Sex, Lies & Bourbon (Sex and Lies Book 5)

by Kris Calvert

  Dropping my head, I saddled my hands on my hips to compose myself. Then suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, she was standing before me.

  Blonde, pixie cut hair and bright blue eyes, she still looked like a college girl ready for a weekend Greek party. I wiped the anguish from my face. “Hello Piper. How are you?”

  10

  GINNY

  I climbed the back set of stairs and dialed the number for the decon crew to get their twenty. With the investigation going nowhere, the one thing I could do was get the murder scene cleaned up—for everyone’s sake. Once I confirmed they were en route, I made my way back to my guest room. I wanted to go through the Mary Holloway file. Not to look for clues about Mary, but my father. Between Win’s advances and my head spinning over Dad, my brain hummed and my face felt numb—two symptoms of my high anxiety level.

  Opening the door, I found the bed had been made and my clothes were hung properly in the closet and not just tossed over the closest chair. Flipping the light in the bathroom, I noticed all my toiletries had been organized and I stared at my face in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed from my encounter with Win. It was what he did to me.

  Quickly, I sat at the writing desk, opening Mary’s file to look for anything that might speak to me of my dad. My phone buzzed with a Louisville number. “Grace.”

  “It’s Knotts.”

  His rough voice sounded even more raspy over the poor connection of the spotty cell service. “Yes?”

  “I need to tell you something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You asked if there’d been any similar deaths to Robert Holloway’s—that is, other than Mary.”

  “Yes?”

  “There was a young girl murdered not far away about a year ago. I’m not saying you need to check it out, but if you were curious, you could look up file C-453011.”

  “And what will I find when I look this up, Agent Knotts?”

  “Just do it.”

  I sighed, scribbling down the case file. I was in no mood for cryptic messages. If Agent Knotts had information he needed to spit it out. I didn’t care what the good ole boy network did in Kentucky. “Fine. I need you to do something as well, Agent Knotts.”

  “Shoot.”

  “I’m sending you a list of a few people—a roster of everyone who works at Winter Bourbon or in the house at Winter Haven for that matter. I want to know everything about all of them—especially where they were during the time of the murder.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Pull the phone records of Robert Holloway. I want to know who he’s been talking to.”

  “Already on that one.”

  “How about Magnus Page? Have you pulled his?”

  “No, but consider it done.”

  “As a matter of fact, put a tail on him. I’ve not taken his statement, but I want Magnus Page followed and photographed. Watch him like a hawk.”

  “I’ll take care of it. Anyone else?”

  “That’s it for now.”

  “Got it.”

  “Call me back.”

  I hung up without saying goodbye and went immediately to the copies of the old paper file. I knew my father signed anything and everything with GG. If he had notes in the file, I would be able to find them.

  I riffled through everything quickly. Was it really possible that I was using his unsolved case to work my own, twenty-three years later? At first glance, I found nothing of his which made me wonder—Knotts said my dad was the agent who wouldn’t let the case drop. So why wouldn’t there be something from him in the file. It sounded as if he worked the case more than anyone, and yet there was nothing. Opening my computer, I logged into the FBI secure proxy server. I needed to do some digging.

  My email let out a chime. Powell had sent me information on the McCormicks, a St. Louis family selling their textile company to the Potenza family. Attached was the list provided to us by my informant on other possible small businesses for the taking. Second on the list—Winter Bourbon.

  Leaning back in the chair, I pushed the old case file off the table and into the floor, scattering the crime scene photos everywhere.

  “Sugar,” I mumbled, leaning over to gather them. Picking up the last photo, I turned it over and found a faint pencil sketch of a triangle with a circle around it. In each corner was a letter and number, M13, M13 and R18. In the center were only three numbers, ten, two and twelve.

