The Bourbon Thief(47)

“There it is,” Tamara said right as they turned another slow corner.

Ahead was a little house, not impressive at first, not in the way Arden impressed with all its Old South grandeur. But Levi wasn’t comparing it to Arden. Arden seemed a million miles away and would always be George Maddox’s house even if it became Levi’s property someday. But this could be his house and he loved it from the first sight of it. The bungalow was painted white with robin’s-egg-blue trim. Levi noted the ceiling and floor of the front porch had been painted that same heavenly blue. The roof was steeply pitched and two dormer windows looked out from the top floor. Wildflowers grew all around the base of the house, nearly choking the porch. He refused to think of them as weeds even if they were. They were too beautiful to be called ugly names.

Tamara opened the truck door before he could walk around and open it for her. She walked up to the porch, carrying nothing with her. Levi grabbed the bags and his duffel. He set them down on the porch floor, which needed sweeping. Up closer Levi could see a layer of grime, dirt and saltwater residue covering the entire exterior of the house. It didn’t bother him to see it. It gave him a sense of purpose. This was his house or would be in time. He would take pleasure in putting it to rights.

He opened the screen door and tried the knob. “Do you have a key?” he asked. Tamara stood next to him, so close their bodies touched. She stretched her arm high to feel along the top of the door frame, enough to reveal a few inches of bare stomach under her shirt. She pulled down a key and handed it to him.

“You don’t want to do the honors?” he asked. “I opened the gate. You can open up the house.”

She shook her head hard.

“You do it.”

“What’s wrong?”

She looked paler than usual.

“You go in first,” she said. “Please?”

“Why?” he teased. “You afraid there’s a wolf in there and you want him to eat me, not you?”

“This house...” she said.

“What about it?”

Tamara met his eyes.

“It’s where Daddy died. When he...you know.”

When he shot himself in the head.

Levi gave her a good long look, searching her out and finding only a girl’s honest face and a natural fear of what might be left behind from that day.

“This is why you didn’t want to tell me where we were coming,” Levi said. “You knew I’d say no?”

“I want to be here. I do,” she said. “I need to be here. I... Can you please go in first? Just in case?”

Just in case.

Just in case there was something left of Nash in the house.

“All right,” Levi said. “Wait on the porch. I’ll see if there’s any ghosts or wolves or worse—mothers-in-law—in there. If I don’t come back in fifteen minutes, don’t call the cops. Call anybody but the cops.”

The key didn’t want to budge at first. The brass lock had started to turn green and Levi added Fix or replace the front doorknob to his list of things to do. They might be here in this place for a while. Might as well make himself useful.

Levi entered the house and shut the door behind him. Automatically he reached for a light switch, but when he flicked it, nothing came on. No electricity. Well, that was all right for tonight. It was dim but not dark in the front room. On the fireplace mantel he found a lantern and a box of matches beside it. He lit it and saw both the lantern and the matches looked new, as if someone had left them for him to find. Maybe someone had. Lifting the lantern, Levi found the front room in good order, with white sheets covering the furniture. He pulled one off, revealing a sofa the same color blue as the porch, with wood arms and legs carved with butterflies and dragonflies. A chair that matched. An oak table. Lamps plugged into the wall. None of them worked, either, but at some point this cottage had electricity. Maybe he had to call the power company? Maybe he had to find the fuse box? The fireplace was empty but looked clean. No ashes. No old wood. The walls were wood paneling but had been whitewashed not that long ago.

The kitchen was small but tidy, old-fashioned. It didn’t look like a rich man’s kitchen, that’s for sure. No microwave oven. No food processor. The gray Formica table and white refrigerator looked like they came straight from the abandoned set of Ozzie and Harriet. The big white porcelain sink had become home to a spiderweb that stretched from the window to the faucet. Levi wasn’t superstitious, but killing something his first night in his new home seemed like asking for trouble. He caught the spider in a glass and let it outside. When he turned on the tap, pale pink water came out at first, but after a minute the water ran clear. He filled his cupped palms with the water, splashed his face with it and drank a handful. Better he find out right away if the water was potable or not. Better him to get sick than Tamara. But it tasted fresh and fine now that it had worked the rust out of the pipes.

The cupboards weren’t bare, but close to it. Two plates. Two glasses. One for Nash Maddox and a spare in case he broke one?

Or one for Nash Maddox and one for someone else?

The bathroom downstairs looked all right, too. The porcelain bathtub must have been quite a showpiece in its heyday, which was probably somewhere around World War I. The finish had worn away on the bottom, but it was still nice, attractive and clean. Small sink. White wood-framed mirror. A toilet, thank God. Electricity he could live without for a month or two if he had to. Indoor plumbing, however, was a necessity, especially now that he had a wife in tow.