by Mary Ellis
Contents
Cover
Also by Mary Ellis
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Also by Mary Ellis
The Bourbon Tour mysteries
ONE FOR THE ROAD *
The Kate Weller series
HIDING IN PLAIN SIGHT *
SWEET TASTE OF REVENGE *
ISLAND OF LAST RESORTS *
Secrets of the South
MIDNIGHT ON THE MISSISSIPPI
WHAT HAPPENED ON BEALE STREET
MAGNOLIA MOONLIGHT
SUNSET IN OLD SAVANNAH
* available from Severn House
100 PROOF MURDER
Mary Ellis
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
First world edition published in Great Britain and the USA in 2021
by Severn House, an imprint of Canongate Books Ltd,
14 High Street, Edinburgh EH1 1TE.
Trade paperback edition first published in Great Britain and the USA in 2022
by Severn House, an imprint of Canongate Books Ltd.
This eBook edition first published in 2021 by Severn House,
an imprint of Canongate Books Ltd.
severnhouse.com
Copyright © Mary Ellis, 2021
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. The right of Mary Ellis to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-9100-6 (cased)
ISBN-13: 978-1-78029-793-4 (trade paper)
ISBN-13: 978-1-4483-0532-2 (e-book)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.
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ONE
Louisville, Kentucky
The moment she spotted her videographer in the hotel lobby, travel writer Jill Curtis signaled the bartender. ‘We’ll take two of your famous cocktails,’ she said.
‘Hey, Erickson, over here.’ Jill produced the broadest of smiles since her videographer and partner looked like he’d just eaten a dozen lemons.
Dragging his suitcase behind him, Michael pushed his glasses up his nose and shuffled to the barstool she’d saved.
‘Quick, sit down,’ she ordered. ‘I practically had to arm-wrestle two women who wanted your seat.’
Michael glanced around the elegant interior with mild interest. ‘Why are we here?’
‘Because this is one of the hottest bars in the coolest hotel in town. Did you know that Al Capone and his cronies hung out here during Prohibition? So did F. Scott Fitzgerald. In case you weren’t paying attention in English lit, he wrote The Great Gatsby.’
‘Fascinating.’ Michael’s sour expression didn’t change.
‘Plus this bar makes a cocktail for lightweights like me who can’t handle bourbon straight-up.’ With impeccable timing, the bartender set two lemon-garnished flutes in front of them.
Michael’s left eyebrow arched. ‘Why on earth is a bourbon drink fizzing?’
‘Because it also contains champagne. If you don’t like it, I’ll drink both of them.’ Jill took a sip of hers and grinned.
He studied the bubbles and then drank. ‘It’s not bad. Now tell me why we’re in Louisville. The last time we talked, I said Mr Fleming wanted us in Lexington to tie their distillery tour with the Kentucky racing industry. Anyone who’s driven down Interstate 75 has seen those impressive thoroughbred farms.’
Jill took another sip. ‘Oh, my, that is so good.’
Michael pushed her glass beyond reach. ‘No more bubbles until I get answers. I didn’t appreciate you changing the destination when I was halfway through Illinois. And by sending a text, no less. Did you forget Mr Fleming is still our boss at the syndicated news service?’
‘I didn’t forget. That’s why I called him for approval before switching cities for our next bourbon tour travel log. Louisville is home to the granddaddy of horseracing, the Kentucky Derby, along with their famous drink, the mint julep. Louisville also has four stops on the state’s tour circuit and a new urban circuit of bourbon bars and restaurants, including where we’re sitting now. It didn’t take long to convince the boss that this would be a better location.’
‘Here you are, miss. My name’s Ray, by the way.’ The bartender, who’d been eavesdropping, pushed Jill’s glass within reach. ‘Besides, we’re closer to Illinois and we’re more chic than Lexington.’
‘Thanks, Ray,’ Jill said with a wink. ‘See what I mean, partner? Best of both worlds.’
‘OK, fine. At least I didn’t have to smooth things over with the boss like last time.’ Michael relaxed on the barstool. ‘Let’s finish these and head to our hotel. I’m starving and exhausted. There was nothing but road construction and fender-benders the entire trip from Chicago.’
‘This is home-sweet-home for the next week, the beautiful Thurman House Hotel.’ Jill flourished her hand around the room. ‘And we’re very close to the famous Whiskey Row.’
‘No way can we afford this place on our expense account.’ Michael downed the rest of his drink. ‘Did you drive your Uncle Roger’s pickup to Louisville? The valet here would love getting behind the wheel of that old relic.’
Jill shook her head. ‘I did not. Parking is too expensive in the city. My aunt dropped me off and went home. During the drive from Roseville, I negotiated a corporate discount with the manager. Plus, this hotel is part of a chain where I have tons of reward points. If we’re here longer than a week, you can use your points for the second week. I also made reservations for our first tour at Parker Estate Distillery tomorrow and lined up an interview with the manager of operations.’
