Murder By the Glass

by Michele Scott

  “Right. Do you know where he went?”

  “Like, no. He’s a weird dude. Kinda sketchy.”

  “Sketchy, how?”

  “You know, sketchy, like moody, freaky. Who is this, anyway?”

  “No one. Thanks.” Nikki flipped shut her phone. This was not looking good for Louis. The guy leaves town the day after Susan’s murder. She belittled him at the reception, and on top of it his roommate thought he was strange? It didn’t make him a killer. There were a lot of strange people around. Nikki would have to be sure and see what she could do about tracking Louis down after she returned from the city.

  There was a lot of work to be done at the winery, and it made the day go by fast. Before she knew it, she was scrunched into the back seat of the boys’ Porsche.

  Nikki had to admit that the hour into San Francisco was amusing, even with the added memorized quotes of the Guru Sansibaba pouring out of the boys. It still bothered her that Derek had been so cold and off toward her and she still wanted to set things straight with him. She’d hoped to do so before leaving, but he hadn’t been around the winery all day. She had no idea what she was going to say to him, but something did need to be said. It would have to wait. She had to discover the truth about Susan and who had murdered her. She had to see Isabel set free.

  Simon cranked up the stereo to Frankie Goes to Hollywood and sang along with old Frankie. Marco looked at his partner behind the wheel, totally mesmerized. Nikki could see why. Like Derek, Simon had golden hair, only he wore his longer than his half brother, and it stirred wildly in the wind with the top down on the convertible. He had cheek-bones that looked to be etched out of stone and his sea-green eyes, although deeper set than Derek’s, still captivated. Marco and Simon made a statement about handsome looks when they entered a room.

  Marco was the counterpart to Simon’s Scandinavian and Irish descent, as the Italian man played every bit of the dark, sometimes brooding, eccentric lover. Nikki would’ve never guessed after the way they’d treated her less than a year earlier that she’d be riding in a car with them on their way to San Francisco. She knew at some point she’d have to lose the two of them, even if it was only for a couple of hours, so she could really do what she came here for.

  Simon heaved an exaggerated sigh once Frankie’s song was over. He tossed his blond tendrils out of his eyes after setting his sunglasses off of his face to hold back the blowing hair. Nikki could’ve sworn there were tears in his eyes as he took Marco’s hand.

  “I love that song. So many memories, so much fun.”

  Marco nodded. “Remember though, love, that Guru Sansibaba says that memories are only a reflection of time, and that living in the present is where real love is made.”

  Nikki slumped back in the seat and tightened her scarf around her hair, hoping to keep it somewhat tamed. She had fine hair that if mussed at all would wind up looking like either a bird’s nest or a stringy mess. Neither one she desired.

  “Goldilocks?” Simon said.

  By now she’d gotten used to their pet name for her and had pretty much stopped cringing every time they uttered it. She responded with a “yes,” wondering if they even remembered her real name.

  “I was thinking that I really do like your style. You know how to juggle an act or two, don’t you?”

  Marco glanced at Simon. Whatever this was about these two had already gone rounds with it, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to see where this was going to go, because she didn’t even know what in the hell Simon was referring to. But hey, between Frankie Goes to Hollywood and Streisand’s Evergreen CD, Nikki didn’t want to know what those two might pull out of the music case next. She doubted it was Sheryl Crow. So she decided to play along with whatever line of questioning Simon was headed with her.

  “Simon, I haven’t the faintest idea as to what you’re talking about, but I’m certain you’re going to enlighten me.”

  “I like that, too, about you. You’re coy and sweet and you know how to play naïve. My brother goes for that sort of thing. But Marco and I know that’s not your gig. And, I’m thinking that maybe Derek has figured it out, too, and that’s why he didn’t join you on your jaunt into the city.”

  Now he had her interested along with kinda ticked off, because if he was insinuating that who she was, was all an act, well he might be really sorry. She was pretty sure she could take Simon on. She certainly never tried to play innocent or naïve. In fact, those were the last set of words she’d use to describe herself. Instead of protesting his descriptive words for her, she questioned him. “I’m game. What in the world are you talking about?”

  “Quit teasing her, Simon. She is sweet, and I don’t think Guru Sansibaba would like the way you’re treating a cell in the body of the God of us all, as we are all God, and she is a Goddess.”

  “Oh, all right. I know I shouldn’t be such a cad. Sometimes it’s hard not to fall into my old ways. Here’s the deal. We were probably bad boys the other night, listening to your conversation with my big brother. But I knew when you asked him to join you, that he wasn’t going to take you up on your offer, and, well, Marco and I couldn’t refuse a trip into San Francisco. Speaking of, there’s the Golden Gate.” Simon pointed to the bridge, which on any other day would’ve taken Nikki’s breath away, but she was too intent on Simon’s words to take a real good look at the city’s icon.

  “Simon, would you like to tell me what you’re talking about?” She leaned into the back of the driver’s seat, getting closer to Simon in the hopes of hearing him better over the wind.

