Once he’d been liberated from the elevator, he had been questioned by both the state trooper and Sheriff Adkins. Then, after she’d taken him back to the B&B, Dot Clark had asked so many questions Michael had barely been able to eat his dinner. But he’d finally finished it, along with half a dozen cookies and a stiff glass of bourbon. It was after eleven when they’d finally said goodnight and gone to their rooms. Yet they still had no idea who had switched off the circuit breaker to the elevator. Baseball-fan Florio insisted he’d never left the security monitoring room.

  ‘A penny for your thoughts,’ said Dot, after several minutes of silence.

  ‘I was wondering if you could write down the directions to William Clark’s home,’ Jill said.

  ‘Are you talking about Roger’s brother? Goodness, what on earth for? William’s family lives up the mountain in a collection of ramshackle cabins. I’ve only been there once. After that visit Roger said they must visit us in Roseville.’ Dot paused at the stop sign so long another motorist blew the horn.

  ‘I want to make sure they know about the funeral on Tuesday.’

  ‘I’ve already talked to Gordon Clark, William’s son. He said he would make sure the rest of the family knew the time and place.’

  ‘Good, but I’d also like to talk to Michelle Clark. This might be a longshot, b
ut her relationship with Jamie Shelby might be why Uncle Roger was killed.’

  Dot’s expression revealed total confusion. ‘Michelle dating Jamie Shelby? I find that hard to believe. The Shelby family is the richest in the county, while the Clark cabins aren’t ramshackle in order to be chic.’

  ‘I understand, but sometimes opposites attract.’ Jill swiveled on the seat to face her. ‘Could you possibly give me directions?’

  ‘Roger stuck the directions in our phone book, so yes. But you shouldn’t go alone and you shouldn’t go unarmed.’ Dot turned into the parking lot. The church was so close to Sweet Dreams they could have walked.

  ‘Michael is coming with me if he’s feeling up to it. And you were kidding about the “don’t go unarmed” part, right?’

  ‘Actually, I wasn’t.’ Dot switched off the ignition. ‘Look, Roger’s relatives are nice people for the most part. But they live up in the hills because they probably make moonshine. When people are involved in illegal activities, they get nervous when strangers drive up their road.’ She grabbed her Bible from the back seat. ‘We’re here now, so let’s discuss this later.’

  Jill climbed out of the car. ‘OK, but not in front of Michael. That boy rarely leaves the city so he won’t understand William’s need for privacy.’

  Going to church in a small town was very different than in a big city. The congregation was small but very friendly. Everyone knew everyone including Dot, yet they wisely gave her some space. Not one person asked the ridiculous question: How are you doing? Most people either smiled sadly or hugged Dot without uttering a word. A few ladies curiously perused Jill but had the good sense not to ask who she was. Tuesday would be soon enough for introductions. The preacher’s sermon involved surrendering our will and letting God take over our lives. Accomplishing that would be much easier at his age, somewhere around seventy, than at hers at thirty-one, Jill thought to herself.

  His parting words to Dorothy Clark were: ‘See you Tuesday. Together we’ll get through this.’ His promise brought a smile to her cousin’s face, a smile that lasted all the way to the car.

  ‘If you give up this crazy notion of heading up the mountain,’ she said, ‘I’ll treat you to brunch at the best restaurant in town.’

  Jill waited until they were inside the car to reply. ‘I would love brunch, but today is the only day Michael is willing to drive up there with me. He thinks this will be a wild goose chase.’

  ‘Chickens, not geese,’ Dot said, switching on the AC.

  ‘Excuse me?’ Jill pivoted on the seat.

  ‘My brother-in-law, Bill, raises chickens. I guess you would call them cage-free since they roam all over the place. He also has goats, several dogs, some rather vicious, a pet skunk, and an ornery. Do you still think this a good idea?’

  ‘The drive will be beautiful, even if I turn around without getting out of the car.’

  Dot drove home at a snail’s pace. ‘Roger keeps a handgun locked in the gun safe. Would you like to take it with you?’

  ‘I’ve never fired a gun in my life and I’m certain Michael never has either. We’d be more likely to harm ourselves.’

  ‘Then maybe you should take that nice state trooper, Nick Harris. He could handle himself around Roger’s kinfolk.’

  For a brief moment Jill mulled the idea of spending a leisurely Sunday with Nick Harris. He was handsome, competent, and had that marvelous gravelly voice. But the guy also considered her a murder suspect. Considering her recent luck with men, she’d blurt something so incriminating, she’d spend the next twenty years in jail. ‘As appealing as that sounds, I doubt Lieutenant Harris would enjoy spending the day with me. Plus, if Roger’s brother has an illegal still, he won’t appreciate me bringing along the state police.’

  ‘You have a point there.’ Dot drove into the detached garage and turned off the car. ‘Just promise me you’ll be careful.’

  ‘I promise.’ Jill drew an X in the general vicinity of her heart.

  ‘All right, I’ll give you directions. But if you’re not back by nine o’clock, I’m sending that handsome trooper up the mountain after you. Just think how embarrassing that would be.’

  Jill and Dot entered a quiet kitchen with the exact same number of cinnamon rolls still on the plate. Proof that neither Michael nor Nick was up yet. The cop’s sleep habits weren’t her concern, but she was getting worried about her partner.

