by Abigail Keam
“Maybe June is mistaken.”
“Her mind is sharp as a tack while King has Parkinson’s disease. However, I ran into his son, Chase, in the hallway. He was very unpleasant and inferred the family had to keep an eye on King because his mind wandered.”
“You know Chase was kicked out of Centre College. Flunked out.”
“This tells me that you have already connected the Landau family to the Carpenter case.”
“What do you know about Chase Carpenter?” Hunter asked.
“He’s a spoiled rich kid whose mommy and daddy always come to his rescue.”
“I understand he likes to gamble.”
“Yep.”
“Would you say he lacks impulse control?”
“Right on,” I replied.
“What about his intelligence?”
“Average I’d say.”
“Has he ever shown any violence—acted out.”
“I’ve never seen Chase become violent but he can’t keep a girlfriend.”
“Really?” Hunter said, making a notation. “Can you expand on that?”
“Not really. I’m not close to the family. Everything I know comes from June.” I tried to decipher Hunter’s handwriting upside down.
“Anything else you want to tell me?”
“No.”
“Know any of Chase’s girlfriends’ names?”
“No, but I can find out.”
“Do that, please. Today, if possible. I need to turn in my report tomorrow.”
“So you are honing in on Chase?”
“I think there is a possible connection with the Landaus and Shelby Carpenter.”
“Find Carpenter’s phone. Then you’ll have your answers.”
“That phone could be at the bottom of the Kentucky River for all we know.” Hunter grimaced and straightened his files. “Mind if I stay here and work. It will save me time.”
“Go ahead. I’ll give you some privacy. I have to check on my bees.”
“Shall I lock up when I leave?”
“Please do. I’m taking Baby with me.”
Hunter reached over and gave me a peck on the lips. “Dinner tonight?”
“I’ll pass if you don’t mind. I’m not feeling up to snuff.”
“Anything wrong?” Hunter looked concerned.
“Nothing that getting a good night’s rest won’t cure. I’ll call you this evening.”
“Okay.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I rose from the table. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“All right.”
I could feel Hunter watch me as I called for Baby and left the house. I’m sure he watched me get into my golf cart on the monitors.
I didn’t lie. I did check on the bees where I found one of my peacocks was perched atop a hive. “That’s a dangerous place to roost,” I cautioned, but the peacock paid me no mind.
He let out a loud cry, which sounded like a woman screaming. I loved the sound of it. For some reason, peacock cries calm me. I liked to hear their piercing screams, but judging from the complaints I get from neighbors, I was the only one who did.
I filled up water containers where I had placed pebbles and marbles for the bees. Unlike wasps and other insects, honey bees can’t drink while flapping their wings. They must find a safe platform from which to drink or they will drown, so I have water stations about the farm and especially near the hives. I change their water frequently, especially during the summer when they need more water to cool down the hive.
The hives looked in great shape. Bees were making their way from the fields where I had not mowed. Abundant pollen and nectar from the goldenrod were now blooming. In a week or so, I would harvest the last batch of honey and get the hives ready for winter. Honey made from the goldenrod nectar would be darker and have a sharper taste than the spring honey.
Five guard honey bees emerged from a hive and tried to chase me off by buzzing around my face, threatening to sting me. Since I didn’t want to be stung, I quickly retreated, resisting the urge to swat them away. If hit, the bees release a chemical that says to the other bees, “Help! I’m being attacked,” causing their sisters to rush to their rescue.
I wrapped my hands around my face since the last thing I wanted was a bee to sting my eyes or accidentally wind up in my ears or nose. Scurrying off in my golf cart, Baby and I made a clean getaway.
Baby barked ferociously and snapped at the air.
“Yes, I know, Baby. They are in a foul mood today,” I concurred, making a mental note to recheck that hive in a couple of days. If the guards from the same hive were still aggressive, I would have to suit up and open the hive. Sometimes bees were anxious because the queen was injured, the hive was sick, or starving. A quick fix with emergency sugar water might be all that was needed. Other times, medicine was required.
