by Abigail Keam
“So what you are saying is that maybe the heart attack was caused by seeing Mavis’ mother.”
“Uhmmm, that’s what I just said,” I replied, giving Lady Elsmere an odd glance. “Or maybe Mavis’ mother came because she knew of the impending heart attack. I just think it was Terry’s time to go, that’s all.”
“Uh oh, here she comes,” warned June.
I tried to look sincere and humble, both of which were difficult for me.
“Hello, June. Hello, Josiah,” said Mavis’ daughter, tight-lipped. “Thank you for coming.”
“Your mother was very nice to me, especially after my husband passed away. Of course I would want to be here,” I replied.
“Can you tell me what happened to that dreadful man?” asked the daughter.
June winced. “My dear, I am so sorry. I had no idea what kind of man Jean Louis really was. He was an internationally known portrait artist. Everyone hired him.”
“Silly vain women with too much money hired him, you mean,” shot back Mavis’ daughter.
June blinked. She was not used to people insulting her . . . except for me . . . and didn’t know how to respond.
I cut in. After all, the daughter was mourning the loss of both parents in a short time. She had the right to cuss out people . . . for a while at least. “Jean Louis is still in custody. There was nothing in your mother’s autopsy to try him for murder but he is going to court for aggravated assault and then he will be tried overseas for various issues like theft of checks, blackmail and possession of stolen goods.”
“I hope he goes to jail for a long time,” uttered the daughter.
“I’m sure Jean Louis won’t see the light of day for a very long time,” I concurred.
“That makes me feel better,” the daughter replied. She glanced at her mother’s coffin. “Much better.”
“And I think you should realize that your father was on to him, and if not for that, those stolen paintings would never have been recovered. Terry is a bonafide hero,” I said.
For the first time, the daughter smiled. “Thank you for saying that, Josiah. I would like my dad to get the recognition that was due him.”
“I think if you turn around you will see a reporter from the Herald Leader snooping. Maybe you should tell your dad’s story to him?”
Beaming, the daughter turned and rushed to the reporter who was taking quotes from anyone who would talk to him about the Baileys.
“Did you call the Herald Leader?” I asked June.
“And the Louisville Courier Journal. This is front-page news. In fact there is a photographer at my home right now taking photos of my portrait painted by Jean Louis.”
“The one that is stored in the attic?”
“Well, maybe it hasn’t been put in the attic as of yet, but it will be . . . after everyone has seen it.”
I chuckled. “Don’t you have any shame?”
“I’m too old to have shame. It works out all right for everyone.”
I nodded toward Mavis lying in a coffin. “Didn’t work out right for her.”
“I can’t do anything about that, but I can try to see that her daughter gets some of the reward money for those missing paintings. Might even get a movie made about it. It has everything . . . suspense, crime, danger, sex . . .”
“Where does sex come into this?”
“My relationship with Liam, of course.”
I coughed and looked around to see if anyone had overheard us. “You know he could sue you for sexual harassment,” I whispered.
“I’m thinking of marrying him.”
“WHAT!!!” I shouted.
“Oh, don’t be so shocked. It will be a bit of fun for me. All the attention of a wedding.”
“Surely you’re not going to ask for wedding gifts?”
“Why not?”
“If you marry Liam, you won’t be Lady Elsmere anymore.”
“I won’t?”
“I don’t think so but I’m not an expert on British peerage.”
“Then I’ll adopt him.”
I stood up. I could tell my cheeks were red from embarrassment. “I’m not going to listen to any more of this insane conversation. If you adopt him, then you will have to stop having . . . you-know-what with him.”
“Who made that silly rule?”
“Really, June. Are you going daft?”
June smiled.
“You evil old woman. You were just having a go at me.”
“It’s so easy, Josiah, to get your dander up . . . and you’re such a prude. Who would have thought it of you? Are you being prudish with Detective Goetz?”
“Why bring his name up?”
“Because he has been looking at you lately like a lovesick puppy, and the fact you both danced too close at the ball?”
“You are imagining things.”
“Am I? Good morning, Detective Goetz.”
I swung around in my seat. There hovering over us was, indeed, the good detective. I just hoped he hadn’t heard any of June’s babble.
“What are you doing here?”
“Thought I would pay my respects and tell Mrs. Bailey’s daughter about Jean Louis.”
“I’ve already done that.”
“Would you like me to tell you about your daughter, Mrs. Reynolds?”
“My daughter? She’s still at the airport helping to catalogue the paintings.”
“Nope. She is on a plane to New York and then on to London. Asa tried calling you but your cell phone was off.”
“That little turd!” I uttered, and then looked around to see if anyone had heard me. “Of course my phone is off. I’m at a funeral.”
“She wanted me to tell you she had gone and that she would call you when she landed.”
“Thank you for coming to tell me. I can’t keep track of that girl.”
Goetz nodded and moved on to talk with Mavis Bailey’s daughter.
June started wheezing, “See, I told you. He’s got love written all over him. Honey, hand me my flask. I’ve got the vapors.”