Michael’s expression improved considerably. ‘I thought the infamous Whiskey Row burned down.’
‘It did, but their historic façade survived intact and they have since rebuilt.’
‘Not bad, Curtis. For once, you did good.’
‘Ray, let’s have another round.’ Jill sang the words like a radio jingle. ‘I’ve got something to celebrate.’
‘Absolutely not, Ray. Knowing her, she hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast and it’s almost suppertime.’ Michael hooked his thumb at her.
Filling a bowl with mixed nuts, Ray set it in front of her. ‘Have a snack, Miss Jill. I’ll hav
e those drinks up.’ His smile could have charmed a snake.
‘How long have you been here?’ Michael asked under his breath.
‘Not very long, maybe fifteen minutes. I make friends fast.’ Jill poured nuts onto a napkin and started to eat. ‘Did you buy new equipment so you can video our tour stops?’
‘I replaced everything with top of the line. I hope Fleming’s insurance covers the full cost. And you better hope no more ex-boyfriends take their animosity out on my car.’
Jill almost choked on a cashew. ‘That guy was not my ex-boyfriend. He turned out to be a murderer, remember?’
‘Yeah, but I also remember you went out with him a couple times.’ Michael grabbed a handful from her bowl.
‘Hey, use a napkin,’ Jill hissed. ‘Who knows when you last washed your hands?’
Ray returned with two fresh drinks. ‘For the record, plenty of people have dated psychopaths. At least you didn’t marry the guy.’ He moved the nuts in front of Michael and produced a fresh bowl for Jill.
‘You’re right, Ray, I didn’t.’ She lifted her glass in toast. ‘Unfortunately I have a bad habit of judging books by their cover, if you get my drift.’
Michael waited until Ray walked away to serve other customers. ‘You’ve been here fifteen minutes and you already have another admirer,’ he whispered.
‘I can’t help it if I’m irresistible. You better be careful, Erickson. Bartenders have extraordinarily good hearing. It’s part of the job description.’
Michael glanced down the bar. ‘How are things in Roseville? Can your aunt Dot handle the bed and breakfast by herself?’
Jill ate another handful of nuts since getting tipsy was the last thing she wanted on their first night in Louisville. ‘Other than missing Uncle Roger, she seems to be OK. Of course, summer is the busy season at Sweet Dreams and that’s over with. She’ll soon have someone to help her – my grandmother – long before spring rolls around. Those two patched up their differences.’
‘How much help will another old lady be? Mrs Clark needs someone young and strong working for her.’ Michael flexed his bicep.
‘I’ll recommend you if we get fired. In the meantime, don’t discount my grandmother. She’s a great cook and no longer needs assisted living now that her knee has healed. My parents kept her there so they didn’t have to worry about her.’
‘That must have made Granny mad.’ Michael gobbled another handful of nuts. ‘What happened to her house?’
‘It was just sitting empty, but with all the bedrooms upstairs, it was no good for her. After a little encouragement from her favorite granddaughter, Granny sold the house and invested the proceeds in mutual funds.’
‘You talked her into what?’ Michael’s eyes grew round.
‘I sent her the best real estate agent in Chicago and then hooked her up with a reputable stockbroker. Granny will soon be on a Greyhound bus on her way to Louisville.’
‘Your mother will pull your hair out.’
‘Not if I never go home again.’
Michael shook his head. ‘You better hope things work out in Roseville. Those two women didn’t speak for over forty years. What happens if they have another fight?’
‘I honestly don’t see that happening. Even if they argue, Dot’s house is so big they can stay out of each other’s way until things cool down.’
‘Aren’t all the bedrooms upstairs at Sweet Dreams?’
‘No, there’s a small bedroom and bath off the library. It was for Uncle Roger when he snored too much.’
‘Sounds like you’ve got life tied up with a bow.’ Michael sounded unusually snide.
‘What do you mean by that?’ she asked, her hackles rising.
‘First, you took care of lonely Aunt Dot and your underutilized Granny in one fell swoop, while making sure your new romance with the Kentucky state cop will have another two weeks to see if anything comes of it.’ Michael pulled his stool closer. ‘I’m not stupid, Jill. I know Nick Harris works out of the Louisville post whereas Lexington would’ve been three hours away.’
She furled her lip. ‘Do you lie awake at night figuring me out? Or do these brilliant insights pop into your head without warning?’
‘You, Jill Curtis, are as complicated as a hamster on a wheel.’ Michael finished his second drink and hefted his duffle bag to his shoulder. ‘I want to check in, change clothes, and walk to Whiskey Row. We can find a place for dinner along the way and eat here another night. I’ll meet you in the lobby in thirty minutes.’ With the matter settled Michael strode from the bar.
‘Sure, Mikey, whatever you say,’ Jill muttered under her breath.
Like magic, the attentive bartender materialized. ‘Pushy little man, isn’t he?’ Ray tossed Michael’s nuts in the trash and wiped down where he’d been sitting.
