Death in Wine Country (Wine & Dine Mysteries Book 5)

by Gemma Halliday

  "Wow. I'm impressed."

  The corner of his mouth curved up in a grin. "Turns out I'm not as incompetent as you thought, huh?"

  "I never thought you were incompetent."

  "Just wrong?" he baited.

  "Just…sometimes blinded by the evidence."

  He narrowed his eyes at me, contemplating that one. Though the half smile remained, so I figured I wasn't on too shaky ground anymore.

  "So you think you can trace who sent Harper that message?" I asked, feeling hope that we might uncover Harper's other victim…and possibly her killer.

  He nodded. Then he set his fork down and slipped off his stool. "I think there's a good possibility." He moved to put his jacket on. "I'd like to get a look at that security footage again first."

  "Wait—you're leaving now?" I hated the note of whiney teen in my voice.

  He must have noticed too, though his reaction was more amusement. "Apparently my evening just got busy, thanks to you," he said, using my line from earlier.

  "But I have cheesecake," my inner teen whined again.

  The grin curved both corners of his mouth this time, as he leaned in close. "That wasn't the dessert I was interested in anyway."

  Heat surged through me so fast, it curled my toes.

  I barely had time to get ahold of my hormones before he planted a quick peck on my cheek and stepped toward the door.

  Though, before leaving, he paused in the doorway. "Keep the doors locked, and stay safe tonight," he said.

  I nodded dumbly, my hormones still rendering me mute.

  He shot me one last devastatingly sexy grin and walked away.

  I heard a wistful sigh. It might have come from me.

  I shook my lust off and pulled myself together, clearing our plates. I'd just finished the dishes and was pouring myself another glass of Pinot, when my phone buzzed with a text.

  I swore if that was David Allen again…

  Only, as I glanced at the readout, I saw this time the message was from Ava.

  I sipped from my glass, not sure I could stand hearing how fabulously her dinner and dancing with a celebrity was going while I was contemplating an evening alone with a bottle of wine and a cheesecake. But curiosity finally won over—hey, if I was going to spend the evening doing a single, I might as well live vicariously, right?—and I swiped the text open.

  I know who killed Harper. Meet me at Tripp's trailer.

  I froze, staring at the words on the screen, my heart rate picking up.

  Had Ava had a sudden revelation at dinner? Or maybe Nolan had said something over drinks that made everything fall into place. Tripp's trailer…had she realized something we'd missed there that afternoon? Something that definitively pointed to the cowboy as the guilty party?

  I set my wineglass on the counter.

  Is Tripp guilty? I texted back.

  I waited, feeling anxiety build in the pit of my stomach as I stared at the screen.

  One minute. Two.

  Five minutes later, she still hadn't responded.

  I bit my lip. Maybe she couldn't text back right now. Maybe she was already driving up to Tripp's place with evidence that he was a cold blooded murderer.

  I picked up my phone.

  Be right there, I told her, grabbing my purse and hightailing it to my Jeep.

  * * *

  The sun was a distant memory as I hit the winding dirt road of Rosebay Meadows. Clearly no one had bothered to install streetlights out there, and the hulking shadows of abandoned shacks and dimly lit trailers hunkering down in the inky blackness created an eerie scene. If there were ever a moment when I believed in creatures of the night, this was where I imagined they hung out to plot their evening escapades. Even the trees looked sinister in the sliver of moonlight peeking through their twisted branches, as if their long limbs might reach out and grab at me a la Snow White's haunted forest.

  I pulled to a stop beside Tripp's trailer, noting his truck was still absent. I didn't see Ava's car either, but it was hard to make out distinct shapes in the dark. I turned off my engine and grabbed my phone.

  I'm here, I texted to Ava.

  I waited a beat, but no answer came back.

  But as I glanced out my window toward the trailer, a flash of something inside caught my eye. Like the beam from a phone app or flashlight. I shook my head as I saw it again, moving around at the back of the trailer where Tripp's bedroom was located. Had Ava decided to do some more not–breaking and entering?

