by Mary Ellis
Nick stared with utter amazement. It was just like his mother used to say, ‘If you want something done fast and done right, ask a woman to do it.’
FIFTEEN
Friday midday
Jill didn’t have much experience dealing with children. But she thoroughly enjoyed playing with Janice Maxwell’s kids while they waited for the pizzas to be delivered. After an initial bit of shyness, daughter Amy talked Jill’s ear off about each member of her stuffed animal family. Then her older brother, Brandon, carefully explained how they’d built the two-room fort. Without shedding a single tear in front of her kids, Janice supplied a bed sheet to convert the open-air fort into a secret cave. Then Jill, Janice, and the well-mannered children each ate two slices of pizza inside the new private domain.
Jill remained with the Maxwells until Aunt Dot arrived to replace her. Once Jill had explained the family’s dire circumstances on the phone, Dot had insisted on coming to the house. On her way out, Jill received a heartfelt hug from Janice and from Aunt Dot she received the assurance the Episcopal Ladies Guild would take good care of them.
‘Thanks for the pizza,’ Janice said in the doorway. ‘I don’t know how we would’ve managed. We should never have come back here. We had enough money to make a fresh start. But Elmer thought he could get a little more.’
More from whom? Gordy? Did Gordy pay Elmer to kill Roger Clark? Or did Gordy kill both of them? Jill wanted to ask Janice but she had dissolved into another round of tears.
‘Don’t worry,’ Dot said. ‘I’ll take Janice to see Elmer at the hospital as soon as she’s ready.’ She wrapped her arms around the woman and led her back to the sofa.
Jill was free to wander around the backyard, looking for Nick. But neither he nor Sheriff Adkins were still at the crime scene and none of the deputies bagging forensic evidence knew where they had gone. Deputy Morris reported that the EMTs had been unable to revive Elmer Maxwell before transporting him to the hospital. Jill considered calling Nick, but in the end she let him do his job and she headed back to Sweet Dreams B&B.
After twenty minutes of playing with Jack in the backyard, Jill poured a glass of iced tea and carried it to the front porch. She’d had little time to herself since arriving in Kentucky. But with Michael in Chicago, Dot helping a family in need, and the man-of-her-dreams – or a reasonable facsimile – trying to determine if someone had helped Maxwell to an early grave, Jill settled down in the glider.
However, her amount of relaxation measured exactly eleven minutes. Before she could finish one glass of tea, Gordon Clark parked in front of the house and strolled up the walkway. Lost in his thoughts, Gordy didn’t notice her until he stepped onto the porch.
‘Oh, Miss Curtis. Is my aunt home? I’d like to talk to her.’ He bent down to scratch the beagle behind the ears.
‘Hi, Gordy. No, I’m afraid she’s not.’
When Clark looked skeptical, Jill grudgingly offered more information. ‘Elmer Maxwell, one of your security guards at Black Creek, died of carbon monoxide poisoning last night. Your aunt is with Elmer’s widow, probably at the hospital by now. Before Dot comes home she’ll arrange for groceries and meals to be brought in by her friends at church.’ Jill kicked with her heels to get the glider moving.
Arching his neck, Gordon gazed at the sky, as though answers could be found in the skittering white clouds. ‘That sounds like Aunt Dot – always thinking of other people, unlike myself who thinks of no one but me.’ His deeply shadowed, haunted eyes left Jill unnerved.
‘I don’t know you well enough to agree or disagree, but you could wait for your aunt in the parlor.’ Jill sounded like a talking robot, even to her own ears.
Gordy forced a smile. ‘I would rather wait with you, Jill. I owe you an apology,’ he added after a pause.
‘Apologize for what?’ Her uneasiness grew by leaps and bounds.
‘I went out of my way to snub you, because I was sure you were a gold-digger, out to get my uncle’s distillery.’
Jill planted her feet to stop the glider’s movement. ‘You don’t think that anymore?’
‘I’m the one obsessed with power and money. Uncle Roger had taken the time to teach me everything he knew about bourbon. And how did I repay him? I gave him a hard time about working me so hard at the distillery.’ Gordon dropped down on the top step. ‘Roger had busted his butt his whole life. Why would he expect anything less from me?’
