Josiah Reynolds Box Set 4 Read online

  “I love you too, old woman.”

  We smiled fondly at each other, leaning back in our chairs, enjoying the fire on a warm day, comfortable in our silence. We didn’t speak for a very long time.

  “What’s on your mind, June?”

  “I miss Liam. I want him to come home.”

  “Can he?”

  “No one has pressed charges concerning those jewels.”

  “You mean the jewels he stole from Walter Neff, who stole them from Thaddeus McPherson, who murdered Bunny Witt, not to be confused with the Boston Whitts with a ‘h’, in order to steal them himself?”

  June shook her head. “No one ever proved there were jewels. Teddy McPherson is kookoo for Cocoa Puffs. No one believes him. Apparently, any documentation, such as the old aunt’s diary, has gone missing.”

  “Walter said he found the jewels, and Liam stole them while Walter was having a heart attack.”

  “Utter nonsense.”

  “Then how do you explain finding your emerald necklace on your pillow the morning Liam disappeared?”

  “Coincidence.”

  “I thought the Indian government laid claim to the jewels. They say they have documentation,” I said.

  “Even so, it would take years to go through the courts to prove ownership, and I doubt Liam would leave a paper trail as to their whereabouts, or even their very existence.”

  I whistled in appreciation. “So Liam got away with the perfect jewel heist. You have to tip your hat at him.”

  June sniffed. “The house seems empty without him.

  L’amour, l’amour. Even at my age the heart wants what the heart wants.”

  “That’s depressing to hear. I was hoping to dispense with the heart and all the headaches that go with it.”

  “One day, Jo, love is going to show up when you least expect it.”

  “I’ve had two big loves in my life, and they both stank. Love to me is like backing into a porcupine.”

  “You can’t tell me you don’t miss Jake.”

  “I miss him terribly, but we were wrong for each other. He was too young, for one thing. He had two little children. As much as I loved him, I didn’t want to raise more kids. I’m not fond of children. I can barely tolerate my own child.”

  “I think if Jake walked back through the door, you would be ecstatic to see him.”

  “I would, but then what? Just because you love someone doesn’t mean they’re right for you, or you for them.”

  “You’re not a romantic.”

  “No, I’m not. I hope love never shows up on my doorstep again.”

  We sat silently sipping our “tea” for a long time.

  Finally, June asked, “What’s on your mind? You didn’t come over here to drink brandy and discuss love.”

  “Do you know anything about an old Kentucky family with the name of Wickliffe?”

  June placed her cup in the saucer. “Did you finally realize Franklin is of the Wickliffe line?”

  “I’m embarrassed to say this, but I never knew Franklin’s last name. To me he was always Franklin, like Cher is Cher or Sinatra is just Sinatra.”

  June gathered her thoughts for a moment before answering. “The Wickliffes are an early Kentucky family. Franklin and his brother Hunter are descendants of the Wickliffe family that immigrated to Kentucky in seventeen eighty-four.

  “The most famous Wickliffe was Charles Wickliffe, who served as governor of Kentucky, US Postmaster General, and for two terms as a US congressman. During the Civil War, he sided with the Union.”

  “And Franklin’s branch?”

  “They are descendants from one of the Confederate siblings, who managed to hide his wealth when the Civil War came. He adapted very well to the post-war economy and bought up all the surrounding farms. Many Kentuckians could not pay their taxes at the time, so this Wickliffe made out like a bandit in land acquisitions. The family doubled their income from farming by training all their sons to be lawyers, and later, doctors. With the extra income that provided, they bought partnerships in coal mines in western Kentucky and textile factories up north.

  “The family remained extremely wealthy until Franklin’s old man, Valerius Cave Wickliffe, dabbled in the stock market. Everyone told him not to invest in those particular funds, but I found Valerius to be a person who could successfully evade the truth, even though it was staring him right in the face.”

  “Hunter told me the family has lost most of their wealth.”

