“Parents? I don’t think she has any. I don’t ever remember her talking about them,” Simon replied.
Great. Nikki was starting to think that she and Meredith had more in common than just their taste in men. The last thing she wanted was to have anything in common with Meredith Malveaux. “Everyone has parents,” Nikki commented.
“I suppose, but she’s never mentioned them. Maybe my mother would know. Frankly, I don’t care. I wish she’d go away. She’s a real pain. Why all the questions about her?”
“Let’s say it’s always good to know one’s enemy.”
“True, true,” Marco said with a snicker, holding up a finger. They pulled into the church parking lot. It was packed with cars.
The three of them got out. Simon whispered into Nikki’s ear. “I wouldn’t worry so much about his ex. There are other enemies lurking around, if you know what I mean.”
Nikki wasn’t exactly sure what he meant, but before she could ask, the church bells started ringing. Simon and Marco walked in front of her. She lingered behind for a moment, and they didn’t notice. She didn’t want to sit with them. She didn’t want to sit with anyone. Nikki wanted an easy escape route, for she was planning on leaving before the funeral was over. She had some research to do on Meredith Malveaux.
Chapter 18
After watching the last of the mourners straggle into the church, Nikki scanned the rows for recognizable faces, wanting to gauge reactions to Gabriel’s memorial. There was Meredith seated next to Patrice. It struck Nikki as funny to see Cal Sumner seated a few rows away. Maybe Meredith chased him off the other night after the murder. Cal did mention possibly wanting to distance himself from her. Nikki still needed to talk to him about what she’d heard Patrice and Meredith say about trying to get Gabriel to go to work for Sumner Winery.
Meredith brought a tissue up to her face and dabbed at her eyes. Was it an act? Hard to tell. Patrice didn’t appear particularly unhappy or upset. What she looked like was downright bored. If Nikki hadn’t known better, she’d have sworn that Patrice was about ready to take out her emery board and start filing those tiger-lady fingernails of hers.
Cal Sumner, on the other hand, appeared genuinely upset. Nikki noticed him at one point wipe his face with the palm of his hand. Maybe Gabriel was more to him than a possible business associate. Could it be that he and the late great winemaker were indeed good friends?
Then, there were Simon and Marco. They looked as uninterested as Patrice. They did however, appear to be very much in love as they occasionally gazed into each other’s eyes. It was all very, very interesting. Nikki found herself clucking her tongue at one point, and immediately stopped, taking note of Tara Beckenroe, who looked as if she were studying the crowd in the same manner that Nikki was. Actually, Tara Beckenroe looked to be studying her. They stared at each other for a good few seconds, which to Nikki seemed a horribly long time. She leaned uneasily against the back wall of the church, then, finally looked away, being the first to break the standoff the woman had posed. When Nikki looked back, Tara was nowhere in sight.
Nikki also noticed Andrés Fernandez in one of the back pews. He turned his head and spotted her. He gave her a slight wave, and she smiled back. He may not have liked Gabriel, but he was apparently compelled to pay his respects. He, too, appeared shaken, as his face was bathed in sorrow, if not for the man, at least for the loss of life.
The last person Nikki noticed was Derek. She watched him wipe his eyes. She felt herself begin to choke up. It was a good time to make her exit. She wasn’t going to find any answers here. There was plenty of body language going on, which she could probably assimilate later, while alone and in bed, running the theories through her mind. The first thing she was going to do upon leaving the church was stop at a drugstore and buy a spiral notepad to jot down her thoughts and ideas. It was time to start connecting the dots, and right now everything was so jumbled she couldn’t even think about all the different angles. She had to start with one man or woman at a time and break them down until she uncovered who the real murderer was, because she wasn’t buying it that Manuel Sanchez had murdered anyone. She was starting with Meredith, because she did seem like a good place to start.
She left the church, grabbed a cab, and had the driver stop at a drugstore to get the necessary notebook. She thought about heading back to the vineyard to get the truck, but since she was already in town and her mind was working at a rapid clip, she didn’t want to take the time to do so. After she left the drugstore, she had the driver drop her at the public records office.
