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

by Kris Calvert

  “What are you doing out here? Really? Vernon said you come out here on Sundays?”

  “Usually,” he said, placing the bunch of daisies on my grandmother’s headstone. “I like to visit with your grandmother. I tell her everything that’s going on around here. Don’t know if she’s listening, but it makes me feel better.”

  I gave him a smile. “I understand.”

  “You don’t. But you will—someday.”

  “What are we going to do about Lena?” I asked. “I worry she’s gonna have another…episode.”

  “Wait it out. There’s no reason to upset the apple cart any more than you already have today. We just put your dad in the ground yesterday. It’s Sunday for goodness’ sake. It’s a day for us all to take a break. Even God rested on the seventh day.”

  I nodded. “You ready to head back to the house? I was thinking about driving into town, trying to catch up with Ginny. She had a meeting with the Louisville office guys about Dad’s case at Dewey Station.”

  “I’ll pass, Son. I wanna take a look inside the chapel just to make sure everything was put back in its place.”

  “You take care of everyone and everything at Winter Haven, don’t you?”

  “It’s my calling. It might be yours too, someday.”

  Digging inside his jacket pocket, he pulled out the set of skeleton keys I’d used just two days before. “Hold these,” he said, taking the rail to climb the three small steps to the ancient double doors.

  Looking at the keys in my hand I paused. I’d never actually used the keys before the other day—Vernon had given them to me, telling me the biggest one was the right fit for the chapel. Sifting through them one by one, I stopped.

  “Cee Cee?”

  “Yes?”

  Parsing one key from the other four, I held it in the air for him. “Why do I know this key?”

  A smile crept across his lips. “Do you know that key?”

  “It’s…” I paused. It was as if I’d known the image of the interlocking hands my entire life. “Wait. This is like Mom’s key. Her necklace.”

  Cee Cee took the set from my hand, choosing the biggest. Turning it, the lock groaned and the door jolted open. Pushing through, he walked in without me.

  I took the set of keys still hanging from the door and held them in my hand again.

  Cee Cee was out as quickly as he was in, silently asking for the key to lock back up.

  “Tell me about this key. What does it have to do with the chapel?”

  “The chapel? Not much to know about the chapel. It was on the original grounds when Marshall bought the parcel of land. It had been here for about seventy-five years. The people of the church built it thinking they were on the right plot. Hard to say who was right and who was wrong. Back then surveying out in the hollers of Kentucky wasn’t always accurate. He let them stay for the next five years. By that time, their congregation had grown and Marshall offered to pay them off.”

  “What kind of offer? I mean they did build on someone else’s land.”

  “Your great-great-granddaddy owned the land—the church owned the building. So he made them a fair offer. They took it on one condition.”

  “That he wouldn’t tear down the church?”

  “Cee Cee nodded. “They didn’t want a house of God to be sacrificed for the sake of making booze. Can’t really blame them. Besides, Marshall’s young wife was the minister’s daughter.”

  “What?” I heard the astonishment in my own voice. “Why don’t I know this story?”

  “Because you never asked.”

  “The preacher’s daughter? That couldn’t have gone over well.”

  “As the story goes, the right reverend wouldn’t give his blessing. Then one night, Marshall took it upon himself to show him the process he went through to make the bourbon. They got to the rickhouses and he explained fifty-two gallons went into each new barrel, but in six year’s time, only fifty-one would remain.”

  “The angel’s share,” I said.

  “You got it. He blessed the very ground on which we make bourbon today. It’s been a blessed business and an even more blessed house ever since.”

  “Blessed,” I scoffed. “I’ve never felt as if this place was blessed.”

  “I know son, I know. Your father had a way of turning blessings into burdens. But you don’t have to,” he said handing me back the keys. “You hold onto these.”

  “But the key. What is it to? I know this key.”

  “Knowledge is the key, son.”

  I finished the narrative. “Faith opens the door.”

  20

  GINNY

  I turned off the road, stopping at the stone entrance gate. I didn’t have a way back inside. “Shit,” I mumbled, rolling down my window and pressing the button.

  “Yes?”

  It was Win.

  “Let me in, please.”

  “What’s the double-secret password?” he asked with a laugh, trying to make a joke.

  “Seriously, just let me in.” The tone of my voice was a dead giveaway as to how much I wanted to play.

  “Geez. Hang on.”

  The gate opened slowly, and as I drove through, I noticed an unmarked car driving down the rural road behind me. I was being tailed and probably photographed too. I didn’t know what was going on around this place, but I knew I’d had my fill of it.

  The trip down the lane seemed to last forever, the trees lining the road like an endless tunnel. My head was pounding and my eyes were swollen. Still, I needed to get this over with.

  Win was waiting for me when I stepped from the car, leaning on one of the four enormous Corinthian columns. He was so handsome with his blonde curls blowing in the southern sunshine. I hated myself for loving him.

  “What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

  Rushing past him, I walked straight through the house and up the stairs to my guest room. I needed to pack. I was moving to the hotel.

  “Ginny,” he said, following me into the room and shutting the door. “What?”

