The Angels' Share (The Bourbon Kings Book 2) (44 page)

“Sir! Oh, sir?”

Edward looked back as they got to the other side of the road. Their waitress had come out of the restaurant with the money he’d left.

“Your bill’s only twenty-four and some change,” the woman said across the street. “This is way too much—”

“You keep the change.” He smiled as her eyes grew wide, and then she looked at the money like she didn’t know what it was. “I’ll bet being on those feet all shift makes your back ache like hell. I should know from the aching. Treat yourself to a night off or something.”

She focused on him—only to frown. “Wait a minute … are you—” “Nobody. I’m nobody.” He waved good-bye and turned to the truck. “Just another customer.”

“Well, thank you!” she called out. “It’s the biggest tip I’ve ever gotten!” “You deserve it,” he said over his shoulder.

Heading around the cab, he opened Shelby’s door and helped her in even though she didn’t need the help.

“That was a really nice thing to do,” she said.

“Well, it’s probably the best meal I’ve had since—no offense.”

“None taken.” She put her hand on his arm before he could shut her in. “What’s the thing you want me to know?”

Before he replied, Edward leaned against the door, removing the weight from his bad ankle. “You’re always going to have a job at the Red & Black. For however long you want it, you will always have the work and
the apartment. Hell, I can see you and Moe running the thing together—whether or not you let his son take you out on a date, whether or not you like Joey back.”

Shelby glanced away in that manner she seemed to when she was emotional. And as Edward studied her face, he thought,
Huh, this must be what it’s like to have a proper little sister.

Gin was more like having a banshee in your house.

Or a tornado.

After all, much as he loved that woman, he had never felt particularly close to her. He wasn’t sure anyone ever got close to Gin.

And so yes, it was nice to feel protective, but not possessive, over someone. Nice to do a good thing or two. Nice to send something other than acid anger out into the world.

Abruptly, she looked at him.

“Why do I get the impression you’re leaving?” she asked grimly.

I
n the end, Gin returned to Easterly because there was nowhere else for her to go. Parking the Drophead in its berth in the garages, she walked over to the kitchen entrance and went in through the screen door.

As usual, everything was neat and in order, no pans in the sink, the dishwasher quietly running, the countertops gleaming. There was a lingering sweetness in the air, that old-fashioned soap Miss Aurora used.

Gin’s heart was beating as she proceeded to the door to the woman’s private quarters. Curling up a fist, she hesitated before knocking.

“Come on in, girl,” came the demand from the other side. “Don’t just stand there.”

Opening the way in, Gin hung her head because she didn’t want the tears in her eyes to show. “How did you know it was me?”

“Your perfume. And I’ve been waiting for you. Also saw the car come in.”

Miss Aurora’s living space was set up in exactly the same way it always had been, two big stuffed chairs set against long windows,
shelves full of pictures of kids and grown-ups, a galley kitchen that was as spotless and orderly as the women’s big, professionally appointed one. Gin had never been in the bedroom and bath; nor would it ever have occured to her to ask to see them.

Eventually, Gin looked up. Miss Aurora was in the chair she always used, and she indicated the vacant one. “Sit.”

Gin went across and did as she was told. As she smoothed her skirt, she thought of doing so when she’d been in the reflecting garden with Samuel T.

“It’s called an annulment,” Miss Aurora said abruptly. “And you should do it immediately. I’m a Christian woman, but I will tell you plainly that you married a bad man. Then again, you act before you think, you are rebellious even when no one is doin’ you wrong, and your version of freedom is being out of control, it’s not about making choices.”

Gin had to laugh. “You know, you’re the second person who’s torn me apart tonight.”

“Well, that’s ’cuz the good Lord clearly thinks you need to hear the message twice.”

Gin thought about her whole out-of-control thing. Remembered her and Richard fighting in her room just the other night, and her going for that Imari lamp. “My mood’s been all over the place lately.”

“That’s because the sand’s shifting under your feet. You don’t know what you’re standing on, and that makes a body dizzy.”

Putting her face in her hands, she shook her head. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

During the trip back from the seminary, she had vacillated between that emotionally difficult, but clear-sighted, conversation with Samuel T. … and her urge to re-embrace the calculated mania of her old way of doing things.