  June smirked. “A great deal of it, I’m sure.” She took a sip of her brandy. “So you’ve met Hunter. Handsome devil, isn’t he?”

  “You’ve never mentioned Hunter or the Wickliffe connection. Why didn’t you tell me Franklin was of the Wickliffe line?”

  “I might ask why did Franklin conceal it from us? After all, I hadn’t seen Franklin since he was a baby. I would never have recognized him. As for Hunter, I hadn’t seen him since his college graduation party.”

  “Hunter told me he went to live in London afterwards.”

  “I lost contact with the family. I think it was about the time Miriam, their mother, became ill.” June had to think for a moment. “Yes, I remember now. Lord Elsmere had died and I decided to come home. I bought this farm, but lived in town for several years because the house was a wreck. I only socialized with the Wickliffes for a year or two before Miriam took sick, so I didn’t know them very well. Miriam had the misfortune of having breast cancer. She went downhill very fast.”

  She continued, “I didn’t see them any more after that. The Wickliffes stopped accepting invitations, due to Miriam’s illness. She died, and Valerius became immersed in his medical practice and shut himself off socially.”

  I replied, “Hunter related a similar story about his dad.”

  June mused, “I must have Hunter over to dinner. He might like to hear stories about his mother. She was a refined woman. It’s a shame Miriam died so young. Speaking of dying, what’s up with the Sloans?”

  “I haven’t heard a word,” I confessed.

  “Ring up Detective Goetz and get the scoop.”

  “He retired some time ago.”

  “But didn’t he get a job with the DA?”

  “He met a woman and they moved to Florida.”

  June looked surprised. “Didn’t see that coming. Don’t you have another contact?”

  “Yes, I do, come to think of it.”

  “You talk to him, and I’ll invite Hunter to a dinner party. Between the two of us, we should find something out.”

  I love it when Lady Elsmere and I conspire.

  Most people don’t see it coming.

  9

  I eased into the duct-taped booth at Al’s Bar on Sixth and Limestone.

  Kelly looked up in surprise. “Josiah!”

  “You’ve been avoiding me, Officer Kelly.”

  He looked around to see if anyone was listening. “I thought it best to maintain a low profile. My wife doesn’t want me to hang around with you.”

  “Because of Asa?”

  Kelly nodded.

  “Completely understandable. How’s she doing?”

  “When things get bad, my wife pours herself a drink, puts on some lipstick, and pulls herself together. Her anger will pass–I hope.”

  “Would it help if I told her the affair was all Asa’s fault?”

  “I think the less said about Asa the better.”

  “I guess you and the family won’t be coming over for Thanksgiving this year?”

  “Better pass on that.”

  We sat in silence, ruminating on the sad state of affairs between us.

  I got up to leave. “When things cool off, give me a call.”

  Kelly reached up, tugging on my arm. “Sit. Did you need something?”

  Sitting back down, I replied, “I do, but I can’t ask you when things between us are not good. Maybe another time.”

  “Tell me what you need. I don’t want this breach between us.”

  “I don’t
want to get you in trouble.”

  Kelly scratched his stubbled chin with impatience. “Just tell me.”

  “I want to know about the Sloan case.”

  “It’s still under investigation.”

  “Was the fire officially declared arson?”

  “I think so, but they haven’t located either of the Sloans.”

  The disappointment must have shown on my face.

  Kelly offered, “Hey, look. I’ll ask some of my buddies in the Fire Department. Feel them out. See what they say.”

  My expression must have brightened, because Kelly’s expression softened. “You’re always going out on a limb for others. Be careful, Josiah. People don’t care that you put yourself at risk for them. Don’t let yourself be used.”

  Kelly’s words alarmed me.

  He decided to add a codicil. “You’re the best, you know that.” He pointed a finger at me. “Don’t you ever forget it, no matter what others say.”

  I crossed my heart. “Never. Never and a day.”

  10

  I was at my usual stand at the Farmer’s Market on Saturday morning when Officer Kelly strolled up, and purchased honeysuckle soap and two pounds of my clover honey.