‘You should know hard work since you grew up in a family of moonshiners.’
Gordy shook his head. ‘Not by a longshot. What my father and brother do up in the hills is nothing compared to running a full-scale, legal operation. As it turned out, my uncle had left me the majority of Black Creek in his will. All I had to do was my job and wait.’
‘Sounds simple enough. Why couldn’t you be patient?’
‘Because my family refused to let the old ways die.’
Jill struggled to keep her voice level. ‘What did William and Billy have to do with Roger’s death?’
Gordy’s face contorted. ‘With his death? Nothing. I’m talking about making a few extra bucks at Black Creek’s expense. That’s why Uncle Roger changed his will. Every month I took home a few cases of empty bottles and a pack of labels. My father would put his moonshine into Black Creek bottles. Then Billy sold them to the mom-and-pop stores as the real stuff. Dad made enough cash to pay the real estate taxes and buy groceries.’
‘And did this little scam make a difference to your family?’ Jill glanced at her watch, hoping someone would come home soon.
‘It did, but that five or six hundred a month cost me my job, my inheritance, and my future.’ Gordy’s voice cracked with emotion. ‘Uncle Roger discovered the missing cases during inventory and figured out what I’d been doing. That’s what we argued about Tuesday night.’
‘So on Wednesday you waited until the production crew left and then killed him. Too bad Roger had already changed his will earlier that day.’
‘Killed him?’ Gordon swiveled around to face her. ‘I didn’t kill anyone. When I went to work on Wednesday, I begged Roger not to fire me. I didn’t know anything about his will – new or original – until you and that cop came to my office yesterday.’
‘Have you heard what’s in Roger’s new will?’ Jill felt her shirt stick to her back with sweat.
He nodded. ‘Aunt Dot asked me to meet her at the attorney’s office this morning so her lawyer could read the new will. Then she told the lawyer she wanted to give me her share, because Roger usually regretted decisions made in haste. Those were Aunt Dot’s exact words.’
‘Well, it sounds like things are coming up roses for you.’
Gordy frowned. ‘That’s why I’m here. I plan to tell my aunt about stealing the bottles and labels and passing off moonshine as Black Creek bourbon. I won’t let her give the distillery to a thief and a fraud.’
‘Not to mention her husband’s killer.’ Jill rose to her feet and took a step backwards.
He looked like someone had kicked him in the stomach. ‘I didn’t kill Uncle Roger. When I left work on Wednesday, he was still alive. Like I told you and that cop, I drove up the mountain to check on my sister. Ask Michelle, she’ll confirm my story.’
‘Michelle would probably say just about anything to protect a family member.’
Gordy stood and locked eyes with her. ‘Yeah, she probably would, but Michelle loved Uncle Roger. So she would never cover up his murder. Plus I’m not the only one with a key to Black Creek.’
‘That’s right. Michelle has one too.’
His face flushed with anger. ‘So do several security guards, including Elmer Maxwell. Maybe he killed Roger and couldn’t live with himself.’
‘Sure, blame it on a dead man. What motive do you think Elmer had?’
‘I have no idea. I only know I’m not lying. I wasn’t anywhere around when my uncle died. And I had no idea Roger planned to leave me the distillery.’
‘We’ll let the cops sort this out
. Right now, I want you to leave.’ Jill backed up until she felt the door handle in the middle of her spine.
Pointing at the glider, Gordon walked towards her. ‘Why can’t I wait here until my aunt comes home?’
In an instant, Jill bolted inside the house and pulled out her cell phone. ‘I’m punching in 9-1-1,’ she said through the screen door. ‘I suggest you leave before the cops arrive. You’ll have to chat with Aunt Dot some other time.’
‘I don’t blame you for not trusting me. Tell my aunt or the cops or anybody interested I’ll be on the farm with my family.’ Gordon trudged down the steps with none of the swagger displayed in his office at Black Creek. He climbed in his Jeep, cast a final glance at Sweet Dreams B&B and headed in the direction of home.