I reached in her purse and discreetly handed the silver whiskey flask to June. As she was nursing her whiskey, I slumped against the bench that supported our tired selves. I felt deflated and used-up like thin butter on toast. I simply didn’t have the courage to face my future and old age like June.
My daughter leaving took the wind out of my sails and if I was going to make it to dry land, I was simply going to have to change the direction of my ship.
“Excuse me, June,” I said. “There is something I have to do.” I went over to where Goetz was sitting and tapped him on the shoulder.
He swung around.
“Okay,” I said.
“Okay, what?”
“You wear a suit. Bring candy and flowers. I’ll be wearing a dress and high heels. No, I’ll be wearing a dress and comfortable flip-flops. I can’t wear high heels anymore.”
Goetz looked amused. “And I’m wearing a suit . . . why?”
“To take me out on a proper date. Proper being the key word.”
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“Okay as in fine. I’ll give you a call to ask you out for a proper date.”
“I don’t mean a beer hall or some cheesy restaurant.”
“I get the idea.”
“I want you to know that my days of falling in love are over.”
“Does that mean no sex?”
“Haha. Funny. We’ll give this a whirl and see what happens. Game?”
“Game.”
We shook hands and I returned to my seat next to Lady Elsmere.
She was smirking.
“What are you grinning about?”
“Nothing much but Bess is going to owe me fifty dollars when I get home.”
“What for?”
“She bet that you would never officially go out with Detective Goetz because of that gigantic grudge you have against him, but I know human nature. I said you would eventually succumb to Goet
z wearing you down.”
“You bet on me?”
“Oh, my dear, we bet on you all the time. You are fodder for our constant amusement. Now, don’t get all huffy. You must admit you seem to have an amazing talent for getting into the thick of it. For two years there has been nothing but dead bodies around you.”
“If that’s true, aren’t you worried?”
“Heavens no. You’re one of the reasons I get up every morning. I just have to see what you are up to. Now, don’t pout.” June thought for a moment. “Would this little diamond ring on my right hand make you feel better, Josiah?”
“Most definitely. Hand it over. It will be salve to my wounded feelings like the Balm of Gilead.” I put the ring on my finger and admired it.
Grinning like a cat that had drunk all the milk from the glass she had knocked off the table, June leaned over and whispered, “It’s fake.”
“Jumping Jehosaphat!”
Epilogue
I put down the Herald Leader. I had just read that Jean Louis was being extradited to Europe next week as the case against his involvement in Mavis’ death was thrown out of court. There was no evidence that Mavis had died as a result of Jean Louis hitting her on the head. In fact, there was no evidence that Jean Louis had been in the house that night.
I certainly couldn’t testify to the Grand Jury that he had been in the house the night Mavis was attacked. I may fib now and then, but I won’t lie in a court of law or on the Bible. I just won’t. I couldn’t say I had actually seen Jean Louis that night.
So now he walks. I just hope that he gets a long prison sentence in Europe. Anyway, the news is out about him. Everyone knows what a scoundrel he is. Whether or not Jean Louis goes to prison, he is finished. The paintings that have been recovered are being returned to their rightful owners.
As of this notation, the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum theft has not been solved, but it will be in time. The paintings are probably in someone’s private collection and sooner or later, some guest or employee will figure out what they are.
So you see, Bess’ mother, Mrs. Dupuy, is right . . . the dark earth of Kentucky spits up the truth sooner or later.
This Josiah Reynolds signing out . . . until the next time we meet.
BONUS CHAPTERS
From
DEATH BY DERBY
A JOSIAH REYNOLDS MYSTERY
&
LAST CHANCE MOTEL
A ROMANCE NOVEL
DEATH BY DERBY
Coming 2015!
Prologue
Charlie Hoskins was a self-made man. He had been born into poverty in the Appalachian Mountains near where Jenny Wiley had been taken captive by the Indians in the eighteenth century. In fact, he was a descendant of hers.
Born poor as a church mouse, Charlie pursued his education with relentless single-mindedness, and once he received his BA from Murray State University, he pursued the obtaining of wealth with the same determination. He was relentless in his pursuit of money to the point that he was universally hated.
Oh, he was admired for his rags-to-riches story. He was admired for being a good businessman. But Charlie never learned tact and made lots of enemies in the process of realizing his dreams. He didn’t care that in order to realize his goals, he had trampled on the dreams of others.
The reason most of us in the Bluegrass didn’t care for bigger-than-life Charlie Hoskins was that he was a major developer in the area. Charlie seemed bent on buying every horse farm he could get his hands on and plowing them over with concrete for his many strip malls and housing developments. Many of his storefronts lay empty and barren, but that didn’t seem to deter Charlie from building. He kept on and on destroying some of the most precious farmland in the United States in order to put up a parking lot.
Remind you of Joni Mitchell? If you don’t know to what I am referring, then you are not a child of the sixties . . . or a fan of good protest music.
But Charlie didn’t care what people thought of him. Folks hadn’t helped his family when they were down and out in the mountains, so he didn’t care for their goodwill now.
