Death By Bourbon (3 page)

I found Jake and Franklin in the bedroom. It was one of the most opulent rooms I had
ever seen. There was a lead glass door leading out to a moss-covered brick patio with
a jungle of huge potted cast iron planters accenting an old black wrought iron outdoor
dining table giving the room a New Orleans kind of feel – old, extravagant, moist
and kind of seedy. It was great.

The walls again were a very pale yellow, which played well against the antique four-poster
bed’s turquoise silk coverlet and very expensive cotton sheets. On the walls were
abstract city landscape paintings of New Orleans from the ‘50s. The dresser held pictures
of Franklin at various ages in silver frames – a little shrine to self-love.

All of Franklin’s toiletries were placed on a gilded mirror along with antique silver
and leather brushes. Alongside one wall were tall ivory beeswax candles sitting on
stressed painted wooden candlesticks of various heights. The other wall was covered
in antique mirrors.

“Franklin, you’re a hedonist,” I said, fingering the material of an overstuffed chair
in the corner. I really wanted to check out his closets. “Who knew you had taste?”

“I think by my clothes you could tell that,” he responded.

“Oh, yeah. Of course,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“Are you done?” asked Jake, not really interested in interior decorating.

“Yep,” I replied.

“I’m hungry. Let’s all get something to eat. My treat,” said Jake.

“Sound great. We can just walk. There is a new restaurant on Jefferson Street at the
corner.”

“You guys go on. I’m going to drive the car there so Miss Daisy can go home right
afterwards,” suggested Jake.

“Okay,” agreed Franklin as he opened the back French doors to let us out. Both he
and Jake lifted my wheelchair on to the flat driveway. Franklin chatted happily as
he pushed me along to the restaurant. I asked Franklin to go inside first to make
sure there was room enough for the wheelchair to negotiate. Sometimes seating was
so tight, a wheelchair couldn’t make it to a table.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Franklin teased as he pushed the door open.

While waiting for him, I perused the street. There was another restaurant a half a
block away. Hearing a familiar voice, my head swung towards it.

I could hardly believe my eyes.

It was Matt leaving the restaurant with a woman.

My gawd – it was Meriah Caldwell, the famous mystery writer!

They were laughing as he opened a car door for her. I watched him enter the driver’s
side, start the car and drive past only to catch the red light at the corner where
I sat. Meriah was chatting up a storm as Matt grinned like a fool. Glancing out the
window, he saw me staring at him.

Matt’s expression froze.

The light changed and the driver behind him beeped his horn. Matt hurriedly drove
away.

“Whatcha looking at?” asked Jake, coming up behind me.

“A firestorm,” I replied.

Franklin stepped out and related to Jake that there was a handicap ramp in the back.
Franklin went back in as Jake wheeled me around. My mind swirled.

Of all the women available – why Meriah Caldwell? Beside the fact that she was beautiful,
successful and rich – what did Matt see in her?

I was flabbergasted. I was astonished. I was horrified. I was jealous.

Yes, I was jealous. I loved Matt deeply but I was not in love with him. But he was
so beautiful and accomplished, my stomach turned anytime I saw him look at some other
woman. Did I mention that he strongly resembled the ‘50s matinee idol Victor Mature?
They could have been twins.

Like Victor Mature, Matt was from Louisville but that is where the resemblance ended.
Matt took himself very seriously while Victor Mature was self-deprecating. Mature
always said that he acted with his forehead. He was known to say, “Actually I’m a
golfer. That’s my real occupation. Ask anybody, especially the critics.”

I knew Matt loved me too. I hated the thought that I might have to share that love.
So like I said, I wasn’t in love with Matt.

Was I?

“What are we playing at?” I finally asked Jake, as he was trying to get me ready for
the night. He had ordered a hospital bed, which was easier for me to get into with
my newly bummed-up leg.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play games with me. Only a few months ago, you asked me out for a date.” Seeing
Matt today had made me bold.

“Did I?”

“Listen, nothing pisses me off more than someone trying to play me. What’s going on?
Why did you lie about being married?”

Jake sat on the bed and let out a long sigh. He rubbed his fingers through his long
black hair. He wouldn’t look at me.

“Jake? Talk to me.”

“Every time I try to get close to you, something happens. It’s like I’m bad news.
Like something is trying to stop us.”

“That is complete nonsense. I fell off a cliff. Where were you then? Hadn’t even met
yet. See, that had nothing to do with you.”

“Then that Tavis tried to kill you.”