Behind the desk stood a plump gray-haired woman with a pleasant smile and the scent of lilacs drifting around her.
“Something smells wonderful.” Nikki knew a little sugar always helped pave the way.
“Oh, maybe it’s me. My granddaughter bought it for my birthday. It’s Crabtree and Evelyn.”
“It’s wonderful.” Nikki leaned on the old wooden counter separating the two of them.
The elderly lady smiled and clasped her hands in front of her on the counter. “What can I do for you, dear?”
“I’m looking for some public records.” Nikki didn’t quite know what she wanted to know about Meredith, but her past was as good a place to start as any. “First I’d like to see a marriage certificate for Derek Malveaux and Meredith Malveaux.”
“Alrighty then, I’ll simply need the day, month, and year they were married. It would also be helpful to have the bride’s maiden name.”
“That’s kind of a problem for me. I don’t have any of those answers, other than the year.”
The woman frowned. “Yes, uh-huh. I see. Well, what we can do is type in their names and see what shows up.”
“Great.”
Doris, which was the name pinned on the woman’s floral printed dress, found the answer in mere seconds. “Oh, here we go, dear. I have something. I’ll print this out for you.” She went into a back room behind some file cabinets and came out a minute later with a copy of the marriage certificate.
They were married in June almost five years earlier, and divorced a few years later. The bride’s maiden name was Fletcher. Nikki looked up from the certificate. “Can I see a birth certificate for the bride?”
Doris typed in what information she had. “Sorry, dear, she wasn’t born in this county in the last thirty years. Do you know where she was born?”
“Either Nebraska or Kansas.”
“Then I can’t help you any further. You may want to try the Internet. It’s the best way to hunt down information on folks.” She raised her eyebrows. “Malveaux is quite a name in this county, you know.”
“I was under the impression that you didn’t know them,” Nikki replied.
“I am a civil servant,” Doris said lowering her voice. “One messy divorce between those two. You aren’t the only one who has come around recently looking for some information on them.”
Nikki leaned across the counter. “Really? Who else?”
Doris looked from side to side, as if what she was about to reveal was top secret. “I don’t know the gal myself, but she works for Winemaker Magazine. She gave me her card.”
“Thank you, Doris.” Nikki paid her the pittance for the copy of the marriage certificate and walked over to the library, seeking an online hookup. Winemaker Magazine, huh? Wonder what Tara’s motive is to go snooping? Most likely it had to do with her obvious desire to be the new Mrs. Malveaux. Maybe it was as simple as the need to be sure Derek was actually divorced. Doubt it. Nothing was so simple with this crew. Nikki opened her notebook and jotted down Tara’s name and next to it in capital letters she scribbled “snoop.” Now if that wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black.
Three hours and a hundred dollars on her Visa card later, Nikki had quite a bit of information on Meredith Fletcher Malveaux. She knew it was easy enough to get public records off the Internet, but it came at a steep price. She hoped somehow all of it would be useful. She wondered how much of what she’d learned,
Derek had been privy to. She would have to broach the subject tonight over dinner.
She put stopping off at Tara Beckenroe’s office on the back burner and set out for Minnie’s house, hoping to find a clue as to why Minnie was in Derek’s mother’s room the night she was murdered. It was a long shot, but anything was possible. And, even though she figured the cops had done a thorough job searching Minnie’s house, something nagged her at the gut level. It made her think that maybe the answer to the murders was tucked away at Minnie’s place.
Nikki fished out her Swiss Army knife, and for the second time that week, committed the felony of breaking and entering. She sighed as the lock turned. Aunt Cara would not be proud of her for this.
