“Sorry,” Matteo mumbled. “This never would have happened if Flanagan had just backed off,” Matteo said. “But he kept pushing and pushing. Even after I gave him a firm answer, saying we would not be selling, he continued to pressure me. I told him to leave us alone, but he wouldn’t.”
“Well, that could give you motive, or … did Flanagan have something on you, Matteo?”
His face paled. “No, of course not! I’m a man without secrets.” Sadie wasn’t quite sure she believed him, but she continued as if she did.
“Explain what led up to the meeting at the winery. You had information for him, right?”
Matteo sat down on the couch and ran his fingers through his hair. “About a week before I went back home, Flanagan called me, practically in hysterics. He apologized for being so pushy, but said he was being pressured from inside Serrano-Flanagan to force the sale through. According to Flanagan, someone high up in the company was blackmailing him.”
“Who was it?”
“He wouldn’t say. He just said the person had evidence that Flanagan’s father had embezzled money from the parent company years ago, back in Boston. If he didn’t get the Tremiato sale to go through, they were going to make it public.”
“So he wanted to protect his family reputation?”
Matteo nodded, but then shook his head. “Yes, but that wasn’t all. He also feared for his life, saying the Serrano family was long rumored to be well connected, if you know what I mean.”
“I’m following you, Matteo. I’ve seen The Godfather.”
“He didn’t have any proof, of course, but he was scared.”
“That’s understandable,” Sadie said. “So then what happened?”
“I wasn’t going to sell the winery just to get him off the hook, though he pleaded with me to do exactly that. But I told him I’d do some checking to see if there was any truth to the accusations against his father. I told him to give me a few days to see what I could dig up.”
Sadie frowned. “I’ve been searching online for anything that looked odd about the parent company, PSF Enterprises, since Serrano-Flanagan looks clean. But there’s not a lot, other than the fact the company started up in the 1920s. There were some rumors of illegal dealings, but nothing that was ever substantiated.”
“That’s all I found, too,” Matteo said. “So I hired a private investigator from Boston.”
“You’re kidding me, right? And this is the first you’re telling me?”
“I told you from the start that I went to meet Flanagan to give him some information. I just didn’t tell you what that information was. I didn’t think it was important at that time. And I panicked, OK? I went to meet him, found him dead, and panicked. I wasn’t thinking clearly about anything. That was a terrible shock.”
“I know it must have been. But go on,” Sadie said.
“The private investigator found some information on the Serrano side of the company. I told Flanagan that I had information that could get him off the hook with whoever was pressuring him from inside the company. He told me he was in the area near the Tremiato winery doing other business, so we agreed to meet in the fermentation building at midnight, a good time to avoid other people. But if anyone had caught us, I could have just said I wanted to visit to see how everyone in the family was doing, you know, big brother stuff. You know the rest of how that meeting went. Or didn’t, I should say.”
“What was the information you planned to give him, Matteo?”
“That it was the Serrano side of the company that embezzled the money. Flanagan’s father wasn’t involved.”
“So you decided to meet at the winery to pass on this information…because you didn’t want to talk over the phone?”
“Exactly. Everything the private investigator reported back to me supported Flanagan’s claim that the Serrano family was connected. If true, they might have been bugging our phone calls all along. I wasn’t going to risk that. And I didn’t want him coming near my own business. I just wanted him to back off with the sales pressure. I thought he might be willing to drop it if he knew the company’s blackmail claims had no basis.”
“Who do you think was blackmailing Flanagan?”
“I can’t be sure, but I suspect it was John Serrano, who runs the Serrano-Flanagan company in Sacramento. He would have been the only one above Flanagan who could manipulate him that way. The Serranos always had a slightly higher share in PSF Enterprises, right from the beginning.”
“An Italian advantage over the Irish half of the company?”
“Yes,” Matteo said, contemplating Sadie’s statement.
“That’s interesting,” Sadie said. “PSF Enterprises was formed in the 1920s in Boston. There was a heavy Irish presence there at that time. And a lot of Italian-Irish rivalry. If you think about it, it seems odd that a business alliance between the Serranos and Flanagans would have even formed. But I guess greed can conquer other factors, even rivalry. They must have been making some good money. And you know what illegal business was lucrative at that time?”
Matteo answered immediately. “Bootlegging.”
“Exactly,” Sadie said. “I have a feeling corruption goes way back in this company. The question now is what’s playing out currently.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
A light mist greeted Sadie in the morning as she headed to Flair. She’d left home early to get to her office before Amber arrived to open the shop so that she could do some discreet investigating. Sleep had been elusive, anyway, as her mind tumbled the new, disjointed pieces of information around like clothes in a dryer. Tossing back and forth until Coco yipped with impatience from the lower edge of the bedspread, she finally got up, made coffee, dressed and headed out.
The time difference between San Francisco and Boston worked in her favor. She’d pried the phone number of the private detective Matteo had used out of him before he left the night before. If the P.I. had been able to unearth enough information for Matteo to approach Flanagan, he could probably obtain additional facts. Or spill them, if he already knew more than he’d told Matteo. Even unsubstantiated rumors could help at this point. Connecting the dots might be all it took to get to the bottom of things.
