by Abigail Keam
Ellen laughed bitterly. “No doubt she did when she stole the Duveneck painting from my house.”
“My husband should never have given that painting to you. I bought it as a gift. Brannon should have left it behind.”
Ellen smiled. “Are you admitting Asa stole the painting?”
“No, Ellen. I have no idea where the painting is. Are you saying that if the painting miraculously turns up, then you’ll let Asa see her brother?”
“I’m saying that without the return of the painting Asa will never see her brother.”
“Ellen, must you be so vindictive?”
“The painting, Josiah, or I won’t even consider letting Asa see my son.” Ellen’s eyes narrowed and her smile was a trembling orange slash across her face. The color did not suit her.
I knew Ellen loathed me, and it was more than the general dislike two women have for each other when competing for a man. She never forgave me for not letting her see Brannon in the hospital when he had his heart attack. Ellen would never see my side in this matter. She would never understand how devastated I was to learn of Brannon’s affair, secretly selling our business, and then hiding the money from the sale when he decided to leave me. On top of that, Brannon had drained all our bank accounts.
After Brannon’s death, I could never find out where he had stashed our money that I had worked years to save. I had a very strong suspicion he gave Ellen all the money from our bank accounts and business sale to hide during the divorce proceedings.
It was one thing to leave me. It was another thing for Brannon to leave me destitute and penniless while he lived the high life with his girlfriend. I was still his wife, and I needed Ellen to stay out of the picture until I got things settled with Brannon. Unfortunately, he up and died on me before there was any resolution between us. So there was no forgiveness—just a deep, abiding anger that is always rekindled when I see Ellen.
She gave me one last disdainful glance before hobnobbing with other guests. To tell you the truth, the woman unnerved me. I don’t know why I always engage with her. Perhaps I’m a bit of a masochist.
Feeling discombobulated, I needed a few minutes to myself so I let myself into a room off the main corridor. I sat in a chair by the fireplace breathing slowly. When I finally regained my composure, I looked about and realized I must be in King’s personal office. Now I was faced with a quandary. Do I join the other guests or do I use this opportunity to snoop?
I chose snooping.
There was a distinguished oil painting of King in his early fifties hanging over the ornate stone fireplace. King had been quite handsome before his recent illness. I gauged the portrait had been done right around the time he had married Ferrina. The room hosted expensive pale colored paneling with massive windows on one side that looked over the pool area and an expansive garden. On either side of the fireplace were shelves housing awards, personal mementos, and trophies of King’s travels and triumphs. Each shelf was beautifully lit to highlight each object. The other walls showcased his first edition books and also a small bar offering only the finest ports and liquors. Off to the right was a private bathroom with a shower. Two club chairs sat in front of the fireplace with a 1930’s Art Deco ashtray stand resting in-between. This was King’s sanctuary where he came to smoke his cigars and have a glass of port, perhaps to reminisce about his past and get away from Ferrina.
The only other furniture in the room was a desk that hardly looked used. I tried the drawers. They were locked. The only item on the desk besides a lamp was a photograph of Ferrina. The photo must have been taken when they got married. She looked so young but not fresh, and Ferrina was smiling but not with her eyes. Something about the photograph bothered me. That’s when it hit me.
The smiling Ferrina in the picture was the same wan face on the arrest warrant that Shelby Carpenter had in his possession. Wealthy, socially prominent Ferrina Landau was once the teenage prostitute and drug mule Susan Dorsch!
Jumping Jehoshaphat!
The door suddenly opened causing me to swirl. “Hello, King,” I said.
Looking displeased, King asked, “May I help you, Josiah?”
“To tell you the truth, King, I came in here to get away from Ellen Boudreaux.”
King relaxed and chuckled. “Ellen is a might overpowering. I would have done the same thing myself.”
“While I was hiding in here, I spied this picture of Ferrina. It’s lovely.”