  I shoved my phone into my pocket and got out of the Jeep, locking the door behind me as I quickly jogged the few paces to the door of Tripp's place, trying to ignore the chill in the air. I rapped softly on the door.

  "Ava?" I called in a mock whisper. "It's me."

  I didn't hear an answer, but the beam of light flashed at the back window again.

  I put my hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it, pushing inside. "Ava?" I called again.

  The main cabin was dark, and I blinked, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the absence of light. Table, chairs, a pile of cardboard boxes. It seemed undisturbed since that afternoon, but everything felt a little creepier in the dark. The bedroom door was closed, but I could see light beneath it.

  "Are you back there?" I asked, taking a step toward the rear of the trailer.

  I thought I heard a muffled response, but it was hard to make out. As my eyes began to adjust, I slowly took small steps toward the closed bedroom door then gingerly pushed it open.

  What I saw on the other side had my breath hitching in my throat.

  "Ava!" I cried.

  My best friend was sitting on Tripp's bed, her hands secured behind her back with a piece of rope, feet bound together, and a bandana tied around her mouth. Her eyes were wide and rimmed with tears, and she was shaking her head at me.

  "Are you okay?" I asked, rushing toward her and pulling the bandana from her mouth.

  "Emmy," Ava croaked out as soon as her mouth was free, "don't. It's a—"

  "Trap," came the conclusion to her thought.

  Only it didn't come from Ava's mouth but from a low, menacing voice suddenly at my ear.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I froze, feeling my breath come fast as something hard and cold pressed into my side.

  "Sit," the voice commanded, accompanied by a strong hand grabbing at my upper arm and shoving me toward Ava.

  I stumbled, catching my balance as I hit the bed and spun around to face our attacker.

  His blue eyes were twinkling with mirth and something distinctly more sinister as his full lips curved into a wicked smile accentuating the dimple in his left cheek.

  "Nolan," I breathed out, my gaze going to the gun in his right hand. His left held a phone, the light shining into the room in an almost blinding beam as he played it over first me then Ava.

  "Emmy." He nodded my direction. "So pleased you could join us this evening," he said, his voice as pleasant and evenly modulated as if I were simply over for a cocktail and not being held at gunpoint next to my best friend, who'd been bound and gagged.

  "Wh-what's going on?" I asked.

  "Come now, Emmy." Nolan tsked between his teeth. "Surely you don't expect me to believe the dumb blonde act?"

  I was loath to admit that in this case it wasn't an act.

  "You sent that text? From Ava's phone?" I asked, my eyes on the one in his hand, which I realized now was in a pink case with the Silver Girl logo on the back.

  He shrugged. "Well, as you can see, Ava is a little tied up at the moment." He grinned at his own terrible joke, though the smile held more menace than humor. "So, I thought I'd help her out by issuing you an invite to our private little party."

  I glanced at Ava. Her lips were pursed into a thin line, and I could feel the anger radiating off her. Clearly this was not how she'd seen her night going.

  "I don't understand," I told him honestly.

  "Don't you?" he took a step toward us, the gun moving that much closer. "Well, let me recap t
he evening for those viewers just tuning in," he said, sending a sarcastic wink Ava's direction. "Your little friend here is a sucker for a charming compliment, and you are a sucker for a sob story. Some of my finest acting, this was not, but you both were an easy audience." He gave a mock bow.

  I realized he was more than just cocky—he was arrogant and unhinged. And, as the gun bobbed up and down in my direction with his movements, I realized he was also likely a murderer.

  "You killed Harper," I said slowly.

  "See? I knew you weren't such a ditz." He grinned at me, though it was hardly a compliment.

  "You threw Harper into Dante's pen and watched while he crushed her," I said, trying not to picture the scene.

  Nolan nodded slowly, and I could see the emotion behind his eyes. Though it wasn't the grief he'd put on for us before, but something akin to pleasure that sent a chill up my spine.

