CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
An hour later, David, Ava, and I were in Ava's GTO, pulling up to a strip mall in East Oakland near Piedmont.
While Joe Trask's Fast Money looked like the type of place you didn't want to linger at after dark, the Cash Exchange was a bright, modern storefront sandwiched between a GAP and a dog groomer in a strip mall anchored by a kids' play gym. No bars on the windows, no neon signs, no tattooed thugs at the door. In the front window there was a poster of a happy family on a beach with an advertisement below saying Finance your next family vacation. Clearly they catered to a different type of clientele than Trask.
"Is this what they call an upscale pawnshop?" I asked as we parked and got out of the car.
"Why did you look at me when you asked that?" David asked. "I've never pawned anything in my life."
"No, people just have to pawn their valuables when they lose to you," Ava pointed out.
David shrugged. But he couldn't very well deny it, since that had been the very way we'd originally met Trask. "Hey, if you can't pay, don't play."
"You should have that printed on a T-shirt," I mumbled as we navigated around a couple of minivans parked near the entrance to the Cash Exchange.
"I just might," he told me with a wink.
A bell jingled as we pushed inside the shop, and soft jazz music greeted us along with cool air conditioning. In contrast to Trask's place, the interior of the store was light, open, and airy, the wares for sale arranged in artful collections in well-lit glass cases or modern shelving units along the walls. A couple of old merry-go-round horses near the far wall and several antique toys gave the place a cheery, family friendly vibe.
"Welcome to the Cash Exchange," a woman behind the glass case greeted us. Her hair was curly and graying, her smile pleasant, and her frame ample, giving off a grandmotherly vibe. She wore a navy, nautical striped dress that hugged against her middle and a small gold cross around her neck. "May I help you?"
"Hi," Ava said, stepping forward. "Uh, we're here to see someone named Al."
"Well, you're in the right place. I'm Al," the woman told us.
She must have seen my shocked expression, as she laughed. "Short for Alecia, but all of my friends call me Al. Was there something I could help you all with?"
"Uh, yes. Joe Trask sent us," I said, having a hard time picturing Granny being "friends" with the likes of Trask.
"He said you might be able to help us locate an item," Ava added, looking as skeptical as I was.
"Oh, yes, Little Joey said he was trying to track down some jewelry for a customer."
Little Joey? I had to bite my lip to keep from snickering. I'm sure Trask loved that nickname.
"I'm happy to help if I can," Al went on. "It was a pair of heart shaped rubies, right?"
Ava nodded. "Trask said someone came trying to sell them to you?"
She nodded. "Yes, a few weeks ago. We don't get a lot of loose gems like that coming in here, so it stuck with me."
"Did you buy them?" David piped up.
"No, no, actually we couldn't agree on a price. You see, without any paperwork or information on them, I felt the asking price was a little high."
I opened Gia's picture on my phone. "Is this the women who brought them in?" I asked, turning the screen so she could see it.
She pulled a pair of reading glasses from her pocket and slipped them on, leaning against the glass case to inspect the photo. "Oh my, isn't she pretty."
"She was a model," David informed her.
"Was?" Al looked up, eyes going from me to David. While she looked the part of the innocent little granny, I suddenly had a feeling not much got past her.
"She passed away recently," Ava said, not elaborating on the how.
"That's a shame." Al's eyes held a note of suspicion still, but she let it go, pulling her reading glasses off and shaking her head. "But I'm sorry, that's not the person who brought in the rubies. For one thing, it was a he."
"He?" I asked. I looked to Ava. That was a surprise. While both Hughie and Costello were two he's we'd possibly envisioned taking the emerald, I couldn't imagine why either would have had the rubies. Gia had been alive and well when they'd been stolen.
"What did he look like?" Ava asked Al. "Can you describe him?"
Al laughed and nodded. "I can do you one better." She pointed up toward the ceiling, and I noticed for the first time we were standing under a small, round black camera with a little red blinking light. "Would you like to see the security footage?"
I could have kissed her.
"Yes please," Ava said eagerly, giving Al a wide smile.
