Death By Bourbon (4 page)

Meriah was sitting in a corner with Lady Elsmere, both of them looking contrite, with
Matt hovering over them. I was stationed near a window watching the coroner take Addison
DeWitt’s body out to his van, but not before Goetz pulled up and spoke with him. The
coroner shook his head. Looking up, Goetz saw me in the window and gave a curt nod.
The forensic guys pulled up behind him. They put on booties and paper jumpsuits before
heading in.

I heard footsteps pacing upstairs where Doreen had been taken. Obviously she was looking
out the window too. Very alert for someone who had been sedated. I whispered to Jake,
who discreetly left the drawing room by the back door and headed to the second floor
by the servants’ stairs.

A few minutes later, Jake popped up by my side. He indicated that Charles’ wife was
with Doreen, which explained the foot traffic. Oh well.

One by one the guests were taken into another room and then let go, but not before
all the glasses in the parlor and library had been collected and bagged. Finally it
was Meriah, Matt, June, Jake and I left in the room. We huddled together in a sad
little group saying nothing until Matt spoke, “I’m sure everyone is exhausted. I know
I am.”

“It’s been over three hours,” complained Meriah. “What are the police doing?”

“This is just dreadful!” exclaimed June. “I liked Addison so much.”

“What about Doreen?” I asked. “What are you going to do about her?”

Matt scratched his forehead. “I can take her home. I’ve already called her daughter.
She’ll be waiting at Doreen’s house.”

I looked at Meriah and June. “Would you both be more comfortable at my house until
Charles can put everything back in order? It would be no bother.”

June patted my arm. “Thank you, Josiah, but I want to be in my own bed. Maybe Meriah?”

“I think I will stay with June,” answered Meriah, giving a conciliatory look to Matt.

“How are you holding up, Rennie?” asked Matt.

I grimaced. “Hanging in there, but my energy is draining fast.”

“It hits her like a wall. She’ll be fine one moment and then bam, just like that,
done for the day. I wish the police would hurry this up,” concurred Jake. “I’m getting
tired myself.”

“You know,” ventured Meriah, “there’s something about this that’s not right.”

“Why do you say that, darling?” asked Matt.

I was curious myself as to what her perceptions were.

“Doreen was at the end of our little procession down the hallway, like she was deliberately
hanging back till the end. Then when we got to the library’s doorway, she pushed through
past me and entered the room.”

“So?” said June.

“I stopped right in the doorway, didn’t I, honey?” she asked Matt.

“I didn’t notice,” replied Matt.

“You did stop right in the doorway with several other women. I was already in the
room when your group came,” I confirmed.

A cop opened the door and ordered. “Sorry. No talking, folks.”

“How much longer?” asked Jake.

“We’re done when we’re done,” answered the cop.

“These women can’t take much more,” protested Matt angrily.

Goetz appeared at the doorway. “Let me apologize. I know it’s getting late. We will
be done very shortly.” He motioned to Jake and me. “Can I talk to you both?”

I bade everyone good night and followed Goetz into the next room.

He sat in a green leather chair and studied his notes under the end table light.

Jake stood behind my wheelchair, refusing to sit.

“Okay,” said Goetz, finally looking up. “Everybody I talked to thinks Addison DeWitt
either had an epileptic fit or a heart attack. Not one person mentioned foul play.”

I just shrugged. “What do you think?”

“A heart attack. However, to be sure, we will do an autopsy, and have the food and
liquor checked.”

“Be careful with those glasses. They’re antique crystal,” I reminded him.

“We won’t hurt Lady Elsmere’s precious cocktail glasses.” Goetz scratched his nose.
“We will be checking with everyone in a couple of days to see if anyone else has had
any ill effects. Right now tell me what happened.”

Jake and I gave a quick recap of our attendance at the party, which Goetz put down
in his worn out notebook and then gave us the nod to leave.

As we were leaving, I glanced up the grand staircase.

Standing in the shadows of the balcony was Doreen, watching silently.

It gave me the heebie-jeebies. I couldn’t wait to get home.

There to greet us was Baby, thumping his tail loudly against the wall as he wagged
it. I gave him a big hug to which he returned my affection by burying his snout in
my crotch. Thanks.

I watched Jake check all the monitors, punch in the security code and, after he wheeled
me into my bedroom, check all the doors and windows. I could tell that he was spooked
too. Nobody likes to see a man die.

After Jake put me to bed, I asked, “Jake, do you mind sleeping in my room tonight?
I’ve got the jitters.”