“There is nothing that cannot be undone,” Miss Aurora said. “And your true family will not desert you, even if the money does.”

Gin thought of the great house they were in. “I failed at being a mother.”

“No, you didn’t try.”

“It’s
too late.”

“If I’d said that when I came into this house and met the four of you, where would you all be?”

Gin remembered back to all those nights the five of them had eaten together in the kitchen. Even as a fleet of nannies had cycled through the household, mostly because they were tortured and way out-gunned, Miss Aurora had been the one person who could corral her and her brothers.

Searching the photographs on the shelves, Gin became teary again as she saw several of her—and she pointed to a picture of her in pigtails. “That was on the way to summer camp.”

“You were ten.”

“I hated the food.”

“I know. I had to feed you for a month after you got home—and you’d only been away for two weeks.”

“That one’s Amelia, isn’t it.”

Miss Aurora grunted as she turned in her chair. “Which one? The pink?”

“Yes.”

“She was seven and a half.”

“You were there for her, too.”

“Yes, I was. She’s the closest thing to a true granddaughter I have because you’re the closest thing to a daughter I have.”

Gin brushed under her eyes. “I’m glad she has you. She got kicked out of Hotchkiss, you know.”

“That’s what she told me.”

“I’m so glad she comes to talk to you—”

“You know I’m not going to be here forever, right?” As Gin looked over, Miss Aurora’s dark eyes were steady. “When I’m gone, you need to pick up the slack with her. No one else will, and she’s got one foot in childhood, one in adulthood. It’s a precarious time. You step up, Virginia Elizabeth, or I swear I will haunt you. Do you hear me, girl? I will come back as your conscience and I will
not
let you rest.”

For the
first time, Gin properly focused on Miss Aurora. Under her housecoat, she was thinner than she had ever been, her face drawn with bags under her eyes.

“You can’t die,” Gin heard herself say. “You just can’t.”

Miss Aurora laughed. “That’s up to God. Not you or me.”

L
ane
was not leaving the business center until the detectives were finished. As a result, therefore, he found himself walking in and out of the offices, killing time until eventually, he found himself opening the way into his father’s space and taking a seat in the chair his dear old dad had always sat in.

And that was when he had an aha! moment.

Pushing himself around on the leather throne, he shook his head and wondered why it hadn’t dawned on him sooner.

There were shelves behind the desk, shelves that were filled with your standard-issue, leather-bound volumes and framed diplomas and manly effects of a life lived to impress other people with money: sailing trophies, horse pictures, bourbon bottles that were unusual or special. But none of that was what interested him.

No, what he had suddenly noticed and cared about were the built-in, hand-tooled, wood-faced cabinets that were underneath the ego display.

Leaning down, he tried a couple, but they were all locked—and yet there didn’t seem to be any obvious places to put keys or enter codes—

One of the French doors to the terrace opened, and Lizzie came in,
a pair of sweet teas in her hands and something that looked like a sleeve of Fig Newtons in the pocket of her shorts.

“I’m hungry,” she said. “And I feel like sharing the wealth.”

As she headed around and dropped a kiss on his lips, he pulled her into his lap and helped her take out the cookies. “Sounds good to me.”

“How are things going in there?”

“I have no idea. I keep expecting them to say that they’ve copied the files and are off, but not yet.”

“It’s been a while.” She opened the plastic wrapping and offered him one. When he shook his head, she put a cookie in her mouth. “But they haven’t asked for anything else?”

“No.” Taking a sip of what she’d brought, he sighed. “Oh, yeah. This is good.”

“So guess what?”

“Tell me.”

“I’m giving myself a promotion.” As he laughed, she nodded. “I’m appointing myself house manager.”

The instant she said it, he thought,
Oh, thank God.
Because yes, the bills were piling up, and staff had to be handled, and the endless details of the estate had to be dealt with even if there was a freeze on spending. But …

“Wait, you have so much work already. The gardens, and—”

“Here’s the thing. Mr. Harris has quit.”

Lane shook his head. “You know, I’m actually relieved.”