Once his car disappeared around the corner, Jill locked the door and returned to her 9-1-1 call. She identified herself, claimed she’d dialed the number by mistake, and breathed a sigh of relief when the dispatcher hung up. Jill couldn’t wait for Dot to get home, or for Nick to finish work, or even for some strangers with reservations for tonight to arrive. Unfortunately, her phone rang just as she stepped out of the shower. And the caller was none of the above.
‘Hello, beautiful. How was your drive back to Chicago?’
It took Jill a moment to recognize the vaguely familiar slow drawl. ‘Jamie Shelby, is that you?’ Swallowing her disappointment, she toweled off with one hand.
‘Right as rain. I can’t wait to see the Founder’s Reserve segment on TV. Now that you’re back to work in the Windy City, I thought maybe you could email me a copy of the article you wrote.’
‘I would be happy to, but I’m not in Chicago. I’m still at Sweet Dreams B and B.’
‘Didn’t I hear through the grapevine that someone broke into your car and stole your equipment?’ Jamie’s question followed a brief pause.
‘News travels fast in Roseville, but I should be used to that by now.’ She chuckled. ‘Only my partner drove to Chicago to pick up new equipment. Remember, Michael Erickson?’
‘Of course, I do. That guy sneezed if he got within twenty feet of grain. Michael really should stay in the city.’
‘Not just grain,’ she said. ‘Michael is allergic to cat dander, tree pollen, ragweed in the fall, and a ton of other allergens. I hope our next assignment will be in a bigger city than Roseville. Of course, distillers need corn, barley and well water, so that’s unlikely. I’m supposed to meet him on Monday after I tie up a few loose ends with Roger’s murder. Michael got our next destination changed to Louisville.’
‘Roger’s murder? You’re a travel writer, not a homicide detective. I thought Sheriff Adkins brought some hot-shot state investigator in to help out.’
‘Yes, he did.’ Jill let the mental image of the hot-shot investigator float through her mind. ‘But since I finished my article on the first two distilleries, I don’t have much else to do.’
‘Have you narrowed down your pool of suspects, Miss Marple?’ Jamie teased.
‘I prefer Nancy Drew, and yes, I think I know whodunit. Time will tell if I’m right.’
‘Bravo, Nancy. Hey, since you’re still in Roseville, why don’t we have dinner tonight? I can read your article on Founder’s Reserve and double check for minor inaccuracies. Plus, I would love to hear your theory on who killed Roger.’
Jill pulled back the curtain, hoping to see Nick’s car in the driveway. She couldn’t wait to tell him about Gordon’s recent visit, not spend time with a Shelby. ‘I’ll email you the article,’ she said, ‘but I really should stick around Sweet Dreams tonight. I’m not sure when Mrs Clark will be home and new people are supposed to check in.’
‘That’s just plain silly,’ Jamie stated flatly. ‘Your innkeeper knows exactly what time her guests plan to arrive. Maybe you’re still a little afraid of me, even though the police ruled me out as a suspect. After all, Miss Curtis, you were my alibi.’
Suddenly Jill remembered the snide remark made by Gordon Clark in his office: Do you have eight grand to go with your unsolicited opinion? Because I don’t, and that’s what the hospital wants upfront since Michelle has no health insurance.
Jill had a sudden thought. Most likely Jamie has eight thousand dollars and he’s also the father of her child. Michelle might be too proud to ask for money, but a first-cousin-twice-removed-by-marriage wasn’t. If there was even a chance of getting Michelle the upfront money, she needed to try. Besides, Nick should be back to Sweet Dreams soon. He could let in any guests who arrived before Dot got home. ‘On second thoughts, Jamie, I’d love to have dinner with you. Where should we meet?’
‘Meet? You city slickers sure have odd habits. Since this will be my last chance to wine-and-dine you, I insist on picking you up. Can you be ready in half an hour?’
Jill smiled even though he couldn’t see her face. ‘Southern men are such gentlemen, no? All right, I’ll be on the porch. Don’t be late, Shelby.’
Not only was he not late, he turned out to be five minutes early. Jamie screeched his sports car to a stop in front of the house. The low-slung vehicle would make entering and exiting discreetly in her short dress almost impossible. But her choice of outfits was the least of her worries. From the moment Jamie showed up at the front door with a huge bunch of flowers, Jill regretted her decision to go out with him one last time.
