by Kris Calvert
“It wasn’t Robert’s to sell. He was a manager—a well paid one at that—but if you’re name isn’t Winterbourne, or at least half Winterbourne, you own a lot of nothing around here.”
I paused to think. If Robert had nothing to gain, what did he have to lose?
“Where were you the night of the murder, Miss Presley?”
“Please, call me Piper. I was home. In bed. Alone. All alone.”
“What time did you leave the office that night? Do you recall?”
“Six. It’s the time I usually leave unless we have tastings.”
“What’s that?”
“Everyone who works here is required to taste test the bourbon batches as they come out of the barrels. There’s a lab too, but good old fashioned taste buds are still a large part of how we blend the barrels and produce our product.”
“So there’s a recipe?”
“Well, there is. But I’ve never seen it. Nor has anyone else. It’s a secret and it’s hidden somewhere none of us know about.”
“So you left at six. Then what?”
“Nothing special. I went for a run, worked out, and was home eating a salad with friends for dinner by eight.”
“Did you see Robert that night?”
She shook her head no.
Did you see Win that night?”
Pausing, I could tell by the look on her face she had no idea he’d been home.
“He was at Winter Haven earlier that day. Were you aware of that?”
“No.” I could hear the disappointment in her voice.
“Can you tell me about the restraining order, Piper?”
She immediately dropped her head to look into her lap. “It’s not something I’m proud of, but I had a little bit of a breakdown one time.” She looked back at me, holding my attention. “It was just something stupid and it only happened once.”
“Did you threaten him somehow?”
“Look,” she began. “It was a while ago and you don’t know how frustrating Win Holloway can be.”
I don’t know if it was my expression or the pure energy shared by two women wronged by the same man but she saw it in me.
“Or maybe you do,” she said.
“Just tell me in your own words what happened.” I didn’t want to be under the relationship microscope with Piper, especially when it came to Win.
“We had a fight. I blamed him for my coming to Kentucky and accepting this job. I wanted him to move home and take over the business—it was what he’d always talked about, but then—”
“Yes?” I asked, hoping to spur her on.
“What can I say? He changed his mind—about everything—me, coming home, you name it.”
“But the knife.”
“I was in Robert’s office earlier in the day. He’d sent me in to look for a contract he’d left on top of his filing cabinet. I got it, but knocked another file off and into the crevice between the cabinet and the wall. Naturally, I stuck my hand in there to pull out what I’d dropped.”
I began to squirm in my seat. “And you found a knife?”
“I cut my finger on it—actually bled on the contract I was trying to retrieve. It was stuck inside a deep crevice of the old floorboard.”
I looked below my feet. The original wood floors had been sanded and refinished many times over. “What did you do with it?”
“I was going to tell Robert I’d found it, but I happened to run into Win.” Piper adjusted herself in her seat. I could tell she was uncomfortable telling me the story. “He came home for something—I don’t know what—God knows he never came here to see me. I found him wandering around the office and I confronted him. He got mad and told me to leave him alone. He didn’t want anything to do with me. I lost my mind. All I had in my hand was the file and the old knife—so I used it.”
“I see,” I said, acknowledging her honesty.
“I wasn’t going to hurt him—at least not the way he hurt me. I was just…I don’t know. Crazy.”
“I understand.” I said the words, but it was one of the truest statements of my life. I did understand. I’d wanted to shoot him myself this morning.
“I know you do,” she replied.
Quickly, I changed the subject. “Piper, do you know anyone who would have reason to murder Robert? Anyone at all?”
“Listen,” she said sitting up in her chair, all business again. “None of these people are right in the head. Think about it. The mother is killed, no one ever solves that mystery, then the father? Clearly you have no leads or you wouldn’t be asking me. Win is a sadist and Lena is fucking nuts.”
“Why would you say Lena is nuts?” I asked.
“Have you talked to her? My God, she’s like a thirteen-year-old girl in a woman’s body. She’s been through the wringer I know—psych wards, catatonic states, shock treatments—Robert told me all about it. I’ve never met anyone as weird as she is. Win always tolerated it and felt guilty over it because she was all he had. He hated his father, you know. I couldn’t believe the eulogy he gave yesterday. Made me think maybe he’s finally grown up.”
I showed no emotion, but it was something I agreed with her on.
Standing, I knew had to find John Lee, but first I wanted to know something very important. Slipping it in at the end, I didn’t want it to come off as obvious. “Thanks again for taking time to speak with me, Piper.”
“Sure.”
I walked to the door and turned at the last moment. “What ever happened to the knife?”
“What knife?”
I raised my eyebrows at her.
“Oh,” she replied dragging the word out. “That knife. I turned it over to the security guard working here at the time.”
“Who’s that?”
“John Lee.”
22
WIN
Ginny was back. I only knew because Telly had informed me. I watched her walk the long lane to the distillery buildings, and as much as I wanted to run after her, I didn’t. I sat in the library and stared out the window, waiting for her to exit a building and move on to the next. I wasn’t beyond tracking her down when she was ready to leave again.