  When the other customers browsing at my booth left, Kelly came behind the stand and whispered, “Sandy Sloan took her entire savings out in cash the same day as the fire, and scattered the money all over the house. The firefighters found half-burnt bills in the house and in the yard, where the wind had blown them. They also found clothes that matched the description you gave of what Sandy was wearing that morning. They were folded neatly by the edge of the cliff.

  “They have two working theories–Sandy started the fire and then committed suicide by jumping off the cliff, or Toby Sloan caught her setting the house on fire and killed her in a fit of rage, throwing the body off the cliff, staging it to look like a suicide. Either way, your friend Sandy Sloan is presumed dead.”

  “But a body hasn’t been found?” I was hoping against hope.

  “They sent divers into the river, but Josiah, you know how the Kentucky River is. The body could pop up tomorrow or a month from now. I know you hate to hear this, but your friend is probably snagged under a fallen tree somewhere along the river bank.”

  I clutched my stomach, feeling nauseous. “Thanks. I appreciate the information. One more question–where is Toby?”

  “Probably on the lam. No one has seen him or his truck since the morning of the fire. Sorry for the bad news. Wish it could have been better.” Kelly shifted his bag of goodies from the market and gave a short nod before leaving.

  I looked down at Georgie, who had come to the Market with me. She was wagging her shaggy tail, her golden-brown eyes looking up apprehensively.

  “Don’t worry, Georgie. He didn’t mention anything about Sandy’s car. It’s not at the house, so Sandy’s not dead. She’ll come back. You wait and see.”

  At that moment, I knew I was going to hell. I had sunk to one of the lowest rungs on the skunk ladder. I had lied to a dog.

  11

  “Now, listen! You are going to do this gratis, you freeloader!” I yelled at Walter Neff.

  “No, I’m not. These are my fees. Take ’em or leave ’em.”

  I was flabbergasted. “You have mooched off me for months, eating my food, having me wait on you while you commandeered my couch, frustrating Eunice to no end, and you have the nerve to tell me that you will only take this case if I pay. I can’t believe your gall.”

  “I don’t do cases for free. If you want me to investigate your friend, then you will have to pay. It’s professional ethics.”

  “You don’t even know what the word ethics means.”

  “Sticks and stones, Toots. Sticks and stones.”

  I took a step toward Walter with the intention of twisting his bulbous nose when suddenly a better idea popped into my head. “Okay, Walter. Be that way. If you won’t help me, I’ll call Asa and have her come home.”

  Walter’s face blanched. He grabbed my wrist as I reached for the phone. “Let’s not be hasty. I’m sure we can work something out. Did I say my regular fee? I meant half.”

  I brushed off his grimy little hand and picked up the phone. “No deal, schlemiel.”

  He wrenched the phone away.

  “Walter, give me that phone, or I’m going to pick up the nearest blunt object and brain you.”

  He laughed, dancing around as long as the phone cord on my old-fashioned landline phone would allow.

  “Baby, attack. Attack Baby, attack!” I shouted.

  Baby lifted his head from between his paws and looked toward Walter. Deciding Walter didn’t pose a threat, Baby rolled over on his side, asleep before his head hit the Navajo rug he was lying on.

  “Even Baby doesn’t take you seriously, Toots,” taunted Walter. He proceeded to yank the phone cord from the wall, holding the phone up like some wild game trophy he had just killed.

  “Shut up, Neff. You give me a migraine headache. No, I take that back. You are a headache.”

  “Ooh. That really cuts to the quick. Did you stay up all night thinking of that lame quip?”

  “I still have my cell phone in the car. I’m going to march out there and call Asa now. The first thing she’ll do is commandeer your Avanti, and haul it off to the junk yard to be crushed into a cube the size of a coffee bean with you in it.”

  Alarmed, Walter cut in, “Come on, Toots. I was just kidding. There’s no need to call Asa.” He started toward me.