The ranch-style exterior of Minnie’s place didn’t go with the ultra-modern interior of the place, with its cold white walls and sparse contemporary furniture that really should’ve been in a high-rise in Manhattan. The one thing that toned it down, which paralleled Minnie’s office, was her choice in art. The woman obviously had a thing for Tuscan landscapes, which Nikki could appreciate, and it did soften the stark interior of Minnie’s home. Nikki had the distinct feeling that Minnie Lark was a far more complicated woman than anyone suspected. Andrés was certainly a complicated man, so it would go hand in hand that the two of them would’ve been friends.
Where to look? Kitchen? Doubtful, but one never knew. It didn’t turn up anything other than the finest in cookware and cutlery. An office? A single woman living in a three-bedroom place had to have a home office. Sure enough she did. Nada, nothing, nil, void and barren, all but for a few personal files and bills.
There was one more place to look, and by the time she was completely through scavenging Minnie’s bedroom, she was glad she’d done it. She’d found something very interesting in Minnie’s entertainment/bookcase unit. When Nikki entered Minnie’s room, she’d searched high and low through her nightstands, her dresser drawers, and her closet. All of it to no avail, other than to confirm to Nikki that the woman had good taste. Her lingerie came from La Perla. Delicately beautiful. Gabriel would have had to appreciate that. No wonder he didn’t want to let her go. But he still couldn’t control his extracurricular activities. Minnie’s skincare, which totally explained that flawless complexion, was that miracle of the sea, La Mer. And her shoes, well, damn if those weren’t to die for, from Manolos to comfortable Cole Hahn flats. Minnie had some fine accessories indeed. But all of that aside what drew Nikki like a guy in a light blue tuxedo to a girl in a taffeta dress was that entertainment unit and the entertainment it contained. Her mind spun as her eyes caught the sight of the Under the Tuscan Sun DVD. She picked it up and read the back. She opened it. Nothing but a DVD. Something about it though . . . Minnie’s near obsession with it. It was her dream to go to Tuscany. She’d mentioned she loved the movie, loved the book. The book. Nikki knew she had to find the book. It didn’t take long as she rummaged through the unit. And, when she opened it, her eyes widened. For a second she thought about Aunt Cara, who loved the classic book Wuthering Heights, so much so that she had a couple of copies. One of them she used for safekeeping extra cash in case of an emergency. She’d cut out several pages to store the cash and showed it to Nikki one evening after having a couple of glasses of wine. They’d laughed about it at the time—Aunt Cara calling herself a paranoid broad. Nikki clucked her tongue. Ah, thank God Aunt Cara was a paranoid broad.
Nikki hadn’t found any cash inside the book, but she did believe she was looking at account passwords on the inside and back jacket of the book. That’s exactly what they had to be. And, even more of a find, was a handful of love letters written from Minnie to Gabriel—letters she’d obviously never given him. Maybe she had some kind of intuition that her feelings were better kept inside a book versus opening her heart completely to Gabriel. Minnie had been far from the bookish exterior she put out, and Nikki felt her face warm at reading the letters, almost ashamed—almost. She had to keep reading, for goodness sakes, what if there was a clue in the letters? Much to her dismay she couldn’t find any, but she hoped that what was written down on the inside of the jacket would reveal something.
She took the book with her and headed to Minnie’s home office. After turning on the computer she saw that Minnie’s Internet server was Netscape and that under Minnie’s user I.D. she had e-mail. In the book jacket written next to the word “N. Scape” was the word “vineyard.” Nikki went into Minnie’s e-mail and typed in “vineyard.” It opened right up. Certainly the police had found her e-mail address and were able to get a hold of the password. Nikki browsed through it to find nothing of consequence. Most of the e-mails were sent from Minnie to Derek in regards to orders, the books, etc. There were a couple there from Gabriel but nothing that remotely suggested they were carrying on with each other. The latest e-mails were of course the typical spam. Other than that, nothing.
Nikki then looked at the inside of the book again, and read “B of A”—Bank of America. Next to it was a six-numbered password. Nikki decided to use the same user ID to get online with the bank. It worked, too. Once again, nothing of consequence. Minnie had automatic payroll deposits and an automatic bill pay service. Her debit charges were within reason. So, how in the hell was she buying La Perla et al? Unless as Nikki assumed, they were gifts from her lover.
