by Abigail Keam
“I talked June into it,” I replied smugly.
“You?”
“June was always talking about how she wants to leave the Earth a better place. I challenged her to put her money where her mouth was. I made a case that Charles, who is a descendant of Henry Clay’s Dupuy family, deserved the estate as he had served her faithfully and competently, and because of his illustrious background. After all, the Dupuys are historical aristocracy ’round these parts. Until then, she was just going to leave Charles a few measly hundred thousand dollars, and give the farm to a worthless Yankee great-nephew of hers from Ohio, who would have chopped the farm up into a subdivision. So I talked her into switching bequests.” I sipped my tea as the two men stared at me. “Charles knows this and will do anything for me . . . well, just about. I don’t think he’d kill for me. Anyway the Dupuy family deserved this inheritance.”
“Maybe it’s this nephew who caused today’s troubles,” wondered Jake.
“Nope, he died from alcohol poisoning last year and left no heirs.”
Matt scratched his forehead and brushed back his thick hair. “Let’s start from the beginning of this wild little tale. Who are the Dupuys and why is Charles important because he is a Dupuy?”
I gave Matt a pitying look. People should know their history. Really, they should. “Charles’ ancestors were Aaron and Charlotte Dupuy, who were the house servants of Henry Clay. You know who Henry Clay is, don’t you?”
“Get on with it,” demanded Matt.
“These two families were tightly bound by history. In the early 1800’s, Clay’s estate, Ashland, encompassed 600 acres and over 50 slaves, some of whom were the Dupuy family. Aaron Dupuy was Clay’s personal man while Charlotte, his wife, took care of the Clay children. Henry Clay even took them to Washington with him while he served as Secretary of State. It is there that Charlotte Dupuy legally sued Henry Clay for her freedom. He left her there while he took Aaron and her children back to Kentucky when his term was up. You’ve got to understand the times. This was a big, big legal battle between the two families, one of whom was still serving the Clay household at the time. It was national news and made newspaper headlines. If Charlotte won her case, then slaves would be able to take legal action against their masters. It would have turned the South upside down.”
“What happened?” inquired Matt.
“Charlotte lost her case and was returned as Henry Clay’s property. But later on, Clay does emancipate Charlotte and one daughter. He must have freed the rest of the family too. Later census records list Aaron and Charlotte as freed slaves. But Henry Clay’s death shows you how intertwined these two family were. It was Aaron who drove Henry Clay’s funeral carriage to the Lexington Cemetery in 1852. I doubt he would have done that if he had not had some deep emotion for Clay.”
Jake tapped his foot. “So what?”
“Charles is a direct descendant. His family helped build Lexington. They should get more than just the leavings. That’s why I argued on his behalf.”
“Isn’t June’s dinner party tonight?” interjected Jake.
“Yes, but I have declined.”
“Undecline. We need to go and find out stuff. Someone from that Lady Elsmere’s farm could have easily come back and forth without detection.”
“Someone could have picked the lock,” said Matt.
Jake shook his head. “That’s harder than it looks. It’s not always easy like you see on TV. I don’t think our guy could have risked taking the time. The tour was coming and he also had to watch out for you, Matt. You were home after all.”
“Was that a shot?” asked Matt, his hackles rising.
I interceded. “The key from June’s house is the only logical explanation and Charles will help us. He sits on the Animal Humane Society’s board. Besides this happening to me, which will piss Charles off, he dislikes cruelty to animals. Okay? I’m going to call Charles right now and meet him at the gate.” I picked up the phone and dialed. I looked at Jake’s and Matt’s confused faces. “That where I meet Charles when we talk privately – the property gate. Somebody at June’s house used that spare key and Charles will know who.”
“That doesn’t explain how he knew the code for the security system,” said Jake.
“I gave the code to Charles’ daughters so they could get into the house for the tours,” said Matt, “but they were to keep it a secret.”
“I also gave them a briefing on security for the house,” rejoined Jake, looking irritated.
“Charles probably has the code number written somewhere near the key,” I said. “The key is no good without the security code.”