Sadie unlocked the door to Flair and relocked it from the inside. Heading to the back, she almost tripped over a stack of boxes that UPS had delivered the afternoon before. Amber certainly had her work cut out for her today. This was a good thing, since Sadie had plenty on her calendar, as well. The rescheduled Harvest Festival was only one day away, and she was determined to have the background information on Serrano-Flanagan before the event.
Setting up a pot of coffee, she flipped the switch on and settled in at her desk, jotting a few notes down before picking up the phone.
“Sal’s Agency.” The voice on the other end of the phone was rough with a heavy Boston accent. Sadie noted that, just as in the paper Matteo had given her, no last name was used. She wasn’t sure whether this should encourage or dissuade her.
“Hello, Sal,” Sadie began. “A friend and neighbor of mine, Matteo Tremiato, gave me your number. I’m working on a murder case here in California and wonder if I could ask you a few questions.”
“Sure, doll. I’ll tell you what I know. And for a pretty fee – negotiable, of course – I’ll find you even more.” A pause. “Wait a minute. Did you say murder case? I don’t handle anything that has to do with murder. Too many hidden agendas and unknowns. I’m just a fact finder. You know, like a university researcher. But in a non-academic setting.” The sound of a freight train in the background accentuated his point.
“I understand,” Sadie said. “The information I’m looking for doesn’t pertain directly to the murder. I just need facts, background stuff.”
“In that case, what can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for some history on a company – PSF Enterprises, to be precise.” Sadie waited patiently through the silence on the other end of the line.
“You know, I’m not fam
iliar with a company by that name,” Sal answered. “I probably can’t help you, but I’ll give you a call if a business with that name turns up.” The call disconnected. Had Matteo not warned Sadie to expect this, she would have been frustrated or discouraged. Instead she waited for the expected return call, which came in around fifteen minutes later.
“Sorry about that,” Sal said when Sadie answered. “Had a bad connection or somethin’. This is better.” Not surprisingly, the number didn’t match the one she had dialed.
“I was asking about PSF Enterprises,” Sadie said. “I believe they’re the parent company to Serrano-Flanagan?”
“Technically, yes,” Sal said. “But they don’t do much anymore. They used to be big back in the day here in Boston. But they’re nothing more than an office now. They cut down operations here when they started opening up companies in other areas, like that one you have out there in California.”
“To put all their focus on those subsidiaries?”
“You might say that. Or you could say it was to take focus off past operations in Boston.”
“What kind of operations?” Sadie waited, pen in hand to take notes, if needed.
Sal laughed. “From the start, they weren’t a reputable company. They weren’t the only ones, of course. Plenty of illicit firms popped up around Prohibition. There was dough for the taking back then, everywhere. PSF Enterprises was set up as a transport company. And transport they did – from here to Canada and back. Oh, the Irish side of the company had a few deals going on down at the docks. But a couple of people got nabbed and that fizzled out pretty quick.”
“Then what? Prohibition ended,” Sadie pointed out.
“Yeah, but they had enough legitimate angles going to stay in business. I think the Italian side of the company stayed out of trouble for a few decades. The Irish side got caught up with fixing horse races for a while during the 60s and 70s. But they must have paid people off, because they never got caught. Then again, maybe those were rumors.”
“What about embezzlement?”
“Ah, there’s your real question, doll. That happened around the 80s. Money came up missing and both sides of the company pointed to the other. Nothing was ever proven on either side. The Flanagan side took the brunt of accusations, since they’d been the ones fixing the races not long before. And Joseph Flanagan was in charge of the accounting department, so it made sense to point to him. But no one proved anything. My inside sources say the Serrano side was behind it all. They made some big outside investments about the time the money disappeared. But they had paper trails to back them up. From here to Switzerland, I should say.”
“Joseph Flanagan stayed with the company?”
“Yeah, once there was no proof that he was involved, and the scandal died down. He stayed until he died about ten years ago. His son now works at Serrano-Flanagan in Sacramento. You already know that, obviously, or you wouldn’t have called me.”
“Well,” Sadie stalled. “I guess you haven’t heard. You need to change that to past tense. Simon Flanagan is the one who was murdered last Saturday.”
After a moment of silence, the investigator said, “I’m truly sorry to hear that. You know, you might consider leaving this whole thing alone. That company has always been mired in controversy.”
“So it seems,” Sadie said.
“Anyway, that’s all I know,” Sal continued. “And I suggest you lose this number.”
That won’t be hard, since it said it was blocked, Sadie thought.
“Wait, one more question,” Sadie asked quickly, before Sal hung up. “The company name…PSF Enterprises…What was the “P” for? Was there a third partner?”
“No, there were only two partners, but...”
Sadie barely caught the rest of the answer before the line went dead.
* * *
Amber arrived promptly at 9:45 a.m., ready to set up the register and get the shop open for the day. She was surprised to find her employer already in the back office, doodling exotic flowers along the edge of a full sheet of scribbled notes.