King strode over to where I stood. He picked up the sterling frame and studied the photograph of his wife. “This was Ferrina’s engagement picture. It’s my favorite of her.”
“How old was she?”
“Twenty-four.”
“How did the two of you meet?”
“You’re going to think this is a cliché, but I met her on a trip to Las Vegas. My first wife had died in a car accident.”
“I didn’t know that. Very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you but we weren’t very close. We never had children and through the years we drifted apart. I suppose if she hadn’t died in the accident, we would have divorced. I’m sure of that. Neither one of us was happy. She was a nice woman, but we didn’t click. Understand?”
I nodded, but I didn’t understand. Hadn’t June told me that King had married a friend of hers and she divorced him? Had King married three women? Was he rewriting his biography? Was he confused? Who was he yammering about? I decided to play along.
“I had to go to Las Vegas for a business conference, and I was dreading it. I got there a day early with nothing to do, so I went to a casino to play blackjack.”
“You really wanted to lose some money,” I joked.
King smiled. “I was playing when this angel slid into the chair next to me. We played a few hands. I won once and she won three times. Really got my attention.”
“I bet,” I murmured.
“She made a little pile of money and was gathering her chips when I asked if I could take her to dinner. She said yes and the rest is history. I know people think she married me for my money since she is almost thirty years younger, but Ferrina didn’t know who I was when she accepted my invitation. I married Ferrina one month later and haven’t had a day when I regretted it.”
It was amazing to me that King had never figured out that he was a mark. Men are so gullible if there is a pretty face behind the lie. “That’s quite a story, King.”
“Ferrina gave me a son and saved me from a life of loneliness.”
“Is Chase here today?”
“He’s around somewhere. Probably twisting the arm of some pretty girl.”
I thought that an odd metaphor to use but didn’t reply. I also thought it was odd that there were no pictures of Chase in the room. I patted his arm in sympathy. “I’m glad it worked out for you, King. Please excuse me. I feel I have intruded upon your privacy long enough.”
“Think nothing of it. I have nothing but time anymore, Josiah. Nothing but time.”
I thought that also an odd thing to say since King was running out of time. Even the rich can’t buy more days.
“You’d better go and lasso that beau of yours. He’s chatting up all the ladies.”
“Excuse me?”
“Hunter. He’s working the room. Better corral Hunter while you can. You don’t want him to run off, too.”
Talk about pouring salt into a wound. Thanks, you old coot. I lost any feeling of sympathy for King. “I’m glad Hunter’s enjoying himself. Please excuse me.”
“Of course,” King said with a little bow.
I left the room with more information than I had bargained for. I knew Susan Dorsch and Ferrina were one and the same person. Shelby Carpenter’s death was directly related to Ferrina. Did Ferrina kill Carpenter to keep him quiet about her infamous past? I couldn’t believe it. While such a revelation would have caused some twittering among Ferrina’s friends, would anyone really care? Ferrina’s colorful past would make her more of a star in this promiscuous day and age.
>
And if King hadn’t been aware of her sordid history, would its revelation be such a shock that he would leave Ferrina? After all, King was very ill and said he loved Ferrina. At this stage in King’s life, would he rock the boat?
There was one more thing. After the killer had thrown Carpenter into VeVe’s car, the open trunk lid would have shielded him from view, so the killer would have had ample time to search the body. The murderer didn’t bother to take the arrest record or the newspaper articles on King. Was something even more incriminating taken?
I still had the strong feeling that whatever happened to Carpenter had to do with those pieces of paper, but what? I stood in the hallway before stepping out onto the lawn where most of the guests had gathered. It was then I noticed Ferrina’s son, Chase, lurking in the shadows, just like in mystery novels. “Chase, is that you?”
“Hello, Josiah.”
I tried not to show my irritation. I so dislike shopkeepers and those under the age of forty calling me by my first name. I was taught it was rude to call people by their first names unless permission was granted. This familiarity is not tolerated in other countries where proper respect is demanded, but I was not here to dispute modern American customs. “Did you want to see your father? He’s free now.”
