by Abigail Keam
A dark cloud gathered over Lady Elsmere’s face, but she remained quiet. I knew though that Mr. and Mrs. Humble had just been written off the guest list permanently. So did Ruth. She gave her twit of a husband a curdling look.
We chatted about inane subjects until we retired to the library again for dessert and coffee. Jake nodded at me, giving me the signal. I excused myself to use the powder room, but headed to the kitchen where I encountered a skeleton crew of workers. The cook and her people had left, leaving the cleaning up to Charles’ staff, which comprised Charles’s grandsons and a new employee who had been on board for a month.
I went up to the new staff member who was carefully washing the antique china by hand. “Hello,” I said cheerfully. “My name is Mrs. Reynolds. I was wondering if I could get a glass of milk. My stomach is in an uproar.”
The young man looked at his fellow workers, who suddenly had become very busy with other tasks. “Sure thing,” he said, slowly strutting to the refrigerator. I studied him while he poured the milk. His features were pleasant enough but he was very thin as though he hadn’t eaten much protein as a child. His nails were filed and clean but looked yellowish. His blond hair was thin and laid limply across a low sloping shiny forehead. At the back of the neck, one could see the tip of a tattoo. His face was scarred from acne, but what really interested me were pinpoints of swelling on his neck, face and hands. Handing me the filled glass, he watched me drink it. I didn’t like the expression on his face. It was a smirk – like he had one over me.
“I’m dying for a smoke. Can I bum a cigarette off you?”
“How did you know that I smoked?” he asked reaching for a pack in his shirt pocket.
“I saw the nicotine stains on your fingers,” I said. “Dead giveaway.”
One of Charles’ grandsons spoke up. “Miss Josiah, you know you’re not supposed to smoke with your asthma. You give that cigarette right back or I’m going to call Mr. Garth.”
I made a face at him. “I can’t do anything anymore without someone telling on me.” Handing the new guy my the empty glass, I asked, “Mind if I have another? At least, I can have that.”
He shrugged, “You’re the guest,” and gave me another which I drank sitting on a stool.
“You must be new to Lady Elsmere’s staff. I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
His face registered nothing, but he shifted his weight. “I’ve been on board for over a month.”
“I hope you like it here.”
“Yes, very much, thank you.” He reached for the empty glass.
“Oh my goodness!” I exclaimed, pointing to the swollen wounds on his hands. “Those look like bee stings. And you’ve got some on your neck too. My bees didn’t do that, did they?”
He jerked his hands away. “No ma’am. I was cleaning out an old shed and a nest of wasps got me. Had nothing to do with your bees.”
“That’s good, because that’s an awful lot of stings. I don’t want to get sued.” We both chuckled. “Well, I’d best be getting back,” I said.
His brown eyes regarded me suspiciously as he helped me off the stool. I headed toward the library again, where I met Charles in the hallway. I nodded as I passed.
Returning to my seat in the library, I waited fifteen minutes before I announced I was weary and needed to leave. The men stood as I struggled to get out of my chair. Finally, Jake pulled me on my bedroom-slippered feet. Everyone seemed relieved to see me go. I still wasn’t all that steady on my feet and that tended to make people nervous. I was too blasé to think that it was out of concern for me personally.
Meriah Caldwell escorted me to the front door. “I have never gotten to use my invitation to see the Butterfly.”
I was tempted to say that tours were every Tuesday and Saturday. Jake and I needed to get away fast. “Are you staying . . . again?”
“Yes, I’ll be a guest of June’s for some time. I am finishing up my book about murder in the Bluegrass and need to soak up more ambience . . .”
“Ah, gee, that’s great,” I cut in. “Well . . . please excuse me. It’s been a long day.”
“We never did discuss my book at dinner.”
“Another time, please. I am starting to ache all over. I’m afraid I sat too long. Cramps up my muscles.”
“Of course,” she said. Jake bade Meriah goodnight and got us both in the Bentley. She stood on the portico waving as Charles drove Jake and myself down the driveway.