“No problem,” grinned Jake. He quickly changed and came back into my room wearing
gym shorts and a tee shirt.

He pushed my Hans Weger bed next to the hospital bed and climbed in after turning
off the lights. Baby whined until Jake gave him the green light to climb in as well.
Happily Baby stretched out full length against Jake and was contently snoring within
a few minutes. Baby’s entourage of cat buddies joined him. Some fell asleep on top
of Baby’s rib cage, one straddled his head and several curled between his massive
paws.

They were born in my closet on my favorite cashmere sweater and I have not been able
to get rid of them since. After an appropriate age, I rounded them up and took them
to the barn, but that evening they showed up at the back bedroom door, meowing to
be let in. To add to this pitiful scene, Baby paced back and forth from me to the
door, whining, until I caved and let them in. It is now a ritual. I put them out in
the morning and they come back at the gloaming time, meowing for Baby.

I understood the need for company, especially on a chilly night.

Moonlight twisted through the large glass door that led out to the patio. Jake reached
up searching for my hand.

Finding his, I clasped tightly, falling into a fitful sleep.

The next afternoon my carcass was parked in June’s boudoir watching her eat breakfast
in bed. June’s boudoir was not like other people’s bedrooms.

When my late husband, Brannon, remodeled her antebellum house, June gave implicit
instructions about how she wanted the master suite. As a young girl, the bedroom of
Rebecca DeWinter in Alfred Hitchcock’s
Rebecca
had struck her fancy, so she had Brannon build a replica of the room with large floor-to-ceiling
windows that opened onto a private balcony complete with the sheer white curtains
that blew like twisting ghosts in the wind. The walls were adorned with imported silk
fabric mimicking silver and pink cherry blossoms with antique Persian rugs riding
the hand-distressed white plank floor. The furniture was painted silver with mirror
accents. A silver silk comforter accompanied pale pink satin sheets.

The room was complete with a sitting area with a large carved white marble fireplace,
which accented a portrait of Lady Elsmere in younger days over the mantle. To the
right of the sitting room was a hidden door, which led to two large walk-in closets,
jewelry safe and a small pantry that held snacks, cold drinks, and of course, chilled
wine and champagne.

Finally the bathroom, which was the size of my bedroom at the Butterfly. It was made
from white Italian marble – that means everything. The wall and floor tiles, the full-immersion
tub and the steps leading into it, the hand carved sinks and the Roman shower. In
addition, there was a fireplace and several phones lying about. It also boasted a
bidet, but my favorite was the toilet with the heated seat, which sprayed scented
warm water onto June’s wrinkled bum. There was not a single roll of toilet paper in
this bathroom.

Towels, soaps and rugs carried out the pink and silver motif of the bedroom.

In addition to this suite was a maid’s/nurse’s room with a private bathroom. Sometimes
Charles’ daughter, Amelia, stayed there if June was having a bad night.

And I thought my bedroom suite was pretty swanky.

Brannon had to build an entirely new wing on the house to accompany this dream; then
he had to build a wing on the other side of the house for symmetry’s sake in order
to keep the integrity of the 1841 mansion intact. That wing housed the new kitchen,
pantries, storage room, office, servants’ quarters, servants’ break room, laundry
facilities and mudroom. It was the workhorse section of the house.

Luckily for me, the house also had an elevator, which is why I was now up in June’s
bedroom pinching strawberries from her floral, English morning pattern china.

June picked up her phone and called downstairs. “Would you please bring Mrs. Reynolds
a breakfast tray and some strawberries for me. Thank you.”

“It’s tea time. I’ve already had breakfast.”

“Bring Mrs. Reynolds some finger sandwiches and hot tea please, but I still want my
strawberries. Thank you, Amelia.”

June looked at her clock. “I couldn’t get to sleep last night. How dreadful having
something like that happen in one’s own home.”

I snatched another strawberry.

“I do wish you’d eat at home, dear, and leave my breakfast alone. By the way, what’s
with the leg?”

I looked down at the Velcro splint boot. “Coming along nicely. It was a stress fracture
rather than a break.”

“Those are still serious. Take it easy.”

“That’s why I’m in a wheelchair instead of using my crutches. I’m a klutz with them.”

“Hmmmm,” replied Lady Elsmere, buttering her toast. I poured coffee into her cup.

“I suppose you are here nosing around.”

“Nothing else to do.”

“Could it be that you are here to get the dope on Meriah and Matt?”

I shrugged. Leaning forward, I stirred cream in her coffee. “Do you know anything
about them, June?” I asked.