  Mary, Magnus and Robert? Was this my father’s handiwork? He thought they were connected, but what was the triangle? Did he think there was a love triangle? Suddenly, a motive for Mary’s death came into view. Maybe I was grasping at threads, reading into Dad’s cryptic notes. Even if it was a thread, it was at least something to hang onto. But what was ten, two, twelve? It read like a date—October second, twenty-twelve, but Dad was dead nearly nineteen years on that date. It had to be something else.

  I sat back and began to twirl a small strand of hair that had fallen from my bun with my finger while staring at the back of the photo. “Magnus, were you and Mary having an affair?” I asked aloud. How interwoven was this case? The more layers I peeled back from the mystery, the more tangled it became.

  Glancing to my own notes, I saw the word, drugs. I’d circled it. I couldn’t help but wonder if like me, my father circled things he thought important in the evidence.

  It was Lena’s description of her evening that made me think she may have been drugged. She was groggy, out of it and couldn’t remember much of the night. What if the murderer wanted to knock her out, but didn’t give her a big enough dosage?

  I don’t like the cleaning staff in my quarters. I pushed myself away from the desk and wondered if I could snoop in Lena’s room without being caught.

  Opening the door, I looked up and down the long hallway—nothing—no one. Leaning over the edge of the stair rail, I looked below. Lena was talking to Vernon, fussing about Win not being ready to meet with the caterer when he’d said he would. It was my chance and I decided to take it.

  Slipping back into my room, I opened my satchel, pulling out a set of gloves and two evidence bags. If there was something to be found, I needed to handle it properly.

  Back in the hallway, I could hear Lena still chatting with the group of people now in the front entrance hall. “Let’s go to the library, shall we?” she said.

  I hurried down the hallway, opening and closing doors until I made it to the last one—it had to be Lena’s quarters.

  I let myself in and quickly realized she wasn’t joking when she said she didn’t like people cleaning her room. Lena had to be at least twenty-seven, but her room was as messy as a twelve-year-old girl’s. Surveying the space, I noticed a few photos on the dresser. There were pictures of Lena and Win, Lena, Win, and their mother, and Lena and Cee Cee. “No photos of dad, huh?” I whispered aloud.

  Stepping over the piles of designer clothes lying on the floor—some with tags still intact—I made my way to her bedside. On the nightstand was a crystal carafe of water and a single glass with a few milliliters in the bottom. Slipping the gloves on my hands, I opened the drawer next to her bed only a crack. There was a bottle of Advil, hair ties and extra large condoms. “I guess Magnus is a Magnum,” I whispered with a sigh. Pulling the drawer open completely, I found odds and ends. Everything from jewelry that seemed to be more than just costume stuff, to small books, a random glove, a golf ball, yarn—even an unopened letter addressed to Vernon.

  The loud voices from below were enough to make me hustle up. Grasping at straws, I slipped the crystal glass into the clear plastic bag and sealed the top. I’d probably just illegally taken evidence to record a glass with only Lena’s fingerprints and Kentucky tap water.

  I gave the place one last once-over before shutting the door behind me. Making my way back to my room, rubber gloves still on my hands, my phone began to buzz.

  Picking up the pace, I entered my room, dropping my evidence on the table by the door, scurrying to get to my back pocket.r />
  “Grace.”

  “Are you ready for this?”

  I could tell by the rasp it was Knotts. “Whatcha got Agent Knotts?” I asked, degloving my hands one at a time.

  “John Lee. Age twenty-three. He’s been employed by Winter Bourbon for seven years.”

  “Lena mentioned he started working here at sixteen.”

  “He’s the son of a Jerri Belle Lee of Woodburn, Kentucky—about thirty minutes south of Winter Haven. She died before he was born—single vehicle car accident—the baby survived the crash.”

  “Wow,” I said. “That’s interesting, but please tell me there’s more than that on the kid.”

  “He has a Facebook account—and an old Myspace.”

  “So?”

  “He’s a hunter, Grace. A big hunter. Can you guess what kind of knife he likes to use and talk about online?”

  “A carbon steel hunting knife between five and seven inches with a jagged edge on the top side?”

