I wasn't quite as certain about that as he was, but I nodded anyway. "Did you see Harper as well?"
He shook his head. "No. In fact, Kellen didn't even mention it to me. Not really. I, uh, overheard her talking on the phone. To Harper. She was arranging to meet with her."
"And I'm assuming they did follow through with that plan to meet?"
He nodded. "Kellen left the house shortly afterward. I imagined it was to see Harper."
"But she didn't discuss it with you?"
Morgan's eyes darted from side to side again, as if he expected his wife to pop up and accuse him of ratting her out at any minute. "No. No, she, uh, didn't talk about it. But I could tell something had upset her. As soon as she came home, she poured herself a double martini. At three in the afternoon." He shot me a look like we all knew what that meant.
"Any idea what could have upset her so much?" I asked.
But again he shook his head. "No, but like I said they had quite a—"
"Sibling rivalry," I finished for him.
He gave me a shaky smile. "Uh, yes. Exactly."
Sibling rivalry was one thing…but I could imagine what a lifetime in Harper's beautiful shadow could do to a woman. That, added to feeling like second best even to her husband, an upsetting private visit the day before Harper's death, and half of a sizeable inheritance at stake? Suddenly I could see several reasons Kellen might have for making sure that Carrie's housewarming party was her sister's last.
CHAPTER NINE
Having unburdened his conscience, Morgan quickly left the Half Calf, and we parted ways—him to drive back to Napa and me to hop back in line to grab a latte for Ava before making good on my promise of deets.
"Good morning," I called as I entered Silver Girl a few minutes later, setting a steaming paper cup on a glass counter holding several of Ava's handmade creations on sparkling display.
Ava appeared from the back a moment later, a smile hitting her face when she caught sight of me. One that grew as her eyes landed on the paper cup.
"You're a gem. I overslept and haven't had the time to get a coffee yet," Ava said, gratefully grabbing the offering. "I was seriously about to die of caffeine deprivation." The bangles on Ava's arm jingled as she lifted the drink to her lips.
Today she was wearing a teal blouse in a soft billowing fabric that on some might look bulky, but on Ava it somehow just accentuated her slim build. She'd paired it with skinny jeans, bringing the bohemian fabric into the modern era, and an eclectic mix of silver jewelry that instead of looking mismatched felt like a collection that had comfortably come together over time.
"It's not like you to oversleep," I said, leaning on the counter to get a closer look at a new pair of earrings in the case. Hoops with silver and gold intertwined in a basket-weave pattern, which would look awesome with my go-to little black dress.
"I know. I blame it on the delicious dreams I was having all night."
I raised an eyebrow her way. "Oh? They wouldn't happen to have starred one tall, dark, and handsome soap star, would they?"
She nodded, then scrunched up her nose. "It's bad, isn't it? I'm, like, crushing in the worst way."
I couldn't help returning her smile. "I take it you two had a good time at lunch yesterday after David and I left?"
"Ohmigosh, Emmy, we talked forever. Did you know he's a Virgo? And he's buying a beach house in Malibu? And he wants a puppy?" She did a squeal at the end of the last thought, the idea of cute puppies on beaches too much for her to contain.
"You're right. This is bad," I teased.
She swatted me playfully on the arm, though I was quick enough to duck away from the brunt of it.
"Anyway, he asked me out again tonight," she added.
"That sounds serious."
Ava gave a blissful sigh, her hip resting against the cabinet as she sipped her coffee. "We're going to Silvio's."
"That sounds very serious." Silvio's had a waiting list six weeks long and prices high enough that I'd have been paying off the meal for another six. I had to admit at being a little impressed with Nolan's game.
"So," Ava went on, visibly shaking herself back to reality. "How was your chat with Morgan Brice?"
"Interesting," I told her. I quickly filled her in on everything he'd told me, as well as my visit to Tripp's trailer the day before, my confrontation with Bert that morning, and the clothes I'd seen Tripp disposing of afterward.
When I finished, Ava's forehead was puckered in thought. "So Kellen lied about having seen her sister?"
