One for the Road

by Mary Ellis

  ‘Maybe that problem involved Gordon, since Roger changed his will the next day.’

  ‘But would Roger have told his former heir about the change? Wouldn’t it be more fun to save that juicy news for a big surprise?’

  ‘Hard to say what a man like Roger considered fun, but it’s time to have a chat with Gordon Clark.’ Nick punched the address of Black Creek into the GPS, checked his rear-view mirror and pulled onto the pavement.

  ‘And we won’t take no for an answer.’ Jill crunched up her empty water bottle.

  Too bad workers at the distillery made sure no was the only answer they heard. From the security guard at the front desk: ‘I’m sorry, Miss Curtis, Lieutenant Harris. Mr Clark is somewhere on the floor and cannot be reached.’

  From the second-in-command in production: ‘Mr Clark left specific instructions that he’s not to be disturbed.’

  And finally from his office assistant: ‘If you’ll leave your names and number and I’ll see that Mr Clark calls you this evening.’

  Nick flashed his badge a second time. ‘I’m sure you don’t mean to hinder a police investigation, Miss Keyes, but that’s exactly what you’re doing. Either get Mr Clark on the phone, or tell us his location, or I will arrest you. Those are your choices.’

  The young secretary didn’t know whether to cry or stomp her foot in sheer exasperation. ‘One moment, please,’ she sniffed. Then she turned her back while she typed in a text to the boss.

  A ding soon signaled an answer. ‘Mr Clark said if you’ll wait in the conference room, he’ll be with you as soon as possible.’ Miss Keyes swept open the door.

  ‘If Mr Clark’s definition of soon is more than fifteen minutes,’ Nick muttered, ‘I’m calling the sheriff for backup.’

  Pursing her plump pink lips, Miss Keyes nodded and tottered away on her stilettos. But she must have conveyed the message because Gordon Clark stomped into his office ten minutes later. Dressed in a pin-striped suit and starched white shirt, today the oldest of William’s offspring looked more like a Wall Street stockbroker than a bourbon maker from a long line of moonshiners. Gordon shot his cuffs, straightened his silk tie and stretched out a hand to Nick.

  ‘Excuse me for keeping you waiting, lieutenant. Please have a seat. With my uncle’s passing, I’m trying to put out one fire after another on the production line. Figuratively speaking, of course.’

  After shaking hands with Nick, Gordon turned to Jill. ‘We haven’t been properly introduced yet, Miss Curtis. I believe you’re a distant cousin of my Aunt Dot’s?’ He offered his hand to her as well. ‘It’s funny Dot never mentioned you before.’

  Jill formed two immediate impressions: one, Gordon’s skin felt damp and clammy like the frog she’d rescued from Jack’s jaw yesterday. And two, Gordy’s eyes had only slightly softened their severe glint.

  Jill withdrew her hand. ‘Dot had a falling out with my grandmother years ago. Granny never told me about her cousin until recently, when she heard about my upcoming Kentucky trip.’ She sat down in one of the chairs. ‘But I didn’t come here to discuss my connection to your aunt. Lieutenant Harris and I have a few questions.’

  ‘We?’ Perching on the corner of his desk, Gordon directed his query to Nick. ‘Why would a Kentucky State Trooper team up with a travel writer to investigate my uncle’s murder?’

  Nick flinched. ‘Some of the backroads in Spencer County don’t pop up on GPS. Jill was kind enough to show me the way to your father’s farm. We’re on our way back from there. The questions I have are informal, but if you prefer to have your attorney present …’

  Gordon considered this. ‘Ask me what you want. I have nothing to hide, but I do need to get back to work.’

  ‘Sheriff Adkins’s notes were unclear about several things. Why didn’t you pick up when the security guard called you last Wednesday? Elmer Maxwell was sick and needed to leave.’

  ‘I told the sheriff I was on my way home for a minor family emergency. Just like GPS is unreliable in the hills, cell phones don’t always work either.’

  ‘What kind of emergency?’

  ‘My sister thought she might be in labor. But it turned out to be a false alarm.’ Gordon crossed his legs at the ankles.

  ‘Are you a trained medical professional, Mr Clark?’ Nick asked.

  ‘No, but I can follow step-by-step instructions in the birthing manual better than Billy or my dad, at least until the midwife gets there.’

