Death By Bourbon (2 page)

Prologue

Again . . . just in case you forgot.

The dark-clad figure pulled out the wires to the security box. Deftly, the intruder
cut the correct wire to silence the alarm. Then going around to the southwest part
of the huge mansion built in 1832, the thief skillfully unlocked the side porch door
and stepped into the library.

Hearing a dog growling in the hallway, the thief threw a piece of meat towards the
hall and stood patiently until the dog ate the meat and a moment later groggily stumbled,
falling asleep. It would sleep for several hours from the drug administered to the
meat but would wake up unharmed.

The thief looked for a wall safe behind paintings and even tapped on the walnut paneling.
Finding nothing, the dark figure concentrated on the desk, taking pictures of any
checks, bank statements, investments that could be found. Then the thief copied the
computer files onto a flash drive.

Several drawers were locked but it took the thief only seconds to break them open.
Finding a handgun, the thief put it into a black bag, also several award silver trophies
from a bookshelf.

Silently investigating the house, the thief went towards the front parlor. There the
thief moved to the Duveneck painting hanging over the mantel. With quiet efficiency,
the thief broke the frame and cut the painting from its stretcher. Rolled, the painting
was placed in a tube the thief had brought.

Both the painting and the bag with the silver were lowered out a window.

Now unencumbered, the thief studied the massive staircase. Making a calculated decision,
the thief leaped up the stairs, taking three steps at a time. Hiding in the shadows
of the hallway, the thief saw that most of the upstairs doors were open.

Seeing what looked like a nightlight dimly peeping into the hallway, the thief surmised
that it came from a child’s room and headed for it.

The thief was right.

A boy, wearing Spider-Man pajamas, lay asleep in a bed designed to look like a racecar.
The thief studied the child’s features. Suddenly the thief’s hand shot out, but only
to pull the blanket over the little boy.

The sleek, black figure pulled away and went to look for the mother’s room. Going
next door, the thief discovered the mother of the boy asleep in her king size bed.
She was wearing shorts and a sports bra. Like the boy, she had thrown off her blanket
and lay sprawled across the bed, lightly snoring. A purse hung off a chair.

The thief claimed it and then went directly to a jewelry box sitting on the vanity,
and took it downstairs. Pouring the contents of both the purse and the box onto the
couch, the thief picked up several pieces of jewelry and a wallet, then fled out the
side door. The thief was careful to lock it again.

Picking up the bag and tube, the thief absconded into the woods and to a country road
where a black sedan was waiting. Flinging the goods in the trunk, the thief turned
off the night goggles, throwing them on top of the sack. Starting with gloves, the
thief took off the dark jumpsuit, revealing a casual fall outfit. The dark clothing
was stuffed into a garbage bag and securely tied. The thief let long dark hair escape
from a confining cap and got in the car, quietly shutting the door.

The driver looked at his boss. “Twenty-five minutes. What took you so long?”

“The painting was more trouble than I anticipated,” lied Asa. “Let’s move on down
the road.”

The car sped down Old Frankfort Pike with its lights off until it cut over the road
to Midway.

Asa leaned back in the seat, smiling to herself. Ellen was going to be distracted
as she was going to spend a great deal of time cleaning up the identity theft which
was going to start occurring tonight. As for the jewelry and silver, Asa would stash
it in her New York apartment’s safe until she could have something made from the stolen
loot. The credit cards would be given to her driver.

Forty-five minutes later, Asa boarded a Piper from a private airstrip in Scott County
and flew to New York.

The employee made several outlandish purchases from Ellen’s laptop with her credit
cards and later dropped the cards on the floor of a disreputable drinking establishment
in Covington.

Josiah Reynolds slept fitfully in her bed, never knowing that her daughter had been
in Kentucky.

Doreen Doris Mayfield DeWitt tapped her tapered glossy ruby nails on the gleaming
end table while watching the woman pace before her. Although she felt like swiping
the woman with her claws, she remained passive, watching as her guest spewed forth
countless words trying to explain her situation.