If the queen was dead or injured, I would combine the distressed hive with a healthy hive. It was a simple procedure that allowed both hives to thrive. I would open the top of a healthy hive and put newspaper on the top hive body with slits cut into the paper. Then I would place the hive bodies from the distressed hive on top of the newspaper allowing bees from both sides to chew their way through to each other. By the time they met, the bees from the distressed hive would accept their new queen, and the two groups of bees would merge together in harmony. Most of the time, this procedure worked well, providing a large, healthy hive to get through the Kentucky winter.
Another technique was to place the distressed hive on top of a closed healthy hive. The heat from the healthy hive would help the distressed hive survive until spring when I could place a new queen into the distressed hive and move it to a new location. I wouldn’t know what to do until I went into the hive to see the reason for the bees’ bad temper.
I had cut down on the number of hives on the farm. There were only thirty hives now from which I harvested sixty to a hundred pounds of honey per year, and I usually sold out every Saturday I attended the farmers’ market. The money from charging ten dollars for a pound of honey paid my household bills. Thirty hives were a good number for me because I didn’t need a lot of help with them which kept my costs down. I hired Charles’ grandsons, Malcolm or Tyrone, to help with the lifting. I just couldn’t lift those heavy hive boxes anymore. A bottom hive body with honey, pollen, and baby bee brood could weigh anywhere from sixty to eighty pounds. Too much for me.
Now that Matt was home, perhaps I could wrangle him into helping in exchange for some babysitting. Free labor would certainly help my bottom line. I decided to approach Matt about it as he would be home early today, but at the moment I needed to see Charles. I knew he was at one of the equine nursery barns. Some of the hay given to a mare had caused her to become sick, so Charles was checking the feed for the mares. I looked for a veterinarian’s van alongside Charles’ SUV and found them at barn #3.
I sidled up alongside Charles, who was watching the vet examine the mare. “How’s she doing?”
“We got her up on her feet, but I’m not happy about this,” Charles said, looking worried.
“Was it bad hay?” Sometimes mold grew in hay making an animal sick.
The vet looked up. “Hi Josiah.”
“Hi Jordan.”
“Well?” Charles asked.
Jordan pulled off his gloves. “I don’t think it was the hay. I think she’s eaten something like paper or plastic. I’ll give her something to wash it out of her system. Keep a close watch on her and check her manure. If this doesn’t help, we might have to operate.”
Charles stomped his foot in anger. “I hate it when people litter. They throw their drink cups and fast food wrappers out on the road, and it blows into our pasture where the horses eat them. Makes me so mad.”
“You’ve got to have your men patrol your fields,” Jordan said, pouring disinfectant on his hands.
“They patrol twice a day now. I’ll step it up to three times.”
Jordan said, “I don’t know why people litter on our beaut
iful roads either. Makes us look dirty to the tourists.” He thought for a moment. “Might consider putting wire on the fences facing Tates Creek so the trash won’t blow into the fields.”
“Hate to do that since we are stepping up tours on the farm. People come expecting to see three plank horse fences.”
Jordan shrugged while gathering his instruments. “Don’t know what to tell you other than to put up surveillance cameras and try to catch whoever is throwing out the trash. Might be the same person. After paying a five-hundred dollar fine for littering, he might think twice about chucking out a soft drink bottle.”
“Or he may shoot one of the horses out of revenge,” Charles commented. “I don’t know what’s wrong with folks nowadays. No respect. None at all. Don’t people realize that this farm employs forty people and pumps four million dollars into the local economy every year? No respect, I tell you. None.”
Jordan gathered his bag. “Call me if there is any change in her condition.”
“Will do.”
As soon as Jordan got into his van, Charles turned to me and said, “I’m going to call Velvet Maddox and have her come over to do her voodoo thing.”
