Rashida ignored me, started up her car, and pulled away.
“Well, that was productive,” Holly said, her words dripping with sarcasm.
“We can catch the others later,” I said. “They have to leave the studio sometime, and when they do, we can ask them why they sold their own clients’ names. Someone is bound to tell us something.”
“I think Rashida told us a lot.”
“Me too,” I said and held up my phone. “I’m glad I videotaped the entire thing. Sheriff Hennessey needs to hear for himself what the ladies are up to.”
“Do you think they killed Ivy?”
“I don’t know,” I said with a shrug. “I hope not.”
“Me too,” Holly said. “Because we might be next.”
* * *
I went to see the sheriff. It was difficult walking into the building where I was arrested. I tried not to think about the fear and mayhem I’d experienced. Instead, I clung to my recording and hoped it would make a difference in my case.
“Come in,” Sheriff Hennessey said when I knocked on his door. “What can I do for you, Miss O’Brian?” He sat back at his desk, looking handsome and self-assured. I blinked.
“I want you to dismiss the case against me.”
“I can’t do that,” he said and leaned forward. “It’s up to the courts.”
“Fine,” I said and put my phone on his desk. “Do you have any suspects in Ivy’s death?”
“Off the record? We have a few leads, none of which are you,” he advised me.
“Oh, thank goodness.” I was more relieved than I knew. “Listen, I learned from Ivy’s friend Dawn that Ivy was working with three women who worked for Laura. The women—Laura’s yoga instructors—were selling their lists to the theft ringleader, a man known as Joe.”
“And?”
“And Laura could’ve been killed because she found out about them selling her clients out.”
“We considered that possibility,” he said with a shrug and leaned back in his chair. “There was no evidence.”
“Other than the SD card you found. I have a witness who puts Ivy at Quarryhill that day.”
“Jack Henry won’t testify.”
“He will if he’s compelled.”
“Only if you can find him,” Sheriff Hennessey said. “The man’s gone underground.”
“I say Ivy was there to get the latest list from one of the three yoga teachers. Laura caught them exchanging the SD card for cash and wanted to know what was going on. Then they got into an argument, one of the yoga teachers pushed Laura away, and she fell down the cliff, hitting her head.”
“That doesn’t explain how she ended up with your corkscrew in her neck.”
“The instructor panicked and called the other two. They decided to frame me, and using Rashida’s jacket as a shield in case of blood spray, they stabbed Laura in the neck, turning the screw. If she was already dead, it would explain the blood on the jacket not showing signs of arterial spray. Next, they ditched the jacket and headed to the tables, where I saw them on my arrival.”
“And their lawyers will tell you it’s a wonderful fairy tale,” he pointed out.
“Unless you get one of them to crack,” I said and turned on my phone, playing Rashida’s recording.
“Well, this certainly is interesting,” Sheriff said, “but it doesn’t prove murder.”
“It proves the ladies were working with Ivy,” I said. “So they have more motive than I do. Seriously, my motive is weak and where you will lose your case.”
“Because you didn’t do it.”
“Yes, I didn’t do it.”
“Does your lawyer know you’re here?”
“No,” I said and looked at him. “Does he need to know I’m here? I handed you a key piece of information.”
“In the identity-theft ring,” he said. “There is no link yet to Laura’s murder.”
I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t help it. “It’s right under your nose.”
“I’ve told you more than once, but because you seem a little bit stubborn, I’m going to tell you one more time. Leave the investigating to the professionals.”
I stood. “But the professionals have it all wrong.”
“The professionals are doing their job.”
“Fine.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you going to look into the possibility that I’m right?”
“Have a good day, Miss O’Brian.”
“It’s Taylor,” I said, “and my day would be better if I knew you heard me.”
“I hear you,” he said. “Good-bye.”
I walked out of the Sheriff’s office, angry that I didn’t know what to do next.
* * *
“Taylor, Millie’s gone.” Aunt Jemma met me at the van when I pulled up to the house.
“What? Where? How?”
“I don’t know,” she said and wrung her hands. “I thought she was in her bed sleeping. I called to her, and she didn’t come. Then I noticed the back door was open.”
“She’s out in the vineyard?” I slammed the van door shut behind me and hurried toward the house.
