by Penny Warner
Like “Payroll.”
I opened the file, scanned the list of employees, and found Kyle Bennett’s name, with the amount ten thousand dollars next to it.
Wow. Another ten grand? What was the lawyer doing for this man that was worth so much money?
I scrolled down farther, checking for other familiar names. There were several restaurants listed I recognized, some shops, and the Napa County Bingo Hall. I stopped when I discovered Allison’s name. Next to it was the number five thousand.
Why was Angus McLaughlin paying Allison five thousand dollars?
“What’s the hold-up?” Angus called out, his curly white eyebrows meeting at the center of his deeply lined forehead.
“I was just getting organized,” I said lamely. “I think I opened the payroll file by accident.”
“Well, close it and get to work!” he huffed.
“Okay, but I was just wondering why Allison’s name is on your payroll list. Doesn’t she work for the Purple Grape Winery?”
Angus put down the papers he’d been holding in his hands and looked at me oddly. “Excuse me?”
The jig was up. I stood, ready for fight or flight.
Angus’s blotchy face grew redder. He stood too, sending a stack of papers flying. “Who the hell are you?”
I grabbed my purse and dashed halfway to the door in order to make a quick getaway in case he went for the gun cabinet.
“I just think it’s odd that you have so many businesses on your payroll—restaurants, shops, even the bingo hall. Are you paying kickbacks to all these places, Mr. McLaughlin? In exchange for what—information? Influence?”
Oh boy, I was asking for it now. I took another step closer to the door.
“Get the hell out of here!” the man sputtered. “How dare you…”
McLaughlin came around the desk on wobbly, bowed legs, using the desk as support—and wearing pants, luckily. I guessed he had some sort of hip or leg problems that slowed him down physically. Reaching over, he picked up a cane I hadn’t noticed lying on the edge of the desk—I’d thought it was some kind of rustic decoration—and waved it threateningly at me.
“I know who you are! You’re that snoop from the party that can’t keep her nose out of other people’s business. Kyle told me about you.” He whacked the cane on the desk, and it made a loud, threatening crack.
I reached the front door and took hold of the knob.
“And you’re the man who’s trying to buy up all of Napa, including the Purple Grape. Are you also the one who murdered JoAnne Douglas because she got in your way? And Javier Montoya because he found out about JoAnne?”
I was taunting him, randomly making up stuff, but what the hell. I figured I could make a run for it and he wouldn’t get far in his condition. And maybe, in his anger, he’d spill something important by accident.
To my surprise, he came at me, swinging his cane.
I yanked open the door and came face-to-face with a pretty young blond woman.
“He’s all yours!” I said, and fled outside and out of McLaughlin’s reach. When I got to the other side of the gate, I looked back.
The door to the cabin slammed shut. The girl still stood at the doorway, looking completely bewildered.
Thank God, I thought, panting from the adrenaline rush.
The gardener, working near the gate, stopped trimming a rosebush and stared at me quizzically.
“Mr. McLaughlin didn’t like my résumé,” I explained, forcing a casual smile at him.
The gardener nodded as if he understood and resumed his snipping. A perfect, long-stemmed red rose came off in his gloved hand.
Stepping through the gate, I said, “The roses are beautiful.”
The gardener offered me the bloodred rose in his hand. “For you, señorita,” he said, and gave a small bow.
I took the flower and inhaled its fragrance. “Thank you!”
“De nada. Have a nice day.”
I smelled the flower again on the way back to my car, then unlocked the door and ducked inside. As I lay the long-stemmed rose on the passenger seat, my thumb caught on one of the thorns.
“Ouch!” I said aloud, and pulled the wound to my mouth.
After the bleeding subsided, I looked at my throbbing thumb. It was the second time I’d drawn blood during this investigation. This time, it was just a painful nuisance.
But that’s when I realized the first time had been a significant clue.