"Looks that way," I agreed.
"And you think maybe she killed her for the other half of the inheritance?"
I shrugged. "Or maybe she'd just had enough of living in Harper's shadow and feeling like her husband's second choice."
Ava nodded. "I can see how that would wear on someone." She paused. "But how does the blackmail fit into that?"
I shook my head. "I have no idea. I don't know, maybe Kellen didn't want whatever Harper was being blackmailed about to get out? She did mention Harper always being an embarrassment to the family."
"But Kellen wasn't at the party," Ava pointed out.
"Napa's only twenty minutes away. It's possible Harper mentioned the party when she saw her sister the day before and Kellen figured it would be a great place to get rid of her problem."
Ava shrugged. "Maybe. But, honestly? Tripp burning those clothes has guilty written all of over it. I could totally see him having something on Harper and shaking her down for money over it."
"She refused, and he killed her?" While it was possible, it didn't seem like the smart move on his part. I mean, he didn't have much chance of getting money out of a dead woman.
"Maybe," Ava said. "Or maybe they fought and he lost his temper. Or maybe this wasn't the first time he'd asked her for money—maybe Tripp had been blackmailing her for a while, and she finally got sick of it and refused."
That scenario I could see happening. "So what do you think he was blackmailing her over?" I asked.
"Maybe Tripp found out that Harper was sleeping with Bert?"
I nodded, thinking that, too, felt likely. Bert and Harper had been indiscreet enough that I'd caught them together. So had the hostesses from Tyler's Place. It was possible Tripp had seen something as well, especially if Bert and Harper had been seeing each other for a while.
"Maybe," Ava went on, "Tripp sees something that hints at an affair or Harper lets something slip while he's giving her horseback riding lessons. Then, when Carrie calls him to come train Dante, he realizes he could make some money off of this knowledge. He blackmails Harper, saying he'll tell Carrie everything if she doesn't pay up. Maybe she does the first time. Maybe Tripp gets greedy and comes back for more. Either way, something goes wrong at the party, and he shoves her into Dante's corral, knowing full well the animal will do his dirty work for him."
I did an internal shudder, picturing Harper after the effects of said dirty work. "Okay, I can see it going down that way," I agreed. "But then what was Tripp doing with Harper's clothes?"
Ava pondered that for a beat, sipping at her drink before she answered. "Maybe the clothes were some sort of evidence of the affair that Tripp was using as leverage?" she suggested. "Like…maybe he found them in a compromising place. Or maybe there was even some biological evidence of the affair on them. You know, Monica Lewinsky style."
"Eww," I said, really not wanting to picture that.
Ava shrugged. "I guess you'd have to ask Tripp to know for sure."
"Yeah, he didn't seem like the real forthcoming type," I told her.
She sipped again, and I could see her mental wheels turning "You said you were at his place yesterday, right?"
I nodded. "A trailer a few miles north of town."
"I don't suppose you happened to see anything there that pointed to him blackmailing Harper?"
"Like what?" I asked. "A shoebox labeled blackmail proceeds?"
"Ha. Ha. Very funny." Ava shook her head at me. "
But if he was extorting money from Harper, there has to be some trail. I mean, you said there was a message. What if we could find a record of it?"
"Grant said the police have Harper's phone," I pointed out. "If Tripp sent the message, they'll know about it."
"If he sent it from his phone," Ava countered.
"Where else would he send it from?"
"Well, if I were going to do something illegal, I'd buy a burner phone. One of those cheap disposable ones. Wouldn't you?"
"Right." She had a good point. "They would be untraceable."
"Unlesssssss," she said, drawing the word out, "someone was to find that burner phone in Tripp's possession."
I frowned. "I have a bad feeling which someone you might be referring to."
Ava shot me a look. "You know that the more time that goes by, the more opportunity Tripp has to dump it."
"Maybe he already has," I pointed out. "He did get rid of Harper's clothes."
"But maybe he hasn't," she argued. "And maybe this is someone's only opportunity to find it."