“What were you discussing with him?” Chase asked in a honeycombed voice.
I was taken aback by such a question. “Why should that concern you?”
“My father is ill and his mind is starting to wander. We don’t want people taking advantage of him.”
Was this little twerp accusing me of malfeasance? The best defense is offense. “I hear college is not working out for you.” I had never liked Chase. I thought his lackadaisical demeanor spoke of laziness and turpitude.
Chase smirked. “I’m doing just fine, Josiah. How’s renting the Butterfly to the petty bourgeoisie working out for you?”
“Fine. Fine. The petty bourgeoisie in this town pay their bills, and I laugh all the way to the bank.”
The smirk on Chase’s face faded into a mask of loathing. I seemed to have hit a nerve. It was well known in Lexington that Chase had debts all over town, and he frequented the gambling boats on the Ohio River. Ferrina was always racing after him with her checkbook.
“The party is that way,” Chase said, thumbing behind him. “This part of the house is off limits to guests.” He smiled.
Yuck. It was a sleazy smile meant to convey sincerity and friendliness but like his mother’s smile, it never reached his eyes.
I tried to get by, but his bulk blocked the hallway. There was no way I was going to touch him while passing, so we stood facing each other in a kind of a standoff.
The door to the study opened and King walked out. Seeing Chase and me facing off, King barked, “Chase, come here.”
Chase reluctantly obeyed and went to his father who pushed him into the study.
King said, “Please excuse us, Josiah. I need to talk with my son. I’ll see you later at the party.”
“Of course,” I said. I walked away and glanced back, seeing that King was watching me. I turned the corner into the great foyer where people were still arriving.
Thinking King had time to go into his study and shut the door, I tiptoed down the hall, thinking I would be able to eavesdrop, but the study door was slung open. Peeping around the door, I discovered no one was about. King and Chase must have gone out through the study’s French doors out into the garden.
Ah, poo. I hate being denied a chance to eavesdrop. Taking a deep breath, I followed the stream of guests making their way to the garden where the party was taking place. I stepped out onto the verandah, but not before swiping a flute of pink champagne off a tray and taking a swig. I had three unpleasant encounters, which made me realize that I wasn’t liked in the Landau household. It was enough to shake a girl’s confidence.
Over to the left I saw June holding court with her cronies. She waved to me wanting me to come over. I waved back but moved in the opposite direction. I wanted to see if Hunter was really attending or if King was making that up. My mind raced through several scenarios if it were true. Why would Hunter receive an invitation and not ask me to accompany him? Was he with someone else? If I did see him, should I say hello or discreetly disappear into the crowd?
I got waylaid several times by friends and had to play catch-up. I acted calmly, but my heart was racing, and I escaped from each person as soon as was humanly possible. After all, I didn’t want to appear rude. Finally, I made my way to the back part of the garden where I spied Hunter sitting with several ladies, including Ellen Boudreaux. I felt like someone had taken a shovel and hit me in the head with it. It was similar to how I felt when confronting Brannon at the Keeneland Race Course about his affair and the missing money. Not only did Brannon say that he wanted a divorce but that he hated me. I have never gotten over my husband saying that to me. I’ll be damned before I let another man make a monkey out of me.
Hunter casually looked up and seeing me, quickly turned away. Well, I guess that says it all.
Ellen saw me too and scooted closer to Hunter. Under my breath I called Ellen a very vulgar name which I will not repeat, but it’s a word ladies don’t utter out loud. There was no way I was going to let people know how deeply wounded I was, so I smiled and waved to Hunter before turning and chatting with little knots of people here and there. I should have been an actress. My conversation sparkled. My wit was unmatched. I stunned friends with my acumen. I was the hit of the party and exhausted by the effort to maintain the façade. I finally stumbled upon June—thank my lucky stars.