Safely ensconced in the car, I asked, “Charles?”
“It’s done.”
“How did you get him?”
Jake interrupted. “Don’t tell her a thing, Charles. Everyone needs plausible deniability. In fact, let me out right here.”
Charles stopped the car and turned toward Jake. “I can drive back to the building.”
“No,” said Jake emphatically. “If for some reason, we got the wrong guy, both of you can say truthfully under a lie detector test, that you let me out here so I could stretch my legs on a walk home. Remember, plausible deniability.” He placed a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Just drop off Mrs. Reynolds like you would usually do. She’ll be okay. Matt and Franklin are there. I talked with them just before I got into the car. Now, I need to walk to stretch my legs. I’ll see you, Boss Lady, at the house.”
“Okay,” I said, looking straight ahead. I knew I was not to see Jake disappear into the woods and reenter June’s property. As soon as I heard the car door shut, I said, “Let’s go, Charles.”
“I hope this works,” muttered Charles, “or all our fannies will be in hot water.”
18
The next morning I was awakened by the doorbell ringing. Putting on a robe, I went to the front door, checked the security monitor and taking a deep breath, pressed the button that unlocked the alcove door. I opened the front steel door and waited. “Good morning, Detective Goetz,” I said.
“Morning. May I come in?” Goetz asked. He followed me into the great room. I motioned for him to sit. “You were still asleep?”
“I had a late night at June’s . . . I mean Lady Elsmere’s last night.”
He took out his notebook and thumbed through it. “Dinner ended about 9:10.”
“That’s late for me anymore. I don’t have the stamina to stay up. Besides why do you care how late I stayed up?”
“Just trying to get a picture of last night’s events.” Goetz licked the end of his pencil. He looked around. “Where’s your boy?”
“My boy?” I repeated in confusion. “Oh, you mean Jake. He is either in his bedroom, doing a security walk or swimming laps in the pool. I know he is up because the coffeepot is on. Would you like some?”
“That would be nice,” said Goetz.
I limped over to the kitchen and poured two mugs of coffee. I brought them back on a tray with sugar, honey and milk. My hands shook a little bit, but I could put that down to my condition. I twitched all the time anyway.
Goetz grabbed the tray and put it on the coffee table. “Thanks,” he said, picking up a mug.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Did you find out who hurt my animals?”
“Got a call from the hospital last night that Charles had brought in an employee who was having a very bad trip – jacked out on who knows how many drugs. The docs called the police ’cause he was ranting about being abducted from Lady Elsmere’s kitchen and shot up with drugs while being interrogated.”
“What employee?” I asked. “Was he serving dinner last night? I saw the serving staff and they looked fine. How absurd.”
“That’s what the cop who took the report thought, but he passed the report on to me ’cause he knew I had an interest what in goes on here.” Goetz scratched his ear. “The thing that got my attention was in the list of drugs in this guy’s system was scopolamine. Do you know what that is?”
I shook my head.
“It’s actually used in small dosages for motion sickness but also used for military interrogation. Of course, it’s illegal
to use this drug like that, but used, it is. It’s a truth serum. Very powerful and very dangerous. I said to myself – who would have something like this in their medicine chest? I said to myself – doesn’t Josiah’s daughter have military connections?”
I interrupted, “Did you do a background check on this guy?”
Goetz reared back in his seat. He paused for a long moment looking at me. I stared back. Finally he said, “Yes, I did.” He looked at his notes. “His real name is George Fanning. A two-time loser from Tennessee. Has numerous minor convictions for assault and petty thievery. Loves cockfights and has been known to bet on dogfights as well. Has served two terms at West Tennessee State Penitentiary for robbery with a deadly weapon.” He took a sip of coffee. “This is where the story gets interesting. Charles hired this guy on a recommendation from a buddy of his from the VFW hall – a buddy that we can’t find now. The employee gave his name as George Frank. Charles did a background check and gave him a drug test. The guy comes up clean, so Charles hires him. Been working for Lady Elsmere for about a month.