I sighed, hating that she was right. Even if Grant had a whiff of the blackmail already, by the time he could get a warrant for Tripp's trailer, it could be too late. "Fine," I said. "Let's go talk to Tripp."
Ava's eyes shone with a dangerous Charlie's Angels light. Like she was picturing the two of us as crime fighting PIs with feathered bangs and bell-bottoms.
"But," I said, hoping to bring her back down to reality a little, "we're just going to talk."
Some of the light dimmed. "Sure. Okay. Just talk."
Why did I have the feeling those were famous last words?
* * *
"The name Rosebay Meadows held such promise," Ava commented as I slowly wound my Jeep up the dirt road toward Tripp's place. "I see neither roses nor meadows."
"I think I saw a lovely rusted toilet in that last yard," I said as I moved the car farther up the road. I pulled to a stop outside Tripp's sagging picket fence, and we both stared at his not-so-mobile home.
"Geez, I guess horse whispering doesn't pay," Ava commented.
"Or maybe he's not as good as he says he is."
"It does look like the home of someone desperate for a little cash though," Ava pointed out, ever the optimist.
We got out of my Jeep, and I beeped it locked before following Ava to the trailer, carefully avoiding a broken beer bottle and a pile of cigarette butts on the hard cracked dirt. She rapped her knuckles on the metal door, and we listened to it echo on the other side, though I didn't hear any answering footsteps.
"Maybe he's not home?" I suggested.
"You said you saw him leave Bert and Carrie's this morning?" Ava asked, glancing around the side of the trailer.
I nodded. "Early. Like, around nine."
"What was he driving?"
"Blue pickup. Why?"
Ava took a few steps to our left. "I don't see one parked anywhere."
"You're right." I followed her, walking around the side of the trailer to peek behind it. More dirt, more weeds, more dead grass. No pickup truck. "I guess he's not home." I didn't think it made me a chicken to be just the slightest bit relieved at that thought.
Though, while I took a step back toward my Jeep, Ava took one closer to the trailer.
"I guess we should probably go…" I trailed off, hoping she'd get the hint.
But she ignored me, using the cinderblock holding up the back of the trailer as a step up to peer into a widow. "Hard to see anything with the sheets on the windows."
"Yeah. Well, I guess we should just…"
"Looks dark inside though," Ava said. "There's definitely no one in there."
"Yep, no one home. So we should probably just…"
"Keep an eye on the road, will you?"
"Wait—what?"
I watched as Ava tugged at the window frame. "It's rusted shut."
"What are you doing?!" I hissed, instinctively looking over my shoulder for anyone watching even though we were clearly alone.
"Trying…to…open…the…window," she huffed under her breath, her muscles straining against the rusted frame.
"Ava, this is a very bad idea—"
But I didn't get to finish that thought, as she finally won the battle of the sill, and the window slid free with a grating of metal on metal.
"There!" She gave me a triumphant look. "Now, we can go in and look around."
"What are you doing?! That's breaking and entering, Ava."
"I didn't break anything," Ava protested. "In fact, I just fixed his sticky window. He should thank me."
"Yeah, I'm sure he'll do that. Right after he's done calling the cops."
"Relax, Emmy. He's not home."
"But he could come home at any minute," I protested, my eyes cutting to the road. Which, thankfully was free of blue pickup trucks. For now.
"Then we better hurry," Ava countered. "Give me a hoist up. I'll get inside and then open the front door for you."
"Do I look strong enough to lift you?" I asked.
Ava gave me an assessing glance, possibly not having understood the question was rhetorical. Because there was no way I was going to lift her through the window.
"You're right," she finally said.
I gave an internal sigh of relief.
"I'll have to lift you through the window."
Relief retracted.
"Oh no. No, no, no, no!" I backed away, both hands in front of me as if to ward her off. "You are not roping me into this."
"Come on, Emmy," she pleaded. "You know you want to see what's in there."
"Not that badly!"
"I'll just give you a little boost."
"I don't even think that will work. I weigh more than you!"