“You ready to go home?” I whispered.
Out of the corner of her mouth, she mumbled, “You’ve seen Hunter?”
“Yep?”
“Why didn’t he bring you?”
“That’s the sixty-four thousand dollar question.”
“Oh, I see. In that case, I’m ready. Can you fetch Charles? He went inside for another helping at the buffet table.”
“If Charles doesn’t wish to leave, I can catch a cab.”
“Don’t be absurd. He’s only eating so he doesn’t have to interact with these fools. He can’t stand them.” June grabbed her cane. “Here, help me up. These legs of mine are as brittle as dry twigs.”
As I was pulling June up, Ferrina popped by with a Cheshire grin on her face. “Leaving so soon?”
June said, “I’m afraid my old bones are tiring out, Ferrina. Thank you for the invite. I would say your party was a success.”
Ferrina simpered while fingering her necklace.
“One more thing, Ferrina,” June said.
“Yes, Lady Elsmere?”
“I expect Charles Dupuy to be placed on the board for your charity.”
“The board positions have already been filled, Lady Elsmere.”
“Make another seat available—that is if you want to see a check from me and have my farm participate in the housing of retired horses.”
Ferrina’s hand dropped from her necklace. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you. You know Charles loves animals. As he is the heir to my estate, Charles needs to be involved with all aspects of my holdings, including charity work. Good night to you.” Lady Elsmere began making her way inside the house.
I was picking up June’s purse when I heard Ferrina mutter, “Charles is nothing more than a chauffeur, and she wants me to put him on my board?”
I shot back without thinking, “What’s that Dorothy Parker saying? You can bring a whore to culture, but you can’t make her think? It’s a play on the saying—you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.”
Ferrina’s eyes flashed angrily at me. “Who is Dorothy Parker and what’s she to do with me?”
I smiled sweetly at Ferrina. “You’re too precious, and honey, I hate to tell you this, but some of the stones in your necklace are paste. Looks like someone’s been filching your gems and replacing them with fakes.”
I le
ft the house feeling somewhat rejuvenated.
Aren’t I a stinker!
14
Several days later there was a banging on my front door.
Ooops! I had forgotten to change the entry code on my front gate.
“Josiah, open this door!” Hunter demanded.
Baby went to the door and scratched it before looking back at me.
“Come away, Baby. Hunter is no longer welcomed.”
Anxious at the continued banging, Baby whimpered, pacing back and forth.
“Go away,” I yelled. “You’re upsetting Baby.”
“You won’t answer my calls or emails.”
“Go talk to your new girlfriend Ellen Boudreaux.”
“I don’t know what you’ve gotten into your head about Ellen Boudreaux. Just give me a chance to explain about the party. You owe me that much.”
“I owe you nothing,” I yelled through the door. “Go away.”
Watching the surveillance monitor, I saw Hunter kick my front door and leave.
Quitter.
It wasn’t ten minutes later when I got a call from Matt. “Jo, Hunter is at my house. He says he won’t leave unless you speak with him. I really need you to get him out of my house. Emmeline is picking up on his negative vibes and getting fussy.”
“His negative vibes? You really have gone California on me.”
“Jo! Don’t put me in the middle of this. I’m going to send Hunter back up to you. I think you should really talk with him. He’s very distraught.”
“I must have sunk to the lowest level of Dante’s Inferno if I’m taking relationship advice from you.”
“Ha ha,” Matt said. I could hear Emmeline squealing in the background. Hunter must have been playing with her.
“Okay. Okay. Send Hunter back to the Butterfly. I’ll talk with him but only because you asked me to.”
I could sense the relief in Matt’s voice when he said, “Good. He’ll be there in a few minutes.”
I hung up my landline phone and rushed to my bedroom to change my clothes and brush my hair. No woman wants to look like a charwoman when lording over a man who has come with hat-in-hand to grovel.