  ‘Michelle isn’t planning to go to a hospital?’ Jill almost fell out of her chair.

  Gordy’s evil glare returned. ‘That is none of your business. Even if you are related to Dot, you’re certainly not related to us.’

  Jill swallowed the snide retort which sprang to mind. ‘Whether or not I’m related has no bearing on the safe delivery of a child.’

  ‘I’ll pass that along, Miss Curtis. Now, do you have eight grand to go with your unsolicited opinion? Because I don’t, and that’s what the hospital requires upfront since Michelle has no health insurance.’

  ‘I’ll check my bank balance,’ Jill mumbled, fuming.

  ‘Getting back to Roger,’ Nick interjected. ‘Do you remember what you two argued about last Tuesday, the night before he died?’

  Gordon huffed out his breath. ‘You’re joking, right? Not a day went by that we didn’t argue. Uncle Roger might have put me in charge of production, but he never stopped micro-managing the distillery. I didn’t take it personally.’ He slipped off the desk. ‘Now if that’s all you need …’

  Nick responded with another question. ‘Were you aware that you were Roger’s major heir in his will?’

  As the color drained from his face, Gordon stopped picking imaginary fuzz from his sleeve. ‘Roger left Black Creek to me?’

  ‘He did. At least he did in his original will.’

  ‘What do you mean by original?’

  ‘Exactly that. Last Wednesday Roger stopped at the bank with a new will, this one handwritten which he had witnessed and notarized and locked in his safety deposit box. Mrs Clark emptied the box out yesterday and discovered the new document. She gave it to their attorney to file in probate court.’

  ‘Can this new will be legal?’ Gordon thundered. Oddly, he aimed his rage at Jill.

  Nick shrugged. ‘I’m not a lawyer, but I’m guessing it is.’

  ‘And suddenly this little gold-digger is Roger’s heir?’ He hooked a thumb at Jill so there would be no misunderstanding.

  ‘Why would he include me?’ Jill choked back a laugh. ‘Roger met me for the first time for five minutes last Tuesday.’

  Gordon shook his head as though trying to dispel a nightmare. ‘Look, we’ll let the courts decide whether or not I inherit this white elephant. In the meantime, I still have a job to do. If you have any more questions, Lieutenant Harris, contact my lawyer. My secretary will supply you with the number. As for you,’ he said to Jill, ‘I’d appreciate you staying away from me and my family. The last thing we need is more cousins.’ Gordy marched from his office without as much as a backward glance.

  ‘Well, that was enlightening.’ Jill stretched her arms over her head. ‘I think we should celebrate by you buying me dinner.’

  ‘It would be my pleasure, but I’m not sure what we’re celebrating.’ Nick guided her out of Gordon’s office and down the hall.

  Jill checked to make sure no one was within earshot. ‘If facial expressions can be trusted, Gordy already knew he was Roger’s heir. Their argument on Tuesday must have been a real doosie. Other than that snide remark about me, Gordy didn’t ask about the new will. If Roger threatened to disinherit him after the fight, Gordon plotted to kill him on Wednesday, not realizing Roger had already changed his will.’

  ‘You have a vivid imagination, but we need proof to back up your theories.’ Nick pushed open the front door, the warm air hitting their faces like a slap after the over-conditioned interior of Black Creek. ‘Besides, Gordon Clark has an alibi for the evening of the murder.’

 
‘You bought that baloney about rushing home to deliver Michelle’s baby?’ Jill grabbed his arm in the middle of the parking lot.

  ‘Of course not. But by the time we get ahold of Michelle to verify his alibi, Gordon will have reached her first. Blood is thicker than first-cousins-twice-removed-by-marriage.’ Nick patted her hand affectionately.

  ‘You got that right.’ Jill waited while Nick fumbled with his keys. ‘Where do we go from here?’

  ‘Pick a restaurant, Jill. The sky’s the limit.’

  ‘Let’s go to that barbeque place by the fairground. But actually, I was referring to the case.’ She ducked her head into his car.

  ‘I intend to find out everything I can about Gordon Clark, and then take a hard look at Black Creek’s financials.’

  ‘What should I do?’ Jill practically levitated with excitement.