"I cued it up after Joey called me. He said you'd want to see it."
I almost could have kissed Trask too.
Al grabbed a laptop from behind a counter and opened it, clicking around a little before she found the video in question. Then she swiveled the computer so that we could see the screen and let it play.
We watched as a black and white version of the shop came into view. A time stamp in the corner was dated just over three weeks ago. From the angle of the camera, we could see the top of Al's head as she helped a couple who were looking at rings at the next case over. A beat later, a new person walked into the frame. He was wearing nondescript jeans and a dark hooded sweatshirt, but other than that, it was impossible to see much from the camera's angle. Honestly, it could have been either Costello or Hughie. Or the Unabomber.
"We can't see his face," Ava said, tilting her head to the side as if that might help.
"Sorry, this is the only angle I have of that spot," Al told her.
The bell over the door jingled as a new customer walked in, and Al excused herself to wait on them. I vaguely heard her repeating the same pleasant "May I help you?" that she'd given us, but my focus was on the man in the video, still angled away from us.
We watched as the Al on the screen moved from the couple looking at rings to the newcomer, and they exchanged a few words. There was no sound, so I had no idea what they were saying. But a moment later, he pulled something from his pocket and laid it out on the counter. Wrapped in a piece of black cloth were two beautiful heart-shaped rubies. It was hard to tell how big they were or what they'd be worth, but he and Al seemed to be discussing price—him talking animatedly with his hands as Al picked up the gems and inspected them through a jeweler's loupe.
"Look up, look up, look up," Ava chanted quietly beside me.
After a couple more minutes of watching the silent exchange play out, Al finally shrugged. Then she shook the man's hand and walked away. The man wrapped the gems back up in the cloth and shoved them into his pocket before turning to go.
"There!" Ava cried, stabbing at the screen.
I hit the space bar on Al's computer, pausing the video, as the man turned his body. For that split second, his face was pointed directly at the camera.
Only, it was not the face of Carl Costello or Hughie Smart.
The dark-haired man had a very prominent cleft in his chin.
"Ohmigod, it's Stalker Guy!" Ava said. She turned to me. "That's him, right?"
I nodded, my mind churning over this unexpected development. "But what was Gia's stalker doing with the rubies?"
"That's the guy who ran you off the road?" David asked, leaning in to get a better look at the screen.
"Yes!" Ava said. "And possibly broke into Emmy's cottage."
"And was fencing stolen rubies from Daisy Dot's show." I turned to Ava and David. "Is it possible we've had it all wrong? Gia wasn't the thief after all?"
"But you found the fake emerald in her makeup bag," David reminded me.
"Right. I did." I glanced at the man's face on the screen again.
"Did you get what you needed?" Al asked, coming back over.
"Uh, yes, thank you," I told her. "Is there any way I could get a copy of this footage?" I asked, thinking that a picture of this guy's face could help Grant in his search for a name.
"Of course," Al said, spinning
her laptop back around to face her. "I'd be happy to email you a copy."
"We just need the last couple of minutes," I told her. "Where his face is visible."
She nodded, though the way her eyes flickered up toward us, I could tell she was curious what we wanted with the guy. Luckily, she was a savvy enough pawn broker not to ask. Even if her shop was "family friendly."
I quickly gave her my email address, and with a few keystrokes, she sent the last minute of the video to us.
"Now, is there anything else I can help you all with today?" she asked, closing her laptop and stowing it back behind the counter again.
"No, thank you. You've been very helpful," Ava told her.
"Well, I'm always happy to help out a friend of a friend," she said. Then added, "Especially when there's a finder's fee involved." She gave us a wink.
* * *
"Okay, so Stalker Guy has the rubies," Ava said once we were back in her car and heading toward home.
"Or he had them a few weeks ago," David noted.
"Right," Ava agreed. "But how did he get them? Did he steal them from Daisy's show, or did he steal them from Gia?"
"Well, it feels unlikely he'd be in a position to steal them from Daisy's show himself. I mean, I suppose it's possible, but Gia would have had more access," I said.