“You see, Doreen, I simply can’t go on like this. I mean . . . well, I didn’t mean
to fall in love with Addison. It just happened. So I’m going to have to renege on
our little agreement. It simply wouldn’t be right.”

“You mean the agreement where I paid you to seduce Addison and provide me evidence
of adultery so I wouldn’t have to give him part of my fortune according to my prenuptial
with him?”

Lacey Bridges batted her large blue eyes. “Well, I never asked you why you wanted
me to seduce Addison.

Is that why? You want to divorce Addison? Well, that’s wonderful because I want to
marry Addison. See – it works out for everyone.”

“Except for evidence of adultery or abuse, I would have to pay Addison a substantial
sum of my money – my family’s money – if I initiate the divorce.”

“You could always say that he hit you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” snapped Doreen. “No one would believe that.”

“Well, I don’t know what to say. This is a pickle for you.”

“Let’s start with the money I’ve already paid you and the video you were supposed
to make for me.”

Lacey laughed. “Well, the money is gone . . . for clothes, you know. And the tapes
– well, I had to destroy those, you see.”

Doreen sighed. “Do you always have to start a sentence with ‘well’?”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

Lacey simpered. “It wouldn’t do to insult me, Doreen. I haven’t told Addison the truth
yet, but I will . . . if you keep pushing me.”

“Afraid that he might recoil from such a gold digger as you?”

“He would forgive me but it would slow up the divorce, that’s for sure.” Lacey searched
in her purse for lipstick. “Well, the way I look at it, we can all get what we want.
You get rid of Addison and I get him with a little bit of money. Oh, come off it.
I’m sure you can spare some cash for Addison. Surely you want him to go out in style?”
Lacey opened her compact and smeared on frosted pink lipstick. Dropping the compact
and lipstick back into her purse, she stood satisfied with both her appearance and
negotiation. “I’m sure we can work this out to our mutual satisfaction. All of this
depends on just how badly you want to divorce Addison, doesn’t it?”

Lacey placed a card on Doreen’s antique end table. “Here’s where you can reach me.
I’m sure you’ll see that I am right after thinking about it. Don’t rise, please. I’ll
see myself out.” She air kissed Doreen and then pranced out of the room.

Upon hearing the front door slam shut, Doreen stared into the fireplace, losing herself
to the dancing flames . . . thinking, thinking, thinking.

She’d be damned before she gave one red cent to that worthless English hustler she’d
married. Absent-mindedly she fingered the heavy gold ring on her right hand until
she finally felt its weight pull on her. Lifting her hand up to her face, she opened
the ring’s secret compartment and smiled. Good thing she had always liked history
or she never would have purchased a ring supposedly owned by Lucrezia Borgia.

Doreen laughed. “Now what would Lucrezia have done in my circumstance?”

It was very late when Doreen finally went to bed but not before she had concocted
a plan. She would get rid of Addison and his obnoxious little bitch too. And no one
would know that it was she who had pulled the strings of a perfect murder about to
take place in the calm green rolling hills of the Bluegrass.

Kentucky is not called the dark and bloody ground for nothing.

History tells us that in 1775 Richard Henderson gave the Cherokees $10,000 in goods
for a landmass below the Ohio River and between the Cumberland and Kentucky rivers.
That was Henderson’s first of many mistakes in creating a new nation, for the Cherokees
did not lay claim to the land below the Ohio River – the Shawnees did. Not withstanding
though, Henderson hired Daniel Boone to blaze the Wilderness Trail through the Cumberland
Gap to claim his new country of Transylvania.

The Cherokee war chief Dragging Canoe is said to have warned Daniel Boone, “We have
given you a fine land Brother, but you will find it under a cloud and a dark and bloody
ground.”