“Don’t call it voodoo around Velvet. It’s old timey wise-woman mountain tradition handed down from mother to daughter according to her.”
Charles grinned. “I don’t care what it’s called. That witchy woman always makes animals feel better. I should have called her first.” He pulled out his phone and began to dial but stopped, glancing at me. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Where are my manners? Josiah, did you come over here for a reason?”
“Yeah. I was wondering if you could help me. You stated in the car driving over to Ferrina’s that you had contacts through the employees of most of the big houses in the Bluegrass.”
“That’s right. Best news network there is.”
“Could you ask around and find out any scuttlebutt about the Landaus and especially Chase? I’d like to know who he’s dated and why they broke up.”
“I’ll ask around but don’t mention this to Miss June. She wouldn’t like it.”
“I thought June encouraged gossip. That’s how she knows everything going on in Lexington.”
“Miss June only likes it if the information is for her ears alone. She wouldn’t like me to gather intel for you. Understand the nuances here?”
I rolled my eyes. “Anything to keep Her Ladyship happy. I don’t want her barking up my tree.”
“Give me a couple of days.”
“Okay. Just leave a message on my machine and mums the word.” Charles and I bumped fists.
Afterwards, I hurried to find Baby. He had wandered back home where I found him in my horse barn sleeping on some oat feed sacks. Leaving Baby to sleep, I stopped by Morning Glory’s stall. She stuck her head out for her ears to be scratched. I fed her some sweet hay and gave her a quick rub down. “How ya doing, girl?” I leaned against Glory’s neck and inhaled the pony’s musky scent, fondly remembering the day when Hunter gave her to me. I also remembered the day she jumped over a fence knocking me off the saddle backwards. Since then I have been afraid to ride Glory, but I won’t give her up. She’s my pal. Her muzzle felt soft on my palms as I fed her one last handful of oats before going back home, hoping to find Hunter gone.
He was.
I felt relieved, and that disturbed me.
17
I didn’t hear from Hunter for several days. He called to say he was in Louisville working on another case and wouldn’t be back until next week. When I asked about the Shelby Carpenter case, Hunter related that he had turned his profile report in, and that Ferrina, King, and Chase were questioned. No physical evidence connected them to the murder as they all had alibis at the time of Carpenter’s attack. The Carpenter killing seemed likely to evolve into a cold case as most murderers are discovered and booked within forty-eight hours after the crime has been committed. I was disappointed to say the least. If the Landaus weren’t involved, I had no leads myself. I just couldn’t shake the feeling they were somehow mixed up in this mess.
“Was Ferrina identified as the girl in the police arrest report?” I asked.
“Seems so.”
“Did King know his wife had a previous life as a call girl and drug mule?”
“Don’t know. They were questioned after I turned in my report.”
“Can you take the cops who worked on the case for a couple of beers and pry some information from their lips? It should be easy, you being a head jockey and all.”
“Head jockey? Now that’s a new term I’ve never heard before regarding my profession.” Hunter chuckled. “I’ll nose around a little when I get back.”
“Is Franklin back from New York?”
“Yes, and I told him that Matt is back.”
“How did he react?”
“Didn’t say much. Went out on a date a couple hours later. Has he called you about Matt?” Hunter asked.
“Haven’t heard a peep from him.”
“I think Franklin needs time. Perhaps he’s decided to move on. I hope so. I think Matt is bad for him.”
“Since Franklin hasn’t reached out to me, I won’t call him.”
“Yeah. He probably needs some space.”
I heard a knock on the hotel door over the phone.
“That must be room service. I’ll call you when I get back to Lexington.”
“Okay. Make sure you look through the peephole before you open the door,” I cautioned.
“Talk to you later.”
“Bye,” I said, but I was talking to a dead line. I put the phone up and pondered what Hunter had written in his report regarding Shelby Carpenter. He may have come to some conclusion, but I hadn’t. It was time to see if Charles had made contact with employees from the Landau house. I called to Baby, and we walked to the Big House.
