by Abigail Keam
Emmeline pointed a finger at me before putting my hair in her mouth.
I pulled my hair away from her grubby little hands.
“Surprised?” Matt asked.
“Quite. Are you here for a visit?”
He shook his head. “Meriah has relinquished custody for good and only has visitation rights now. She was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. She was misdiagnosed. It wasn’t postpartum depression as we thought.”
“Really?”
“Yep. She’s writing a new mystery and getting her life back on track. We had long talks about it, and she thinks I’m the more stable of the two of us, so I should have Emmeline.”
“Uh huh. I believe she said that when Emmeline was born.”
“A baby is more than she could cope with.”
I put Emmeline down. “You don’t say.”
“So I’ve come home.”
“For how long?’
“For good.” Matt looked quizzically at me. “Aren’t you glad to see me, Jo?”
I went over and hugged him. “Of course, I am. Just surprised, that’s all.”
“Why are you here?”
“The Butterfly is rented out for a reception. I slept here last night.”
With a concerned look on his face, Matt looked around. “Where’s Baby?”
“He’s with Bess at the moment.” I saw a car on the gravel driveway head towards Tates Creek Road. “Oh, my gosh, I’m late. I’m supposed to be helping Eunice at the moment. Honey, we’ll have to talk later.”
As I rushed past him, I gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Hurrying to my golf cart, I spied Matt follow me out onto the porch and watched me hightail it to the Butterfly. He looked confused.
I was confused myself because I really wasn’t thrilled to see Matt. My lukewarm reception was indicative of my bewildered state. I couldn’t help but wonder if his coming back to Kentucky was a mistake.
Here’s the rundown on the past three years of Matt’s life. Matt was my best friend who had a tempestuous relationship with Meriah Caldwell, the famous mystery writer. At their wedding, Lacey Bridges shot Doreen Doris Mayfield DeWitt in the head and then turned the gun on herself. Needless to say, the wedding did not continue.
Matt called their relationship off later, but when he was shot by Fred O’Nan (my stalker) during an attempt to murder me, Meriah packed up the seriously injured Matt and flew him to Los Angeles to recuperate. During his stay, Meriah gave birth to their daughter, Emmeline, and flipped out. Seemed like she suffered from postpartum depression—or so we thought.
Matt brought Emmeline home to Kentucky after he had regained his health, and everything was hunky dory until Meriah decided she wanted custody of Emmeline after all. She sued and won.
So Matt relocated to California to be near his daughter. Now Meriah had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder and wants Matt to have custody—again. It’s been one crisis after another regarding their child, Emmeline, and quite frankly, I was worn out. Those two were constantly going back and forth, back and forth. It was exhausting.
I love Matt but I needed a long break from his roller coaster life. I hope this last custody agreement with Meriah was final. I was just getting too old for this crap.
8
I helped Eunice with the cleanup and took the trash and recyclables up to the main road for the garbage truck. When I returned, Eunice was waiting for me with a fat check and my half of the leftovers. Did I really need eighteen chocolate cupcakes decorated with white buttercream magnolias? No, but I’ll eat them just the same as well as the leftover salmon and Jell-O R2D2s.
Thinking of my less than stellar behavior toward Matt, I made a welcome basket of cupcakes, salmon, Jell-O, pasta salad, wild rice, cold asparagus, and rolls.
While I was being tormented by O’Nan, Matt had stayed with me every step of the way, even when I begged him to live in town for his own safety. I knew he’d get caught in the crossfire sooner or later, but Matt refused to listen and stayed by my side until he was shot. In other words, he took a bullet for me.
I was ashamed of my behavior. Matt was going through a rough patch so I needed to be there for him.
On my way out the door, I grabbed a couple bottles of wine to go with dinner. Maybe if I got Matt tipsy enough, he wouldn’t remember my shabby welcome earlier in the day.
One can only hope.
9
Matt was thrilled to receive the left-over goodies from the reception and acted as if my boorish behavior had never happened. Why can’t I be that gracious?
We had a nice dinner and then I returned home to collapse in my bed and sink into a deep sleep which I needed. I was still in bed when I heard the front door open the next morning. What is it with people popping in on me?
Since I wasn’t expecting anyone, I sat up immediately. Baby lazily got up from his bed and padded into the great room. It must be someone he knew since Baby wasn’t growling.
Only four people had keys to my house—Lady Elsmere, Eunice Todd, Asa, my daughter, and my gentleman friend, Hunter. I had given him a key a few months back in a moment of weakness and even then wondered if I was going to regret my decision. I put on a robe and while doing so heard Hunter’s voice talking to Baby. Yep, most definitely regretted my decision. The deal was for him to call before coming over.
I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and combed my hair. In an attempt to look somewhat groomed I put on some lipstick. My eyes looked blah in the mirror. Ah, what the heck. I put on mascara, too. I peered at my reflection. Satisfied that I looked somewhat human I went into the great room.
“Something smells good,” I said.