“Christ,” muttered Jake. “There are just too many people coming and going out of this house with too much information,” he said looking hard at Matt.
“I guess that is directed at me,” replied Matt. “She’s got to make a living and this house is one of the few ways Josiah can make money in her present condition. It’s not like she is well enough to go outside the home and work. The tours stay as they are. If you are as good as you claim to be, you can work around this.”
“I might have been able to if I had been informed that everyone practically in this county had access to the security codes,” growled Jake, his voice growing louder with each word. He was upset and wanted to take his anger out on someone.
Not wishing for a full-blown argument, I spoke up. “I need to go meet with Charles. Can I go now? I don’t think you need me for anything else, do you, Jake? Matt?” I tried to look very innocent and vulnerable.
Although still shook up, I talked Jake into letting me go alone. The cops were still at the barn. He and Matt needed to rejoin the search party going about the farm. Jake reluctantly agreed.
Charles was already waiting for me when I arrived. We chatted for twenty minutes until I was satisfied with the new information he gave me. We hatched a plan that was doable. If I were right, it still would be dangerous, even with all the safeguards implemented.
“See you around eight tonight,” I said to Charles. We shook hands and parted.
On the way to the Butterfly, I checked my beeyards. On the hive cover where I left the honey, was a stick with a blue piece of cloth hanging from it. Underneath was a note written on the back of the one I had written to Moshe Goren. “Mrs. Reynolds, I did not harm your bees or your farm animals. It is not the Jewish way to mistreat dumb creatures. Mr. Moshe Goren.”
I put the note in my pocket and left with an uneasy feeling in my gut. It was going to be a very long night.
17
I was wearing an off-the-shoulder blue Dior which I hadn’t been able to get into for close to nine years. My hair was upswept, sparkling with rhinestone pins I had purchased at the mall along with the blue satin bathroom slippers on my swollen feet. I joined Matt, who was playing solitaire in the great room. Franklin was sullenly making popcorn in the kitchen. They were going to baby-sit a still woozy Baby and the kittens. Matt looked nervous.
Placing my hand on his, I gave him my best smile. “It will be okay,” I whispered. I knew we both were thinking of the last time I went to Lady Elsmere’s home for dinner.
Franklin plopped the bowl down on the table, spilling the popcorn everywhere, including my lap.
“Franklin, you’d better not have gotten butter on this chiffon.”
“I’m so miserable that I am not going. I miss out on everything.”
“Be glad you missed out on this afternoon,” admonished Matt. “It was pretty horrible.”
Franklin stared out the window. Ever so often, he would let out a long sigh.
“Franklin, if you promise to quit sighing, I’ll give a dinner party and ask Lady Elsmere over here. That way she can meet you and she will return the invitation . . . if she likes you. Will that make you happy?”
“A proper dinner party?”
“Well, a little more casual than hers, but yes, a proper dinner party.”
“What this about a dinner party?” asked Jake, coming out of his room in a tuxe
do.
My heart did a little flutter. Jake looked very handsome. I must be crazy for men in formal dinner attire.
“Thanks, Matt, for the loan of the penguin suit,” said Jake.
“Looks good on you,” affirmed Matt. “And you look very pretty tonight, Josiah. Very pretty, indeed.”
Jake’s ruddy skin gleamed above the white collar while his thick black hair sparkled blue-black under the lighting. “Can you tell I’m wearing a gun?”
“NO!” Matt and I chorused.
“I can tell he’s packin’,” quipped Franklin.
Jake smoothed the jacket, took a deep breath and said, “Let’s get this show on the road.”
After hearing a knock at the door, Franklin ran to see if Lady Elsmere had sent the Bentley. She had. Jake held out his hand to me, pulling me out of my chair. Franklin handed me my sleek ebony walking stick with the silver head of a wolf, which he had purchased in Key West. Jake and I walked out of the Butterfly in style. I hoped no one could tell my stomach was doing somersaults. I was nervous.
