Read Online Southern Haunts by Stuart Jaffe - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stuart Jaffe
Tags: Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Paranormal, Mystery, Private Investigators, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, supernatural, Religion & Spirituality, Ghosts, Paranormal & Urban, Occult, north carolina, brothel, Ghosts & Haunted Houses, prohibition
Ads: Link
took a moment to marvel at the idea that this all belonged to him.
His bones crackled as he climbed out of the car. He cradled the blue bottle marked CASPER like a delicate newborn. Libby had put up a fuss when he took it, and only backed off when Sandra promised they would return it while also emphasizing Max’s excellent researching skills. Libby acquiesced but not without scowling and grumbling.
Sandra had slept the entire drive home and now stirred from her slumber like a drunken co-ed paying for a long night out. Only, in Sandra’s case, she didn’t get to have any fun. She poured out of the passenger side and uttered a non-committal sound as she headed toward Max.
As the garage door rumbled down, he stared at the alarm keypad by the kitchen entrance. Ten seconds clicked by before he could recall the code. Sandra pressed her head against his back while she waited.
When they finally stepped inside the kitchen, Sandra mumbled a few indecipherable words and staggered upstairs to bed. Max threw his coat on the marble counter, set the blue bottle down, and threw on a pot of coffee. As tired as he felt, he knew he had gone past the point of falling asleep. Wired on adrenaline and caffeine, he figured he would focus on the case until he either discovered something important or passed out.
He grabbed the bottle, walked across the kitchen, stepped into a sunken living room, and through a door that opened into his study. A study. The idea that he lived in a house big enough to furnish a study still prickled his skin. The Darians had no such luxuries, despite both holding excellent jobs, and all they wanted was a place that wasn’t trying to kill them or possess their baby.
“Okay, Casper, time to find out about you.”
Max inspected the bottle with care. Cobalt blue with a fluted neck, the bottle had distinct ribbing that traveled from the mouth down to the shoulders. The name CASPER, curving to follow part of a circle, could be read with ease, but the rest of the engraving had been worn away.
Googling blue casper bottle returned instant hits. Max clicked on the images tab and saw dozens of bottles similar to the one sitting on his desk. Along with the blue bottles, the search results included several brown and tan whiskey jugs. The stamped labels on those jugs were easy to read.
FROM THE CASPER CO.
WINSTON-SALEM, NC
LOWEST PRICE WHISKEY HOUSE
SEND FOR CONFIDENTIAL PRICE LIST
From there, the searching went even easier. In no time, Max waded through article after article detailing the life of the Casper family and their involvement in the whiskey trade.
It all began in 1861 when the grandfather of John L. Casper set up a of couple stills in North Carolina. They were used for the family — mostly — and served to keep everyone happy through hard times. John L.’s father, John C. Casper, joined the unofficial company in 1865 after serving four years in the Confederate Army. He turned the private stills into a local business, expanding the distillery and selling throughout the Winston-Salem area. Soon after, he took over full operations of the business.
But things really changed when John L. Casper came into the picture. Once old enough, he began an apprenticeship under his father. John L. displayed a real knack for business, in particular, for understanding the power and methodology of advertising.
Max could feel John L.’s anxious desire to run things bleed through every article he read. “Don’t do anything stupid, and you’ll get the kingdom soon enough.”
Luckily for John L., he had the patience to wait. No nefarious or mysterious accidents befell his father, and in the late-1890s, he finally gained control. Moving fast, he put together an investment brochure with the aim of taking the company in a new and profitable direction — mail order liquor.
Max chuckled. “Ambitious little guy.”
Ambitious and successful. Investment came in, and with the aid of a few friends and his own finances,
His bones crackled as he climbed out of the car. He cradled the blue bottle marked CASPER like a delicate newborn. Libby had put up a fuss when he took it, and only backed off when Sandra promised they would return it while also emphasizing Max’s excellent researching skills. Libby acquiesced but not without scowling and grumbling.
Sandra had slept the entire drive home and now stirred from her slumber like a drunken co-ed paying for a long night out. Only, in Sandra’s case, she didn’t get to have any fun. She poured out of the passenger side and uttered a non-committal sound as she headed toward Max.
As the garage door rumbled down, he stared at the alarm keypad by the kitchen entrance. Ten seconds clicked by before he could recall the code. Sandra pressed her head against his back while she waited.
When they finally stepped inside the kitchen, Sandra mumbled a few indecipherable words and staggered upstairs to bed. Max threw his coat on the marble counter, set the blue bottle down, and threw on a pot of coffee. As tired as he felt, he knew he had gone past the point of falling asleep. Wired on adrenaline and caffeine, he figured he would focus on the case until he either discovered something important or passed out.
He grabbed the bottle, walked across the kitchen, stepped into a sunken living room, and through a door that opened into his study. A study. The idea that he lived in a house big enough to furnish a study still prickled his skin. The Darians had no such luxuries, despite both holding excellent jobs, and all they wanted was a place that wasn’t trying to kill them or possess their baby.
“Okay, Casper, time to find out about you.”
Max inspected the bottle with care. Cobalt blue with a fluted neck, the bottle had distinct ribbing that traveled from the mouth down to the shoulders. The name CASPER, curving to follow part of a circle, could be read with ease, but the rest of the engraving had been worn away.
Googling blue casper bottle returned instant hits. Max clicked on the images tab and saw dozens of bottles similar to the one sitting on his desk. Along with the blue bottles, the search results included several brown and tan whiskey jugs. The stamped labels on those jugs were easy to read.
FROM THE CASPER CO.
WINSTON-SALEM, NC
LOWEST PRICE WHISKEY HOUSE
SEND FOR CONFIDENTIAL PRICE LIST
From there, the searching went even easier. In no time, Max waded through article after article detailing the life of the Casper family and their involvement in the whiskey trade.
It all began in 1861 when the grandfather of John L. Casper set up a of couple stills in North Carolina. They were used for the family — mostly — and served to keep everyone happy through hard times. John L.’s father, John C. Casper, joined the unofficial company in 1865 after serving four years in the Confederate Army. He turned the private stills into a local business, expanding the distillery and selling throughout the Winston-Salem area. Soon after, he took over full operations of the business.
But things really changed when John L. Casper came into the picture. Once old enough, he began an apprenticeship under his father. John L. displayed a real knack for business, in particular, for understanding the power and methodology of advertising.
Max could feel John L.’s anxious desire to run things bleed through every article he read. “Don’t do anything stupid, and you’ll get the kingdom soon enough.”
Luckily for John L., he had the patience to wait. No nefarious or mysterious accidents befell his father, and in the late-1890s, he finally gained control. Moving fast, he put together an investment brochure with the aim of taking the company in a new and profitable direction — mail order liquor.
Max chuckled. “Ambitious little guy.”
Ambitious and successful. Investment came in, and with the aid of a few friends and his own finances,
Similar Books