But what Charlie did care about is that his Thoroughbred, Persian Blue, win the Kentucky Derby.
And next he cared about making a grand entrance into the Kentucky Derby in his hot air balloon on television. He was going to land his balloon right in the infield. Charlie was determined to be as well known as Donald Trump, his hero, and that entrance would be his introduction to the nation.
Charlie didn’t seem to mind that Churchill Downs would forbid it. He hadn’t asked them. He would just pay whatever fine he received and beg for forgiveness . . . after he gave Churchill Downs a large donation for his reckless stunt.
Yes, Charlie was determined he was going to be a household name, no matter who he rubbed the wrong way.
1
I was just leaving Shaneika at Comanche’s stall when I saw a hot air balloon drift overhead.
Shaneika and I watched it float past, wondering who was flying a hot air balloon so close to Churchill Downs on the day of the Derby. Then I saw Charlie Hoskins’ name on the balloon.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” complained Shaneika.
We looked at each with disgust and then parted. I was going to get dressed in my finery, and of course my Derby hat, and join Lady Elsmere in her box at Churchill Downs. Mike and Shaneika would go to a different box to watch the Derby race, which was hours away but already TV crews were having pre-Derby shows.
I hadn’t gotten several steps away when the balloon exploded and its basket plummeted to the ground. I quickly muttered a prayer, “Oh, God, please don’t let anyone be hurt.”
I turned and looked at Shaneika.
She stood rooted as she watched flames fall to the ground.
There was screaming from the track and horses were neighing from terror. People were running to safety, trying to dodge the flaming debris from the burning balloon.
I blinked several times trying to order my thoughts. Did I really just see a hot air balloon explode in the air? And if I had seen what I thought I had seen, had Charlie been in the balloon and fallen to his death?
I looked back at Shaneika. This was terrible and if Charlie had been in that balloon, it wouldn’t be long before the police came to interrogate Shaneika.
Only last night, Shaneika and Charlie had had a terrible argument in front of witnesses at Lady Elsmere’s Derby party. Shaneika had threatened to kill Charlie.
Shaneika stared back at me. I could tell she was thinking the same thing.
Shaneika might be in big, big trouble.
2
I have to go back to the beginning.
Charlie was not very popular with us . . . “us” being the Tates Creek clan – Lady Elsmere, Shaneika, Mike Connor, Velvet Maddox, Franklin and me.
Shaneika had had run-ins with his staff concerning Comanche during Derby week. Charlie’s boys were always standing too close to Comanche’s stall or following Shaneika around the stables, deliberately bumping into her or whispering nasty things when they passed.
Even though Shaneika made a complaint against Charlie, nothing was done and the harassment continued. Shaneika, who was no shrinking violet, called for reinforcements, that being Mike Connor and myself.
“Charlie’s people are trying to intimidate me,” confided Shaneika.
I could see that Shaneika was unnerved by the harassment. She did not have her usual support with her. Her mother, Eunice Todd, was in Versailles taking care of her son, Lincoln. They would not see Shaneika until she entered their box for the Derby race on Saturday.
“Charlie must think Comanche is a threat to Persian Blue,” I replied, trying to put a good spin on her story. “I can’t believe that the racing authorities did nothing.”
Mike put his arm around Shaneika. “Don’t worry, Shaneika. I put in a call to Velvet. She’ll be here to calm Comanche. He’s picking up on your nervousness. That’s why Charlie is trying to unnerve you. Horses are s
ensitive to emotions.”
I chimed in, “And we are here. Everything will be fine. It’s only a couple of more days to the Derby. There’s Lady Elsmere’s party the night before. You can relax then and let your hair down a little.”
“Josiah is right, Shaneika. I’ve pulled some men from Lady Elsmere’s farm and they will guard Comanche around the clock from now on. You don’t need to worry.”
I could see the tenseness in Shaneika’s face drain away. I wondered if it was due to the guards or the fact that Mike was going to be with her until Derby was over.
I was happy that Mike was here for Shaneika. I thought he was a good man and that his presence calmed the tightly coiled spring that was Shaneika.
Neither of us knew that Mike was going to be the reason Shaneika and Charlie would get into a fight at the party, and that it would escalate into such an ugly scene in front of so many people.
But when you threaten to kill someone and then they die from unnatural causes, you can expect the police to knock on your door.
And knock the police did.
Death By Derby
will be available 2015!
Last Chance Motel
A Romance Novel
Eva gazed into the floor-length mirror and was pleased with her reflection. The black negligee she had recently purchased encased her trim body like a glove. Her auburn hair glimmered with highlights and her skin looked like butter cream. Even though she was forty, Eva looked younger and worked at it.
Hoping that her sexy look might heat up her husband, who seemed a little frost-bitten lately, she put on the finishing touch. Passion Fire Red lipstick!
Nine years ago she had met Dennis while helping his company remodel an old warehouse on the west side of Manhattan. Her boss had put Eva in charge of the cosmetic rehab of the warehouse while others dealt with structural issues. That was okay with Eva. Buying furniture and picking out paint colors was fun and she was given a huge budget with which to play.