“Last night, Charles claims this guy comes at him out of nowhere and tries to attack him. Charles’ grandkids pull this George Frank off and call the cops. The arresting officer calls an ambulance because this guy is foaming at the mouth – literally. On the way to the hospital he begins making these wild claims that he was abducted and taken to an old shed on Lady Elsmere’s property where he was interrogated and given drugs by someone wearing a mask. But he recognizes the voice of the interrogator as being a guest at the dinner party. Your escort, ummm, or your bodyguard,” he says looking at his notes. “Jake Dosh, the guy who was with you in Key West. The guy who was carrying a gun yesterday under his shirt at the barn. The guy who never lets you out his sight.
“Here’s another twist to the story. This Fanning says that he never attacked Charles – that Charles is lying. Once the interrogation was over, Charles’ boys came in and just took him back up to the main house and called the police, where all four lied to the cops about the attack.”
“I don’t care about what this George claims. Did he have anything to do with killing that goat or drugging Baby?”
Goetz took a deep breath. “I think so. We did a search this morning and found a knife in his apartment that tested positive for blood. The lab is checking to see if it is goat’s blood. Also found some roofies that would cause a dog to sleep heavily if given enough. This George Fanning also had meth over the user amount, so he’ll go down for that. Yep, this George is a bad boy, no matter how you look at it.”
“If you can tie the knife to the goat, my question is why?”
“Among the many fabulous tales coming out of this guy’s mouth is one that he was drinking in some redneck bar in Memphis when he was approached by some guy who told him he could make an easy three grand. All he had to do was come here and make a little trouble. His job was to terrify you for a short period of time and then leave the state. He was given a thousand to start and then when finished, this guy would meet him in Tennessee who would give him the rest of the two thousand. Easy money.”
“Did he say who this guy was?”
“No names were exchanged, but George described the guy.”
“And?” I clasped my hands, waiting for the worst.
“I’m very sorry, Josiah. But it sounds like O’nan, but lots of guys look like him, you know.”
I took a deep breath. “Do you believe he could have survived that fall?”
“Off the record?”
“Yeah.”
“No, but stranger things have happened.” He closed his notebook. “I’m sorry. I know what you have been through. I know that I have been a part of that worry, but I’m gonna catch him. I swear that I will catch O’nan if he’s alive.”
“Not his buddy anymore?” I replied sarcastically.
“I was never his buddy,” sputtered Goetz. His eyes looked moist and concerned. “I know you won’t believe this, but I ran a lot of interference with O’nan on your behalf.”
“You’re right. I don’t believe it.”
Goetz sighed and then stood. “Tell your boy that I want to talk with him . . . soon.”
“Will do.”
“I’ll see myself out.”
As soon as I heard the click of the door, I went to security monitor and moved the camera joystick so I could watch Goetz leave. “Did you hear all that?” I asked.
“Yes,” replied Jake, stepping out from the shadows. “It concurs with what I found out last night. Fanning was sent up here to put you off your game, cause disruption, nothing more. He was never to attack you personally.”
“In other words, a cat and mouse game.”
“It would seem so.”
“I hope you hurt him. I know that sounds awful but I hope you did.”
“I gave him a small taste of what it’s like to trussed up and tortured.”
“Did he say the man who gave him the money was O’nan?”
“Doesn’t think so, but really doesn’t know. He was to meet this guy in Jellico for the last payment.”
“That’s only three hours from here.”
“It is what it is. You have a serious stalker problem.”
I turned and faced Jake. I could feel his warm breath on my face. “Well, I’m made of sterner stuff. If O’nan is alive, he won’t break me.” I placed my hand on his chest, feeling the heat of his dark skin under his shirt. “May God forgive me,” I whispered, “but I hate O’nan. I can’t forgive him. I pray, but there is no forgiveness in me. Just cold hate.”
Jake moved closer. I could feel his lips next to my hair. He took a deep breath, smelling me. Lifting my face, I searched his. Jake started leaning toward me as though he might kiss me.