  ‘Michael, are you awake in there?’ Jill knocked hard enough to wake the neighbors.

  ‘Yeah, I’m awake.’ He yanked the door open fully dressed in pressed chinos and a plaid shirt. ‘I’ve been up for an hour. Where have you been?’

  ‘At church with Mrs Clark, but now we better hit the road if we’re driving up the mountain.’

  ‘This is your idea of spending the day together?’

  ‘Just think how pretty the scenery will be. I’ll pack some sandwiches and fill the gas tank. Wouldn’t it be cool to shoot video of an old-fashioned still, just like on the History Channel?’

  ‘You really think your relatives will let me photograph them?’

  ‘Maybe, as long as you don’t mention where they live or how they make a living.’

  Michael grinned. ‘This might be fun after all. I’ll grab my gear and meet you in the kitchen.’

  Jill loaded six sandwiches, fruit, and several bottles of water into a cooler. Once Dot gave her the directions, along with a worn-out county map, they were on their way.

  ‘I can’t believe you brought a ten-year-old map.’ Snickering, Michael climbed in behind the wheel. ‘The car has GPS, remember?’

  ‘Laugh all you want, but Dot said GPS doesn’t usually work up in the hills. By day’s end, you’ll thank me.’

  And just like that, the smile vanished from his face. ‘Hopefully you packed enough food in case we get lost. We might be stuck in the mountains for days.’

  ‘That’s what I like – a man with an adventurous spirit.’ Jill settled back to study the scenery along the way. After they left the charming town of Roseville, they passed a few subdivisions of houses and farms of various sizes and shapes. Once the land became too hilly to grow crops, they saw cattle and sheep grazing and huge stretches of forest with an occasional house or trailer that may or may not be inhabited.

  ‘Seems like a lot of hoarders live out in the country,’ Michael murmured, breaking the silence.

  ‘How on earth could you tell that? You’ve got to stop watching that show.’ Jill heard the peevishness in her voice.

  ‘Take a good look at the homes we pass. Some look like the homeowner has never thrown away anything ever.’

  As much as she hated to agree, Jill soon saw what Michael was talking about. Most yards were neat as a pin with tidy flowerbeds, fenced-in vegetable gardens, and freshly mown lawns. Every porch had a rocking chair or glider where the weary could sit and sip something cool. But every now and then, they passed a home where stuff flowed out the front door, filled the entire porch, and expanded across the yard, where it was subjected to every type of weather. It looked as though every tool or implement used by past generations had found a permanent resting place on the property.

  Jill refocused on the road as they snaked ever higher into the hills. ‘I’ve been reading a lot about rural America. Apparently, most local townships don’t offer trash pickup. People are on their own to haul what they no longer want to a landfill. Since a fee is charged to drop trash off at the dump, the poor have little incentive to do spring cleaning.’

  Michael arched an eyebrow. ‘That’s a shame, because it detracts from the natural beauty of the area.’

  ‘I agree. But if we find the same situation at William Clark’s, don’t bring it up, OK? We don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.’ Or catch a load of buckshot in our backside.

  Michael glanced in her direction. ‘I’ll be on my best behavior. You’re the one who usually says the wrong thing at the wrong time.’

  ‘True enough.’ Jill pulled a bottle of water from the cooler
and took a long drink. Then she found their location on the map. Between Aunt Dot’s written directions and the map, it was time to pay close attention. The car’s GPS had already shut down and rebooted twice due to lost signal. Soon the device gave up and turned itself off. However, thanks to Uncle Roger’s forethought in saving the map and her eagle eye, Jill spotted the turn-off to the Clark homestead an hour later.

  ‘Slow down and take the next right,’ she said.

  Michael stopped at a narrow opening in the trees. ‘You can’t possibly mean here. This isn’t a road.’ He pointed at a deeply rutted dirt lane.

  ‘Yep, that’s a private road. What we call a driveway back home.’

  ‘You’re sure there’s a house at the end of this private road? But there’s no mailbox or address sign.’

  ‘The family probably picks up their mail at the post office when they go to town. And the only people who are welcome to visit already know where the Clarks live.’

  ‘What about the fire department?’ he asked.

  Jill huffed out a breath. ‘There is no fire department out here. The closest station is probably in Roseville. Any fire would burn itself out before fire fighters could get here. These people are on their own.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘I read three books about this area when I couldn’t sleep. Now turn in before someone slams into the back end of our car.’

  Reluctantly, Michael turned and drove fifty feet with bushes on both sides scraping his car. ‘At the very minimum, my paint job will get scratched up. That is if I don’t break an axle in one of these ruts.’

  ‘Your car isn’t exactly in mint condition. Just go slow and try to miss the really deep potholes.’

  And slow is how Michael went for the next twenty minutes until he reached a fork in the road. ‘What do Roger’s directions say to do here?’ He dug two sandwiches from the cooler and handed her one.

  ‘One of these roads is for logging, and the other leads to the house.’ Jill tilted the paper several ways to get the best angle. ‘Let’s go to the right.’

  ‘Because that’s what the paper says?’ He took a bite of roast beef and cheese.