We arrived without mishap. Lady Elsmere was waiting for us on the portico. Her frail body dripped heavily with diamonds. I don’t know how her bony skeleton supported the weight. And, of course, one of her three tiaras was perched on her silver coiffed head like a neon motel beacon. Charles was standing behind her as always. He winked at us.
“Daaarling, I was aghast when I heard about what happened at your place today. I didn’t know if you would come tonight or not. And that would have simply screwed with my table arrangement.”
I kissed her wrinkled cheek. “Thanks for being so supportive, June.” I turned to Jake. “May I introduce Jacob Dosh to you, my nephew from Oklahoma. We call him Jake. Jake, this is Lady Elsmere.”
“How do you do,” he said, giving a little bow.
She peered closer at him. “I thought you were going to bring the divine Matthew Garth with you.”
“He was detained, but Jake can eat with a fork and a knife if dinner calls for it.”
“Do you flirt, young man?”
“No ma’am.”
“Well, that is discouraging,” she stated as she swept inside the house. Charles shook his head, muttering the word “contrary.”
We followed suit and found ourselves in the library, just like last year. I heard June say before I stepped in, “Here she is.” I entered to see the same guests as the year before . . . standing in attention. They clapped upon seeing me.
I turned to June. “Let me guess. I’m the guest of honor.”
June reached over and hugged me. “I just wanted to do something nice for you. I thought if I could re-create that night again and nothing bad happened when you went home, it would help. Then that awful event at the barn this morning. I guess my dinners are jinxed for you.” She looked downcast.
Out of the corner of my mouth, I said, “I’ve been telling you that for years.” I stepped forward. “Thank you all for coming. Thank you, Lady Elsmere, for honoring me. It has been a long . . . nine months now, yes, I think that is correct, but I am delighted to be here tonight. If I don’t immediately respond to the conversation, please excuse me. The conk on the head I received sometimes make my response time slower.”
There was a nervous ripple of laughter. I placed my hand on Jake’s arm. “Stand your ground and show no fear,” I whispered.
Reverend Humble and his wife, Ruth, stepped up to greet me. They pumped my hand feverishly as I thanked them for coming. They looked suspiciously at Jake as though trying to place him on the people yardstick when I introduced him.
“Hello Larry,” I said to retired Special Agent Larry Bingham. “Long time no see. Hello Brenda.”
“I can’t believe how well you look, Josiah,” breathed Brenda, holding my hands. Hers were cold. She cocked her head at Jake. “Is this the young man who was with you last year?”
“No, that was Matthew Garth. This is Jake Dosh, my nephew recently out of Oklahoma.”
“Oh,” she said with a disappointed lilt to her voice, but then she caught herself and gave Jake a big smile. “Happy to meet you, Mr. Dosh.”
“I thought you’d still be drinking dinner out of a straw,” said Larry, pushing his wife a little to the side. She gave him an apologetic glance before moving towards June.
“Sorry to disappoint you. Larry, this is my nephew, Jake.”
Larry gave Jake a quick once over. “Well, if you say so.” He leaned in towards Jake, “Big piece you’re carrying. Must be a semi-automatic.”
Jake’s eyes narrowed but he said nothing. He gave Larry the once-over.
Meriah Caldwell, the famous mystery writer, stepped forward. “Nice to see you again.”
“How’s your new book coming along?” I tapped my temple. “See, I remembered.”
“Almost finished. We can discuss it over dinner.”
“Look forward to it,” I said smiling, but was inwardly groaning. I made a mental bargain that I’d refrain from boring the party with tales of my ill health if Meriah refrained from boring us with details of her novel. And we’d all just have to hope no one had any grandchildren.
“Dinner is served, Madam,” announced Charles, coming to my rescue.
That was good news, as my legs were giving out. Jake escorted me into the dining room, where June had laid out her best china and antique English silverware. In the center of the table was placed a stunning floral arrangement. I was pleased to see the flowers were Irene’s starburst lilies.
“Most of everything tonight was purchased at the Farmers’ Market,” announced Lady Elsmere proudly. “I knew you would enjoy that.” She gave my hand a tender squeeze. “I can’t believe how good you look.” She looked quizzically at my head. “What’s that thing on your ear?”