The telephone rang. As if awakened from a dream, Jake moved to answer the phone.
Jumping Jehosaphat, I thought. Don’t go out on a limb. Stay away from the hired help.
“Yes ma’am. Affirmative. Thirteen hundred hours. Yes, ma’am. Affirmative.” He hung up the phone.
“Was that my daughter?”
“She is sending a team to Memphis to pick up the instigator’s trail.”
“What is happening at 1 p.m.?”
“Cody is to arrive back here and she says you are not to fire him again,” grinned Jake.
“Can you take me into town?”
“Sure, what are you up to?”
“I want to buy some books.” I passed by Jake, deeply inhaling his scent, which reminded me of the sea. It made me giddy. Uh oh. I was in more than one kind of trouble.
*
I opened the door to the Morris Book Shop on Southland Drive when I spotted Meriah Caldwell chatting with Bette Ann Gil, who was the director of a regional NPR radio station. I turned to escape when I heard my name. Swinging around, I gave them both a big smile. “Meriah. Bette Ann. What an unexpected surprise.”
“Hello, Josiah,” said Bette Ann, leaning forward and giving me a kiss on the cheek. Her expensive gold jewelry jangled as she leaned forward. “Glad to see you again. I was just telling Meriah that I had dinner with you last week and that your recovery was that of one who has visited Lourdes and seen a vision of the Holy Mother. Miraculous. But she tells me that she had dinner with you last night and there was another ruckus that involved the police. My, but your life has taken such an interesting turn the past year, but enough about you. Let’s talk about me.”
I gave them both a once-over. “If I were Sherlock Holmes, I would be able to deduce that you two are up to something. Are you two being naughty?”
Meriah started to speak, but Bette Ann placed a hand on Meriah’s shoulder. “Oh, please. Let me tell her. The fact is that we are indeed up to something. Meriah wants her new book release party to take place here and I am going to use it as a fundraiser for the radio station. Meriah is going to give me part of the proceeds from the sale of her books. We shall make money hand over fist.” Bette Ann’s eyes glittered. “And she wants you to be the guest of hono
r. And since you owe me several favors, I accepted for you . . . so you will be here.”
Having parked the car, Jake entered. He looked surprised seeing the three of us, but moved quickly past us into the bowels of the store.
Meriah leaned her head towards Bette Ann. “That man was Josiah’s escort last night at Lady Elsmere’s house. She says he’s her nephew.” She gave Bette Ann a conspiratorial look.
“Really?” said Bette Ann. “What does the very handsome and dashing Matthew Garth say about this?”
“I think Matt is gay,” said Meriah, her brow frowning. “Those are the vibes I got.”
Gold bracelets flashed as Bette Ann pointed a manicured finger at me. “You told me that you were dating Matt when I asked you about him.”
I shrugged. “Either way, he is unavailable . . . to you.” Plopping down wearily in a chair, I had a sinking feeling that these two women were going to eviscerate me. “Meriah, what is your new book really about?”
Meriah opened her mouth, but Bette Ann interrupted her. “Oh, please. Let me tell her.” Bette Ann sat next to me. “It takes place in Lexington during the nineties. It’s about a young rich beautiful widowed horsewoman who is accused of murdering a competitor during the night before the Kentucky Derby. Of course, she didn’t. But the psychopathic cop on the case doesn’t believe her, so he tries to frame her. Anyway it goes on and on until the climax when they have this terrific row and she pushes him off a bridge into the Ohio River. Isn’t that simply divine. I can’t wait to read it.” Bette Ann looked at me beaming.
“Very original story, Meriah,” I said, seething. “Too bad I’m going to get an injunction and stop the release of this book.” I noticed that the employees of Morris Book Shop were busy with tasks near to us so they could eavesdrop all the better.
Meriah, still standing, began to defend her book when Bette Ann held up her hand. “Oh please. Let me tell her. It’s going to be a hit and you are going to be famous as well.”