No truer words had ever been spoken. The fertile earth of Kentucky is saturated with
the blood of Indian tribe fighting Indian tribe, pioneers slaying Indians, slaves
murdering masters, the brother in Blue warring against the brother in Gray, and feuds
over timber, tobacco, coal, bourbon and now drugs. There has always been violence
bubbling up from the rich dirt of these luscious green covered hills.

The fact that several men have attempted to kill me attests to this. It is miraculous
that I am still alive to tell the tale. Maybe the spirits of the land watch over because
they favor me or perhaps my trials amuse them. Who knows?

But I’m alive. I intend to stay that way.

My name is Josiah Reynolds. I am a retired art professor who was named after a biblical
king who was known for his righteousness. Like King Josiah, I believe in right and
wrong. It takes a wise person to know the difference. Sometimes right and wrong look
the same in the daylight, but opposite in the reflection of moonbeams.

I should know. I have bent the law to suit my own purposes.

Sometimes to right a wrong.

Sometimes to protect myself.

Sometimes to help a friend.

And at times, these are heavy burdens that can turn around and bite you in the ass.

The sun is going down over the gray limestone palisades. The pool lights have come
on. The birds are flying to roost in the nearby walnut, oak and paw paw trees.

I’m sitting on the patio with a frosted silver glass filled with bourbon, sugar and
crushed ice accompanied by a sprig of mint I pulled from the herb garden for a drink
that is called a Mint Julep.

I’m ready to tell Addison DeWitt’s story. It is a story about greed. Men have been
killed for lesser reasons in this land, but all of them died bloodied like Addison.

Like so many other men, Kentucky snared Addison and then killed him . . . without
remorse, without pity. She just grabbed him in her ancient claws like an osprey skimming
fish in the Kentucky River.

But somehow evil is balanced in Caintuck.

Like I always said – there is justice and then there is Kentucky justice.

First of all, I have to tell you about myself. I am a person that is limited. That
is – I’m crippled. Let’s cut the crap with the silly euphemisms. I’m not “physically
challenged.” I’m not “handicapped.” I’m not “disabled.” I am crippled for life and
bitter about it. Very bitter.

I was pulled off a cliff by a rogue cop who was trying to kill me. He almost succeeded.
Crashing into trees on the way down cushioned my fall, but the result was that my
body shattered into a thousand pieces. It is a miracle that I’m alive at all.

All my teeth had to be pulled and implants put in. I wear a hearing aid. Scars are
still visible near my hairline. An ugly scar runs up my left leg and I limp. I have
to use a cane. Sometimes if I’m tired, I still use my wheelchair.

I have headaches and my short-term memory sometimes cuts out. I can’t always find
the word I wish to use. It is frustrating to communicate. My hands tremble when I’m
tired. I also have asthma, which makes things harder. And the worst – pain is the
enemy I fight every day. If I didn’t have the pain, everything else would be almost
bearable.

Almost finished with year one of recovery, I still have another year to go.

To make things worse, the son of a bitch who did this to me is stronger than ever,
in perfect health and is strutting around Lexington like a swaggering cock. He’s out
on bail. How in the hell did that happen?

Anyway, Jake had come back. He had spent the last several weeks getting me back on
an exercise schedule and monitoring my medication. We had reestablished our professional
connection, but the personal one was much tougher.

After our passionate reunion in the hospital, Jake hadn’t touched me. I didn’t mention
it but I was disappointed. Nor did I question him about his wife. I figured that when
he was ready, he would tell me. But as the days passed, I began to wonder whether
I should ask him.

I took a long look in the mirror and decided to be happy that I had someone attending
to me who cared. I was a mess physically and no prize to look at. My face was passable
and even pretty when I put on makeup. I had lost a lot of weight but there was still
no way I wanted Jake to see me naked.

I knew that he had in the past when tending to my needs. Maybe that is why he put
on the brakes. I was too afraid to ask. Let sleeping dogs lie.

I was thinking about all this when the phone rang.

Jake answered. There was a brief discussion and then he hung up. He poked his head
into my bedroom. “Detective Goetz wants to speak with you. He’s coming down the driveway.”