  “The other night, Marco and I took Derek out to dinner. That was the night you two were supposed to have dinner together. He came home looking worn. We were out on our evening walk, when we saw him come in.”

  “We decided to see if he was doing okay,” Marco said. “It’s a part of the outreach mission the Guru . . .”

  “I know, Sansibaba,” she replied cutting him short, not wanting to hear any more idioms the Guru had shared with the boys for at least the next twenty years.

  “Yes. We really are trying to make improvements on ourselves and our relationships with family and friends. One step at a time, though. I’m simply pleased my mother hasn’t returned from gallivanting across the country to every known spa in the western hemisphere. It’s only too bad that she isn’t open enough to experience the Greater Healing Spa of Sedona.”

  There was something Nikki and Simon could agree on. Patrice’s presence was certainly not missed.

  “We also wanted to tell Derek our ideas for selling the wines that night,” Marco said.

  “True. We offered to take him out and he finally agreed to go have dinner with us. On our drive back into the estate, we were maybe giving him a hard time about you,” Simon said.

  Marco giggled. “I think she does that just beautifully by herself.”

  Simon playfully slapped Marco’s knee. “Or she used to, anyway.”

  Nikki’s face heated into a burn.

  Marco turned around and saw her. “I’m sorry. Don’t be mad. We are only playing.”

  She clenched her fists.

  “We thought it would be funny to drop Derek at your door step. He didn’t think we were funny either.”

  “I think we’re funny,” Marco said. “The Guru might not always think so, but he did say that humor is what lightens our load when we feel the path has become too entrenched with the stress of the physical world.”

  These two were driving her batty at this point and now she was wishing they’d pop another frigging CD into the player, even if it was Liza, Streisand, or Cher, for that matter.

  “When we turned the corner to go to your cottage and push my brother out of the car, we saw you climbing the stairs with that absolutely divine creature—mmhmm, Andrés Fernandez.”

  “Hey,” Marco protested.

  Simon took his hand again. “Oh, baby, you can look, just don’t order off the menu.”

  “Whatever.”

  “What does me bein
g with Andrés have to do with anything?” Nikki asked. She was right. Derek thought she’d been out with Andrés and had traded in his offer for dinner out with him to be with Andrés. She wanted to hear this from the boys, though, just to confirm her thoughts.

  “It has everything to do with anything. Don’t you get it, Goldilocks? Derek and you have this silly flirtation going on, we thought he should take it to the next step, but . . .”

  “Now he won’t, because he thinks you’re dating Andrés,” Marco said.

  “I’m not dating Andrés. For goodness’ sakes, the only reason he was with me was because I needed a ride home from a dinner I had, and not with him, I might add. Then, I spent time talking with him because his sister, Isabel, who is my good friend, as Andrés is, was arrested for murdering Susan Jennings.”

  “Yes, we heard about that. Ugly, ugly business. How do you get yourself tangled up in these things, Goldilocks?” Simon asked.

  “Isabel didn’t kill anyone, and I am not dating Andrés.”

  “Hmmm. Okay. Maybe you should tell it to the boss man.”

  Nikki leaned back in the seat of the car. What a mess. But on the flipside, the Boys of Summer did seem to believe that Derek reciprocated her feelings for him, so maybe talking to him about it would be easier than she thought. Hell, it wasn’t going to be easy no matter what, but she couldn’t help but smile for a second. She needed to do damage control. Bite the bullet and talk to Derek—about everything. Dating Andrés? Silly notion . . .

  She crossed her fingers and hoped she’d find the right words to say to Derek without sounding like a fool. Fat chance of that. But once in the city, and in a place where she could have some privacy, she had to take that chance and call him. Maybe, just maybe, she could lure Derek to the city after all, question the handful of suspects on her list, and, ultimately, kill two birds with one stone.

  Chapter 15

  Nikki and the boys checked into The Clift, and, luckily, Simon and Marco wanted some alone time. She agreed to meet up with them later in the lobby for a glass of wine and “an evening out on the town.” To the boys that meant starting around eight. No idea what could be in store with that, but she was determined to go with it. That was just in case her phone call to Derek didn’t work. She really needed a glass of wine before dialing his number. A little liquid courage could come in handy at that moment, but more than that, she needed a clear head, and only had a couple of hours to use it.

  She dialed Derek’s office number and got his voice mail, then tried his cell with no luck. She sucked it up with the third call and got his answering machine at home. It was after hours at the winery and he wasn’t answering any of his numbers. Was he screening his calls? What if he didn’t want to talk to her at all? She looked at the clock on the side table next to the bed in her room. It was a little after five. He was probably out on his evening walk or having a glass of wine with the staff. Occasionally he hung in there for the employees’ nightly ritual of mixing and matching potions to see who had the potential to be the next winemaker. It was a joke among the crew. Nikki didn’t participate much, as she liked to get either a walk or another run in before imbibing. Plus she wasn’t sure if it was such a good idea to drink every day. The man who she thought was her father for the first seven years of her life made a practice of tippling the bottle daily, and because of it he wound up dead.