  “A Tom Brown Tracker T-3. We’ve already got one and I’m on my way to the coroner for a match.”

  “You know it’s not enough to pin anything on him,” I said, staring at my lifted evidence.

  “It’s enough to scare the shit out of him.”

  “True. Do you have a tail on him?”

  “I do now. I’ve got tails on Page and Lee.”

  “Good work. Call me back when you know more—and Knotts?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve got a water glass I want finger printed and full toxicology on.”

  “I’ll send someone over.”

  “Be discreet,” I said, hanging up without saying goodbye.

  I sat down at the desk and stared at the blinking curser on the screen. I needed to do my own background check on John Lee, and I wanted to delve deeper into the case my father was so tenacious over, but instead typed another name into the database—Piper Presley.

  While the search engine worked, I opened a new window and Googled Win’s ex-girlfriend. I knew he’d had a steady girl during law school—he had mentioned her when we shared our rosters as our relationship hit a serious note—but Win failed to explain that she worked for his family’s business. Or that she was still employed there.

  First on the search list was Piper’s LinkedIn profile. She was the Marketing Manager for Winter Bourbon. A graduate of Columbia, she was originally from South Carolina. I knew she and Win met during college. Win had confessed that she had tried very hard to weasel her way back into his life after their breakup—no matter what it took—but he never disclosed that she worked for his family. How sick can one girl be? She was willing to take a job in the middle of nowhere in Kentucky just for the chance to be a part of Win’s life—a life he left behind at that.

  Piper was as much of a suspect to me now as John Lee. She didn’t have a weapon attached to her social profile, but she was attached all the same.

  The database turned up nothing for me except for her IRS records and the fact she made nearly two hundred thousand dollars a year working for Winter Bourbon.

  Still, I jotted down her address and phone number in my notes and started to move on when I saw the doodle in the margin of my notepad. C-453011.

  With the Bureau database still up and running, I plugged in the case number and waited for the file to come up.

  When it finally loaded, I breezed through the first page. It was a murder case—Jennifer Simms—age nineteen. Case file was unsolved and was from eighteen months ago. Clicking through, I scrolled down to find the cause of death: Exsanguination due to a cut throat injury with transection of left and right common carotid arteries, left and right internal jugular veins. Suspected murder weapon: hunting knife between five and seven inches—jagged edge.

  11

  WIN

  I followed Piper back to her office located in the building closest to the main house. Ginny wanted a detailed list of the employees and I wanted to get it for her. I wanted to help her in any way I could.

  Dad’s office was one away from Piper’s and I couldn’t help but notice his door was shut as we walked down the old narrow hallway.

  Piper slid her bottom into the office chair and the cardigan sweater off her shoulders. I glanced over her to the clock behind her head. I needed to be mindful of the time if I was going to make funeral arrangements with Lena.

  “Why you wear a sundress to the office is beyond me.”

  “It’s nice to see you too, Winnie.”

  I took a seat opposite her desk. “Piper, please don’t call me that.”

  “Look, I only wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I mean,” she paused, looking to her hands. “I’m devastated.”

  I cocked my head and held my tongue. She didn’t look devastated. I wanted to ask why but instead chose, “we all are.”

  “How are you?” she asked.

  “Fine.”

  “Win, this is me you’re talking to. I’m not just some employee or a girl you used to date. I know you—I know you inside and out,” she said looking me over from head to toe with a seductive smile. “Now, what can I do to help?”

  I let out a heavy sigh and reminded myself I was trying not to be an asshole, even if she was being her usual inappropriate self. “Thank you for your concern. And yes, I know you know me, but we were together a long time ago Piper. I’m a different man than I was back in law school.”

  “People don’t change, Winnie.”

  I thought back to my morning conversation with Cee Cee. “People change every day.”

  Piper tossed her head and gave me a smile as she rose from her chair. “I haven’t changed, Win.” She nearly moaned the words and it reminded me of the beginning of a bad porn flick—beautiful girl, great body, zero believability.

