by Kris Calvert
“That’s what a parking spot on the street is for—a car,” he said before going into the back room.
“Great,” I murmured. “My life is falling apart and I’m at Motel Hell playing Who’s on First with Cletus.” Cracking the door, I saw a black sedan roll down the street, pausing to take note of my vehicle. From the window, I watched it drive all the way down the main drag and turn left.
“Okay dear, here you go. You’re all set. Room thirteen is at the end of the main hallway. It’s a nice big corner room.”
“Great. Hey Cletus, if I didn’t want to park on the street, where else could I go?”
“You hiding out or something?” he asked with a chuckle.
I showed no emotion. “Maybe.”
“Well, you can park behind the hotel,” he said nervously thumbing over his shoulder. “I park next to the dumpster, but I can move so you can have that spot. It’s the good one.”
“Is it out of sight? You know, not visible from the main drag.”
The man looked at me and over my shoulder on to the street. “I got your back.”
I gave Cletus a thumbs up, looking out the door before leaving. After parking in the back, I grabbed my small suitcase and messenger bag, hurrying through the back entrance.
In my hand I held the key to room thirteen, the faded red tassel swinging back and forth against my palm with each step I took. As promised, the room was at the end of the hall and as I put the old key into the lock, I prayed it wasn’t a flea bag on the other side.
The bedspread was a loud floral, but other than that, it was nice. The furniture was charming—the entire room filled with antiques. The one exception was the new flat screen television.
I dropped my bags and stared at the wall. If John Lee hadn’t been seen with Pauly at Churchill Downs, I would be on the next plane to New York City. Now, I needed talk to my informant and I had to get a statement from Lee.
Reaching for my phone, I knocked my messenger bag over, spilling the contents onto the floor. “Dammit.” It was a small thing, but at the same time it was the culmination of everything. I slid my body into the floor, sitting against the bed. What was I doing? All the hard work I’d put in with my shrink over the past year was gone. By spending three days with Win I’d allowed him back in my life and heart only to have him trample on it all over again. Not to mention, thoughts of my father were once again rolling around in my head.
I sifted through all the crap from my messenger bag. It was clear I needed to clean it out. A plain rubber band lay on the floor and I immediately slipped it over my wrist. Piece by piece I went through everything, tossing out old gum wrappers and receipts, organizing notes and file folders.
The photo of my dad holding me in his arms with Jackson hanging onto his leg stared me in the face. It was in that moment I broke down completely. Every thought, feeling and insecurity rained down on me. I reached for my phone.
“Whaddup Buttercup?”
“Jackson.” I said his name through the deluge of tears that now poured from my eyes.
“Gin, what’s wrong?”
Where would I begin? If I led with I’m in Valley Springs with Win, I didn’t know if I could take the judgmental tirade about Win Holloway my brother would surely dish out. All of it would be justly deserved. Instead I opened with something else. “Jackson, what do you remember about Dad?”
“Ginny, what’s going on? Are you okay?”
I nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“Ginny, answer me.”
“Physically I’m fine. Mentally…not so good.”
“Why? Talk to me.”
“I’m investigating a case and I’ve discovered that Dad worked on a related case twenty-three years ago—his last case.”
“Wait. Are you in Kentucky?”
I nodded.
“Ginny, for the love of God you have to talk to me.”
“Yes. Yes, I’m in Kentucky.”
“Where? Don’t say Valley Springs, Ginny. Don’t say Valley Springs. I saw where that dickless piece of shit’s father was killed. Don’t tell me you’re down here holding his hand.”
“Fine,” I cried out in frustration. “I won’t say it.”
“Motherfu—Ginny, what are you doing to yourself?”
“I was sent here by the New York office. I didn’t come voluntarily, I promise. But now that I’m here…Jackson…I think maybe Dad was murdered for going too deep into the Mary Holloway case.”
“What are you even talking about?”
“We were too young to know anything and Mom would never speak of it, but I’ve discovered that anyone who worked closely on the murder case died soon after. That includes Daddy. Maybe that’s why she would never talk about his job. Jackson, I found Dad’s initials on the back of a photograph in the original file. A hard copy photograph.”
“Where are you now?” he asked. The tone of his voice changed and I knew he was worried.
“I’m at a little hotel—The Wilmonte. But Jackson, listen to me. Do you still have that box of stuff packed up from Dad’s office? The one Gram gave you?”
“Ginny, I know where you’re going with this. But what if you’re playing with fire? I don’t trust that family.”
“I need to know. I think Dad would want me finish what he started. Don’t you?”
“I think Dad would want you to stay safe.”
“That’s what you said when I decided to join the Bureau and I still did it. I’m doing this. Now do you have the box?”
He sighed on the other end of the phone. “You know I do.”
“Will you bring it to me?”
“You think I can just drop my case in court today and everything I’m doing here in Lexington and rush to your side?”
I took a long pause before I answered the question. Jackson was a busy and successful attorney. Still, I knew he would drop everything to rush to my side. I would do the same for him. All we had was each other. “Yes.”
“Sheesh,” he grumbled. “Text me the address of the hotel.”