  She chewed on the side of her lip as Derek’s message played out. Then after the beep she went for it. “Hi, Derek, it’s me, Nikki. Listen, I think there is a misunderstanding between us about the other night. You know, about dinner. We really need to talk. I would love it if you came into the city tomorrow, and had dinner with me. On me. I mean, I’ll pay. I hope you come. We’re staying at The Clift. Uh, if you want to meet me, call me on my cell. I’m thinking around seven.” The machine ran out of time. Smooth. Real smooth. Nothing like sounding like an idiot, and a desperate one at that. No time to sulk. She had a few more phone calls to make. She needed to speak with Susan’s sister Jennifer, and hopefully Blake Sorgensen. The other star in those very risqué photos she’d seen at the Waltman Castle had finally returned from his jaunt to Cabo.

  She decided to call Jennifer first, after finding the number listed under Susan’s name. Her odds thus far of Blake answering his phone didn’t seem to be in her favor.

  After the first ring, a woman answered. “Where are you?” she hissed.

  “Uh, excuse me?”

  “Oh, sorry. I thought you were someone else. I have a date tonight and he’s late. Who’s this?”

  “Hi. I’m Nikki Sands and I knew Susan Jennings.”

  “Who didn’t know her? What do you need?”

  “Is this Jennifer?”

  “Yes? Again, what the hell do you want?”

  Nice phone manners. What had Nikki expected? It wasn’t as if Jennifer Jennings exuded class the other day at the wedding and thereafter during the police interrogation. “I’m having a hard time with accepting Susan’s murder. You see, I also know the woman who has been accused of her murder, and I don’t think she did it.” Staying as close to the truth as possible. Putting into practice that new motto of hers.

  “The police think she did it.”

  “I understand that, but I’m not so sure. I was wondering if maybe I could come by so that you might answer a few questions for me?”

  “Are you like some detective or something?”

  Nikki recognized that Jennifer was becoming irritated with her and knew she had to do something quick to keep her on the line. “I’m not a detective. Like I said, I would hate to see an innocent woman go to jail, wouldn’t you?”

  “No. What? I don’t give a rat’s ass.”

  New tactic needed here. “Fine. Indulge me, please. I’ll buy you a drink or two.”

  A sigh came across the phone. “Tell you what, why don’t you make your way to my place.” She gave her the address on Brannan Street, close to the embarcadero, in the North Beach area. “If I’m still here and Paulo hasn’t shown up, maybe I’ll go have a drink with you, just so I can get the hell outta here, and then when he does show up and I’m not here, it’ll teach him a lesson never to do that to me again.”

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Nikki hung up the phone. Her call to Sorgensen would have to wait. She prayed Paulo wouldn’t beat her to the punch. She ran a quick comb through her hair and applied lip gloss. Then jetted down the stairs and hailed a cab.

  Nikki handed the cabbie a ten and didn’t wait for any change when he pulled up a few minutes later near Ghirardelli Square. Susan and Pamela’s place was located around the block from the square, but the cabbie couldn’t park because it was Friday evening and the area was filled with tourists.

  She walked the block and found the building where she pressed the intercom. Someone had spent some cash to get into this place, with its complete Victorian charm painted in a royal blue and trimmed in teal. Nikki couldn’t see Susan living here. It was too cool. Pamela, maybe, but Susan?

  “Is that you, Paulo?” a voice rang out over the intercom system.

  “No, actually it’s me, Nikki Sands.”

  A minute later the front door swung open. On the other side stood the woman Nikki remembered as Jennifer Jennings. She wore another slinky dress like the one she had worn at the wedding, although this one was in fuchsia and barely covered her ass. If stereotypes proved true in this case, it was starting to appear as if the Jennings girls were not exactly raised with much couth, especially Jennifer.

  Nikki recalled those few moments at the wedding when she witnessed the two siblings arguing, and then, watched as Susan gave her sister a check. Had Jennifer been riding on her sister’s coattails? If so, how much of the money that Susan was giving her had come from Susan’s bank account versus Kristof ’s? It wouldn’t make a good motive for murder to kill off the goose laying the golden eggs. However, Nikki also couldn’t forget the hatred for Susan in Jennifer’s eyes, followed by the complacency Jennifer seemed to express ove
r her death.

  “Come on in. My jerk-off boyfriend still hasn’t made it, and I’ve been calling his freaking cell phone all afternoon. He better have a good excuse is all I have to say, because if he continues to pull this crap with me, I might have to call it quits. Men! You know what I mean, don’t you?”

  Nikki nodded. Befriending Jennifer was probably going to be the best route to take. “Don’t I ever, girlfriend.”

  Jennifer turned on her four-inch heels that were straight out of a strip club, and raised an eyebrow to her. She turned back around, click-clacking on the walnut hardwoods inlaid with a decorative diamond of pine every third plank. The pattern was gorgeous, and, once inside the living room, the pattern switched with the pine floor being the main wood in the space. Jennifer Jennings was living in style.