  ‘Like Gordon pointed out, a state investigator shouldn’t need help from a travel writer. It’s not … how things are done. But you could direct me to this barbeque place. I haven’t found the fairground during my forays around town.’ Nick punctuated with an amazing smile.

  Jill sucked in a deep breath, crossed her arms and pouted. ‘Google it, Harris. There’s only one barbeque joint in Roseville. And just for the record, this isn’t a date. Since I can’t help, we’re just two fellow travelers who happened to book rooms at the same bed and breakfast.’

  Nick pulled out his phone. ‘I seem to have shot myself in the foot.’

  ‘You sure have. Just remember, Nick, this dinner is on you and I’m starving.’

  In spite of herself, Jill couldn’t remember so enjoyable a meal. She ate a vast quantity of pulled pork, three baby back ribs, five barbeque chicken wings, and enough coleslaw to keep America’s cabbage growers happy, along with a mug of Bud Light.

  Nick consumed even more, along with two mugs of Coors.

  Once the karaoke started up, it became impossible to stay mad at Nick. Not that she’d planned to stay mad at him. He was right. She was just a travel writer, but she knew in her heart she had helped with the case. And he knew it too.

  When they got back to Sweet Dreams B&B, both with leftovers in doggy bags Jack would never see, Nick paused on the front porch. ‘Now if this had been a date, Miss Curtis, I’d try to kiss you goodnight. But since you drew a line in the sand, I’ll simply tip my hat and say goodnight.’ He opened the door with his key and followed through with his intentions.

  ‘You are one exasperating man, Harris,’ she called up the steps.

  ‘Someday you’ll let me change your mind.’ And just like that he disappeared down the hall into his room.

  Jill was left alone to take Jack out, get the coffee ready for the morning, and pace the floor of her room. When she couldn’t remain upright another moment, she washed her face, pulled on jammies and crawled into bed. She had just started to doze when her phone dinged from its position on the charger.

  Michael. With everything that had gone on today, she’d forgotten about her partner making the six-hour journey from Roseville to the Windy City. Bolting upright in bed, Jill read his short and sweet text: Where the heck are you? I’ve called several times and you haven’t picked up. If you’re home, Jilly, and if it’s not too much trouble, call me.

  She knew Michael was annoyed since he’d called her Jilly, her least favorite nickname. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand and then punched in his number. It might already be midnight, but he probably just got home. He picked up on the second ring.

  ‘Hello, Mikey,’ she crooned. ‘You must have really missed me if you texted three times and called twice.’

  ‘Of course I missed you, and I would’ve appreciated a little concern. What if I’d gotten a flat tire?’

  ‘Calling Triple-A would make more sense than calling me. I’ve never changed a tire in my life.’

  ‘What if I’d been worried about you heading up the mountain? Maybe your kinfolk wouldn’t be as pleased to see you a second time.’

  ‘I went with a cop who never goes anywhere without his firearm. And for the record, I never got your calls or texts because we were out-of-range for most of the day. Then my battery died because my phone roamed for a signal the entire time.’

  ‘Your new nickname should be Queen of Excuses.’

  ‘It’s all true, Erickson. Now give me an abbreviated version of your news. I don’t need to hear the number of potty-breaks you took or what you ate for supper. It’s the middle of the night.’

  ‘Mr Fleming … remember him? He’s still our boss. This morning, while they were replacing the windows, I scanned the police report and sent it to him. Fleming said there shouldn’t be a problem regarding my car repairs or replacing the stolen equipment—’

  ‘Great!’ she interrupted. ‘See? You worry too much.’

  ‘And you don’t worry enough. Fleming isn’t happy about you not coming back with me. His exact words were: “The Roseville segments are finished. Why should the news service pay her expenses while she visits with her Kentucky relatives?”.’

  Jill bolted upright. ‘What did you tell him?’

  ‘I convinced the boss that you were following a new angle down there, one that would take the cake on distillery tours.’

  ‘Thanks, Mikey.’

  ‘Don’t thank me yet. Fleming said I should get my new equipment within a couple of days. Then I can head back down to Kentucky, but not to Roseville. He wants us both to head to Lexington.’

  ‘Lexington? That’s all the way on the other side of the state. There are plenty of other distilleries closer to Roseville.’