  I watched her move toward me, but didn’t budge from my seat. In no way did I want to imply I desired to meet her advance.

  “I still think about all the times we spent in your Park Avenue apartment—living it up the first through the fifteenth or so when your monthly trust fund stipend would run out. Then we’d have amazing sex, eat Ramen noodles and starve until the beginning of the next month. We were living on love, baby.”

  “I was young,” I replied. “Impressionable. You took advantage of me.”

  Piper said nothing, but slipped her hands behind her back and began to unzip.

  “What in the hell are you doing?”

  The blue seersucker dress fell to the floor of her office. To my surprise—or maybe not—she was naked under her dress.

  “C’mon Piper. You’re too good for this. Put your clothes back on,” I said, shifting my weight nervously in the chair and looking away from her. “I only came to your office because I need to know the state of my father’s business affairs and I need you to email a list of all our employees to this account,” I said, placing the business card Ginny gave me on the corner of her desk.

  Before I could stand to leave, Piper straddled my body in all her nakedness, wrapping her arms around my neck, kissing me hard.

  My mind in shock, my body went on autopilot and my manhood sprung into action. I’d gone from startled to hard in ten seconds flat.

  Brushing her tight breasts against my chest, I leaned away from her lip lock as she took each of my hands and placed them on her toned ass. “What are you doing, Piper?”

  Rubbing her nakedness against the crotch of my suit pants I stiffened, my body now matching my aching shaft. I felt like I was getting a lap dance in a strip joint—without the benefit of music.

  Dropping my head back for a second to avoid her mouth and compose myself, I felt her lick her way up my neck, and back down to my lips. Her tongue darted in and out of my open mouth when suddenly she bit down hard on my bottom lip.

  “Shit!” I said, picking her up by the waist as I got to my feet. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing Piper? I don’t think of you this way. This is…this is…”

  “This is a hard on,” she said, running her open palm across my noticeable e
rection.

  “This is fucked up.” I picked up her dress and tossed it to her. “Jesus, Piper. Get dressed. If you can’t keep it in your pants, I won’t have a problem letting you go. Do we understand each other?”

  I didn’t wait for her response. Instead I left, slamming the door behind me only to open it again. “And don’t forget to send the list to the name on the card.”

  I had to get back to the house to make funeral arrangements, but first I needed to calm down my mind and my randy body. Leaning into the gold door frame of the general offices, I prayed for stillness to fill my muddled head. Then, the door swung wide.

  Cee Cee, still apparently making his daily rounds, stopped in his tracks as he looked me up and down. “What the hell happened to you?” he asked.

  “I don’t even know if I can explain it.”

  He pursed his lips and gave me an exasperated sigh. I was trying to be better. I was trying to do better. It seemed as though I was failing at every turn.

  “Your sister is waiting on you up at the house. You best be finding your way there.”

  “Yessir. I’m on my way now.”

  “Check your mouth, son.” Cee Cee grimaced as he wagged his finger in the air. “You’ve got lipstick all over yourself, not to mention a bleeding lip.”

  “What?” I placed two fingers on my bottom lip only to see and taste my own blood.

  “I’m just gonna go ahead and assume that’s not Agent Grace’s lipstick.”

  I hung my head. What was I supposed to say? Piper is a crazy slut who threw herself at me? It would be a nice alibi if I didn’t have a hard on slowly dying in my pants.

  “It’s not what it looks like, Cee Cee. I can explain.”

  “There’s no need to explain to me. Get right with God and the people you love in this world and you’ll never have to explain another thing in your life. Got it?”

  “Yessir,” I replied. “Thank you.”

  With my head hanging low, I made my way up the long and winding hill from the main office building, noticing there were agents now out and about on the property. I could only assume Ginny had authorized them to be lurking around. Maybe they were searching for clues on the property. I knew they wouldn’t find anything. Just like my mother’s murder, whoever killed my dad had planned it perfectly. There was no way the killer would’ve left anything behind.