The tears started flowing again at the mere idea my brother would soon be with me. “Thank you. You know I love you.”
“Yeah, yeah yeah,” he replied. “How’s the dickless piece of shit?”
“Still a dickless piece of shit.”
“Ginny.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t do anything stupid. You piss off the wrong people and bad things could start to happen.”
“I think that’s what happened to Dad. I can’t just let this go. You know?”
“I know. See you soon.”
I hung up and caught my breath. The simple act of speaking with Jackson calmed me down. I held the photo of Mary Holloway in my hands and turned it over, running my fingers across the circled triangle. “I can do this, Daddy. I can. I just have to think. What else happened twenty-three years ago?”
I shuffled through my notes and there it was staring me in the face. John Lee, age twenty-three. “I wonder,” I said, thinking of the security guard’s fair skin and hair. Could Lee possibly be Win and Lena’s half brother? The timing was correct. They all looked enough alike. Was that why Robert hand-picked him to work at Winter Bourbon?
My phone rang, bringing me back to reality. “Grace.”
“It’s Knotts.”
“I want a twenty on John Lee. Now.”
“I already know where he is.”
“Where?”
“Winter Haven.”
“Get a search warrant for his house.”
“What do you know?”
“Knotts, I gotta go.” Hanging up, I shoved what was left on the floor into my bag, grabbed the car keys and rushed out the door. Tossing my room key to Cletus I shouted, “My brother is coming to visit me. Jackson Grace. When he shows you ID, please let him in my room.”
“Okie dokie.”
“Don’t wait up.”
Driving back to Winter Haven, I knew I would have to face Win, but with my New York informant, Pauly n
ow in contact with John Lee, I could at the very least tie Winter Bourbon to the Potenza’s. That could lead to a motive and a killer The thought of John’s mother, Jerri Belle Lee kept popping into my head. It was just my intuition—that voice in my head that was usually right, but sometimes got me in trouble. Still, the idea nagged at me. Could she have been Robert Holloway’s girl on the side oh so many years ago?
The problem with that idea was, I’d need some proof and around Winter Haven, proof of anything was hard to come by. What I really wanted was the evidence to arrest someone for my own father’s death. Only then could I leave Valley Springs and Win Holloway behind.
It was only a fifteen-minute drive back to Winter Haven and although it felt a little like I was coming back with my tail between my legs after my grand exit, I wasn’t there to see Win. I was there to see John Lee.
I pulled to the gate and was beyond thankful when Telly answered the intercom.
“Yes, Miss Grace.” It was all he said and the gates opened immediately.
I drove down the lane at a reasonable speed and thought about how it must’ve looked when I left the last time. Unprofessional, that’s how it looked—very unprofessional.
Telly met me at the door, opening it immediately. “Miss Grace, the key to the gate is 187033.
“Thank you Mr. Teller,” I replied. “I’ll remember that next time. I don’t need to be inside the house, I’m going down to the distillery. But I did want you to know I was on the grounds.”
“Yes, ma’am. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”
“Can you tell me who is on the property? Mr. Page?”
Telly nodded.
“How about Miss Holloway?”
“Yes, she and Mr. Win are both here.”
“Piper Presley?”
Teller shook his head. “I’m unsure. Miss Presley never comes into the house.”
I perked up at his remark. “What do you mean?”
“I mean Miss Presley was banned from the house a few years ago—a rule set up by Mr. Win. Inappropriate behavior, I believe was the reason behind it.”
“Inappropriate behavior?”
“Yes ma’am. Mr. Win had a restraining order against her for quite a while.”
“Look Telly,” I began as I nervously shifted my weight back and forth. “I’m sure you’re not supposed to talk out of school about your employers, and quite frankly, as an FBI Agent I can pull a copy of the restraining order, but if you wouldn’t mind just telling me what you know, it could be helpful.”
“Helpful?” he asked.
“Very helpful.”
“I only know what I know Miss Grace. Who’s to say what is hearsay and what is truth?”
“You let me worry about that. But if you wouldn’t mind getting on with it quickly,” I said fanning my wrist into my body hoping to spur him on. “I need to see someone about a meeting.”
“Yes ma’am. Well, she attacked him. She wasn’t very happy Mr. Win wasn’t coming home to Kentucky to run the bourbon business. She’d taken a job here to surprise him when the real surprise was that he was going to Quantico.”
“Attacked him how?” I asked.
“She held a hunting knife to his throat and threatened to kill him.”
I was astonished. I was beyond astonished. “Why didn’t I read anything about this when I had all the reports on Winter Haven pulled?”
“I don’t know. And I’ve said too much already, but the Holloways don’t like their dirty laundry aired in public. This is a family owned business, Miss Grace. They like to take care of matters on their own, if you know what I mean.”
I nodded, looking Telly up and down. “Thank you, Mr. Teller. I appreciate the information.”
“Information?” he asked. “I have no idea to what you’re referring, Miss Grace. If there’s something you’d like to know about Winter Haven or the family, I’m sure that as an FBI agent you can find it on your own.”