“Whom you saved me from. These things would have happened anyway. I can’t explain
it. I have been living a half-life for the past few years with Brannon leaving me
in total chaos. I had forgotten how to love, how to forgive, how to move forward with
my life. Then I fell off a real cliff and who was there to guide me back to the land
of the living? An uptight, brooding Indian.”

“Native American.”

“What?”

“We’re called Native Americans, not Indians,” replied Jake, turning his dark eyes
intensely on me.

“Quit splitting hairs.” I touched his fingers with mine. “You’ve healed me more ways
than just my body. You healed my spirit, gave me hope. I want to love someone . .
. even if it ends someday.”

Jake remained still.

“I know I’m not young, and in pretty bad shape, but my heart can be as giving as the
young or the beautiful. Oh, Jake, for goodness sake, say something. Don’t let me babble
on like this if you’re not interested.”

“I thought I was divorced. I didn’t lie to you,” Jake confessed. “When Asa told me
that the papers hadn’t been filed, I was humiliated. I knew how you felt about cheaters.
I went home and confronted my wife. She had never filed the papers. She was having
second thoughts.”

“Didn’t you suspect something was wrong when you didn’t get the final decree?”

Jake shook his head. “I signed the papers overseas and gave instructions that the
final decree should be sent to my mother’s address. I wanted nothing more to do with
it or my wife. I didn’t even have my own apartment after I left her. Asa sent me straight
to the Middle East to work on an assignment and then pulled me back to the States
when you got hurt. I hadn’t talked to my wife in almost two years. I thought it was
over. I deposit money in her account once a month for the children and that is it.”

“What about your children?”

“I talk to them all the time but we never discuss their mother. They know it is a
sore spot. I’ve been home only a few times, and stayed at my mother’s where they came
to visit. Their uncle brings them. Like I said, I haven’t seen my ex in almost two
years.”

“What happened?”

“She was banging some guy from work.”

I said nothing, patiently waited for Jake to continue.

“I know how it feels to get kicked in the gut by someone you trusted. At least she
didn’t steal money like your husband did.”

“And now?”

“The papers are filed. I made sure of that. I’m waiting for the final decree.”

“Is that why you haven’t brought up us?”

“I knew from kissing you in the hospital that you were pretty fragile again. I didn’t
want to start something we both can’t finish.” He gave a goofy grin. “I don’t want
to hold back and I don’t want you to either.”

“I’m in no shape?” I thought back to when I was with Matt. I had pretty much kept
up with him in the bedroom, but I didn’t dare disagree with Jake.

“Aw hell, you’re months away. Why start something that is going to drive us crazy?”
He gently touched my cheek. “You know?”

“I want to get this right. You’re saying that we’re an item but I need to get better
before we start . . . convorting?” I looked at him curiously.

“Yeah. Something like that. But I will be here every step of the way for your recovery.
You didn’t break your leg – just a stress fracture. Let’s get that healed first and
work on getting your muscles in shape again.” Jake held my hand. “I’m not leaving.
I’ll be here for you. You can lean on me.” He kissed the palm of my hand and held
it against his cheek. “I’m willing to take a chance on this. Are you?”

The one thing about getting older is that you realize that you take happiness where
you find it. “Let’s follow the sparks and see if a fire grows,” I replied.

Jake kissed the inside of my wrist. He murmured, “So you want to see if a fire grows?”

I could feel my skin blushing from my back to my face. I was suddenly very warm.

He lingered on the inside of my elbow, showering it with baby kisses.

The doorbell rang. Jumping Jehosaphat!

Sighing, Jake rose and went to the front door.

I knew how he felt. It seemed like we never got a private moment. Every time we connected,
something interrupted.

A few minutes later, Jake lounged against the doorframe. “Matt’s here and is in a
tizzy. He wants to see you now.”

I groaned inwardly. I was hoping that a confrontation could be put off several days,
maybe a week. There was no getting around this. “Help me get in bed first. Then let
Matt come back.”

Jake worked with me until I was finally comfortable. He shooed away Baby, my 225-pound
mastiff, when he tried to climb in bed with me. Giving Jake a snotty look, Baby settled
down in his own comfy bed, but not before turning three times.

Matt strode in. His black hair was accented by glistening mist as it had started to
drizzle outside. His tie was off and several buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned.
He looked dark. He looked sexually dangerous.

