She’d made a fatal mistake on Friday night by sleeping with Ramsey. And now she was paying the ultimate price. No other man would ever satisfy her the way Ramsey had. How could they? She could still feel his big hot hands exploring her body, smell him, and taste his kisses. She accelerated, pushing the eight year old Ford Focus the museum employees used for deliveries harder. She remembered how to get to the De Wolfe compound like she drove it every day. Highway 61 to Coal Street, take a left on Fleming Avenue and creep two miles up the ass-clenching incline of a road until she reached the driveway.
The only way to get the answers she wanted was to show up uninvited and beg his mother for an interview. Until now, she’d wrestled with the idea, but never followed through. It just seemed wrong to invade the family’s private world. But damn it, things were different now. And if she didn’t act swiftly, Ramsey might retaliate by making that dreaded phone call to her boss. Madison wanted to prove herself worthy of a promotion. And getting answers would guarantee her a full time position at the museum.
She finally reached the gravel driveway, the three-story mansion visible from the street. She parked in the turnaround and followed the footpath leading to the front porch. Built on the crest of the highest hill, it overlooked the valley below where horses grazed freely on the famous Kentucky blue grass. Ash and oak trees surrounded the house, and she could smell the sweet fragrance of bush honeysuckle.
The front door opened before Madison even reached the first step.
She recognized Claire De Wolfe immediately, her delicate features and soft, dark hair as lovely as it appeared in all the pictures they had at the museum. She held a basket and was wearing gloves, pruning shears in her right hand.
“Good afternoon,” Claire said. “Are you lost?”
“No.” Madison braved the distance between them, joining her on the porch. “My name is Madison Blake, I work at the Opposition City Museum.”
“Did we miss our payment?” Claire looked embarrassed.
“No ma’am,” Madison said respectfully, growing anxious. “I wanted to see you.”
“Have we met, Madison?”
“Only in the pages of a book.”
Claire’s face lit up. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve heard in a long time, Ms. Blake. I’m going to the greenhouse, care to join me?” She pointed.
The domed structure was all glass with metal trim. She trailed after Claire, gaining confidence with each step. Once inside, Madison admired the rows of roses.
“I know it’s smaller than most high-tech structures of its kind, but don’t let that fool you. My babies get the best of everything, a computerized system controls the heating, cooling, and light settings. What color do you prefer?” Claire gazed at her.
“White roses have always been my favorite.”
“A classic.” She walked down the next aisle and stopped. “Would you like to take a half dozen home with you?”
“Please.” Madison didn’t want to hover, so she stayed put.
“So tell me what your interest in my family is, Madison.”
“I’m the assistant curator…”
“Carl is a sweet man,” Claire said.
Sweet didn’t come to mind when Madison pictured her boss. But he had a public face and another he reserved for his employees. “Yes, he expects complete dedication to our work. That’s why I’m here.”
“Oh?” Claire’s voice went up an octave as she returned to the entryway. “What would you like to know?”
“Well…” She needed to word this very carefully. “I tried talking to your son. But Ramsey is hard to reach.”
A tiny smile crossed Claire’s face as she took off her gloves and laid them on a nearby work bench. She placed the small bouquet of roses there too, then met Madison’s worried gaze. She shouldn’t have mentioned Ramsey. If that didn’t send the wrong message, Madison didn’t know what would. Apparently she fell apart whenever that man crossed her mind. Maybe she should excuse herself and just drive back to work and forget her aspirations. Some secrets were better left unspoken. And some curses were never meant to be broken.
“I knew it,” Claire said. “Such a pretty girl wouldn’t drive all the way out here just to ask me a few questions about my family’s history. You’re involved with my son. I can see it in your eyes.”
“N-no,” Madison denied.
Claire took her hand, patting it reassuringly. “Please don’t be ashamed. I know everything about Ramsey, his lifestyle choices and how he treats women. But I must say, you’re the first one to ever care enough to show up here. And for that, I’m grateful.”