  "So simple, really," he said. "Of course, she struggled a little, but the vain thing only weighed a hundred pounds. And with those ridiculously high heels, she was off balance already. Really, I don't know how you ladies get around in those."

  "You let that poor horse do your dirty work," Ava spat out beside me, the contempt clear in her voice.

  Nolan shifted his gaze to her. "Darling, don't be disappointed. There's plenty of dirty work left." The gun rose, pointing squarely at Ava's head.

  Fear clutched at my chest. "Tell me how you did it!" I blurted out, trying to divert his attention.

  His eyes flickered to me. "How?"

  I nodded vigorously. "Yes. How did you lure her to Dante's pen?" I asked, hoping to play on his own vanity to buy time. "It must not have been easy."

  The gun lowered a tad. "Well, I wouldn't call it hard either. In fact, it was Harper's idea to meet in private in the first place."

  "So that you could deliver her blackmail payment," I said, realizing I was staring at Harper's final victim.

  His mouth curved into that wicked smile again. "So you know about that too, do you? See, I knew you knew too much."

  Honestly I hadn't known nearly enough.

  My eyes shot around the interior of the trailer, mostly still shadowed. Dirty magazines, a pile of sheets, a couple of empty beer cans. Nothing that screamed weapon or escape route.

  "You were one of Harper's blackmail victims, weren't you?" I asked.

  "One of?" Nolan threw his head back and laughed. "Well, well, well, our little Harper had quite a racket going on."

  "So you didn't know about her brother-in-law or Bert?" I asked, eyes cutting to Ava. If one of us could distract him, it was possible the other could grab the gun. Or at least slip out and get help.

  Unfortunately, Ava's eyes were still firmly on Nolan, shooting angry daggers in his direction.

  "Good heavens," Nolan said, tsking his tongue more. "Do tell—what did Harper have on our Little Bertie?"

  I almost hesitated to say, but anything that kept him talking and not shooting was a positive at this point. "Bert was in debt. He was using Carrie's money to pay back his creditors and lying to her about investing."

  Nolan laughed out loud. "Oh, Bertie. I give the old boy credit—he had me fooled with his incessant chatter about foreign markets."

  "I would guess you had him fooled as well," I said.

  "I had you all fooled." His eyes cut to Ava, a smirk on his lips now. "Didn't I, darling?"

  Ava's lips curled into a snarl, and I put a hand on her leg to try to calm her. As angry as she was, the last thing we needed was to push Nolan over the edge.

  "What did Harper threaten you with?" I asked, trying to divert his attention from my bestie again.

  He tore his gaze away from Ava and back to me. "Only my career!" he answered hotly. "My fans, my art, the image I've spent years cultivating!"

  "I don't understand," I said, feeling like a broken record where that phrase was concerned. "Harper had already been fired from Carefree Hearts. Was she saying she'd get you fired as well?"

  "Worse," he spat out. Then he pulled in a long breath, seemingly trying to get control of his clearly tentative hold on his emotions again. "She threatened to go public with something that would have ruined the image of Dr. Drake Dubois forever."

  I had to admit, I was intrigued. "What was it?"

  He paused, and for a moment I wasn't sure if he was going to spill it. Finally he said, "Let's just say I did some questionable art-house films early in my career that were not in the best of taste."

  I frowned, trying to read between the lines of the flowery language. "Wait—you starred in pornos?"

  Ava gasped beside me.

  He narrowed his eyes. "I was young. It was good money. And the director promised me it would lead to more mainstream roles."

  If he'd believed that, he was dumber than I'd pegged him for. "And Harper found out?"

  He nodded. "She knew as well as I do that our core audience is Middle America. The Bible Belt. Women who would never look at Dr. Dubois the same way again."

  I wasn't sure if he was giving women enough credit. It was, after all, the twenty-first century. And while his core audience might not be the adult film watching crowd, I had a feeling most of those Bible Belt dwelling Middle American women weren't totally ignorant when it came to what happened in the bedroom.

  "Surely something like that wouldn't scare away all of your fans, right?" I said.