  I paced the room, putting my suitcase together with lightning speed.

  “Will you stop the damn packing and tell me what’s wrong?”

  I closed the suitcase and sat it by the door with my messenger bag before sliding the envelope from the side pocket.

  I took a deep breath and began. “Win, can you please recount for me where you were the night of your father’s murder? The night of May seventeenth?”

  He took a couple of steps back and sat in the nearest chair. “Why are you asking me this?”

  “Just answer the question,” I said, tears now filling my eyes.

  “Tell me why, Ginny.”

  “Answer the question!” I screamed.

  “I was in New York City.”

  “Where?” I asked, bringing my voice down.

  “I was,” he said rubbing his forehead in hesitation. “In a bar.”

  “Really? What time?”

  Win shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Midnight? Why?”

  “Any witnesses?”

  Win dropped his head back and eased the tension in his shoulders. “Yes.”

  “Who, Win? Who’s your witness?”

  “I was with a woman.”

  It wasn’t the answer I was looking for, but it was still another shot in the gut.

  I hesitated, unprepared for his explanation. “Do you have a name and phone number?” I asked, my voice now cracking with emotion. “I need to check your alibi.”

  “It was a one-night stand. Look, Ginny,” he said taking to his feet. “I don’t remember her name. What I do remember is calling out your name when she was…”

  “What Win? When she was what?”

  Sheepishly he dropped his shoulders. “Giving me head.”

  I paused for only a moment. I couldn’t listen to any more of it. My heart was already in tatters and my head was spinning. I needed to be away from him where I could sort out my life, my career and this case.
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  “Maybe you should call your attorney or Magnus.”

  “What?” he asked. “Why?”

  I opened the manila envelope, pulling out the flight manifest. I wanted to quote the information directly. “Did you make reservations and fly to and from Bluegrass Field on the seventeenth of May? The day your father was killed?”

  He closed his eyes and dropped his head. “I did.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything about being here that day?”

  “Because of this. Because of this very thing. I didn’t want to be a suspect in my father’s murder. I was here that day, I wasn’t here the night of the murder. The time of the murder was around one-thirty in the morning, Ginny, you know that. I was wheels down at LaGuardia at eleven thirty—or is that information not in your secret little file?” he asked with a sarcastic edge. Finally sitting down, he dropped his head into his hands.

  “Why’d you come home Win?”

  He bit his lip. “I think I, need to call my attorney.”

  “Call him if you want, but answer the question. I’m not taking your official statement—I’ll save that for someone who doesn’t want to punch you in the testicles.”

  “My father called me on the fifteenth—he said he needed to talk to me—that it was imperative. I figured it was about my upcoming birthday—my thirty-third.”

  “So?” I asked. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “It’s a long story. I come into my full inheritance at thirty-three. I can make decisions about the business with Cee Cee.”

  “So you flew home from New York when?”

  “I flew out of LaGuardia in the morning. I was back in the city by eleven thirty.”

  “And getting a blow job by midnight,” I added.

  He shrugged his shoulders “More like three in the morning.”

  “You’re a dick.”

  “You wanted a timeline,” he objected. “I’m giving it to you.”

  “And I’m done. I’m done with this case and I’m so incredibly done with you,” I said picking up my bags and opening the door.

  “Wait!” Win shouted, slamming it again. “You’re not just walking out on us like—”

  “Like you did?” I asked. I couldn’t hold onto the charade of being strong any longer. Dropping my bags, I hid my face with my hands. “I’m so stupid to think you could ever really care—ever be honest. You don’t love me. You’ve just been playing me—all over again.”

  “No,” he said, pulling my hands away. “That’s not true. Not at all. Everything I’ve said to you—everything—has been the truth. I didn’t tell you about flying to Kentucky because you didn’t ask. I’m not denying it now. Will you just listen to me? Then you can form your own opinion and then you can leave—if you want.”

  I wiped the tears from my swollen face and gazed into the green eyes that had fooled me too many times. The problem was, I loved him. I wanted him to give me some amazing explanation for all of it. That’s what my heart wanted. My head knew better.

  I gripped the envelope with naked photos of Piper on his lap in my hand. “I’m listening.”

  “I had a fight with my father. He told me there were things I needed to know—about him—about his part of the business. He wanted to make amends with me. I didn’t want to hear it. I told him I didn’t care and it didn’t matter anymore. I’d only come home because he told me I needed to sign the papers and I couldn’t do it from New York. So I hopped on a plane, fought with him, told him to go to hell and that I hated him,” Win paused, looking to the floor, his voice now cracking as much as mine. “I signed the papers, flew back to the city and went straight to a bar to drown my shitty existence in alcohol. The next morning Lena called to tell me he was dead. So before you accuse me of anything else, please know I already feel guilty as hell.”

  I looked to the ceiling, doing my best to stop the tears from falling. “We’ve been ah…tailing some of the employees here. Including Piper Presley.”

  “What did you find on Piper?” he asked. “Was she involved with my dad?”

  “Why?” I asked. “Don’t want to share her?”

  “What?”

