Bottle Kill Ch. 01

Adriana said "I'm not expecting those numbers for my fundraiser, but we'll see just how much we can raise. And auctioning off that bottle of Pappy will certainly help."

"And there could be more on the way." I said. "My 'Crowbar Crew' of fundraising kids have been known to raise large amounts of money in short amounts of time."

Julia and Adriana had ordered salads for lunch, and Adriana was surprised at how huge they were. I had the Double Breakfast Burger Plate, a double cheeseburger with a fried egg and bacon added, and fries with it. The Sheriff had the Fried Chicken plate, and his sides were green beans and the best Mac & Cheese in the State, per my biased opinion.

As we ate, we talked about the World Whiskey Tasting Championships. Sheriff Griswold said "They're being hosted by the 'Whiskey Nation Tribe', and they'll host the 'Bourbon Ball' next Saturday night... which most of us call the 'Ballroom Blitz', as it gets pretty rowdy. A lot of the WhiskeyTubers will have booths set up during the week, selling merchandise."

Adriana said "And the WWTC finals will be moderated by Matt Beverly, last year's WWTC Champion and also the winner of the World's Top Whiskey Taster (WTWT) contest."

"He's a character." said Sheriff Griswold. "His livestreams and review videos are the stuff of legend in the WhiskeyTuber community."

Adriana continued: "And there will be other livestreams. Jason Q of the 'Mets and Falcons' channel will do his livestream with guests, and the Shelf Nerds and the Whiskey Wrench will do their livestreams before and maybe after they compete. And Dan and Julie Love, the 'Love Couple' of the WhiskeyTube world and the most generous people I know, will do their stream on Thursday. They're known for having a lot of 'dad jokes' from their chatters on their livestreams."

"Hey, I've got a bunch of kids that would love to tell them some dad jokes." I said.

"Har." growled Griswold. "But Crowbar, we can't have kids at the Whiskey Convention. Just imagine the optics. Bettina and the Press would have a field day attacking us for that."

"Hmm, we'll have to find a workaround, then." I said. "So, is this an all-bourbon convention?"

"Har, not even close." growled the Sheriff. "The Scotch contingent will be well-represented, as will the Irish. I'm hoping to see more Indian and Japanese whiskeys; those are really coming on fast, as are American Whiskeys not labeled 'bourbon'. But bourbon and rye are the biggest groups."

Julia's eyes twinkled just a bit as she said "Adriana can't wait to taste the Ryes."

"Harumph!" Adriana protested.

Julia explained: "It's a well-known joke around the WhiskeyTube community that Adriana doesn't like Rye whiskeys. So people send her samples, saying 'this one will change your mind'. But they never do."

Adriana said "No, I just don't like the Ryes. Rye in bourbon, where the corn is dominant, I can live with. But when it's mostly rye, not so much."

"Crowbar is just the opposite." said the Sheriff.

"Well, I don't dislike bourbon." I said. "But there's an aftertaste of bourbon and corn whiskeys that I'm not a fan of, and rye covers that up. I do like the ryes that have that spearmint note, like the Wilderness Trail Rye, or the banana note the Jack Daniels Ryes have. But all-in-all, I'll take a good Scotch any time."

"You sound you know your way around whiskey, Don." said Adriana. "Why aren't you competing?"

"Hmmph." I said. "I can barely get past the alcohol note. When it comes to whiskey, I am but the student; the Sheriff is the mah-sterrrr."

"Good asskissing skills, Crowbar." growled the Sheriff, his mustaches twitching merrily...

Part 4 - Poker Faces

4:30pm, Sunday, February 7th. Sheriff Griswold, Teresa Croyle, and I went to the Hyatt Hotel to check on security arrangements for the events taking place. We all had our badges, but were dressed in casual civilian clothes, and we were all wearing our pullover fleece sweatshirts with the sewn-on embroidered 'Guardians of Justice' logos. My pullover was red, the Sheriff's was khaki/tan, and Teresa's was white. I was wearing my khaki Tilley Hat with Airborne Wings over my TCPD hat badge. The Sheriff was wearing a cowboy hat like his predecessor Daniel Allgood often did before he, Allgood, was elected Mayor. Teresa was wearing nothing on her very attractive dirty-blonde head.

The entrance to the Hyatt was on the north side of the building. Teresa said "The whisky events are on the east side of the building, which I'm told has better soundproofing than the west side, where the Poker competitions will be."

"They host the State Chess Championships on the west side." I said. "So I'm kinda doubting that the east side is better soundproofed."