“It’s purely professional,” Madison tried to sound indifferent. “My graduate studies focused on your family’s contributions to Opposition City. I’m here to learn more.”
Claire chuckled. “All right, Ms. Blake. What would you like to know?”
“I specialize in stories that circulated in ancient Greece and Rome, and curses and legends from medieval Europe. I’ve presented at several graduate consortiums abroad, and completed an internship at the British Museum three years ago. My research papers are available online if you’re interested in confirming my credentials.” Madison kept a file on her smart phone, too.
Claire listened intently. “That won’t be necessary.”
She appreciated Claire’s trust. “Of all the curses I’ve encountered in my studies, one piqued my curiosity the most. And I haven’t been able to answer one question. I know your family’s history starts with Sir William De Wolfe’s brother, Jonathan. Until he fathered his fifth son Edward with his mistress, it seems his life wasn’t very exciting.”
“True,” she confirmed. “Middle sons were often overlooked.”
“Until he begged his wife to accept his child as her own.”
“The origin of the curse. Imagine condemning an innocent child to such a fate. The boy suffered all his life, accepting punishment for his father’s sins. Like the mark of Cain, the curse followed him wherever he went. Superstition defeated common decency back then. When people found out who Edward was, they cast him out, sometimes upon the threat of bodily harm or death. Edward sought refuge in France. From there, he travelled to Italy, where he fathered a son. I’m sure you’re familiar with our family tree.”
“Yes,” Madison said, her heart racing with excitement. Why hadn’t she done this before? Simply approached Claire and asked her question. “Please don’t feel obligated to go any further if you’re uncomfortable.”
“Would you like a drink, Madison? I have bottled water, ginger ale, and lemonade in the refrigerator over there.”
“Lemonade, please.” She followed Claire across the workspace to a kitchenette that had a long counter, sink, and the mini fridge. Four bar stools were tucked under the counter.
“Have a seat,” Claire said as she opened the fridge and took out two bottles. “Now…” She claimed the seat next to Madison. “Where were we?”
Madison opened her drink and took a nervous swig. “Your family tree.”
“Do you know how difficult it is raising a family in Kentucky when you’re not a properly married woman?”
Madison could guess. The gossip. Isolation. Shame. “I imagine you had to fight to protect your children.”
“Always,” Claire said, her jaw tightening. “Now we have grandchildren to consider. Although unwed mothers aren’t openly shamed, there’s still a collection of old Kentucky families that won’t breathe the same air as a De Wolfe.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” Claire sighed and took a drink of lemonade. “Fortunately, my granddaughters will grow up and marry. So there’s hope for us yet.”
Madison feigned a smile.
“Where are you from, Madison?”
“Lexington.”
“A beautiful place.”
“I prefer the small town charm of Opposition City.”
“Things always look better in a glass showcase,” she said, likely referring to the De Wolfe family exhi
bit at the museum. “But let’s not resurrect old ghosts. I’d be happy to answer whatever questions you have.”
Madison shifted on the stool, tucking her feet under the rung on the frame. “Curses can be broken.”
Claire’s shoulders straightened and the light returned to her eyes. “Yes, they can.”
“I’ve searched exhaustively for any information on how to reverse the curse on your sons.”
“The answer isn’t in a book, Madison. The universe has a way of balancing things. Men might be physically superior to women, but God gave them a weak spot right in the middle.”
Madison grinned, knowing she meant their balls.
“The concept is the same. Jonathan De Wolfe’s wife lost the sympathy of her people once she took revenge on that infant. Lady Mary De Wolfe didn’t try to conceal her knowledge of witchcraft. She pronounced that curse in front of anyone that would listen. But Jonathan sought forgiveness through the church and received absolution. And just like any worthy fairytale, there’s a moral lesson to be learned and a happily ever after.”
Madison leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, her elbow on the counter. “What is it?”
“I can’t tell you.”
Her heart plummeted. She didn’t understand. Claire had offered to answer her questions. “Why?”