“I’m making eggs-in-a-basket and pancakes,” Hunter said cheerfully, flipping over a half dozen flapjacks.
I glanced over at my Nakashima table. “And you’ve already set the table. How nice.”
“I know you had a big day yesterday and wanted to treat you. How did the reception go?”
“It went well. It was our biggest gig to date.”
“I know you were worried that you and Eunice might not be able to pull it off.”
I sat across from Hunter at the island and watched him cook. He poured a cup of coffee and set it down before me. “Eunice handled all the heavy lifting. Everything went like clockwork, and I got a nice big check to deposit on Monday.”
“You know you can deposit the check with your phone now.”
“Like I would trust that. Nope. I’ll go into town on Monday and deposit the check in person like a grownup should.”
Hunter grinned. “You’re a throwback.”
“There are certain things I don’t trust—like a gentleman friend driving forty-five minutes to make a surprise breakfast for his lady friend.”
“My lady love,” Hunter corrected.
“Uh huh,” I said suspiciously.
“Come on. Follow me.” Hunter carried platters of food over to the table. Coffee and orange juice were already on the table.
I became alarmed. “It’s not an anniversary or something, is it? Your birthday?” I never could remember that stuff.
“Don’t worry. It’s nothing like that, but I do have a motive.”
“I knew it,” I said, sitting down. “Well, I’m not going to complain as everything looks delicious.” I poured syrup on my pancakes. “You want to tell me why you are bribing me?”
“I’ve been assigned to the Shelby Carpenter case.”
I stopped eating. “How can you be impartial? You know one of the witnesses—me.”
“I told Detective Drake that. He says everyone knows everyone else in this town. Besides, there was no one else. Everyone was tied up.”
“I don’t understand. Why call in a forensic psychiatrist?”
“This Shelby Carpenter was a person of note. Other bloggers are already posting about his death and conspiracy theories are hitting the internet.”
“So Norbet wants this case cleared up fast.”
“Nice and tidy with a bow. That’s why I wa
s called in.”
“Hmm.” I began to sweat. If the police knew I had taken photos of the contents of Carpenter’s pockets, I could be in serious trouble. I had signed a statement that I had not touched the body except to see if Carpenter was dead. If they found out I had rifled through his pockets and took photographs, I could go to jail—and I mean some serious jail time. I had to get those photos off my phone! And I had to be careful with Hunter. If he suspected I had lied, he wouldn’t stop until he ferreted it out of me.
I smiled at him. “So you are here to interrogate me?”
Hunter took a sip of his orange juice. “To interview you.”
“I see.”
“Anything wrong? You look a might peaked.”
“No. No. This is certainly nicer than being dragged down to police headquarters.”
Hunter cocked his head and studied me.
I lowered my eyes and cut into my eggs-in-a-basket which is basically a piece of fried bread with an egg in the middle. I decided to change the subject. “Matt’s back in town.”
“Yes, I know. He was out in his yard with Emmeline. I stopped and talked with him for a few moments.”
“And?”
“What do you want me to say? I’m not happy about it. I wish he had stayed in California.”
“Franklin will have to be told.”
“He’s in New York for a few days to see some shows. I’ll tell him when he gets back.”
“How do you think he’ll take it?” I asked.
“If Franklin takes my advice, he’ll give Mathew Garth a wide berth.”
“I think Matt has changed.”
“You’ve said that before. The guy’s a narcissist. He’s a user.”
“He’s always been good to me.”
Hunter seemed irritated. “Let’s talk about something else, shall we?”
“Of course. Thank you for making breakfast. I would have heated up some leftover salmon and stale rolls.”
Appeased, Hunter smiled. “After my interview with you, let’s go for a swim. I brought my trunks.”
I grinned. “Why bother with trunks?”
“Why indeed,” Hunter said.
We clinked our coffee cups together and settled into a comfortable patois.
I have to say it was nice having breakfast with someone. Very nice.
10
Hunter conducted his official interview with me. It took over ninety minutes but I zigged and zagged the trickier questions. Yes, I lied. I told him I only touched the body to see if Carpenter was dead. Did I feel guilty? Uh, no.
I have a very strong distrust of authority figures, especially cops. I realize they have difficult jobs. I realize policemen are underpaid and underappreciated, but you’ve got to look at it from my perspective. I was almost killed by a renegade cop who used his position of authority to make my life miserable. He shot Matt. He shot Franklin. He shot Baby. He pulled me off a cliff and then tried to kill me again by throwing me off the Cumberland Falls.
Then there was the character assassination Asa experience. She blew the whistle on corruption in the Secret Service and got pilloried for it. Doing the right thing had cost Asa’s career in government service and her marriage. She got back on her feet, but it turned something deep inside her that was dark and sinister.
Yeah, I lied my fanny off. Here’s how it went.
“Why were you downtown?”
“Veritas Noble and I went to see a movie at the Kentucky Theater.”
“What movie did you see?”
“The Apartment with Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine.”
“What did you do after the movie was finished?”
“Walked back to Veritas’ car.”