“Early morning?” Amber asked.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Sadie replied, a safe answer that also happened to be true.
“You doodle like that when your brain’s in overdrive,” Amber pointed out. What Amber didn’t know was that Sadie doodled like this when she was on the edge of putting the last pieces of a puzzle together. And this particular case was indeed a puzzle.
“We should price items for this weekend’s Fall Clearance sale,” Sadie said, putting her pen down. “All scarves and accessories need to be marked down. Those lace leggings that haven‘t been selling should go on clearance. And speaking of the clearance section…” Sadie stood up and walked out to the back area of the shop. “Let’s take all the final sale items down another twenty percent. And we should put a few brighter orange and yellow items in the front display window, along with sale signs that will be delivered this afternoon. That should help draw customers in.”
“I can do the mark-downs and rearrange the window this morning. I’ll add the sale signs when they come in later.” Amber said. “We have ads in the paper for this weekend, don’t we?”
“Yes, we do,” Sadie said. “Including the Chronicle. So we should be busy. I have a second person coming in to help tomorrow, so you won’t be alone.”
“Oh, that’s right! You’ve got the rescheduled event at Matteo’s winery. You’re driving up in the morning?”
“That was my plan,” Sadie said. “But if we get the mark-downs under control, I could drive up today and see how Tina’s doing.” Sadie paused, looking around the shop. She nodded her head, satisfied with the plan, and then headed for the front door. “I’ll be right back. I need to run over to Matteo’s for a minute.”
“Coconut truffle for me, while you’re at it,” Amber shouted after her.
* * *
Matteo’s shop wasn’t open for business yet, but as soon as Sadie tapped on the glass pane, he ushered her in, then resumed counting change into the cash register to prepare for customer traffic.
Sadie browsed the display cases and let Matteo finish setting up the register. As soon as he was organized, she picked out a few items for herself and Amber, plus an assortment of Matteo’s much-loved miniature peanut butter pumpkins for Flair to have on hand at the following day’s sale. The least she could do when she left her shop girls to cope with a sale without her was to make sure there was an adequate sugar supply.
“Any word from Tina today?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Matteo said. “The police let her go again. She’s home.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Sadie said. “She’s been dragged in there twice, and there isn’t any real evidence against her. You know she thinks Stefano is setting her up.”
“She told me the same thing. But she’s just distraught. There’s no reason Stefano would do that. He wouldn’t have had any reason to kill Flanagan. Stefano was all for selling. And how would he have known Flanagan would be there?”
“How would anyone have known?” Sadie pointed out. Except Matteo, who told him to meet there…
Matteo shook his head, realizing the implication. “I know what that looks like, but obviously someone knew. Besides me, that is.”
“Could Stefano have been upset at Flanagan because the sale fell through?”
Matteo shot Sadie a look of disbelief. “No, if anything, he’d be upset with me about that. I’m the one who blocked it.”
“How upset was he?”
“Not enough to try to kill me, if that’s what you’re thinking. He would have liked the money, but it’s not like he needed it. He does fine with his store. And I don’t think he was all that heartbroken when the sale fell through. He thought it was a good business move, but that’s all.”
Pausing at the end of the counter, Sadie picked up the trade show magazine she’d noticed on a previous visit. Thumbing to the page with the blue and gold logo, she asked Matteo about the company
.
“I’ve seen this logo before,” Sadie ventured. “What company is this?”
Matteo glanced at the magazine Sadie was holding. “Oh, those guys? That’s Culinary Specialty Products, a supply outfit. They sponsor a lot of the shows. Have tote bags for people to collect brochures, that kind of thing. I was at one of their shows this past week. I went by after I closed the shop.”
Matteo handed Sadie the chocolate stash, packed into a small box with an elastic ribbon looped over two diagonally opposed corners.
“Do they make anything besides tote bags?” Sadie asked. “Say, pins, for example?”
“Probably. All those companies give away promotional items at shows, you know, tote bags, mugs, coasters, pins, pens. I don’t care for that stuff myself, but some people collect every little thing they can find. As long as the price is right, of course: free.”
“You must have some sort of example you can show me,” Sadie said.
“Actually, no. Unless a sample is edible, I ignore it. I don’t need a bunch of useless knick-knacks kicking around here.”
“No, I guess you don’t.” Sadie glanced around at the already crowded shop.
Sadie returned to Flair and found many of the sale items already priced and the front window display in progress.
“Amber, I think I’ll go ahead and drive up to St. Vin today. Will you be all right getting the store ready for tomorrow?”
“Sure! You know I love to be busy. And Maggie is coming in at 3, so things won’t be too hectic for me.”
“Good. I’m lucky to have you. Matteo told me Tina is home, and I know the inn has vacancies. Her business hasn’t exactly been booming since the news about the murder started flying around. I have a few hunches I’d like to follow. And I think it’s possible the killer might return to the scene of the crime.”
“Tomorrow? With all those people around?”
“No better place to hide, my dear,” Sadie smiled.
A Flair for Chardonnay Page 12