"But I go to the gym more often than you do."
She had me there.
"No. I'm putting my foot down," I said, actually stomping the ground. "Hard no."
Ava stepped down from the trailer. She shook her head at me. And she opened her mouth, using very calm, controlled language, like one might to a toddler throwing a tantrum. "Emmy, you are already an accessory after the fact to my not-breaking-and-entering. So you might as well get in there and at least make this crime worth it."
If I were a cartoon character, my jaw would have been on the ground. "Accessory after the…" I shook my head. "Fine," I huffed. What else could l do? She was right. I was already in too deep. "But let's make this quick."
"That's the spirit!" She was such a good friend, she didn't even take a moment to gloat. Instead, she leaned down and laced her fingers together to create a foothold for me. Ignoring every fiber of my conscience, I grabbed hold of the windowsill with my fingers and put my left foot in Ava's hands, hoisting myself up so that my top half was even with the window. Then Ava used all of her Pilates muscles to lift, tipping me headfirst through the small, grimy window.
The thing about the windows in mobile homes from the seventies was they were not that large. Well, not as large as my hips, for example. And before I knew it, I was stuck.
Fortunately, with Ava pushing and me wriggling, I finally managed to free myself, crash landing onto Tripp's bed.
Unfortunately, I landed face first onto a mound of clothing that had been tossed on top of it, and the stench of stale cigarettes and sweaty man filled my nostrils. I stifled a gag reflex as I wriggled off of them. I pulled my phone from my pocket and used the flashlight to illuminate the dim room.
And gagged again as I saw the pile of crumpled boxer shorts I'd fallen into.
I yelled, jumping back to distance myself from the undergarments as fast as I could.
"What's wrong?" Ava's face appeared in the open window. "Are you okay?"
"No!" I yelled again.
"Shhhh!" she admonished. "Someone might hear you."
"That's easy for you to say! You're not the one who had Tripp's underwear on her face."
I could see Ava covering a laugh as she disappeared back below the windowsill. "I'm going around to th
e front door," she called. "Let me in."
I might or might not have said a few choice swear words under my breath as I navigated around several piles of dirty clothes, discarded takeout containers, and the generally sticky and unwashed feel of the place.
Maybe now I understood why Tripp burned clothing. When I got home, I was lighting a fire, and everything I was currently wearing was going in it.
Sidestepping a pair of dumbbells and a pile of empty beer cans, I made my way to the front of the trailer, ready to let Ava in. Only by the time that I got there, she was smiling at me from the open door.
"What the…"
"It was unlocked," she commented matter-of-factly.
"What do you mean, unlocked?" I asked.
"I mean, I turned the handle and it opened. Tripp must have forgotten to lock it when he left."
I thought a few more swear words—really good ones this time!—and vowed that next time I committed B&E, I would try the door first. Scratch that—there wasn't going to be a next time. Nope, this was going to be my last break and enter ever!
Ava stood with one hand on her hip, the other swiping her flashlight app across the dim interior of the trailer. While it was still just early afternoon, with the sheets tacked up on every window and general clutter packed in front of them blocking out the light, it was dark enough inside that I had to squint.
"Well, where should we start?" she asked.
I shook my head. "If he has a burner phone, it could be anywhere."
Ava moved to a cupboard above the sink, opening it to find a stack of papers, a couple of old DVDs, and a box of Pop-Tarts. After checking in the box with no luck, she moved on to the next cupboard.
I reluctantly made my way back toward the bedroom. Discarded mounds of laundry mingled with wet towels and old boots. An open Playboy magazine sat on his bedside table, his bong sitting on top of it. Charming. A metal horse bit and stirrups were lying on the floor next to a bank of built-in storage drawers, and an empty bottle of Jack Daniel's peeked out from beneath the bed.
I ignored it all, held my breath, and opened the drawer closest to me. Relieved that it held nothing but socks, I moved on to the next. That one held several pairs of Wranglers, and the rest of his Playboy stash.
Death in Wine Country (Wine & Dine Mysteries Book 5) Page 11
