Page 10 of Bourbon Girl, Part 2 of 6
"Just trying to learn more about bourbon history," I said, closing the book and stretching my legs. "Work research."
"Find anything interesting?" He set down his equipment and settled onto the edge of the dock.
"Always. What about you? Any luck with arrowheads today?"
His face brightened with the enthusiasm. "Not arrowheads, something even better." He reached into his canvas bag and withdrew what looked like a small jewelry box made of crackedleather. "Found these in Boone Creek this morning after that storm we had yesterday."
He opened the box to reveal several pieces of tarnished jewelry nestled in faded velvet—a gold chain necklace with an intricate locket, a silver ring set with what might have been a small diamond, and a pair of pearl earrings that had lost their luster.
"Wow," I said, leaning closer to examine the pieces. "How old do you think they are?"
"Hard to say without proper testing, but the craftsmanship looks like maybe 1920s, 1930s. See how delicate the chain work is on this necklace?" He lifted the gold piece, and it caught the sunlight with surprising brilliance despite the tarnish. "Someone probably lost these decades ago, maybe in a flood."
The necklace was beautiful—far more elegant than anything I'd ever owned. The locket was engraved with tiny flowers.
"Here," Teddy said suddenly, extending the necklace toward me. "You should have it."
I pulled back. "Oh no, I couldn't. It's probably valuable, and you found it."
"Come on, it would look perfect on you." His voice carried a note of insistence that made me uncomfortable. "I've got plenty of finds at home. This one's special—it deserves to be worn by someone special."
"That's really sweet, but I can't accept it." I tried to keep my tone light. "You should keep your discoveries or maybe donate them to a historical society."
Teddy's expression shifted, his enthusiasm curdling into something darker. His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. "You don't have to be rude."
The change in his demeanor set off alarm bells in my head. The isolated dock, which moments before had felt peaceful, now seemed uncomfortably remote.
"I wasn't trying to be rude," I said carefully, gathering my book and preparing to stand. "I just—"
"Bernadette!" Poppy's unmistakable voice carried across the water, followed by the sound of running feet on the path. "There you are! Mom wants to know if you want to come to dinner tonight. We're making tacos!"
Teddy's face immediately smoothed back into pleasant neutrality as Poppy bounded onto the dock with her usual explosive energy. But I caught the flash of irritation in his eyes before he masked it.
"Hey, Teddy," Poppy said cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to the tension. "Finding any cool stuff today?"
"Just heading back," he said, standing and shouldering his bag with sharp, efficient movements. He gave me one last look. "See you around, Bernadette."
As he walked away, my senses hummed with apprehension. Teddy had shattered the sense of security I'd naively settled into where the campground was concerned.
August 12, Tuesday
active fermentationthe stage when yeast is vigorously converting sugars into alcohol
THE STRIPmall sat baking in the afternoon heat like a forgotten casserole, its cracked asphalt parking lot radiating waves that made the air shimmer. I parked Ginger between a rusted pickup truck and a sedan with a missing hubcap, then made my way past a motley collection of shabby businesses—a gym, a dry cleaner, a pawn shop, and a Waffle House.
The Two Guys Detective Agency occupied a narrow storefront, its glass door decorated with faded gold lettering. Through the window, I could see movement inside and hear raised voices.
A bell chimed as I pushed through the door, and I found myself in a cramped reception area straight out of the 1980s. The carpet was industrial gray with mysterious stains, and the furniture appeared to have been rescued from various office liquidation sales.
"—absolutely ridiculous, Octavia! We can't afford a thousand-dollar espresso machine when we're three months behind on rent!"
"It's an investment in our professional image, Linda! Clients expect certain amenities!"
I cleared my throat, and both women turned toward me with expressions of surprise and mild embarrassment. Linda stood behind a cluttered desk holding what appeared to be an invoice, while Octavia leaned against a filing cabinet with her arms crossed defensively.
"Bernadette from the campground," Octavia said, looking relieved at the interruption. "What a nice surprise."
"Hello." I glanced between the sisters, noting the tension. "I was hoping to speak with you, Octavia."