June was taking a nap, so it was the perfect opportunity to talk with Charles over a piece of Bess’ apple strudel and a glass of milk. “Do you have anything for me?”
Charles handed me a page of notebook paper with handwritten names. “This is a list of ladies Chase has squired about town. I have their addresses but no phone numbers.”
“Wow. This is quite a roll. Is there a special lady—someone that he took a shine to?”
“That would be Diane Voss. He dated her the longest.”
“What happened?”
“She dumped him.”
“Why?” I wondered.
“You’ll have to ask her. She works at the Tates Creek library evenings.”
“Just evenings?”
“She’s going to school full time.”
“What else did your connections say?”
“Nothing unusual. Ferrina is difficult to please while Chase is amazingly clean and tidy.”
“Didn’t see that coming,” I deadpanned. “What else?”
“King has a separate bedroom from Ferrina since his health has been declining.”
“Are they solid?”
“My connection said Ferrina dotes on him but her real affection is for Chase.”
“What about Chase and King?”
“Some friction there as to be expected when the heir does not meet the father’s expectations. I understand King took it hard when Chase flunked out of college.”
“Anything strange going on like drug or alcohol abuse?”
“I know you have heard stories about Chase’s gambling problem.”
I nodded. “Yes, I think everyone has heard rumors about it.”
“The rumors are true. He owed thirty thousand until Ferrina bailed him out, but apparently there was a big row when King found out.”
“How did he?”
“He still checks all the financial statements for the house, personal, and business accounts. It’s tough to get anything past him. King’s a sharp old bird.”
“Chase said his mind was going.”
Charles replied, “I think Chase would like to think so.”
; “When I talked to King, his mind was very clear except for one thing. King said his wife died in a car accident. June said her friend married King and then divorced him. Did King have more than one wife before Ferrina?”
“It would be easy enough to find out, Josiah. Just go on the Internet. Everything is on there.”
“Thanks, Charles. I owe you one.”
“I’ve gotta scoot. Velvet Maddox is coming to look at that mare.”
“She bringing her dowsing rods?”
“I hope so. The horse is not responding to treatment. I’ve got to do something.”
“Say hey to Velvet for me.”
Bess looked up from snapping green beans. “You coming for dinner, Dad?”
“Honey, can you make me and your mother a plate to take back to our house? Your mother’s not feeling well, and I don’t want to tax her.”
“I’ll make a basket and bring it over. All you’ll have to do is heat it up. That way I can check on Mother. Should I call a doctor?”
“Went to the clinic this morning. We won’t know anything until the tests come back, but it’s nothing to worry about, honey.”
I didn’t say anything but I saw alarm register on Bess’ face. We both knew Charles was downplaying his wife’s possible declining health.
Bess glanced at me.
I mouthed, “Let it go.” There was no use giving Charles the third degree until the test results came in.
Bess must have agreed. She cleared away the kitchen table, and Charles went into his office.
I gave Bess a quick hug and left with Baby. I pushed negative thoughts aside and concentrated on questioning Diane Voss. It’s better to be busy when faced with possible unpleasantness. That’s always my plan.
Walking home, Baby and I checked on the hive whose guards chased me. Everything seemed normal, and there were no stains on the front of the hive. Brown stains on the front of a hive could signal dysentery—a serious problem but treatable. No guards chased us. I bent down and looked into the opening where I saw many guards peering back, but none pursued me.
We walked past Matt’s little bungalow. It was locked up tight as Matt had found a job, and Emmeline was in daycare. On Tuesdays and Thursdays Matt worked long hours at the law firm, and I would gather Emmeline from daycare to stay with me until he got home. If Matt was very late, Emmeline slept at my house until he came for her the next morning, so now the Butterfly was littered with toys, bottles, and baskets of laundry I washed for Matt.