Page 58 of My Sweet Poison
Withan irritated exhale through my nose, I carefully slid the bottle of 1945 Chateau Mouton-Rothschild back in its wine cradle.
Before removing my white cloth gloves, I swiped a speck of dust off the vintage Bordeaux's yellowed label. With a grimace at the unwanted intrusion, I left the solitude of my butler's pantry and crossed the hardwood floor of the massive estate kitchen to the landline telephone.
The staff had asked for the phone system to be updated, but I refused. There was nothing dignified about hunting for a wireless phone between the couch cushions.
As I passed a housemaid on her hands and knees scrubbing the ancient floorboards, I waved my hand to an area over her right shoulder. "You missed a spot."
Her glare burned the back of my neck, but when I turned her eyes were cast down, her brows furrowed in concentration. If she'd been so focused before, perhaps I wouldn't have had to remind her of her failings.
I'd deal with her insubordination and subpar work later.
Turning my gaze back to the shrill ring of the landline, I caught the maid's rolling eyes in the shining reflection of a copper pot. She wasn't going to last.I made a mental note to skip speaking to her directly and instead go straight to the housekeeper, Mrs. Bigsby, about the sour disposition of her new housemaid.I cleared my throat before lifting the phone receiver. "Ravenscroft Estate, Head Butler Mr. Tompkins speaking. Whom may I ask is calling?" I intoned slowly and deliberately.
"Cut the crap, Elijah, it's Stewart."
I yanked on my suit vest before smoothing my palm over the buttons to make sure itlayproperly. I then reached for my gold pocket watch, a gift from Mr. Worthington's father.I read the inscription,To my loyal servant, before checking the time.It was 5:27 p.m.
I was expected in Mrs. Bigsby's office in precisely three minutes to approve the week's menus and I still hadn't fully decanted the Bordeaux for tonight's dinner of roast lamb, which would be served promptly at 8 p.m.
This phone call was a disruption to my day I could ill afford. "Sheriff Walsh, this isan intrusion I neither invited nor appreciate, and I would thank you not to use such foul and, might I say, wholly inappropriate language for a man of your position."
How this man was elected sheriff of Cliffs End I would never know.
Stewart's laugh turned into a prolonged smoker's cough before he finally responded. "Jesus H. Christ, El, we went through school together. You helped me graffiti the water tower when Crystal Shanks dumped me. Can you stop with the bullshit Sheriff Walsh crap? There's a problem."
I did not appreciate thecrudereminder of myhumbleupbringing. If only the sheriff had endeavored torise above the station he was born to. Suppressing another reprimand, I asked, "What seems to be the issue?"
"There were shots fired at the courthouse today."
I gripped the counter. "Mr. Worthington was there. Was he injured?"
"We don't think so."
I dropped my formal, measured tone andtightened my hand on the receiver as I asked, "What do you mean you don't think so? How can you not know for certain?"
Stewart guffawed. "Because Mr. Worthington wasn't the only one they were shooting at. He drove off in his car before I got there."
I pressed a hand to the center of my chest.
Mr. Worthington shot at by the police like a common criminal?
My heart beat rapidly and there wasaslight numbness in my arm. I was certain I was having a heart attack.
His father and mother would roll in their graves.
Stewart continued. "So listen, we need to?—"
Before he could even finish his request, I squared my shoulders andinhaled deeply before voicing my next statement in an even tone so not a single word was missed. "Stewart, if you think, for one moment, I will allow you or any of those thugs you employ to step one foot on this estate, you are very much mistaken."
I may not have a clue what was going on, but I still knew my duty. It was to protect the Worthingtons at any cost. If that meant keeping law enforcement at bay, then that was precisely what I would do.
Stewart made some ill-mannered sound in the back of his throat. "Relax, El. I'm not storming the gates. I have it all under wraps. I need to talk to Mr. Worthington, but that leads me to the second issue. I found Mr. Worthington's Mercedes crashedinto a tree on the main road to the estate when I was on my way out there."
My composure fractured."Goddammit, Stewart. Why didn't you state that at the beginning instead of wasting my time with your inane chatter? I need to get a search party together to find Mr. Worthington."
"Relax, I've already started a search."
The Worthingtons' care was my responsibility, not the sheriff's. I had well-paid loyal staff at my disposal, notcounty badge-carriers with more ammunition than sense. "I must hang up the line now."