"And she had a fake emerald," David pointed out again. "Which means she at least intended to steal the emerald."
"Right," I said. "It would be too coincidental if two different people stole the rubies and emerald."
"Okay, so let's still assume it was Gia who took the rubies and replaced them with fake glass ones," Ava said as she signaled and merged lanes. "Then, how did Stalker Guy get them from Gia? You think he stole them from her?"
"Or maybe," I said, a theory forming as I spoke. "Maybe she gave them to him."
Ava's eyes left the road just long enough to glance my way. "Why would she do that?"
"This guy has shown up in the background of a lot of photos where Gia is working. Fashion shows, photo shoots, even that car show."
"Right," Ava agreed, nodding.
"Well, maybe he wasn't actually stalking her. Maybe he was there for another reason?"
"Like what?" David asked from the back seat. "You think he was on to her theft?"
"Or maybe he was in on the theft."
I swiveled in my seat to see David's face break into a wicked grin as the implication set in. "Her partner in crime."
I nodded. "Exactly. I mean, where did Gia get those fake glass gems to swap for the real one?"
"I never thought of that," Ava mused.
"She had to have had someone make at least passable copies. Heck, we were all fooled by the emerald."
"So you think this guy is the one who made the fakes?" Ava asked.
"It's possible. Let's say Gia takes photos of the gems at fittings. She sends them to this guy. He creates a copy made of glass and gets it to Gia to make the swap."
"Which Gia does at the fashion show or photo shoot where she's slated to wear the jewelry," David added.
"Gia makes the swap in her insisted-upon private dressing room," I continued. "Then she hands the real gems off to Stalker Guy—"
Ava gasped. "Which is why he's always hanging around! He's waiting for her to have an opportunity to hand it off!"
"—and Stalker Guy then sells the gems at pawnshops or wherever he can unload the stolen goods, and splits the profits with Gia," I finished.
"So, does this mean Stalker Guy is our killer?" Ava asked.
I sucked in a breath. "Maybe?" I paused, thinking. "But it could explain that phone call Costello overheard."
"Oh?" David asked. "Do tell. What was this?"
"He said he heard Gia firing someone over the phone." I quickly filled him in. "At the time he thought it was her agent, Hughie Smart, but Hughie denies ever calling Gia. Costello said he heard Gia tell the person on the other end that she didn't need him anymore and she could do the job on her own."
"Ohmigosh, she didn't mean a modeling job," Ava said. "She meant the thefts. She was cutting her partner out!"
David nodded, digesting that idea. "I can see where he might not like that."
"Might not like it enough to go backstage after the show and hash it out in person," I added.
"Where he kills her," Ava said, "and takes the emerald all for himself."
"But he didn't swap in the fake he made," David pointed out, playing devil's advocate.
Ava shrugged. "Maybe he didn't know where Gia had it hidden. Or maybe he didn't have time. Maybe he panicked and just fled."
I nodded. All of those scenarios seemed plausible.
"So what was this guy doing following you from Trask's?" David asked, still playing the skeptic. "And why break into your cottage?"
He had me there. The only reason I could think of was Ava's idea that it had been a warning of some sort. Maybe by us going to Trask's and asking about the emerald, he thought we were getting too close. I mean, it had eventually led us to Al and the footage of him trying to offload the rubies. Of course, he was giving us a lot more credit than we deserved if he thought we had any proof that he'd killed Gia. In fact, as we approached Sonoma County again, I realized that while we had a fantastic new theory, we had zero real evidence of anything except the fact that some guy with dark hair and Chevy Chase's chin had tried to sell a pair of rubies. We didn't even really know for sure that they were the same ones Daisy was missing. Heck, to be perfectly honest, we didn't even really know if Daisy's rubies were missing.
I tried not to dwell on that depressing thought as Ava pulled up to Oak Valley.
While I wasn't filled with super happy feelings at the thought of returning to the scene of my break-in, the cocktail reception honoring Gia at the Links was that evening, and no way were my T-shirt and jeans going to make the cut. Plus, I had to go home sometime. So, I put my big girl panties on as I hoisted my overnight bag out of her trunk, thanked Ava for the impromptu sleepover the night before, and bravely waved good-bye to her and David as the taillights of her GTO disappeared back down the oak lined drive.