Chapter 24
PARTY-PLANNING TIP #24
How do you decide what kind of wine to serve at your tasting party—red or white? Think about how it will pair with the food you’re serving and you’ll have your answer—light wines for light food and heavy wines for heavy food. It’s that simple!
I had cut myself on a piece of glass from the broken pane in the hallway. Whoever had broken the glass to take the corkscrew had cleaned it up but overlooked a shard or two. That had to be the killer—someone who’d made it look like Rob killed JoAnne by placing Rob’s antique weapon at the scene.
All I had to do was find the physical evidence.
And I now knew how to do just that—pay a visit to everyone at the party who had a reason to either kill JoAnne or frame Rob. That let out Angus McLaughlin. He wasn’t at the party, unless he was hiding somewhere—and with those bum hips, I doubted he did much on-site dirty work. Then again, he could have paid someone to do it—like Kyle, who was apparently getting checks from the old recluse, not to mention Allison. I put McLaughlin back on my list.
As for the rest of my suspects, I had to revisit a few people on my list. Figuring Kyle and Allison were the two most likely prospects, I decided to start with them. I knew they wouldn’t be very cooperative, but I’d just have to get around that.
Somehow.
I called Kyle, wishing I could use the standard “I have some important new information for you” trick, but I’d done that last time. I needed to come up with some other ruse. My throbbing thumb gave me an answer.
“Hello,” Kyle answered.
“Kyle, this is Presley.”
“What do you want? I’m busy.” He sounded agitated.
“I just came from Angus McLaughlin’s cabin.” I waited, letting that bulletin worm its way into his heart.
Silence on the other end, then, “Yeah? So what did he say?”
“Enough to get you disbarred,” I said, bluffing. “I think I can save your butt, but you’ll have to meet me as soon as you can.”
I expected Kyle to argue, but instead he said, “Where?”
“Not your office. That place is obviously a front. And certainly not at Napology—if that’s where you keep your real office. How about your home?”
“Why not the café?”
“It has to be private. Where do you live?”
He gave me an address in an apartment building in the newer part of town. “I’ll see you there in about twenty minutes.”
“You better not be playing more games, Presley. I’m tired of your accusations and amateur sleuthing. If this is another wild-goose chase, I swear, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” I interrupted him. “Kill me?”
The line went dead.
That went well. I knew I was taking a risk meeting Kyle at his home, but I had a protection plan. For backup, I called Brad, left a message on his phone where I’d be, then called Delicia, who answered on the first ring.
“Pres! Where are you? Ever since your Killer Wine-Tasting Party made the news, the phone’s been ringing off the hook. You’re going to have to pay me overtime for all the messages I’ve taken!”
“Dee, I need you to listen,” I said, trying to calm her down.
I told her my plan, then hung up and drove to the address that Kyle had given me. He lived in a gated two-story apartment complex, lavishly landscaped and obviously exclusive. It fit his expensive taste and showy personality. His unit was on the second floor, overlooking a large swimming pool and tennis courts. It obviously hadn’t
come cheap.
I knocked. While I waited for Kyle to answer the door, I redialed Dee.
“You there?” I said softly into the phone.
“Yep. You’re coming in loud and clear.”
“Okay, don’t hang up or I’m screwed.”
“Got it! This is so exiting!”
“Shh!” I said, just as the door opened. I lowered the phone as if I were done talking and put it in my purse, making sure the speaker was unobstructed. I hoped he’d figure I’d told someone where I was, but I still had my backup plan.
“Come in,” Kyle said, sighing and frowning at my intrusion. Dressed in the same expensive suit he’d been wearing earlier, he gestured for me to enter. I took a quick look around at the expansive living area, staged with model-home furniture and matching artwork. It looked as if Kyle didn’t spend a lot of time here—at least not in the living room. There were no magazines on the coffee table, no jackets on the back of the chairs, nothing personal to indicate a human being lived in the place. I peered into the adjoining kitchen. Not a single dish in view. He probably ate out, avoiding the whole kitchen area completely.