And there is was. Teller had given me his off the record account as well as his official response. “Nicely done Mr. Teller.”
“I’ll alert security you’re on the premises.”
“No.” I held my hand to him in protest. “No, don’t do that. I’d rather…well, I’d rather just wander around if that’s okay?”
He nodded. “There are other agents on the property, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Teller shut the door and I put my sunglasses back on, hoping to cut the glare of the afternoon sun on the backside of the property. Maybe Win wasn’t lying. Everyone seemed to have a motive for something. It was all so screwed up.
Checking my sidearm, I pulled my FBI badge from my pocket and hung it around my neck. If I needed to shoot anyone, including Win, I wanted it to be in an official capacity.
Casually, I walked the path behind the main house. I would check every building until I found John Lee. It was time for us to have a little talk. I started at the charging station, noticing all the golf carts were in their proper slots. Unless someone was on foot, I would be alone.
I began at the first house. Opening the gold door, I was met with unsure faces.
“I’m Agent Grace with the FBI, I’m just looking around if that’s okay.”
“Of course, ma’am. Let us know if we can do anything for you.”
“Thank you,” I said with a nod. It was always inviting to be in the South. If I’d wandered into a workplace in New York even with my badge, no one would want to cooperate with me.
Following the path of the building, I looked but didn’t find John Lee so I went on to the next building. By the time I made it to the office building, I thought perhaps I should’ve asked Knotts for more info from his tail—like specifically where he was at Winter Haven.
The office building was more upscale, the air conditioning on full blast. When I saw Robert Holloway’s name in gold letters beside one of the doors I paused. Trying the door handle, I was surprised it wasn’t locked.
Peeking inside, I noticed there were still papers on his desk and a coffee mug. Robert Holloway planned on coming back to work. Closing the door behind me, I walked to his desk, pushing papers around with my ball point pen, looking for anything that might clue me in to a deal with the Potenza family. All he seemed to have on his desk were a few invoices from the barreling company and an agreement with a scotch maker who wanted the used barrels when Winter Bourbon was completely aged.
My back to the door, I inspected the room, looking for something—anything.
“May I help you?”
I turned to find Piper Presley filling the doorway, her long legs and arms straddling the door frame. It must’ve been her signature stance—the straddle.
“Piper, is it?” I asked facing her head on.
“Yes,” she replied, giving me the side-eye as she tried to look busy and uninterested. “Is there a reason you’re in Mr. Holloway’s office?”
“You mean other than the fact he was murdered less than a week ago and we haven’t taken anyone into custody?”
“I see your point,” she sighed. “Is there something I can help you with?”
You can keep your naked body off Win. “Do you have a moment to answer some questions?”
She tilted her head and grimaced. “I suppose. Why don’t you come down to my office?”
“Sure.” I followed her out of Robert’s office, closing the door behind me. There wasn’t anything about the room that gave me pause, but I would be back to take a closer look.
“Have a seat.” Piper offered up the very chair I’d seen in the photograph—her legs wrapped around Win, his hands on her bare bottom.
“I’ll stand, if that’s okay with you.”
She slid into the office chair behind her desk. “Have it your way.”
Looking around her office, I noticed a few things. She had lots of accolades—from her diploma to awards in public relations and community service. Piper was a go-getter, so why would she waste he
r time following Win—a man who didn’t want her?
I found myself catching my breath when I saw the photo of the two of them. So young and in love, they were kissing under the arch in Washington Square Park. I glanced back to Piper and I knew. Win Holloway was like a drug—it was something I understood utterly and completely. The fact Piper had followed him home to Kentucky to be with him made perfect sense to me. It all hit me like a ton of bricks.
“Did you have questions for me?” she asked, knocking me out of my epiphany and back into reality.
I finally took the seat she’d offered me. “Yes. How long have you been with Winter Bourbon?”
“Almost four years. I came here just one year out of college.”
“And you went to school with Win.”
“We were at Columbia together. He was in law school. I was an undergrad, but yes, we were together.”
I knew all too well the look of longing on her face when she spoke of Win. I didn’t feel sorry for her, I loathed her too much for that. But I pitied her. Win was never going to be with the pixie blonde, and still she hung on to the hope that someday he would want her. It was sad and pathetic. “Tell me about Robert Holloway,” I said, trying to shake off my feelings.
“He was great—a workaholic.”
“So he was dedicated to Winter Bourbon?”
She nodded. “He was. Actually, the longer I worked here it seemed as if his loyalty grew. When I first took the job and got to know him, I always thought he seemed trapped—you know—like he was here, but didn’t want to be. As the years passed and especially leading up to this last year, he was more energized about the brand and where it could go in the future.”
“Did he ever mention anything to you about selling the business?”
Piper tossed her head back in laughter. “Sell? Jesus, he couldn’t even make easy decisions around here without there being a company tribunal. Cecil and Lena really controlled most of it because Win didn’t want any part of it—even though he and his sister aren’t full partners.”
I thought back to Win’s upcoming birthday. Next week he would come into his share of the bourbon business outright—it was why he said he’d come home. “You’re saying Robert couldn’t even sell his part of the bourbon business?”