  But Nolan shook his head. "You don't understand. Our producers know their audience. Well. And they don't like to take chances. If something like this were to come out, I'd be written out of the show in a heartbeat." He pointed the gun at me, waving it like a teacher would a ruler at a child who was slow to catch on. "You do know why Harper was written out of the show, don't you?"

  I shook my head, eyes cutting to Ava. She was the soap fan. But even she shrugged.

  "Her DUI. Producers thought she was too much of a risk for the show's image after that. A wild card."

  In their defense, they were probably right, given the extortion that followed.

  "No way was I going to let them do that to me." Nolan drew up to his full height, straightening his spine. "Not to Dr. Drake Dubois!"

  "So you agreed to Harper's demands," I said.

  He nodded. "Although the threats were anonymous at the time. I had no idea it was Harper." He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Though I should have. She was, after all, in the best position to recognize my anatomy from those early films."

  "Wait, are you saying you and Harper…" I trailed off.

  Nolan shrugged. "You saw how beautiful Harper was. And I wasn't joking when I said she loved men. All men. Her costar included, as it turned out."

  "You were sleeping with Harper!" Ava blurted out. If it was possible, she suddenly looked even more furious.

  Nolan nodded. "I'm sorry to say that it's true. I fell under her spell. Oh, in my defense, she was quite good at casting those little spells of hers over men. Even the great Dr. Dubois was not immune."

  I was beginning to wonder if he was aware he was not living in an episode of Carefree Hearts.

  "And then Harper betrayed you," I said softly. It seemed to be a theme in her life.

  "Yes." Nolan stretched his neck, as if he needed to relieve tension.

  I took the brief second of his distraction to feel beneath the bed with my feet. Dust, some item of discarded clothing, papers of some sort. I stretched my ankle out, keeping my eyes securely on Nolan's face to prevent him from looking down. My big toe connected with something smooth and cool. Glass.

  The Jack Daniel's bottle.

  I sent up a silent thank-you to the gods of slobs, inching my backside just the slightest bit forward on the right side to stretch toward the bottle as I tried to think of how to keep Nolan talking.

  "You were the one who sent the text to Harper the night of the party," I said. "Saying how dare she blackmail you."

  Nolan nodded. "Like I said, I had no idea it was Harper then. I just knew I wasn't going to keep paying that extortion forever
."

  "Forever?" Ava piped up. "It wasn't the first time?"

  Nolan shook his head. "No. The first demand for money came a few weeks ago. In hindsight, the timing should have given me a clue. It was just after we all found out Harper was being written out of the show." His sneer turned into more of a grimace as he relived the scene in his mind. "She was quick to pick up a new career, wasn't she?"

  "How much did she ask you for?"

  "Ten grand."

  It seemed to be her magic number.

  "She told me to leave the cash in a duffel bag in an empty studio at the lot," he went on. "At the time, I honestly thought it was one of the crew or some greedy security guard. But I figured a one-time payment was cheaper than a scandal."

  "Only it wasn't just the one time."

  His eyes hardened, his classically chiseled jawline tensing. "No. She demanded more."

  "She texted you again," I guessed.

  "Yes. She sent it before we left LA. Told me to have cash on hand for my weekend in Wine Country. Then once we arrived, she sent one saying that by the end of the party, everyone in the room would know my dirty little secret if I didn't bring another payment to the horse stables."

  "Did you?" I asked. I could feel my foot connecting with the top of the whiskey bottle, slowly rolling it toward the edge of the bed.

  "Yes. But I wasn't about to let her get away with it that time. I realized she wasn't going to stop, that she could drop a text again any time she wanted. So I waited. Watching from the shadows as my blackmailer approached."

  I could almost picture it—Harper in her sparkling dress, slinking up to the stables, thinking herself so clever to have milked her prey for cash once again. Maybe she'd even been dreaming of the designer handbags or Italian leather heels she'd purchase with it all. Never suspecting that her victim was about to turn killer.

  "And that was when you realized it was Harper," Ava added.