Nothing else was written on the inside flap, but that nagging feeling that urged her to come to Minnie’s house still remained. She started thumbing through the book, and found what she hoped was an answer on page seventy-seven. On the side of the page, in Minnie’s handwriting, was the word “y.hoo,” then “Chiantigirl,” then “Gabriel.” Nikki went to Yahoo’s site and hit mail, then typed in “Chiantigirl” for the user and “Gabriel” for the password. She got lucky, because there was e-mail after e-mail from Gabriel denying his love for anyone else and Minnie’s responses of jealousy, anger, and hurt. Poor woman. If only Dr. Phil could’ve gotten a hold of her. It was the last two e-mails between them that she read over a few times: Minnie telling Gabriel that she had the money to purchase the tickets to Tuscany and start the vineyard they both wanted so badly. Gabriel kept asking her how she’d gotten the money, and she told him that it didn’t matter, that they could go whenever they wanted and start their life in Italy. Gabriel told her they needed to talk, that he had to know where she got the money. They’d agreed to meet the day that Gabriel was murdered. That meeting apparently never took place.
How was Minnie getting the cash? Obviously the woman had an obsession for Gabriel and Tuscany and she liked the finer things in life. Nikki knew she made decent money working for Derek, but not the kind that could get her a vineyard in Tuscany.
Nikki sighed, stood up, and stretched. Sleuthing was hard and tiring and she knew she had to be getting back. She felt like she’d found some answers but not all of them. She put Frances Mayes’ book back in the case and picked out the DVD again. There was Diane Lane with that satisfied look on her face. Yeah, satisfied all the way to the bank. Nikki shook her head. There was no time for resentment. Fact was, Diane Lane was a kick-ass actress and Nikki was, well, simply not meant to act. Life seemed to be leading her in other directions.
Since she was a couple of years over her hissy fit of not wanting to watch someone else play a role that she coveted, out of curiosity Nikki popped the DVD into Minnie’s player. She wouldn’t have time to watch the movie, and she figured she should get out of there, but she also didn’t want to take it. She’d committed enough crimes as of late. She thought she’d just check out the interview that Diane Lane did for the DVD. After a few minutes nothing came on the screen. So she took it to Minnie’s computer. Maybe the DVD player didn’t work, but the computer should play it. Looking closer at the DVD, it appeared that it could have been pirated or burned—she could see that the title of the movie was simply written in neat handwriting. Maybe she should look into getting glasses. She should have noticed that the first time she opened the case. She slid the movie into the computer pocket and hi
t open, soon discovering why it hadn’t worked in the player. It wasn’t a movie after all, but a spreadsheet. And what a spreadsheet it was.
It told a tale of exactly who, how, what, and when the bistro cash was being skimmed, and crazily enough, it had nothing to do with Meredith Malveaux, but everything to do with Minnie, as far as Nikki could see. Pleased with herself for taking a computer course last year, Nikki did some more searching. The profits were coming from the Wine of the Month Club, and a lot of profit it was. The books Nikki had seen in the offices showed that the club brought in fifteen thousand dollars a month, and a second entry showed a check in that amount had been sent to the Leukemia Foundation. The reality, from what Nikki was seeing on the screen in front of her now, was that the Wine of the Month Club was bringing in thirty thousand dollars a month. Minnie then, was taking the other fifteen thousand and depositing it monthly into a Grand Cayman account. And Derek was none the wiser.
Minnie then padded the pricing on the dishware from Remick, to make it look like it was Meredith doing all the stealing. Now, all that had to be done was to prove it. Derek hired Nikki to help Minnie prove Meredith was the one stealing from him and, thus, the charity. Minnie had been the real thief. She was smart enough to know how to glide under the radar and stash away $180,000 in a year’s time.
Murder Uncorked Page 18