I couldn’t help it. He simply took my breath away. I was ashamed of my feelings for
him. It must be the same way with men. They love their wives dearly, but if given
a chance, most couldn’t pass up an hour with a Playboy girl. It must be in our genes
to possess beauty, whatever form it comes in.

“Did you have dinner with Franklin?”

“Hello to you too.”

“Did you?”

“Sure did.”

“Did you tell him that you saw me?”

“With that skank? Nope.”

Matt breathed with relief. “I’ve got to handle this carefully or it is going to blow
up in my face.”

My heart sank. “Was this more than just a dinner with a client?”

Matt looked at Jake leaning against the doorframe. “Do you mind, Jake? How about some
privacy here.”

“Leave this tender scene? No way.”

Matt looked at me for backup but I shook my head. “He stays. What’s going on, Matt?”

“I’m going to marry Meriah.”

I cried out, “You can’t be serious! Oh Matt, what have you done? Are you out of your
mind?”

“I asked her tonight. She said yes.”

I was dumbfounded. “Does she know about Franklin?”

“She said she didn’t care.”

“She’s lying. Any woman would care that her fiancé had a male lover. Deeply care.”
Thousands of questions filled my mind. “How long have you been seeing her?”

“About three months. It just happened. We have common goals, similar interests. She’s
beautiful and . . .”

“Yadda. Yadda. Yadda. She’s rich and can help you succeed. That’s the bottom line.”

“It’s not. I’m in love with her.”

“Oh please. You’re talking to me, Matt. Me! Of all the women to marry, you pick that
phony. Yes, a two-bit phony. She doesn’t love you. Meriah likes your looks, baby.
You’re a prize trophy to show off to her Hollywood friends, and the fact that you’re
bi makes you all the more tantalizing. You’re nothing more than a trophy to her.”

“I was hoping that you would support me in this.”

I laughed bitterly. “This is such a unexpected blow, I don’t know what I’m going to
do. What about Franklin?”

Matt shifted uneasily on the chair. “I’ll take care of him.”

“Oh, poor Franklin.”

“Are you still going to be my friend? Are you going to stand by me?”

“Of course I am, you ass. But I’m not going to like it one bit. Not one bit.”

Matt looked relieved. “Good. Then I expect you to come to our engagement party next
Saturday at Lady Elsmere’s house. Be there by eight-thirty. I’ll send the Bentley.”

“June knows about this?”

Matt nodded.

“I’ll be there but I won’t be pleasant.”

“Just be there, Rennie,” Matt said, calling me by his pet name for me.

“Matt. Please think this over. I’m begging you.”

“It’s done. I’m not turning back.” He placed his hand on my shoulder. “Please, Josiah.
Stand by me.”

I acquiesced. I mean – what could I do? He had been my best friend since Brannon had
left. Matt had stood by me through thick and thin. I had to be his friend in this
even though it made me sick. What was I going to say to Franklin?

Like Scarlett O’Hara, I would think about that tomorrow.

It was Saturday night. The front lawn was covered in Mercedeses, Lexuses and an occasional
beat-up farm truck. Jake took the car into the back where he could gather me into
the wheelchair without a lot of gawkers. Once he had my green chiffon print dress
folded to neatly cover my pink satin bedroom slippers, I straightened his tuxedo tie
and together we boldly entered Lady Elsmere’s house through the back sunroom, down
the long marble hallway and into the grand foyer.

Spying us, Charles, Lady Elsmere’s butler and right hand, hurried over with glasses
of champagne and small plates of canapés so that it looked like we had been there
for some time. We were terribly late and had gotten there just in time to hear Lady
Elsmere give a toast to the engaged couple who were standing hand in hand on the stairwell.

Everyone drank but me.

I had to admit Meriah looked stunning in a white and gold lamé dress with a diamond
hairpin borrowed from Lady Elsmere, aka June Webster from Monkey’s Eyebrow, Kentucky.

Meriah’s face was glowing and her tawny skin gleamed in the soft light provided by
beeswax candles. For a moment I almost believed that she truly loved Matt, but deep
down I knew better.

Matt surveyed the room until he saw me. His brooding face brightened.

I lifted my glass to him.

He gave me a slight nod of acknowledgement, which Meriah caught. Her head swiveled
so fast I thought she’d get whiplash. I bit my lip so as not to giggle.

Everyone gathered to congratulate them and slap Matt on the back. Meriah was soon
swept away by the “girls” who wanted to know all the “details” while Matt went to
drink with the “boys” in the library.

Lady Elsmere walked over to me. “You’re late.”