“I wonder if this is about O’nan,” I ruminated.

Jake shrugged. “I’ll go make some coffee.”

I followed Jake into the great room and sat looking out at the patio with the black
infinity pool. To the far left of the pool were bird feeders. Several downy woodpeckers
were eating the suet hung from tree limbs. Their black, white and red feathers stood
out against the fall foliage. It was the last gasp of warm weather before the fall
gave way to the colder days. The trees were beginning their annual blaze of orange
and yellow. It was going to be a pretty fall.

Shortly the doorbell rang and Jake let Goetz inside. If Goetz was surprised to see
Jake again, he didn’t show it.

Goetz lumbered to where I sat and pulled a chair next to me. He looked irritated as
he mopped his shiny forehead. “Man, it’s hot out there today,” he said, more to himself
than to me.

“The last gasp of summer,” I concurred.

Jake brought out a tray with coffee, glasses with ice, canned soft drinks and a plate
of cookies. He gave me a questioning look before leaving the room.

Detective Goetz poured a soft drink onto the ice and took a great swig. “Ahhh, that
feels better,” he commented before taking out his notebook and a nubby pencil from
his coat pocket.

“Uh oh, I see the mighty notebook. I take it that you are not visiting me socially,”
I rasped.

“No ma’am. Here on official business.”

“Then I can’t answer any of your questions. You know that I don’t talk to the police
anymore without a lawyer present.”

“Them,” grimaced Goetz, waving his hand contemptuously. “Aren’t you even curious about
why I’m here?”

“O’nan?”

Goetz shook his head.

“Really?” Indeed, I was curious. “Okay, I’ll bite.”

“Someone broke into Ellen Boudreaux’s house a couple days ago and stole credit cards,
silver, jewelry. A lot of expensive stuff.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “Maybe there is a god.”

“The curious thing about the robbery is that is was done by a professional and while
everyone was in the house asleep. That kind of thing takes a lot of guts to do. Also
only certain items were taken, like a Duveneck painting, not worth a fortune, but
still expensive . . . and then only certain pieces of jewelry. Lots of good stuff
left.”

I merely nodded.

“Now, Miss Ellen tells me that the painting and stolen jewelry were gifts from Brannon
Reynolds.”

“So you think that I crept into Ellen’s house with this bum leg and stole her goodies
like a professional cat burglar.”

“I didn’t think you did it,” replied Goetz. The accusation hung in the air.

“I think we have come to the point where we have to end our discussion, Detective.”

“When was the last time you saw Asa?”

“She’s not your guy. She hasn’t been home in almost a month. You know that, and since
when does a homicide detective care about a burglary?” I was really mad now. “I help
you break Arthur Green’s murder case and get my leg all busted up doing it, not to
mention his murderer who tried to stove in my head with a shovel, and this is the
thanks I get.”

“I’m being nice here. You would rather someone else?”

“I’m sick of looking at your ugly mug.”

“I’m telling you that Asa pulled off that job and Ellen Boudreaux is after her hide.”

“Anytime someone spits on the sidewalk, Ellen is screaming that I or Asa did it. You
know she blames me for Brannon’s death.”

“Josiah, her little boy told me that he woke up and saw someone who looked like Batman
tucking him in. He said it was a woman who told him to go back to sleep.”

My heart froze with fear. “A nightmare by a little child. No court is going to accept
that.”

“I’m just here to warn Asa that the big guns are coming.”

“Jake!”

Jake strode into the great room and loomed over Goetz. “I’ll show you the way out,
Detective.”

“Will you talk to her?” asked Goetz.

“I think she understands. She just gets mad when Miss Boudreaux is involved.” They
moved to the front double-steel door where they shook hands. Jake watched the monitors
until Goetz left the property.

When Jake came back, I was eating cookies and throwing down a soft drink, which he
snatched out of my hand.