“Why don’t you ask me?” said Meriah as she strode into the room. She leaned over and
kissed June on the top of the head.

June chortled as I felt the heat rise on my face.

“Okay. Why marriage?” I asked.

“Because Matt asked me,” replied Meriah, returning my gaze calmly.

“You’ve been married twice before and that never took. You must know about Matt’s
. . . proclivities. Why take the chance? Tell us, June, did Lord Elsmere’s tastes
change after he married you?” I asked.

“I’m not going to get into this catfight, but I will tell you one thing. This marriage
is none of your business, Josiah. Matt didn’t ask you to marry.”

I opened my mouth to speak and then shut it. June was right. It was none of my business,
even though I knew nothing good would come from it. “My apologies, ladies,” I said.
“I should have just kept my mouth closed.”

“Well, that’s a first, coming from you,” spat Meriah.

“Play nice,” admonished June. “Ahh, here is your tea tray, Josiah.”

Never one to refuse free food, I brightened. A table with the tray was placed before
me. It was loaded with little sandwiches and cakes plus a big pot of hot tea and my
honey.

“You want something, Meriah?” I asked.

“I couldn’t possibly. My figure. You go ahead as I can see that you are not concerned
about yours,” she stated.

Before I could reply, she swept out of the room. To make a point I crammed a cucumber
sandwich in my mouth.

June laughed before begging for an éclair. With reluctance, I passed a small one to
her. I’m very stingy with pastries.

We chitchatted about the party and June related some awful stories about Doreen DeWitt.
Awfully good, that is.

Doreen was an heiress with only one daughter from her first marriage. She had married
against her family’s wishes by running off with the chauffeur – literally. It turned
out that the man had a natural ability with money and turned her little inheritance
into a great big fortune by pulling her funds out of IBM and AT&T and putting them
into companies like Microsoft in the ‘80s, and then again pulling out before tech
stocks took a hit. Most of her money was now sitting in long-term CDs with six percent
or better interest. It is rumored that her big mansion, her expensive cars and her
jewelry are all paid for – no debt.

Unfortunately, her wise husband didn’t make it to see his daughter graduate from a
big ivory tower school before he died of brain cancer.

After mourning for a suitable period of time, Doreen took up with a handsome TV star
whom she met at a Kentucky Derby party. He had a bad gambling problem, which was kept
hidden until he had access to Doreen’s money. After he had paid off his bookies, loan
sharks and past girlfriends who had given him money, Doreen’s fortune had taken a
big hit. Needless to say, after receiving a few bank statements, she got rid of him
quick.

“Doreen changed after that,” remarked June. “She became obsessed with money . . .
or rather with keeping it. It has been years since I have seen Doreen pick up a lunch
tab or give to a charity. I just don’t call her anymore for fundraisers. She is so
cheap she won’t even give her old coats away to the needy. She goes to Florida for
a few months every year and that’s the most exciting thing she does. Doreen is a rather
boring woman, I’m afraid to say. You know, poor is a state of mind but broke is only
a situation. Doreen is a poor person no matter how much money she has.”

“What about Addison? I though he was rather dashing. She had to have something to
attract him.”

“She brought that man back from Florida complete with a tan, English accent and exquisite
manners. I don’t know how that charming man stood her,” complained June, ringing for
her tray to be taken away.

I heard the elevator switch on.

“I’d best be going,” I said, putting down my napkin. “Jake is cooling his heels in
the kitchen.”

“Thanks for checking on me.”

“Always, darling.”

“Josiah, remember my advice about Meriah.”

“I will. I’ll be good from now on.”

June chortled, “That will be the day.”

I wheeled into the hallway and greeted Amelia coming to collect the trays. We spoke
for a few moments before moving on. Amelia also worked as a docent on the Butterfly
tours. It was from Amelia or Charles that I got the goodies of what was really happening
in the “big house.” She had just given me some interesting dope on Doreen DeWitt and
June’s latest houseguest.

As I started to get into the elevator, Meriah stepped out of her bedroom and beckoned
to me. Curious, I pushed myself down the expansive hallway and into her room.

Unlike June’s girlie motif, Meriah’s room was very masculine with dark green walls
and heavy traditional furniture. Meriah seemed at ease in it. Obviously her taste
was more conservative than Lady Elsmere’s.

“Josiah, can we make peace?” asked Meriah. “This snapping at each other is not good.”

“I don’t know about that,” I replied. “I feel pretty good insulting you.”