I swiveled my wheelchair around. “You’re right.”

She flicked her hand at Jake. “You there. Go drinking with the rest of your kind.
I want to talk to Josiah.”

Jake gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and strode down the hall to join the rest of
the men.

“I wish you’d quit talking to Jake as though he’s a servant to do your bidding.”

“So the Choctaw is back.”

“June, don’t piss me off. I’ll ram your spindly legs with my wheelchair.”

“I’m just showing you how you treat Meriah.”

“I am very polite to her.”

“Polite, cold and forbidding. You’re not nice.”

“You approve of this marriage? Oh, I forgot. You married a gay man, which is how you
got your title.”

“Don’t be rude, Josiah. It may not have been the marriage that dreams are made of,
but I loved my Bertie and he loved me. We made it work.”

“She doesn’t love Matt.”

“How do you know? Are you such a magician that you can see into Meriah’s heart? There
are many kinds of love. Many kinds.” She pointed a diamond-laden claw at me. “If you
want to keep Matt in your life, make peace with her or you will force him to choose
between the two of you.”

I didn’t have a chance to respond as we heard a door crash open. Matt ran down the
hall shouting for Charles.

“What is it?” cried June, her diamond-laden hand jerking in concern to the thin red
ribbons that made up her mouth.

“Call the doctor. Someone’s having a fit,” yelled Matt.

I wheeled past June and was soon in the huge library where a group of men were clustered.
I wheeled across the expansive hardwood floor, around the couch and antique marble
end table, through a knot of men.

Lying on the floor before a massive carved marble fireplace was Addison DeWitt with
Jake hovering over him. Jake had taken his coat off and was protecting Addison’s head
while other men were holding Addison’s twitching limbs. It was frightful to watch
as Addison pitched, trembled and thrashed. Several men gave Jake pillows, which he
put around Addison’s head to cushion it. Another man took off Addison’s shoes and
loosened his belt and tie.

Other guests were on their cell phones calling 911. Charles and Matt ran in with some
blankets and covered the fact that Addison had soiled himself.

By now, the women were pushing through the doorway. Matt stopped them. Pulling Meriah
aside, he asked her to take the ladies back into the parlor; they were simply getting
in the way. Like a pro, Meriah herded the whispering and confused ladies back down
the hallway – all that is, except Doreen DeWitt, who now stood with the little crowd
of men, looking frightened. She kept whispering something over and over.

Suddenly a chill ran down my spine. Something was off . . . like when someone sits
next to you at a party and something in your gut tells you to move. You may not be
able to put the correct name to it, but you realize something evil is near you. I
was sensitive to things not being right. I made it my business anymore.

What was out of kilter?

All of a sudden, the twitching stopped. Jake checked Addison’s eyes and leaned over
to hear if he was breathing. He instructed the man helping him to press on the chest
when he gave the word. Then Jake bent over to give mouth-to-mouth. They kept at until
the ambulance came, but Jake shook his head when he caught my eye.

Doreen let out a wail and tried to lay down with Addison’s body as the ambulance crew
tried to revive him to no avail. She eventually had to be given a sedative by the
paramedics, and was taken upstairs as the police walked in the front door.

The cop who strode through the door was Officer Kelly. He gave me a quick look, but
we acted as though we didn’t know each other. He asked Charles what the problem was.
They whispered for a long while in a little huddle.

I wondered who had called him. This wasn’t a police matter, but a medical one. Wasn’t
it?

It wasn’t long before Officer Kelly ordered the men into the parlor with the women
and cordoned off the library.

Kelly told me to “get thee to the parlor.” Of course, when his back was turned, I
wheeled straight to the kitchen and got a plate of hot food. I was starving.

Charles’ wife was putting things away until Officer Kelly walked in and told her to
join the guests as well. “You too, buddy,” he said curtly to me.

I took several more mouthfuls as Kelly started pushing my chair out the door. “Kelly.
Kelly,” I said in a stage whisper. “Something’s odd about that man’s death.”

“Why?” he asked out of the corner of his mouth.

“I just know it. The room felt creepy.”

After he rolled me into the parlor with the others, Kelly called Goetz.

“I’ve got a dead body.”

“Yeah?”

“It looks like a heart attack to me, but Josiah Reynolds is here. She thinks something
is wrong. Says the room felt creepy. I’ve known her since I was fourteen. Mrs. Reynolds
has good instincts.”

There was silence for a few seconds before Goetz responded. “I’ll be right there.”