“Nice place,” I said, trying to sound like I meant it. I hoped Dee could still hear me.
“I’m not home much,” he said. “I sleep, change clothes, and go.”
I nodded. “Mind if I see the rest of the place? It’s so…interesting.”
Kyle put his hands on his hips, looking impatient. “Listen, Presley, I didn’t drop everything to give you a house tour. I’m beginning to think you’re the party planner who cried wolf. What is it you wanted to tell me that supposedly will save my career? I have to get back to the jail and Rob.”
“Are they going to release him?”
“I don’t know. I’m working on it.”
“Okay, but first, do you mind if I use your bathroom? Too much coffee,” I said, patting my tummy.
Kyle let out an exasperated breath. “Fine. Down the hall, on the right.”
“Thanks. Be right back.”
As soon as I reached the bathroom, I closed the door as if I had entered, and instead moved on to Kyle’s bedroom.
“Dee?” I whispered into my purse. “Can you still hear me?” I held the purse up to my ear.
“Yes!” she whispered back.
I crossed the room to the closet on the far side of the room and did a quick and quiet search. Kneeling down, I found what I was looking for—his shoes. Specifically, the Ferragamos he’d worn to the party. My shoe-store stint during my college days, combined with my knowledge of ab-psych, had taught me a lot about a person’s personality. But this time I wasn’t interested in diagnosing Kyle as a sociopath or obsessive-compulsive.
I just wanted to see his sole.
I picked up one of the shoes and turned it over. Pulling out my cell phone, I touched the screen to make the light come on, hoping I didn’t accidentally disconnect from Dee, and held it over the sole.
No sparkles. No sign of broken glass on the bottom of his shoes. Just scuff marks.
I put the shoe back in the closet and was about to stand up when I heard, “Hey! Get out of there!”
Kyle stood in the bedroom doorway, his face twisted half in anger, half in disbelief.
“What the hell are you doing?”
I raised my phone and turned it toward him as if it were some kind of weapon.
“What are you going to do with that?” he said, almost laughing. “Phone me to death? You got an app for that?”
“Very funny. As a matter of fact, I have the police on the other end of the phone. I told them if anything happened to me, they’d know exactly where I was and who I was with.” I said Kyle’s name and gave his address. “They’ve been listening the whole time.”
Kyle lunged for the phone. “Give me that!” he said, snatching it from my hand. “Hello? Who is this?”
I couldn’t make out what Dee said, but I hoped it was something like “the Napa Police Department.” She was a good actress; she would improvise. I just hoped that high-pitched baby voice didn’t give her away.
“Yeah? Well, you don’t sound like a cop to me, sweetheart.”
With that, he touched the button on the phone, ending the call.
“That was stupid,” I said. “The police know I’m with you. They’ll be here any minute.”
“Really? Well, then I’d advise you to get your ass out of here before they arrest you for breaking and entering.”
My jaw went slack. “I didn’t break in! You let me in!”
“That’s not the way I’m going to tell it.”
“But they heard everything on the phone.”
He touched another button, looked at the screen, then smiled, those bright white capped teeth nearly glinting in the artificial light. “Your last call wasn’t to the Napa Police Department. It was a four-one-five number to someone named Delicia Jackson. Isn’t she your party friend—the one who played the wine queen at the party? I think I hit on her.”
Busted!
“Give me my phone,” I demanded, reaching out a hand.
“What are you after, Presley? You think I killed JoAnne? You’re nuts, you know that, right? If I killed off my clients, I wouldn’t make any money. Don’t you get that?”
I grabbed my phone back and headed for the door.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I don’t think you killed JoAnne now. But I do think you’re a lousy lawyer. And I’ll do anything I can to get you disbarred if you don’t get Rob out.”
I slammed the door behind me, my hands shaking from the emotional confrontation, and took the stairs down, two steps at a time. I couldn’t get away from that shyster fast enough.