“You don’t think highly of me, do you?” pouted Meriah.

“I don’t think of you often, but when I do, it’s not favorable. Over the past year
or so, you have latched onto an old lady who is lonely and you have played that card
to the hilt. I understand that you have not paid for one darn thing since you have
been in this house. The least you can do is take June out for lunch now and then to
repay her kindness.

“Then you have tried to interfere in my life by writing about it for your pulp novels.
Tacky. I also know from a few verbal slips here and there that you tried to move in
on Jake. When that didn’t work, you obviously moved on to Matt.”

“I’m impressed. How do you know about Jake? Did he tell you?”

“You mentioned one of Jake’s tattoos some months ago at the Morris Book Shop. You
can only see that tattoo if he is . . . unclothed. My guess is that you came to the
house when you knew I would be napping and caught him unaware in the pool or the outdoor
shower. He told you to go to the Devil, didn’t he, Meriah?”

“Touché,” cooed Meriah. “You have a very good analytical mind. I do like the exotic,
but I got turned down flat. It rather hurt my pride. But I didn’t go after Matt. He
came after me. It was during your party for Franklin when I choked on that woman’s
awful glass eye and Matt saved me. Later that night, he called me up for a date and
things proceeded from there. Now that’s the truth.”

“Matt called you up?”

“Yes. He was handsome. He was single. He asked me out to dinner. I was bored so I
went. We had a good time. He asked me out again. I went again. Matt pursued this.
Not me.”

I didn’t reply. Actually I was rather stumped, but I shouldn’t have been. Matt had
been struggling for a long time.

“Do you love him?”

“You are right to think that I am a selfish woman. I am. But Matt is as ambitious
as I am. We have the same goals. We will work well together as partners because as
ambitious as Matt is, he’s very old school. He will rub the rough edges off me.”

“You’re hoping that Matt will make a lady out of you?”

“No. I’m hoping that he will make me kind.”

I gave Meriah a long hard look. She was a drowning woman clutching onto the only thing
floating in the ocean. She was looking to Matt to save her from herself. I understood.
I was doing the same with Jake. When the possibility of happiness comes your way,
you grab onto it. It was human nature.

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay what?”

“A truce. I won’t interfere and I wish you both happiness. If this is what Matt wants,
then I want it for him.”

Meriah sighed. “Thank you. Your acceptance will make things easier for Matt.”

“Where will you live?”

“We are going back to my house in California after we are married. Matt already has
a job offer in a good law firm there. He’ll fit right in.”

“I see.”

Nothing stayed the same forever. I had to accept it.

“Now that is resolved, I want to mention something that has been troubling me.”

“Oh?”

“It’s about Doreen DeWitt.”

“Go ahead.” My mind was still reeling from the fact that Matt was going to move across
the country, but I would give Doreen a go.

“Was there anything that troubled you about Addison DeWitt’s death?”

“I got a creepy feeling that night.” I searched for the right words. “Something seemed
icky about the entire situation.”

“Icky? A former college professor like you uses the word icky?”

“I think icky describes accurately what I was feeling.”

Meriah pushed back her honey-streaked hair. “I was feeling something icky too, but
about Doreen. When we heard the commotion, I was first out the door as I was the closest.
Doreen was way on the other side of the room. She would have been one of the last
to enter the hallway.” She paused for a moment and then went to stand in her own doorway.
“Now I stopped right in the doorway, didn’t I?”

“I guess so. I was really paying attention to Addison.”

“Well, I did. You even said so the other night. Now I stood in the doorway with a
couple of other women who were not Doreen DeWitt.”

“Okay.”

“Now out of nowhere, Doreen pushes through and runs over to Addison DeWitt.”

“That I remember,” I concurred.

“Here’s what is icky. How did she know it was Addison on the floor? I am taller than
she but I couldn’t see who was on the floor because the couch was in the way as were
men also blocking my view.”

“That’s right. I had to wheel around the couch and there were men standing between
the couch and Addison on the floor. I couldn’t tell who it was until I pushed through
the group of men.” I paused for a moment. “She must have heard Matt yell to Charles
in the hallway that Addison was having a fit.”

Meriah shook her lovely head. “No one heard exactly what Matt said. It was muffled.
We just heard the commotion and Doreen certainly didn’t react to anything until we
get to the library door.”

“Wait a minute,” I said correcting myself. “Matt didn’t mention Addison’s name. He
just said someone was having a fit, so Doreen couldn’t possibly have known he was
talking about Addison.”