Leaning back in the old worn leather chair, I stared at the ceiling of the library. For all the books that filled the place, I never really looked at them. Now that my father was gone, the longer I stayed at Winter Haven, the more relaxed I became, and the more I realized I didn’t know about my own home.
The portraits of each Winterbourne hung in the library, with the exception of Marshall. His portrait hung in the first parlor inside the main entrance—the red room.
I studied each of the men and the one woman who hung from the dark wood paneled walls. Cee Cee, a young man in his portrait looked very much like me, and I, like my mother. Her portrait hung next to his. Cecil and Priscilla had only the one child—a girl. It was the end of the Winterbourne name, but not the legacy. I could only imagine it was part of the reason the Winterbournes were only too happy for my mother to marry a Holloway. There was no other name that could carry on the bloodline.
I looked at all of them and wondered if they could ever know the pain that would eventually come upon the house. It had been a blessed place—according to Cee Cee—that was, until my father married my mother.
What did that make me and Lena? The offspring of an unsavory union? Or the remnants of a tradition so bent on keeping itself, it destroyed everyone and everything in its path?
I stood to pace and look out the window once more. She was nowhere to be seen. Who was she speaking with? What was she looking for?
Sitting back down, I noticed the old set of keys Cee Cee had told me to hang onto. I’d left them on the table in the library and now they were hanging on the wall by the fireplace. I’d never noticed them before, and yet when I asked for them, Vernon knew exactly where to find them.
Walking to the kitchen I looked around the corner, hoping the all-knowing Vernon would have an explanation for me.
“Can I get you
anything Mr. Win?” he asked, coming out of the shadows of the deep pantry.
“I just have a question.”
“Shoot.”
“The other day when I asked you how I could get inside the chapel, you left and came back with keys—these,” I said, holding them in the air.
“Yessir.”
“Vernon, how did you know those keys were to the chapel, and how on earth did you know where to find them?
“Mr. Win, the keys have been hanging in the library for as long as I’ve worked here and that’s almost fifty years.”
“Hmm.” It was all I could think to say. “Thanks, Vernon.”
I walked back to the library, looking out the window for any sign of Ginny, my eyes always drawn back to the keys in my hand as I walked the walls lined with books, old bourbon bottles and ancient photographs.
Tucked in the corner of one shelf was a small snapshot. What struck me most about it was the glare on the camera lens. Upon closer inspection, I realized it wasn’t a glare at all. It was a birthday cake. My mother, surrounded by her parents and my father, beamed at the sight of a cake full of burning candles.
Putting the keys in my pocket, I turned the small silver frame over. I wanted to take the photograph out for a closer look. Judging by the screws on the back, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy—but nothing at Winter Haven ever seemed to come easy.
I opened a drawer inside the roll-top desk no one ever used and found a Phillips screwdriver right away. “Well okay,” I said under my breath.
Placing the frame face down, I took out each screw carefully, the faded black velvet easel slipping from its silver casing.
Taking the photo back to the desk, I turned on the ancient green banker’s lamp, wiping the dust from the large magnifying glass lying nearby. Slightly faded, I could still make out the joy on everyone’s face. The writing on the back was hard to read—the pencil slightly smudged—but the magnification helped.
When it all came into view, I swallowed hard. Mary’s 33rd Birthday, 1987.
It was my mother at my exact age. It was the celebration of her coming into her family inheritance just as I would in a week. I held the black and white photo obviously taken by a professional under the magnifying glass again.
The necklace I remembered hung around her neck. A key—the bow, shaft and bit an identical match to the key in my pocket.
I stood, knocking the frame and glass to the floor with a crash, pulling the old set of keys out.
My heart was beating wildly and I felt all the blood rush to my face. There it was. I felt like I’d discovered long lost treasure.
I paced the entire space of the library, holding the photo in one hand and the key in the other. I had something, I just didn’t know what.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement below at the office buildings. I turned my attention, still gripping my new found treasures in my hands, and watched Ginny leave, only to walk farther down the path to the rickhouses.
She was always the first person I wanted to tell everything to. Even after we’d broken up I’d write her emails merely to get the words on paper and send them only to myself. I watched her walk the pathway, her long chestnut hair flying in the breeze. She was everything I’d ever wanted and there was no way I was letting Piper screw that up for me.
Sliding the photo in my back pocket, I put the set of keys in my jacket, bursting out of the French doors and onto the veranda. “Ginny!” I shouted, trying to get her attention. “Ginny!”
It was no use, either she couldn’t hear me, or worse, she did hear and didn’t want to acknowledge me. Either way, I was setting things straight, now.
Hustling down the long curved marble steps that led from the back of the house to the garden, I’d have to wade through the newly sprung tulips to get to the bank of golf carts.
Jumping the last two steps, I turned the corner and ran straight into the security guard.
“Shit,” I said, coming chest to chest with him. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” he said, clearly shaken by our chance meeting. “I wasn’t…I wasn’t…”
I glanced at his name tag, realizing it was John Lee, the security guard Lena’d spoken of. “You’re John,” I said offering my hand. “I’ve heard about you.”