“Where was it parked?”
“In the parking lot behind the theater.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“Just people who had also attended the movie and had parked there.”
“What happened?”
“Veritas noticed her car had been hit.”
“Where?”
“The right rear bumper and side.”
“What did the two of you do?”
“We both examined the damage. Veritas was very upset. Then she discovered the envelope on her windshield.”
“Tell me about that.”
“It was a plain utilitarian white envelope with a thousand dollars in cash as well as a note.”
“Tell me about the bills.”
“There were about four one-hundred dollar bills and the rest were fifties and twenties.”
“Anything else?”
“Well, we didn’t write down the serial numbers of the bills if that’s what you’re after.”
“Who do you think left the money?”
“Shelby Carpenter.”
“Why do you think that, Jo?”
“I think he hit VeVe’s car. Left money with the note on her windshield.”
“That’s awful risky. Anyone could have come by and stolen the money. Why not leave a card with a phone number.”
“Because he didn’t want anyone to know he was in town. He was an honest man, felt bad about the accident, and left the money to cover the damage.”
Hunter typed furiously on his laptop.
“So he must have had his own car. Perhaps a rental. Has it been found yet?” I wondered.
“I’m asking the questions here.”
“We know he wasn’t riding in a cab.”
Hunter looked up from his laptop. “Why do you think that?”
“Because a cabbie would have notified his insurance company if he had hit a car. They wouldn’t leave cash. No. No. It had to be Carpenter’s vehicle which hit VeVe’s car.”
“And someone just came along and plugged him?” Hunter made a face.
“Well, what’s your theory?”
“You know I can’t discuss details with you.”
I mugged a face, too. “Party pooper.”
“Let’s get this interview back on track.”
“Okay.”
“Veritas Noble found the money. Then what did she do?”
“She put it in her purse, much happier I might add. Then I asked her to get my packages out of the trunk.”
Hunter asked, “She opened the trunk?”
“Yes, that’s when we discovered a man lying in the trunk, and we both took off screaming down the street.”
“Then what happened?”
“I ran into a parked car, and Veritas ran out of steam.”
“Anybody come to your assistance?”
“No.”
“I thought you said there were other people getting into their cars.”
“By that time everyone had left, and we were alone.”
“What did you do then?”
“Veritas and I tiptoed back and looked into the trunk.”
“Did either of you touch the body?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
I sighed. “To see if the guy was alive or dead.”
“Did Veritas Noble touch the body?”
“VeVe touch a stiff? Are you kidding?”
“Yes or no, please?”
“Nope.”
“What happened then?”
“I’ve been all over this with the police.”
“Come on, Josiah. You know how this game is played. Answer the question, please.”
“I sent Veritas to the police station a block over, and I stayed with the body.”
“Did you touch the body while she was away?”
“No.” I did my best to maintain a poker face but I felt my nose grow longer.
“Are you sure?”
“Why do you keep asking if I touched the body again?”
“Because I know you.”
“Nice.” I thought for a moment. “When did the coroner say Carpenter died?”
“You know I can’t discuss details of the investigation with you.”
“What hotel was he staying in? How many days had he been here? Who wa
s he talking with?”
“I’m conducting this interview. Now stay with me on this.”
“If you won’t tell me, I’ll just ask Lady Elsmere. She knows everything that happens in the Bluegrass. She has sources the FBI would salivate over.”
“You go do that. If she knows anything, let me know. I may have to ramble up to the Big House and interview her. Now I have just a few more questions. “Did you know Shelby Carpenter?”
“No.”
“Had you ever read his blog before?”
“Never heard of him before I discovered him dead.”
“Did you or anyone you know have any contact with Shelby Carpenter before his death?”
“I can only speak for myself. I didn’t know him. Had never seen him before. Never knew he inhabited the planet.”
“Did Veritas Noble ever speak of knowing Shelby Carpenter?”
“I hope you’re not grilling VeVe like this. You’ll cause her to have a nervous breakdown.”
“I’ll take that as a no. How did you come into contact with Shelby Carpenter?”
“I felt for a pulse on his neck.”
“Did you move the body?”
“Yes. I had to pull him around a bit to get to the right spot on the neck. I think his head rolled to the side a little.”
“Did you touch anything else?”
“Maybe his shirt.”
“Was he still warm?”
“For God’s sake, Hunter! What a question to ask?”
Hunter gave me one of his looks.
“Let’s put it this way. He was room temperature.”
“Meaning?”
“He had been in a hot trunk. That’s all I’m going to say about it.”
“When you touched Carpenter, did you go through his pockets or wallet?”
“No. That would be disturbing a crime scene.” I did my best to look indignant and leaned forward. “If it looked like someone went through his pockets, it proves my theory.”
Hunter sighed. “What’s your theory again?”
“I think Carpenter was in town to investigate a story, and someone didn’t like him snooping around.”
“Why do you think he was behind the Kentucky Theater?”
“Could have been meeting someone, or perhaps he just wanted to take in a movie and relax.”
