Page 92 of Bourbon Bliss
Her eyes fluttered open. “Oh my god.”
I drew her in close and held her. Stroked her soft hair. Her body was liquid against mine, relaxed and languid.
“Did that feel good?”
She nodded and sat up. “It felt very good. But what about you?”
“It’s all right. We’re not keeping score on orgasms here, June Bug. I’m pretty damn thrilled I could make you feel good like that.”
“Me too. And I’m feeling a great deal of affection for you right now.”
I touched her face and kissed her softly. “I love you too, June Bug.”
30
June
The afternoon sun was bright when George and I left his house in Philadelphia. He was putting it up for sale and moving to Bootleg Springs officially. I found that arrangement decidedly satisfactory. What I didn’t like was the fact that he’d done nothing more than put in a call to Andrea to have her take care of it. There was still something about her that didn’t sit right with me. I hadn’t brought it up again—I wanted to trust his judgment—but I’d also encouraged him to take a trip out to his house to meet the real estate agent in person.
He’d agreed, and he’d been happy to have me come with him. I’d also talked him into taking me on a little detour. The woman claiming to be Callie Kendall had moved to Philadelphia, and I wanted to find her.
One of the largest publishers in the world had announced a book deal to publish her memoir next year. The Callie Kendall story was already being called one of the most highly anticipated autobiographies in years.
It meant she was once again newsworthy. She’d been interviewed by several reporters, telling them she’d moved to Philadelphia to start a new life. I’d done some digging, cross-referencing what I could find in photos online with information in her most recent interviews, and located her neighborhood.
No one seemed to be questioning the fact that she’d chosen to live over four hours from Richmond, where Judge and Mrs. Kendall lived. Nor that she had yet to go anywhere near Bootleg Springs since her reappearance. I found those facts highly suspicious, and although they didn’t prove she was an impostor, they did support my theory.
But before I could do anything else, I needed proof. Solid, scientific proof that this woman wasn’t Callie Kendall.
“Do you feel better now that you had a chance to negotiate with the real estate agent?” George asked when we got into his car. He reached behind to set a stack of mail on the back seat.
“I got you a much better deal,” I said. “He was going to overcharge you.”
He smiled. “Thanks, June Bug. Where to now?”
I plugged the address in the GPS app on George’s phone. “There.”
“All right, Scooby-June. But please tell me we’re not driving over there so you can knock on her door and ask for ID.”
“Not at all,” I said. “I think at this stage of my investigation, speaking to her directly would be a mistake.”
“So what are we going to do?”
“Get a DNA sample.”
George started coughing. “Excuse me, what now?”
“As part of the original missing persons and potential homicide investigation, they obtained DNA evidence. If I can get a DNA sample, I’ll have a genetics lab run it against the known DNA from Callie Kendall. Then it won’t matter what she looks like or what parts of her story are questionable. DNA evidence won’t lie.”
“Okay, I’m with you in theory. But how are you going to get DNA?”
“According to the laboratory technician I spoke with, the three best sources would be a toothbrush, underwear, or a hair sample.”
“June, I amnotgoing to steal this woman’s toothbrush or panties. Especially panties.”
I glanced at him with a smile. He was so cute when he got worked up. “I wouldn’t ask you to touch her panties.”
“That’s good to hear. The only panties I want to make off with are yours.”