‘These must have cost you a fortune,’ Jill murmured, accepting the bouquet from his outstretched hand. ‘And they can’t be a bribe for glowing media coverage, since I already turned my article in.’
‘Does a man need a reason to buy flowers for a beautiful woman?’ He stood so close Jill could smell his aftershave and maybe even his shampoo.
‘I’ll put these in water and leave a note for Dot.’ Letting the screen door slam, she backed down the hallway.
‘Tell her not to wait up,’ he called after her. ‘I’ve got an evening of seduction planned – first the flowers, then a gourmet dinner with champagne and candlelight at a romantic seaside cottage.’
Frowning, Jill stuck the flowers in a vase, turned on the tap, and penned a succinct note: Having dinner with Jamie Shelby. Driving Roger’s truck so I can come home early. Setting the flowers on the breakfront, she marched back to the porch.
‘Let’s get one thing straight, Shelby.’ Jill crossed her arms. ‘This will be a casual dinner between business acquaintances. No attempts at seduction will be tolerated.’
Jamie hid his laughter behind a cough. ‘Relax, Jill. I was joking. Consider just how far we are from the ocean.’ He slicked a hand through his thick hair. ‘We’re having dinner at a country inn popular with the after-church crowd and couples celebrating their anniversary.’
‘I see, but why can’t we stay in Roseville?’ She forced her arms down to her side.
Jamie sighed with dramatic exaggeration. ‘Because I don’t want fast food, or pizza, or a cheeseburger and a beer. I thought we could have a nice dinner tonight.’
He looked so earnest, so sincere, she relented. Besides, a nice place would make it harder to refuse her request for Michelle’s eight grand. ‘The country inn sounds lovely, but we’ll drive separately.’ Jill pointed at Roger’s truck in the driveway.
‘What on earth for? The restaurant is forty minutes away.’
‘Because I want to run an errand on my way home,’ she lied, bracing herself for more argument.
But Jamie merely shrugged. ‘Fine, I’ll lead and you follow. Flash your lights if I go too fast.’ At the bottom of the steps he pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. ‘This is where we’re going in case we get separated.’ He showed her the inn’s website with a rambling white house surrounded by flowers and a picket fence.
Jill tapped the address into her GPS, climbed into the pickup, and backed it down the driveway. They would be dining in a public place with her vehicle in the parking lot – it was time to relax and look forward to some good food.
SIXTEEN
Nick returned to the Spencer County Sheriff’s Dep
artment feeling more frustrated than he had in a long time. It had been one dead end or time-wasting detour after another since his arrival in Roseville. His gut told him that Elmer Maxwell’s death wasn’t a suicide, yet the deputies had found no fingerprints inside the car that didn’t belong to Elmer or a member of his family. Unfortunately, the footprints next to the car had been too obliterated by himself or one of the deputies to prove he hadn’t driven home alone and closed the barn door himself. Upon inspection, the fence that separated the Maxwell property from the one behind them had a missing section, making travel between the two yards easy and relatively unseen. None of the adjacent homes had windows overlooking the two backyards. Someone could have ridden home with Elmer, rendered him unconscious, and escaped in a car parked around the block.
Nick tossed his notebook on the desk and leaned precariously back in his chair. Had someone paid the security guard to erase the videotape for the Wednesday before last? So it would appear, yet Maxwell had taken that person’s identity with him to the grave.
‘Excuse me, Lieutenant.’ Deputy Morris interrupted Nick’s woolgathering. ‘Remember the partial blood sample we gathered at Roger Clark’s crime scene, but found no match in the databanks?’
Nick waited, assuming more was forthcoming. ‘Yes,’ he finally prodded.
‘And remember the coffee cup you took off old man Shelby’s desk?’ Morris’s grin stretched from ear to ear.
Nick smiled too. ‘The DNA matched?’
‘Right on the money – a perfect match. Owen Shelby was with Roger Clark the night he died.’
‘Have you told Sheriff Adkins?’
‘I did, because he was only six feet away when the results came in.’
Nick righted his chair and walked into the main office. Adkins stood at the counter with a stack of parking tickets in front of him. ‘Did you contact the DA about an arrest warrant for Owen Shelby?’