I made my way into the main winery buildings, stopping in the tasting room first. While it was still early for the happy hour crowd, I found Eddie and Jean Luc standing at the bar, heads bent over Eddie's phone. They both looked up when I walked in, and Eddie pounced first.
"Oh, Emmy, my lovey, are you okaaaeeeee?" His voice went up like a middle schooler, that last syllable drawing out into a whine as he crushed me to him in a hug.
"Ive fie," I mumbled against his seersucker vest.
"What was that?"
I pulled back with little effort. "I said I'm fine."
"Zee policia have been 'ere all morning," Jean Luc jumped in, his mustache twitching with concern. "Zay say there was a break-in?"
I nodded, quickly filling the two of them in. I may have glossed over a few details, trying to make light of it all—though whether it was for my benefit or theirs, I'd be hard-pressed to say. However, I must not have been as successful as I'd hoped, as Eddie grabbed me in another tight squeeze when I was done.
"You could have been hurt! Maimed! Killed!" he cried into my hair.
"I'm fine," I protested again, wiggling free of his grasp. "But go easy on the maimed thing when you tell Conchita, okay?" Which I had no doubt he would. As soon as humanly possible. Not that I totally minded in that moment—the fewer people I had to retell the story to, the better. I was feeling that same vulnerability creep up on me again each time I had to relive it.
"Well, eet eez lucky you scared him away," Jean Luc said, nodding in my direction.
"Yeah. Lucky," I mumbled. I glanced at Eddie's phone. "What were you looking at when I walked in?" I asked, hoping to change the subject.
Eddie's pudgy features immediately morphed into a wide smile. "None other than Aurora Dawn's posty list."
"He means her feed." Jean Luc rolled his eyes. "You cannot be on zee internets if you cannot get zee words
right!"
"List, feed, page—they're all the same." Eddie waved him off, unfazed. "Anyway, look what she posted this morning." He pushed the phone my way, pointing to the screen.
I did, seeing a picture of a woman with platinum hair and lots of eye makeup holding a glass of red wine up to the camera as she took a selfie. She'd added a hashtag to it that read: #undertheinfluenceofoakvalleyvineyards. While it was a tad long, I had to admit the phrase was kind of catchy. "That's cute." I made a mental note of the slogan, thinking it could be fun to have printed up on wine totes for the holiday buyers.
"Isn't she fab!" Eddie squealed. "Look, the post already has ten thousand likes. And she just put it up an hour ago!"
Glossing over the influencer's day drinking, I had to admit, that was a lot more eyes on our brand than I'd be able to get in one morning. "Wow. I'm impressed," I told him.
Eddie beamed. Jean Luc snorted.
I couldn't help but grin. "Maybe you should see what other influencers you can reach out to," I suggested to Eddie. "You might be on to something here."
"You got it, boss lady!" Eddie said, giving me an exaggerated salute.
Jean Luc's eyes rolled so far back in his head I feared he could see his brain. "When we start to see zee followers come to buy our wine—then we will know if zee influence is real."
"Oh, they'll come," Eddie said, nodding sagely. "If Aurora does it, they'll do it too."
I decided to step out of that particular debate and left them both to hash it out before the afternoon tasting crowd arrived. Instead, I pushed outside and took a couple of deep, fortifying breaths before navigating around the back of the winery to my cottage.
Like the rest of the winery buildings, the small cottage was done in a beige stucco and terra cotta roof in the Spanish revival style that was so common in the Valley. Ivy grew up one side, and morning glories clung to the chimney on the other, making it feel almost as if the building had organically sprung from the earth, having sprouted there alongside the oaks and vines. No crime scene tape covered the door. No fingerprint dust. No proverbial or literal black cloud hovering above. In fact, it looked just as charming and inviting as it always had.
Fashion, Rosé & Foul Play (Wine & Dine Mysteries Book 6) Page 19