I took off my hearing aid to show everyone. “It’s one of those high-tech ones. They’re supposed to be barely detectable, but it seems everyone detects them right off. Go figure.”
Meriah Caldwell inspected it for a time before handing it back. “Incredibly sleek.”
“Yes, considering they have a GPS built into them,” stated Larry. “These little doodads have military applications.”
Meriah lit up. “That’s very interesting.” She started to say something and then thought better of it.
“Yes, isn’t it,” I replied sullenly, watching with displeasure as the servers placed bowls of vichyssoise before us. This was the first time I had heard of a GPS device in my hearing aid. Now I knew why everyone noticed it.
Two of the servers were Charles’s grandsons while the third was a newcomer to Lady Elsmere’s staff, whom Charles had told me about this afternoon. Jake watched the newcomer from under his lids.
“Mr. Dosh, from your accent . . . you’re not from around here,” stated Lady Elsmere.
“No ma’am. I’m from Oklahoma like Mrs. Reynolds told you.”
“That’s a Southerner’s polite way of asking who your people are,” said Brenda.
Lady Elsmere continued undeterred, “You say that you are Josiah’s nephew.” She smiled a Cheshire Cat leer. “But our little Jo doesn’t have any siblings. She’s an only child.”
“Well, she does in fact . . . but from the wrong side of the blanket.” Jake gave Lady Elsmere a wicked grin.
She had the good grace to turn red.
“Oh, do go on,” popped up Brenda. “Sounds juicy.”
“If I might have more champagne, I just might tell you the story of my ill-fated parents,” teased Jake.
I cut in. “Lady Elsmere, did I tell you that my daughter is working on a case where a Botticelli was stolen from a private home in Amsterdam?”
Oh, what whoppers Jake and I were telling tonight. I had no idea what art case she was working on, if any. I just hoped my nose wasn’t growing longer. I stole a glance at Jake’s.
“Speaking of the prodigal daughter, when is she coming home? I haven’t seen her since last October when she whisked you off to Key West. Why Key West? I mean, who goes to Key West an
ymore. Since Tennessee Williams died and the island built those horrible condos, who cares.”
“Because the island is small enough, it can be contained and has a good police force,” muttered Larry.
“Contained for what?” asked Meriah.
“Security, I would think,” piped Brenda. Larry gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Brenda quickly asked for the rolls.
I picked up the trail of Lady Elsmere’s question. “I expect her home within the month,” I said.
“It was amazing how she pulled herself up after those congressional hearings several years back,” commented Meriah.
My voice was heated. “That was a dog and pony show.”
Jake intervened. “Josiah tells me that you like to base your dinners on famous ones in the past. Can you explain tonight’s conception?”
Lady Elsmere beamed. “Thank you, but we are just having Josiah’s favorites tonight. Prime rib, potatoes au gratin, asparagus, fresh yeast rolls, and crème brulee for dessert.”
“Why did we start off with vichyssoise?” I asked. “I don’t care for cold potato soup.”
Lady Elsmere snorted. “Because I like it and detest the rest of the swill I am obliged to eat tonight.”
Larry speared a big piece of juicy prime rib with his fork. “Some swill.”
“Basically peasant food,” twittered Lady Elsmere. “No real finesse in the cooking. Just don’t burn the meat.”
“Yes, but happy peasants,” I said, happily pouring au jus on my prime rib. I had to cut it into very tiny pieces in order to chew. I didn’t mind, but Charles, seeing that I was having trouble with the knife, brought me a new plate with the prime rib already cut along with the vegetables.
“Madame, your meat looks overcooked. Let me refresh your plate,” Charles said as he switched dishes. It spared me further embarrassment as the other guests were watching me struggle with the knife.
Ruth Humble said, “Well, dinner is delicious as always.”
“Yes, it is,” concurred Reverend Humble. “Tonight is a special treat. I must admit that those French sauces and pickled vegetables of the past meals have rather upset my stomach.” Ruth looked with alarm between her husband and Lady Elsmere, aka June Webster from Monkey’s Eyebrow, Kentucky.