“Yeah, me, too. I helped him move out today. I didn’t want to go into it with you at the time because he’d made up his mind and there’s been so much else going on. But his check bounced, and it made me think about what’s going on with your household accounts—this place is expensive to run with a lot of moving parts. I mean, like, we need to pay all those waiters. We can’t just leave them hanging. The groundsmen all have checks that go out automatically, I just don’t know when? And if there weren’t enough funds for Mr. Harris? Then there aren’t enough for the other people.”

“Shit, I didn’t even think about that.”

“I
know that you’re going to want to do right by everyone. So we’ve got to get money into the household account, and we need to make staffing plans. If cuts have to be made, we’ve got to give people notice. We can’t have the folks who work here in good faith get hurt.”

“I agree.” He kissed her again. “One hundred percent.”

“But I’ll figure it out. I’ll go through everything and then let you know where we are. I don’t know where we can find the cash—”

“Actually, I do. I’ll take care of it first thing in the morning before Lenghe comes.”

“Lenghe?”

“Yeah. I’m playing some high stakes poker tomorrow night. And before you say that’s crazy, I’ll remind you that I have to work with what I got—and it ain’t much.”

“Who’s Lenghe—how do you say it?”

“Lang-ee. And we call him the Grain God—and that’s self-explanatory. You’re really going to like him. He’s right up your alley, a good soul who loves the land. And remember, I played poker in college and afterward. It’s my only skill.”

She put her arms around his neck. “I think you’ve got a couple of others—”

“Am I interrupting anything?”

Lane pivoted the chair toward the door, and thought it was so damned appropriate that Merrimack picked that moment to make an appearance. “You guys finished in there, Detective?”

Annnnnd there was the smile. “Getting there. Ma’am, it’s nice to see you again.”

Lizzie got to her feet, but stayed by Lane. “You, too.”

“Well, I thought you’d like to know that I’m removing the seal on the controller’s office.” Merrimack smiled. “We have everything we need from there.”

“Good,” Lane said.

“We were wondering about that,” Lizzie murmured.

“Were you? What a coincidence.” The detective got a little pad out. “Now,
I’d like a list of people who have access to the security sector of the computer network. Do you know who has that information?”

“Not a clue.” Lane shrugged. “I’m happy to ask the IT department at corporate. Maybe they know.”

“Or maybe your brother Edward knows.”

“Perhaps.”

“Tell me something, did he play a role in installation of the security programs?”

“I don’t know.” Okay, that was a lie. “Why?”

“You don’t know whether he did or he didn’t?”

“I haven’t been much involved with this household or the business until recently. So I can’t really tell you.”

“Okay.” The detective clapped the pad against his open palm. “I think I’ll just call your brother directly, then.”

“He doesn’t have a cell phone. But I can give him a message to get in touch with you.”

“No need. I know where he lives.” The detective looked around. “Sure is impressive in here.”

“It is.”

“You must miss your father.”

Anyone who was fooled by this casual, Columbo-esque routine was an idiot, Lane thought.

“Oh, of course. I miss him to distraction.”

“Father and son. It’s a special bond.”

“Yes.”

There was a pause, and when Lane didn’t take things paternal any further than that, Merrimack smiled again. “I heard your brother Max is home again. That’s kind of a surprise. It’s been a while since he’s been to Easterly, hasn’t it.”

“Yes.”

“But he’s been in Charlemont for a number of days.” As Lane frowned, the detective lifted a brow. “You didn’t know that? Really? Well, I’ve got a couple of witnesses who say he and Edward were
together. The afternoon of the day your father died. Did you know about the two of them meeting up?”

Lane felt a curse shoot up his throat, but he kept it to himself by force of will. “That’s putting me on the spot, you realize.”

“Is it? It’s just a simple question.”

“No offense, Detective, but you’re conducting a homicide investigation. There are no simple questions coming from you.”

“Not as long as you’re telling the truth and not trying to protect someone. Are you protecting someone, Mr. Baldwine? Or do you have something yourself that you’re hiding? Because we’ve got a lot of information that’s working for me. I strongly encourage you to be as open and honest as possible.”