  I tossed him the envelope. “I’m leaving now. Don’t try to stop me or follow me. I’ll shoot you.” I said the words, but in my heart I knew I might be capable of something I’d regret. I may not have the balls to put a bullet in his butt, but I’d take a swing at him for sure.

  “Shoot me?” With a sarcastic laugh he pulled out the photos—his mouth agape. “What the hell?”

  “I think there are some pretty good shots there. You should frame a couple. Maybe something for the office?”

  “Ginny, wait,” he said tossing them to the floor and taking me by the shoulders. “I can explain.”

  “You can? You can explain a naked woman straddling you in a chair kissing you? Licking you? Grinding up on you? These were taken two days ago, for God’s sake. You have no excuse.”

  He nodded. “I do. That was all her. I didn’t want that. I don’t want that. I want you. I love you.”

  “I suppose you didn’t want the blow job the night your father was murdered either, huh?”

  “No,” he confessed. “I wanted that. I just wanted it to be you. I’ve struggled being away from you, and—”

  “Win, you are so full of shit. And speaking of shit, you better get yours together, because the boys in the Louisville office are just dying to get to you. I was the only thing standing between them and your family, but play time is over. You’re on your own.”

  I stormed down the stairs and out of the golden doors without looking back. I only had to make it to the car before I could explode into tears again. Tossing my bags in the back seat, I climbed in and sped out of the driveway—tires squealing all the way up the road.

  “This isn’t happening,” I said to myself. “This isn’t happening.”

  I could hear my phone ringing in my jacket pocket and I didn’t want to look. I knew it was Win calling after me—chasing after me. Pulling it out, I was right. I tossed it into the seat next to me. When it rang a second time, I answered.

  “What motherfucker? What could you possibly want now, you fucking piece of shit?”

  “Agent Grace?”

  I pulled my phone away from my face to see the contact name. “Knotts?”

  “You okay?”

  “Of course. Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

  “Jesus, I hope so.”

  “What do you want, Knotts?” I asked, now looking for the hotel. I only prayed they had a room for the night. Otherwise, I was off to Lexington to wait for a flight back to New York.

  “I just got a call. We’ve tailed John Lee all the way to Louisville—Churchill Downs.”

  “What?”

  “He exchanged an envelope with someone while he was there. We’ve got it on film. It was brief but I think you should see the photo that was just emailed to me.”

  “Send it now,” I demanded pulling over to the side of the road.

  “I sent it to your phone. Do you have it yet?” he asked as the phone vibrated in my hand and the text came across. There in black and white was John Lee with my very own informant from New York, Pauly Moretti.

  I sat back in the seat of the car. “I’ll be damned.”

  21

  GINNY

  Pulling into a parking spot on the deserted street in front of the hotel, I dried my tears and left my bags in the car.

  “Afternoon, miss. Do you have a reservation?” He was an older gentleman wearing a nametag—Cletus.

  “I don’t. Is that a problem?”

  “Nope,” he replied with a chuckle. “I’m just supposed to ask. We haven’t been full in a coon’s age.”

  “I need a room for one night.”

  “You got it,” he said, turning to the boxed wall. Tasseled keys hung out of each of the compartments and his hand reached for number thirteen. “Lucky thirteen okay with you?”

  I pursed my lips. Nothing had
gone my way. The last thing I cared about was being in room thirteen. “Don’t care at all. I don’t scare that easily.”

  “It’s our nicest room and you’ll have the hotel to yourself so—”

  “I’m the only guest? The only guest?” I asked, my voice rising.

  “Yes ma’am. But don’t worry. We’re not haunted or anything. Just old. And someone is always right here at the front desk to give you your key, day or night. See?” He held the key in the air. “It’s too daggone big to take with you anywhere. Really, it’s cause if you lost it, we’d have to call a lock specialist. These old locks can’t be opened by just anyone.”

  I slid my credit card across the counter. “Great.”

  “Gimme a second. The machine for the plastic money is in the back. You wouldn’t happen to have some ID, would ya? It’s not that I don’t trust you—”

  “No, I appreciate you asking,” I said handing him my driver’s license.

  He took one look at it and then looked back to me. “You’re Win Holloway’s friend. I saw you with him at the funeral yesterday.”

  “Oh. Yes. I’m sorry. Did we meet?”

  “No ma’am. I was just there for Cecil. He and I go way back. They’re good people, the Winterbournes. I didn’t think much of Win’s daddy, but his mother was a real sweetheart. There wasn’t a person in Valley Springs who didn’t love Mary Winterbourne. God, she was beautiful. Smart too. The men all wanted her and the women all wanted to be her.”

  “Um.” It was all I could think to say. I’d left Winter Haven so I wouldn’t have to hear about the Winterbournes and the Holloways and here I was right back in the story.

  “Well,” he said, noticing I wasn’t taking to his anecdote. “Give me just a moment and I’ll get you all squared away.”

  “While you do that, I’ll just get my bag out of the car.”

  “You parked on the street?” he asked, looking behind me through the window.

  “Yes. Is there somewhere else I should park?”

  “Where else would you park?”

  I shook my head in confusion. “So you’re saying I’m okay on the street.”