He shook my hand and narrowed his glare. “What have you heard?”
“Nothing bad, I assure you,” I said with a nervous laugh. “We’ve never met and Lena speaks highly of you. I’m glad I finally had a chance to say hello.”
“Yes sir. I mean, Mr. Holloway.”
“Please, call me Win,” I said moving on, anxious to get to Ginny. “I’m kinda in a hurry, but we’ll talk later. I’m a little concerned with you carrying that Glock around the property.”
I hurried to the golf cart and realized as soon as I took off, in my haste, I’d been not only rude, but insinuated he didn’t know what he was doing with his gun. I gave him a fleeting glance over my shoulder and waved. “I’ll track you down later today. We’ll talk.”
I whizzed down the paved lane hoping to find Ginny in the first rickhouse.
“Ginny!” I began shouting her name before I even opened the door to the first house. “Ginny, are you in here?”
Silence was my only reply and I hung my head, knowing I would track her through every barrel house if I had to. Taking a deep breath, I walked the length of the building and reached for the door to move on to the next when a soft voice called out to me. “Are you looking for me?”
Turning, I saw the pixie blonde strolling toward me in catwalk strides. “Oh,” my voice fell. “Piper. It’s you.”
“Who were you looking for?”
“Look Piper, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but it’s not going to work. You stripped down and straddled me and guess what? The FBI agents who are casing the place took photos of it.”
“Really?” she asked, her eyes bright with enthusiasm.
“Don’t get so excited. We both know you did all of that on your own. And now I have to convince the only woman I’ve ever loved, that you, naked on my lap and kissing me means nothing.”
Piper inhaled long and full—her perky breasts heaving simultaneously with the sound. “And who is the only woman you’ve ever loved, Win?”
“Piper, I’m sorry but it’s not you. It’s Ginny. We had puppy love, the kind of fling everyone has in college. It seemed right at the time, but that’s only because we were young and everything seemed right. That’s not reality. That’s not real life.”
“You’re saying what we had meant nothing?” she asked, her voice rising.
I shook my head. “No. It meant something at the time, but that time is over. I’ve moved on. You should too.”
“And what if I don’t want to move on?”
“You need to get out of Valley Springs. You’re a smart, beautiful and talented woman Piper. Don’t waste it all on a dream that’s never going to happen.”
The expression on her face changed. “What dream is that, Win?”
I paused, remembering what happened the last time I told her I didn’t love her. “Us. Us, Piper.”
“You’re a fucking asshole, Win,” she said moving closer. I could see the tears streaming down her face, and for the second time today, I’d made a woman cry.
“You’re right,” I agreed with her. “I am an asshole, but at some point in your life you have to start taking responsibility for your feelings. I never thought there was anyone out there who could love me for who I really am Piper, but I was wrong.”
“I love you for who you really are,” she choked through her tears.
“No, Piper. You love me for who you want me to be. I can’t be that person. I’m not that person.”
“But I love you, Win. I do. Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”
“Anything?” I asked stepping closer to her.
“Yes. Anything.”
“I want you to pack your bags and leave Kentucky. I will write you the most amazi
ng letter of recommendation to whatever company you want to work for. I’ll sing your praises to whomever you want me to. But your time at Winter Bourbon is over, Piper. It’s time for you to go.”
“You’re firing me?” she asked, wiping the tears from her face.
“I’m giving you an early retirement package. Two years’ salary and benefits, but you need to move on. There’s nothing here for you—least of all me.”
Wiping the last of her tears, she suddenly straightened up. It was like a light had gone on in her head and she knew. Walking to me in measured steps, she grabbed my crotch as if she was about to pick a ripe apple from a tree—firmly, but with care.
My instinctively protective groan only intensified when she kissed me hard, sucking my bottom lip as she pulled away.
“Mark my words, Win Holloway. You’re going to regret this.”
23
GINNY
I waited for the dust to settle before letting my presence be known. Watching Piper storm out of the rickhouse, Win put his arms over his head, bracing himself on the rack above him. A bourbon barrel held his weight as he lowered his head in apparent disgust.
“Well,” I began, my voice soft and low. “That was quite a show.”
Snapping his head to meet me, he dropped his body in relief, “Ginny.”
Walking toward him, I stopped short, crossing my arms, leaning back into the barrels.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said. “Calling you nonstop since you peeled out of here.”
“Yeah, well I blocked your number after I called Knotts from the Louisville office a motherfucker thinking it was you.”
“Wow,” he said walking toward me. “I’ve moved up from dickless piece of shit to motherfucker.”
“You wanna tell me what that was all about?” I asked, pointing to the door Piper’d made her grand exit from.
“You heard that?” he asked, a smile creeping in from the corner of his mouth.
I nodded.
“I told you,” he said, taking another step closer. “I didn’t expect you to believe what I said. I promised I would show you. Ginny, you can believe in me—believe in us—again. Firing Piper was just a step in the right direction, that’s all.”