"Not much gets past you, Crowbar." growled Griswold. "Good observation."

We entered the large room that was hosting the poker tournament. As we looked over the various poker tables that had been set up, we heard a commotion behind us. A small entourage entered the room.

"How did these guys get in here?" I heard one man in a suit say. "This is supposed to be a secure area."

"Yes, it is. We didn't know people were here." said another man in a suit, with a nametag that denoted his employment as private Security. To us he said "You guys will have to leave."

"I don't think so." said Teresa, exhibiting her TCPD badge. "I'm in charge of all security here during this next week's events."

"It's okay, Mike." said a voice, that of an older man that had entered the room, and was clearly the center of attention. He looked to be in his late sixties or early seventies, just younger than Sheriff Griswold. His hair was brown but going gray, and was curly underneath a huge Stetson cowboy hat. He was short and slender, and looked like he could handle himself in a fight. His face reminded me of the late radio personality Don Imus.

He was wearing a tuxedo and black bow tie. On his arm was a very lovely woman, taller than him in her high heels, wearing an expensive evening dinner dress and diamond earrings, necklace, and bracelet on her wrist. And her engagement ring was scandalously large. She had the body and legs of a model, and her hair was styled like Jessica Rabbit in that famous movie, but was brown instead of red. She looked at Teresa disdainfully.

The man said "You probably don't recognize Officer Griswold there, but I remember him when he was working security as a babyfaced Officer when I won the title. How're you doin', Grizz?" His cheeks were rosy, and I suspected he would not pass a field sobriety test at this moment.

"It's 'Sheriff Griswold' now." said the Sheriff, shaking the older man's hand. "Guys, this is Theodore 'Tex' Boone. He won the Poker Championships here some... what, twenty years ago?"

"Exactly 20 years ago tomorrow." said Boone. "I'm just here to reminisce, and I'll probably visit the whiskey convention. I heard there's an auction for a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle 23-year, and I don't think anyone can outbid me for it."

"Har." barked Griswold. "Tex, these are two of my finest Police Officers. Lt. Commander Teresa Croyle, who is in charge of security around here; and Commander Don Troy, who is command of everything."

"The Iron Crowbar?" Boone said, his eyes wide with amazement, as were the eyes of everyone in his entourage. I held up the red crowbar, wondering as always how people either failed to see it, or didn't make the connection even though they'd heard the name. "Well, I'm sho-nuff glad to meet you, Pardner!" he said, offering his hand, and trying (and failing) to crush my hand as he shook it.

"This is my fiancée, Tiffany." Boone said. "Mike is in charge of my security, and this is my assistant Mary." He did not introduce the four others in the entourage, and I did not need for him to. Two were Security, and the other two were Hotel concierges that were not quite hiding their misery at this assignment. Also with them was a smaller, shorter man with curly black hair and spectacles, that reminded me of Weinstein, the Jewish owner of a bar and club in the 'Tenderloin District' on the southside of Town.

"Is this guy with you?" interrupted Mike the Security man, indicating a man that had come in behind Boone's group. He was a big man: tall, portly, with black hair on his balding head, and spectacles. His face reminded me of George Constanza, who played Jason Alexander on the television series 'Seinfeld'. But despite his physical size, his demeanor seemed reticent and relatively weak.

"No, I just happened to come in." the man said. "My name is Marty McMillan."

"Mr. McMillan," Teresa said as she peered at him, her voice cutting through the room, "are you here for the poker competition or the whiskey convention?"

"Neither, ma'am." Mr. McMillan said respectfully. "I'm attending the Molecular Biology Conference. I just came by to reminisce. You probably don't remember me, Mr. Boone, but I was here when you won your title 20 years ago. I was in the honeymoon suite that weekend, Suite 814."

"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Boone. "Mary, make sure Mr. McMillan here gets put in the honeymoon suite again this week, and put it on my tab. I want everything just like it was that week."

I knew from the 'Homewrecker' case that there was no honeymoon suite, but Mary said she would make sure Mr. McMillan was put in Room 814. (Author's note: 'Homewrecker') "And you're in room 404, sir, just like you were 20 years ago."

"Outstanding!" said Boone jovially. "So, Sheriff, you want that security job again?"

"Har." barked the Sheriff. "My security duties include the whole County now. We'll leave you guys to look around. Nice to meet you all." Teresa and I also made our goodbyes and followed the Sheriff out the door.