‘Oh, he’s all right,’ Jill said. ‘We usually take turns being a pain in the backside.’
Ray’s expression deepened his substantial number of wrinkles. ‘That’s how life should be. If I may be so bold, what are you two – casual friends, former lovers, ex-spouses? If you say boyfriend and girlfriend, my heart will break.’ He placed his hand on the center of his chest.
Jill chuckled. Despite his extraordinary sense of hearing, Ray had to be seventy years old. ‘Michael and I are best friends besides co-workers. We write travel articles for syndicated newspapers and several internet sites, while he usually shoots the video. But unfortunately, I have a boyfriend. We just met a few weeks ago.’
Ray topped off her bowl of nuts. ‘Ah, yes, the Kentucky state cop. I was hoping I heard wrong. Sometimes this bar gets so noisy.’ He frowned at three women who were unwinding rather vocally. ‘If that cop doesn’t live up to expectations, you let me know. In the meantime, try Doc Crow’s Southern Smokehouse for dinner tonight. You won’t be sorry.’
‘We’ll look for it. Thanks. Can I take this drink up to my room for later?’
‘You, Miss Jill, can do whatever you please while a guest of the Thurman House.’ Ray reached for her hand and air-kissed the back of her fingers. ‘Take these nuts for later too.’ He emptied the bowl into a takeout box.
‘You know the way to a girl’s heart.’ Jill started to walk away then hesitated. ‘Goodness, I almost forgot to pay my tab.’
Ray was already refilling beer mugs for a group of men. ‘Would you like me to add it to your room?’
‘Sure, but I haven’t checked in yet.’ She dug for her credit card.
‘That’s no problem. You just run along, Miss Jill.’
Just run along? I’m sure not in Chicago anymore. But she had no time to ponder flirtatious bartenders in a gorgeous landmark hotel. By the time she checked in and found her room – a two-bedroom suite to be exact – and washed her hands and face, Michael was tapping his toe in their shared living room.
‘Did I not mention I was starving?’ he whined. ‘What in the world takes women so long?’ Opening the door, he waved her through.
Jill pressed the button for the elevator. ‘You should have eaten more nuts. I took my bowl to my room.’
‘You did what? Oh, never mind.’ Down in the lobby, Michael scanned nearby restaurants on his phone. ‘Any idea where we should eat?’
‘I have my heart set on Doc Crow’s Southern Smokehouse.’ Jill applied lipstick using her reflection in the window.
‘That one and Merle’s Whiskey Kitchen were highly rated in my search. Let’s head down Main Street and see which one we come to first.’
Unfortunately for Michael, they reached Whiskey Row first, which was still under construction after the fire four years ago. Jill studied each giant photograph along the brick façade to gain perspective. ‘Until I saw a news video of that warehouse fire two years ago, I couldn’t imagine liquids burning. Forty-five thousand barrels destroyed at Jim Beam. What a shame.’
‘Haven’t you ever had Cherries Jubilee?’ Michael asked, studying the chronology of photographs. ‘It’s the rum that burns, not the ice cream. Anything eight
y proof or higher will burn, and most bourbon is one-hundred proof.’ Michael pulled her away from the display by the hand. ‘Food, Curtis. Or I’ll start gnawing on your arm.’
Following the prompts from his phone, they soon found Doc Crow’s and were seated, Monday not being a busy night for dinner out. Their menu was extensive, the list of bourbons and other whiskeys long. After a short perusal, Michael ordered a smokehouse sampler with ribs, pulled pork and beef brisket. Jill selected blackened tilapia with fried okra, pickled vegetables and hush puppies. The food was delicious, but neither of them came close to finishing their meal.
‘Happy, now?’ Jill asked, slurping her iced tea.
‘I am, but we’re not going back to the hotel until I have a real Kentucky bourbon, straight-up. People don’t come to Louisville to drink iced tea.’ He pushed away their glasses.
‘Some do, but all right. Let’s sit at the bar where we can breathe in the atmosphere.’ Jill found two seats at the far end. On her left was a young couple on a date, judging by their attire. On Michael’s right was a group of multi-aged women, who had just left a business conference, judging by their nametags. The group was well along in the wind-down process.
‘What’ll it be, folks?’ The female bartender’s gaze roved from one to the other.
‘We’ll each have a shot of Parker Estate,’ Michael said. ‘What’s with the black armband?’
She gaped at him. ‘Since you picked Parker’s, I assumed you’d heard the sad news.’
Jill spotted two other bartenders wearing black armbands. ‘We just arrived in Louisville. What happened?’
‘William Scott, the master distiller at Parker Estate, passed away this afternoon. Most bartenders in Louisville are wearing black bands to show respect.’ She poured a goodly amount into two snifters, pushed them over, and the tiniest amount for herself.
‘Oh, dear. We scheduled a tour at Parker’s Distillery tomorrow.’
‘I’m sure it will be cancelled. The family is in mourning. To Mr Scott, cheers.’ She raised her glass and downed the contents.