I lunged for the glass but missed. “I need a sugar fix,” I grumbled.

“You need to talk to Asa,” he retorted. “You think she did it?”

“You know she did. Who else can get in and out undetected, knew which painting and
jewelry were gifts from Brannon and dresses like a goth undertaker.”

“Why?”

“Who knows?” I answered, throwing up my hands. “Probably because it amused her.”

“Or maybe she knows that Ellen is ready to sue you and wanted to throw some obstacles
in her path to slow down the process.”

“What do you mean?”

“Goetz said that credit cards were stolen. I guarantee that Ellen will spend some
time getting that mess straightened out first before she launches her lawsuit. Identity
theft sometimes takes years to clear up. And if I know my boss, she took all the financial
information she could.”

“She’s trying to find Ellen’s Achilles heel.”

Jake nodded in agreement. “Obviously she takes Ellen very seriously. Ellen is making
noises that she is going to take the Butterfly away from the both of you. Asa is not
going to let that happen. She can play very dirty if she has to. I think Ellen Boudreaux
has made a dangerous enemy.”

“What should I do?”

“We need to make contact with Asa and let her know what is going on, but I wouldn’t
use our cell phones or your land line.” He though for a moment. “Let’s go see Franklin.”

Franklin, of course. Why hadn’t I thought of that?

*

Franklin opened the back door and groaned. “What do you two alley cats want?”

Jake pushed my wheelchair inside. Crutches were too hard for me, so I used the wheelchair
when venturing out.

Franklin gave the surroundings a quick glance before shutting the door. Thankfully
he lived on the ground floor of a three-story apartment building on Second Street.
The building had been a dorm for Transylvania University before it was converted.

Even though Franklin dressed like a precocious child, his apartment was tastefully
decorated. The walls were painted a very pale yellow, which cheerfully went well with
furniture covered in English chintz. On the repainted end tables, which had been rescued
from Goodwill, were fresh flower arrangements and a picture of Matt, my best friend,
in a sterling frame. There were very few knickknacks but expensive coffee table books
were stacked here and there. In the hallway was a large system of shelves, which held
book after book. Some of them were encased in glass, so I guessed that they were first
editions. On the walls hung still lifes purchased from local artists.

So Franklin was a book and flower freak. I should have guessed.

Jake leaned over and murmured, “It looks like Laura Ashley threw up in here.”

“I heard that, heathen,” shot back Franklin. “Josiah, that wheelchair better not mark
up my floors. I just had them done.”

“I need to use your land line,” I requested.

“Don’t you have phone?”

“Not one that I can use.”

“Is this something clandestine?”

I leaned forward. “Perhaps dangerous.”

Franklin clapped his hands together. “I’m in.”

“Won’t that irritate Matt?” asked Jake.

“Haven’t seen Matt in days, almost a week. For awhile after his little indiscretion
with . . .”

I shook my head emphatically behind Jake.

“Someone besides moi, he was good as gold afterwards. Then he started getting distant
again. I don’t know if we are coming or going sometimes.” Franklin flung himself dramatically
on his couch. “Is he seeing someone? Tell me. I can face it.”

“I haven’t seen him either. I really don’t think so, Franklin. I think he is just
bogged down with work at the office.”

“Swear?”

“Pinky swear,” I replied. “Now where is the phone?”

Franklin handed me a touch-tone replica of the ‘60s pink Princess phone.

I gave him a look.

He shrugged. “I just had to have it.”

“It’s a little over the top. Talk about flaming. Why don’t you just pin a sign to
your back that says ‘GAY’?”

“Ya wanna use it or not? Quitchyer griping.”

I began dialing while signaling to Jake.

“Franklin, show me the rest of your place?”

Franklin’s face broke into a brilliant smile. “I’d love to. Would you like to see
my bedroom?”

“Let’s start with the kitchen,” grimaced Jake.

While they gabbed about cooking, I dialed Asa’s secret number. When it was answered,
all I said was “Rosebud.”