We went over to the east side of the hotel and looked at the rooms for the whiskey convention. I remembered from the 'Homewrecker' case that one room had a stage, and that room now had tables with a background and lighting on stage for people to do their livestreams.

"What's 'Tex' Boone about, Sheriff?" Teresa asked. "And I did notice he did not shake my hand."

"With his fiancée draped all over him like she was?" I replied. "I'm not surprised. And she was hating it that your body is better than hers, if I'm any good at reading faces."

"Yeah, don't worry about it, Iron Wolf." said the Sheriff, using Teresa's nickname. "He can't 'heppit' that he doesn't know you're the biggest badass in this County, present company included." He meant including me, of course.

"I entirely agree." I said, knowing that was true. Teresa rolled with it.

The Sheriff said "To answer your question: twenty years ago they had the national Poker Championships here. This hotel was brand spanking new, even had that 'new hotel' smell. I was assigned to be security here, and particularly for Boone. He won the ten million dollar grand prize, and over he parlayed those winnings into a $150 million fortune."

"Through gambling?" Teresa asked, a bit shocked.

"I don't think so." said the Sheriff. "Investments, mostly bonds of all things. He was not an audacious gambler in the Markets like he was with cards. He was brilliant, though, in both cards and the Markets. And I don't remember the details, but he had some tragedies in his life over time. Anyway, I'm surprised he recognized me, much less remembered me."

"You had those same magnificent mustaches then that you do now, Sheriff." I said. "So I'm not as surprised that a sharp card shark like him would remember you."

Teresa said, needling me: "Good asskissing skills on the mustaches." A red crowbar was waved in her general direction. Those mustaches twitched merrily on Our Sheriff's face as he laughed out loud...

Part 5 - Rye Faces: The Crime Scene

11:35am, Monday, February 8th. As Teresa and I discussed Uniformed Personnel issues, my landline phone buzzed. My assistant Helena French said that Captain of Detectives Claire Michaels wanted to see me, and I had Captain Michaels come on in.

"Sir, ma'am," said Captain Michaels as she came into my office. "We just got a 9-1-1 call from the Hyatt Hotel. Two persons, a man and a woman, were found dead in one of the rooms there."

"Who are you putting on it?" I asked.

"Roark Coleman and Julia Rodriguez." said Claire. "And Lieutenant Davis is in overall charge at the scene."

"Good." I said, not asking why Coleman and Rodriguez were sent together, since they were not each other's partners. "Keep me in the loop on what they find."

"Er, sir..." Claire said. I looked up as she said "You may want to go by there yourself. It's a celebrity case, and a KXTC Press van has already shown up."

Teresa and I looked at each other, then I grabbed my Police radio and said "Commander Troy to Lieutenant Davis."

"Go for Davis." said MCD Lieutenant Jerome Davis's voice on the radio.

"Davis, go to Channel 5." I said. An instant later I heard on Channel 5 Encrypted Radio: "This is Davis for Commander Troy."

"This is Troy." I said. "Davis, who are the dead victims at the Hyatt?"

Davis said "The man has been identified as a Theodore Boone, nicknamed 'Tex'. The woman is not yet identified, sir..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Teresa and I came into the Hyatt Hotel via the side entrance to the gated parking lot, avoiding the Press that were gathered in the lobby and being held there. We were escorted by Patrolman Johnson to the elevator. He remained on the ground floor as Teresa and I rode up the elevator to the fourth floor.

When we got to the fourth floor, Patrolman Culver took our names and badge numbers, then we went into Room 404. It was a relatively spacious room, as Rooms 704 and 804 above it were actual suites. It had a very small kitchenette to the front right, and a large bathroom to the left. There was a king size bed on the right, a desk against the left side wall, a cabinet next to the desk that contained the television monitor, and a sofa and two chairs against the back wall with the window to the outside behind it, and a coffee table in front of them.

Lying face down just past the bed, her feet towards the front of the room, was 'Tex' Boone's fiancée Tiffany, wearing the same dress she'd worn the night before. At the foot of the bed, nearer to the door, was Boone himself, also wearing the same tux he'd worn the night before. The back of his head had been crushed in by a savage blow from behind. There were shards of thick glass on either side of his body, and a strong odor of whiskey permeating the room.

"Smells like a bourbon distillery in here." I said.

"No, it's Rye." said Sheriff Griswold, who came in after us. I did not argue.

"Whaddya got, Roark, Julia?" I asked Detective Roark Coleman, who was on his knees examining but not touching the shards of glass. Detective Julia Rodriguez was examining the body of the unfortunate Tiffany.