“Only the females in the De Wolfe line are gifted with that knowledge. And if we tell anyone, we too will feel the sting of that curse. I can only assure you that if you listen to your heart, you’ll find the answers you seek.”
“Why has it taken this long for someone to find out?”
“Because you’re the first person that’s ever asked.”
CHAPTER NINE
Ramsey watched the sun dip below the horizon from the comfort of his leather sectional. Exhausted after a long day of interviewing business owners along Main Street, he finally found someone that recognized Margaret Costner’s picture. He loosened his tie and reclined, taking a long drink of beer. Marty Owens, the owner of Blues Central, assured him the girl had been partying with a group of friends in the pool room of his bar. The girls ordered three pitchers of Budweiser and shot a couple games before they left together.
Where Margaret disappeared between nine and ten PM, no one knew yet. The party at the lake started by ten, and several people remembered seeing Margaret alive and well. By eleven, most of the kids were drunk. But Ramsey refused to give up. He’d interview the three dozen party goers again and see if there were any holes in their stories. Uniformed officers had a way of making people shut down, but Ramsey knew how to make them talk.
Just as he set his bottle on the coffee table, his cell phone chimed. The ring tone warned his mother was on the other end of the call. He sighed, then picked up. “Hello?”
“How’s my dearest son?” Claire asked, her voice oversaturated with sweetness.
“I’m fine, Mother. How are you?”
“Oh don’t get so uptight. I’m not going to beg you over to dinner or try to set you up with another friend’s daughter. Can’t I call to say hello?”
He knew better, the woman had never done it before. “Of course you can. But don’t blame me for being suspicious.” He chuckled.
“I met a lovely girl today.”
Here it came. “My love life is fine.”
She snorted. “I believe you.”
“Good. Then there’s no need to discuss the girl you met.”
“Madison Blake. She’s the assistant curator at the museum.”
Goddamnit. Ramsey didn’t like lines to get crossed. He kept his professional, personal, and family lives separate for a reason. “Forget you ever met her.”
“I can’t do that. We connected, Ramsey.”
His mother spent too much time cooped up on the hillside. With his stepfather in need of constant help, she rarely travelled to town. So she welcomed any stranger into their home. “What did she want?”
“She questioned me about our family, and the curse.”
He sat up, then rubbed the back of his neck, frustrated in too many ways to count. “She knows more about our private affairs than we do.” He pictured his mother with a cat-ate-the-canary smile. She enjoyed making him uncomfortable.
“Are you saying she’s not to be trusted?”
He didn’t want to ruin Madison’s reputation; he just wanted her to go away. “No. She’s very motivated, claims if she gets an interview with me it will help advance her career.”
“Maybe you should take her to dinner.”
I already took her to bed. “I believe there’s a fundamental incompatibility, we’d never make it through the appetizers.”
“I raised you to be a gentleman. And Lord knows how many reporters have chased after you. I believe her interest is deeper than professional curiosity. Don’t be so quick to dismiss a girl who braved the drive out here.”
Oh he wouldn’t dismiss her; he planned on confronting her. She took advantage of his mother and him. “I’ll think about it. Is dad well?”
“Comfortable and watching James Bond movies.”
“Chancellor?”
“At basketball practice.”
“You?” he asked again. His mother rarely talked about herself.
“Do you even need to ask?”
“Good night, Mother, I love you.”
“I love you, too, Ramsey.”
He disconnected and looked at his watch. Eight thirty. Where would he go on a Monday night if he were a hot, single female who got caught in a lie with a guy she just slept with? Since Madison didn’t strike him as the kind to stay home and binge on Haggen Dazs, he decided to check Main Street. All the bars in Opposition City were regulated to downtown by zoning laws. It made his job easier as a cop. Unless she hung out at five star hotels, then he’d have to drive to the airport.
He trudged upstairs and changed into black jeans, a ribbed T-shirt, and cowboy boots. Once he shut down Madison’s game, maybe he’d find someone to spend quality time with in bed.