The phone rang as soon as I got in my MINI. Brad. Thank God.
“Hi,” I answered, almost breathlessly.
“I’ve been calling you! It keeps going to voice mail. What’s going on? You okay?”
“Sorry. I’ve been on the phone with Dee. Any chance you can come back to the Purple Grape soon? I think I’m onto something.”
“Did you find out who killed JoAnne?”
“Not exactly, but I think I can find the physical evidence that proves who the killer is. I’d love your help.”
“I should be there in a couple of hours. But listen to me, Presley. Do nothing until I get there, understood?”
“Believe me, all I’m going to do is get the evidence. I don’t plan on confronting the killer or doing anything stupid. I’ve learned my lesson.”
“Yeah, sure you have,” I heard him mumble. Then louder, “Hang tight. I’m serious. I’ll see you soon.”
“Ten-four,” I said, quoting some TV police show.
“Knock it off, Presley. You’re not a cop; you’re a party planner. Please try to remember that.”
I hung up, feeling a whole lot better knowing Brad was on the way. Now all I had to do was one last thing to prove my theory—that Allison had killed JoAnne in order to frame Rob, and then killed Javier because he probably knew too much. I was certain she’d also tried to kill her own sister so she’d inherit the winery.
Unfortunately, that meant if Allison was home, I’d have to get her out of the house and me into her bedroom again.
I punched in the number of the Purple Grape.
“Hello?” It was Allison. Marie was probably still sleeping. At least, I hoped she was only sleeping…
“Hey, Allison, this is Presley. I think I know who the killer is, but I need your help. Would you meet me at Kyle’s apartment as soon as you can?”
She hesitated, then said, “You know who killed JoAnne?”
“Yes, and I think I can prove it, but I need your help.”
“Why do you want to meet at Kyle’s? Do you think he’s the killer?”
“I don’t want to say anything over the phone. Do you know where he lives?”
“Yeah, he has an apartment downtown.”
“Good. Hurry.”
I hung up, feeling a tingle all over my body. Dee was right—this was ex
citing! I had Allison running around on a wild-goose chase, giving me the chance to check on Marie and snoop around in her room.
I drove out of Kyle’s apartment parking lot charged with adrenaline and headed for the Purple Grape.
In spite of the multiple ribbons of crime scene tape, the winery looked peaceful, belying its recent murderous history. I didn’t see Allison’s car and figured she had to be nearly at Kyle’s by now. She’d probably wait for me there for ten minutes or so, then give up and return home, giving me about half an hour total to find what I was looking for.
As they say in the party biz, piece of cake.
Using the key I still had, I let myself into the house. The place was as quiet as a room full of partiers waiting to yell, “Surprise!” to an unsuspecting guest of honor. I just hoped there were no surprises waiting for me.
My first stop was Rob and Marie’s bedroom. I wanted to make sure she was all right. I wouldn’t put it past Allison to try to get rid of her sister again, after failing at her first attempt.
I knocked quietly on Marie’s door.
No answer. I shuddered, thinking of the possibilities.
Turning the knob, I opened the door and peered into the darkness. The shades were still drawn, the only light coming from the hallway behind me. I moved to the bed and gently put a hand on the rumpled covers.
“Marie?” I said softly, not wanting to startle her.
The covers felt soft. I pressed down harder to give her body a little shake.
My hand met the firmness of the bed.
I threw back the covers.
Marie was gone.
Chapter 25
PARTY-PLANNING TIP #25
Overserving your party guests can be a problem at a wine-tasting event. Look for wines with an alcohol content under 14 percent to keep your guests from becoming too intoxicated. Nothing ruins a party faster than a drunken loudmouth or sauced psychopath.
“Marie!” I shouted, starting to panic. I felt tiny beads of perspiration break out on my forehead and down my back. My heart rate went into hyperspeed.