  In a flash, Baby shot up and stood between us, growling at Walter. I reached down and petted Baby’s massive head, glad I could always count on him. He was not the obnoxious hairball everyone complained about. He was my protector, my four-legged guardian angel who happened to eat, poop, belch, fart, and shed a lot. Well, nobody’s perfect!

  Walter slowly backed away, put the phone back on the end table and sat down. “Call him off, Toots. That creature weighs a ton. He could crush me.”

  “Gee, that would be a shame.” I kissed the top of Baby’s head. “Good dog, Baby. Good dog. It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

  Baby gave me a cursory glance, and seeing I was not in danger (as if I ever was from Walter Neff), padded to his bed in the corner of the great room, his good eye still fixed on Walter. Tee-hee. Tee-hee.

  “Okay. Okay. You win. Give me the details,” sighed Walter.

  I passed him a pad and pencil. “I want to find out if Sandy or Toby Sloan are still alive.”

  Walter sneered, “Is that all?”

  “Come on. You claim to be a first-rate shamus. Do your job.”

  “Will you at least pay my expenses?”

  “As long as you bring me the receipts. No receipts–no moolah. Capiche?”

  “Capiche.”

  Walter and I shook on it.

  I felt better than I had in a long time.

  How was I to know that feeling would not last long?

  12

  The phone rang, but I didn’t recognize the caller ID, so I let the answering machine pick it up.

  “Hello? Josiah? This is Hunter Wickliffe. I’ve been invited–or summoned, I’m not sure which–to dinner at Lady Elsmere’s. Haven’t seen her in decades, so I don’t know why she wants to see me all of a sudden. I was told I could bring a guest, so I’m wondering if you would like to join me. Let me know fast. Dinner is two days from now.”

  BEEP!

  Without any hesitation, I hit the delete button on the answering machine.

  There was no way I was going to get tangled up with Wickliffe the way I did with Teddy McPherson.

  You know how that turned out–baaaad.

  13

  I caught sight of Franklin coming across the field as I was putting water out for the honeybees. They drink large amounts of water during the summer to keep the hive cool.

  I had scattered around several shallow pans lined with rocks, over which I poured clean water. The rocks were for the bees to land on. Otherwise, they wo
uld drown, since they cannot land on water. I used to have a water tank for them but it rusted out, so this had to do until I could purchase a new one.

  Franklin sat in my golf cart and waited patiently until I finished.

  “Did you walk from Matt’s house?”

  “Yep.”

  “Have you told Matt about Hunter yet?”

  “Getting around to it, but speaking of Hunter.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Why haven’t you returned his call?”

  “You know about that, huh?”

  “He’s been waiting for you to respond.”

  “Why do you care if I go out to dinner with him? You don’t claim Hunter as your brother. You admitted you haven’t told Matt yet.”

  “I did tell you I had a brother.”

  “Yeah, but it was the invisible brother. Why haven’t you told anyone the prodigal brother had returned?”

  “We had to work through some things first.”

  “Like what?” I asked, waving away a curious bee.

  (My friends–you should never swat a honeybee. It releases chemicals signaling to other honeybees to join the party. Then you swat more bees, and next you’re suddenly the victim of multiple stings. Of course, I swat them all the time. I don’t even notice I’m doing it–just like arguing with Franklin.)

  Franklin jumped out of the golf cart as more bees began flitting around my head. (See what I mean.) “Regardless of what you think, Josiah, I love my brother. I don’t like seeing him treated shabbily. Please call him.”

  It was rare of Franklin to chastise me and mean it.

  Sometimes I think I’m a bad person. I had lied to a dog, and now I had dissed Franklin’s big brother. Where was my malice going to end?

  “I erased the message with his phone number. Would you call Hunter and tell him I’ll meet him at Lady Elsmere’s at seven?”

  Franklin’s face relaxed until it was almost smiling–not quite, but almost. “Yeah, I can help you out there.”