He checked the usual hangouts, and then finally ended up at Kramer’s, a pizza joint with a fully stocked bar and dart boards in the back. He ordered a beer and slowly walked through the crowd, casually searching. Much to his disappointment, no Madison. All right, he’d have to break a couple rules. He sucked down his drink and threw the empty longneck in a nearby trash can as he left the bar. Then he climbed in his car and dialed police dispatch.
Tanner answered on the second ring. “Detective De Wolfe,” she said in that southern drawl that drove him crazy. “What can I do to you?”
Ramsey couldn’t help but laugh. The older woman had been crushing on him for six years. “If you don’t watch it, Smith, I’ll file a sexual harassment complaint.”
“Please,” she said. “If I didn’t sweet talk you, you’d think something was wrong.”
“You’re entirely correct.” He chuckled again. “Can you run a name for me? I need an address and phone number.”
“On or off the record?”
She knew him too well. Breaking with departmental policy was a necessary evil sometimes. “Off,” he said. “The name is Madison Blake. She lives at the Burgess Apartments.
“Hold on,” Tanner said.
A few minutes later he had Madison’s information. He drove to her complex and parked out front, then called her.
“This is Madison,” she said.
“Ms. Blake,” Ramsey used his professional voice. “We need to talk.”
“Ramsey?” she asked, completely surprised. “How did you get my number?”
“I have ways.”
“Right,” she said. “The cop thing.”
“I’m very resourceful.”
“And very rude,” she added.
Ramsey swallowed before he replied. “You’re in no position to call me names, Ms. Blake. If I weren’t a gentleman, I could think of a couple choice tags for you.” He slid out of his car and started walking toward her building.
“Did you call to argue, or is the
re a legitimate reason you made contact with me after what you told me Saturday morning?”
Ramsey spotted the number three on the two-story, wood structure with faded and chipped blue paint. Music blared from someone’s stereo in the next building. She shouldn’t live here. He climbed the stairs. “You visited my mother today.”
Dead silence followed. Then he heard an indiscriminate shit.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I regret it, believe me.”
He paused at her front door, not expecting her to say that. “Why?”
“Believe it or not, Detective De Wolfe, my intentions are pure. I am truly interested in your family’s history. I’m not after your money or whatever outlandish accusations you can come up with.”
The tightness in her voice suggested she was telling the truth, or half-truths anyway. He knocked.
“Is that all you wanted to hear?” she asked. “Someone just knocked on my door, I need to go.”
“I’ll wait,” he offered.
“O-okay.”
The door opened and Madison’s delectable mouth twisted into a scowl. She was wearing a pair of shorts, sports bra, and fluffy blue socks. Ramsey tucked his phone in his pocket.
All of his patience dissolved. “Do you always answer the door half naked?” he growled. “This complex is infested with felons.”
“Do you always show up unannounced at women’s homes you fuck and dump the next day?” Her green eyes narrowed and she thrust her hand on her hip.
His gaze wandered down her toned little body, drawn to the spot between her legs, where he’d been buried balls-deep a couple nights ago. Fuck. “Are you going to invite me in, or do you want me to interrogate you here so the whole world knows what you’re about?”
She lifted her finger to her lips to shush him.
“This is official police business, Ms. Blake.”
“You’re such a douche bag,” she complained as she stepped aside.
Ramsey entered her apartment, surprised by Madison’s good taste. The other units he’d frequented here were typically filthy or cluttered, with drab white walls, thread-bare furniture, and a pile of unwashed dishes in the sink. She’d obviously taken the time to paint, the combination dining-living room a warm spring green. The far wall was nothing but oak shelves crammed with books. A flat screen TV and i-Pad dock were to the left of the shelves on an entertainment hutch. A chocolate-colored leather couch positioned in the middle of the space, separated the living room from the eating area.
Never Cry De Wolfe--World of de Wolfe Pack Page 5