  ‘Tourists have heard of Lexington and everyone who has driven south on I-75 has seen those huge thoroughbred farms. Even Mr Fleming has seen those horse farms. He thinks it would be a good angle to tie the bourbon tours to Kentucky horseracing. After all, bourbon is the key ingredient in a Mint Julep, served for over one hundred years at the Kentucky Derby.’

  ‘Then the logical place we should be going is Louisville, the home of the Kentucky Derby. From what I understand, it has tons of distilleries. You need to talk to the boss again.’ Truth was she didn’t want to leave Aunt Dot so soon after the funeral, especially since her husband’s killer was still out there. And she wasn’t ready to leave Nick Harris. Roseville was less than an hour from the big city. ‘How much time do I have left here?’ Jill asked in a tiny voice.

  ‘I can stall for a few days in Chicago, especially since we’re almost to the weekend, and I’ll try to get our location changed. But if I don’t pack the car and head south on Monday, Fleming will be firing two people instead of just one.’

  Jill swallowed hard. ‘Is he really that mad at me?’

  ‘Let’s just say if you’re not planning to join me somewhere on Monday, I suggest you call him yourself to explain.’

  ‘OK, fair enough. I appreciate you going to bat for me.’

  ‘Who will if not me?’ Michael teased. ‘The way I see it is you’ve got three days in which to decide if you’re going to marry the eighth master distiller of Founder’s Reserve.’

  ‘No way, Jamie was just a passing flirtation. He still might be the murderer for all we know.’

  ‘Or you could marry that Kentucky lawman. Given enough time he would turn you into a southern belle.’

  ‘Nick and I are just friends.’

  ‘No, Jilly, you and I are just friends. There are sparks between you and Nick. Nevertheless, I offer you a third option: remain in Roseville with Aunt Dot and help her run Sweet Dreams B and B. If you bring your granny down from Chicago and patch up their rift, it could be happily-ever-after for the three of you.’

  Jill liked the mental picture. ‘If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you’re trying to get rid of me.’

  ‘Hey, if you’re still serious about working your way up to the news desk, I suggest you show up for work on Monday. I should be there by six or seven in the evening. Good night, partner.’

  Jill hung up with a smile on her face. She had three da
ys … to find a killer and make up her mind about what she wanted in life.

  It should be plenty of time.

  That night she dreamed of being an innkeeper. But it wasn’t a sweet Victorian mansion like Sweet Dreams and her partner wasn’t the elegant Dorothy Clark. This place resembled a lunatic asylum from the nineteenth century and her partner was a cross between Nurse Ratchet and the hunchback from that famous cathedral. Jill awoke in a tangle of bedsheets with her hair plastered to her head. Usually she needed a cup of coffee before she could face the shower. But after one look in the mirror, Jill turned on the taps and jumped in, letting the warm water soothe every tight muscle in her body. By the time she padded downstairs, Jack sprang to his feet and attacked with his tail wagging.

  ‘Good morning, Jill,’ Aunt Dot greeted. She was kneading a ball of dough, preparing to bake a delicious treat. ‘Would you mind walking Jack? I’m afraid you’ve spoiled him.’

  ‘I’d love to.’ Jill filled a travel mug with coffee, added a bit of milk and sugar, and clipped on Jack’s leash. ‘Have you seen Nick yet?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I have. He came downstairs for breakfast and took his toast back to his room. Shall I mention you inquired about his whereabouts?’ Dot’s expression was close to a smirk.

  ‘No, just ask him not to leave before I get back with Jack.’

  ‘It would be my pleasure.’ Dot winked as she rolled the ball of dough out on waxed paper.

  ‘First Michael, now Aunt Dot?’ she asked Jack. ‘Has everyone gone crazy or am I sending out the wrong signals?’

  Jack cocked his head left and right, yet the beagle had no answers.

  Jill headed downtown, rounded the square, and paused briefly at the dog park so he could greet a few pals. When they headed back to the house, Jack looked disappointed, especially when they turned up the driveway.

  But Nick, refilling his mug at the kitchen counter, did not. ‘Good morning. Rumor has it you wanted to see me before I left for work.’ He aimed a grin at Mrs Clark, who was spreading a thick layer of chopped nuts across her rolled dough.

  Jill bent down to unsnap Jack’s leash. ‘Just curious if you have any updates since last night.’