"Please walk on the plastic strip we laid out, sir." said a CSI technician, pointing out the one-foot-wide strip of plastic that ran from the door to the back of the room. I nodded.

"Sir," said Julia, "she was either strangled or her neck was broken. Her full name is Tiffany Adele Westgate, age 38, no criminal record of any kind that has come up with her fingerprint data."

Roark Coleman said "He's Theodore Boone, nicknamed 'Tex'. This is his room; he checked in last night. As you can see, sir, the back of his head was crushed in by a powerful blow, probably from a glass object that shattered and is now in shards around his upper body."

"Whiskey bottle, maybe?" I asked.

"Yes sir." said Roark Coleman. "After the scene is processed, we can try to put the pieces of the bottle back together again, maybe get some labelling."

"I can tell you some of that right now." I said, seeing that some of the glass pieces were large. "This says 'Woodf...', which suggests a Woodford Reserve bottle. And I see the word 'Rye' here."

"Told ya, Crowbar." growled Sheriff Griswold at the door. As he came over to us, he said "Most alcohol bottles are cylindrical or rectangular. Some may have curved shoulders, and can be unique. It's sometimes a trivia question in a competition to identify a bottle by its silhouette."

The Sheriff continued: "The Woodford Reserve bottles are relatively thin and wide with a fairly long neck, like ping pong paddles. A Woodford Reserve bottle would crush the entire back of his head if it was a broadside hit, or make a huge indentation like a crowbar would if the narrow edge made contact. Either way, it'd be a powerful weapon."

"Gives new meaning to the words 'bottle kill', wouldn't you say, Sheriff?" said Vice Lieutenant Micah Rudistan jovially as he came up to us, looking a bit odd in plainclothes. With him was Vice Detective Joan Laurer, who was very tall, 'statuesque', with her raven-black hair in a tight bun behind her head. She was wearing a black sweater, plaid skirt, black stockings and expensive-looking black leather boots. It was a good look on her.

"Har." barked the Sheriff. "You got that right, Rudistan." In whiskey parlance, a 'bottle kill' was finishing off a bottle of whiskey by drinking all that was left in it, leaving an empty bottle. Depending on the quality of the whiskey, that could be a good or bad thing, and I'd often heard the Sheriff lament when he killed a bottle of a bourbon he particularly liked.

"Why are you here, Rudistan?" Teresa Croyle asked. "Or more specifically, why is this Vice's party?"

"Oh it's not, ma'am." said Rudistan, remaining jovial. "I'll give you the details of why Joan and I are here privately, ma'am."

"Why don't you give them to me here and now, Lieutenant." Teresa said, showing some anger and impatience.

I interjected: "Because he's right to not discuss his mission here while everyone is at the crime scene. Either find a private place to talk or wait until later."

Teresa took my rebuke professionally, not even blinking an eyelash. But she doesn't like waiting, so she had Rudistan go with her out of the room. After a moment, I went over to look at Tiffany's body and made observations as Roark Coleman began talking to Joan about Boone's body.

"It appears she has on all the jewelry she had on last night." I said to Julia Rodriguez. "Oh wait... belay there... her engagement ring is not on her finger."

"Uh, sir, how do you know what she had on last night?" she asked.

I replied: "Oh yeah... the Sheriff, Commander Croyle, and I were here, and we ran into this couple and their entourage late yesterday afternoon. And that brings up something: who called this in, and when?"

"Maid service found them when they came by to put in fresh towels." Julia said. "The front desk called 9-1-1, we responded within minutes... and the Press still got here before us."

"Yeah, they probably have someone paid to call them if something happens." I replied. "Ah, here's Martha the M.E." Our Medical Examiner had just come into the room. "Hello, Martha. If you'll be kind enough to examine her body first, I'd appreciate it. His cause of death looks pretty obvious."

"Certainly, Commander." Martha said. She usually didn't like her routine messed with, so her agreeability and politeness had me wondering if something was going on with her. I put that into a compartment of the mind as I had Lt. Jerome Davis come out into the hallway with me, and invited the Sheriff to listen in on our conversation.

"Jerome," I said, "the Sheriff and I saw Mr. Boone with his fiancée yesterday afternoon, along with his security and entourage. We need every bit of video this hotel has from yesterday afternoon through the time the bodies were found, so get warrants for that immediately. We've had issues with this hotel in the past getting info quickly, so move fast and hard on that."

"Yes sir." said Jerome. "I know Intel is already in the process of making that happen."