“Juan and Julio have been looking, but we haven’t found her yet.” Aunt Jemma sobbed. “I’m afraid. I heard coyotes last night.”
“They wouldn’t come into the house and get her,” I said as I walked inside and called, “Millie, come here, girl.” I listened carefully to see if I could hear her whimpering. “Did you check all the rooms and closets? She might have followed you and gotten locked in.”
“I checked them all,” she said. “When did you leave this morning?”
“I left at nine. Millie was sleeping in her bed.”
“Did you lock the back door?”
“Yes,” I said and went over it in my mind. Millie stayed in the pool house with me, but I’d known that Aunt Jemma was spending the morning at home. So when I’d left, I’d put Millie in the big house. She had gone straight to her doggie bed in the patch of sunlight by the great room windows.
“Millie,” I called as I walked through the house, opening every door. “Come here, girl. Want a puppy treat?” Only silence answered me, and I felt my panic mounting.
What if Jack Henry had come and taken her away? What if she had wandered out in the vineyards and gotten lost again? What if she’d run out in the street and gotten hit by a car? Or had been taken by coyotes, as Aunt Jemma feared?
I couldn’t stand the thought of my baby hurting.
My phone chirped with a text from an unknown number. “Is your dog missing?”
“Who is this?” I typed back.
“If you want to see your dog, get ten thousand dollars in small bills and wait for my instructions. No cops!”
“Millie’s been kidnapped,” I said in horror. I looked at Aunt Jemma. “They must’ve taken her from the house. I don’t think I reset the security when I left. I’m so sorry. It could have been you they took.”
Aunt Jemma hugged me. “The good news is, they didn’t take me. We have cameras on the parking lots and the entrance. I’ll call the sheriff.”
“No, they said no cops.”
“They always say no cops,” she said and frowned. “I’m calling the sheriff. Text them that you want proof of life.”
“Oh, right, sheesh,” I said. “I watch enough cop shows that I should’ve thought of that.”
“They didn’t text until you got home, so they’re targeting you, not me,” Aunt Jemma said as she dialed Sheriff Hennessey’s office. “They have to be nearby to know you’re home.”
That was a frightening thought. I glanced out the window. They could be on any hillside with a pair of binoculars. I looked around to see if I could see any light reflecting in the distance like in the movies. I had the feeling I was being watched but didn’t see anything.
I texted back: “I want proof of life.”
They sent a little video of Millie barking in a crate. The video had a time stamp on it. Whoever had her was taking
good care of her. That was comforting at least. “I don’t have ten thousand dollars.”
“Small bills. You have two hours, or the dog gets it.”
“Yes, that’s right, Sheriff. They’re texting her their demands right now. We think they can see the house from wherever they are. It’s the only way they could have known that Taylor had arrived home. Yes, yes, so don’t come in a marked car. Right, yes, they asked her not to get the police involved.”
I showed her my phone.
“They’re telling her to have ten thousand in small bills in two hours.” Aunt Jemma looked at me. “Yes, I assume they’ll expect her to go to the bank. She can meet you at First California. Right. Thank you.” Aunt Jemma hung up. “Sheriff Hennessey says to go to the bank. He expects there will be people there watching. Go inside. He will have someone there. They will ask for your phone. Give it to them, and they will do some tracing while you’re getting the bills. It takes a lot of time to get that much money in small bills. He says leave now.”
“Okay.” I grabbed my purse and went to the door. I gave Aunt Jemma a kiss on the cheek. “Lock the doors behind me, and have Juan and Julio nearby, okay? I don’t want to come back to an empty house.”
“I’ll be fine.” She pulled a gun out of the credenza in the foyer. “These people messed with the wrong O’Brian.”
I felt my eyes widen. “Aunt Jemma, put that away. We’re not in Texas.”
“I’m licensed.”
“What? When?”
“I’ve had it for a while. I’ve been practicing out back with Juan ever since that rock came through the window. Why, those kidnappers are darn lucky I didn’t see them take Millie.”
“No, I think you’re lucky they didn’t see you. Put that thing away. Someone will get hurt.”
“Only if I aim carefully,” Aunt Jemma said.
I rolled my eyes and kissed her on the cheek. “Stay inside, and don’t hurt yourself with that thing.”
“Don’t worry. It’s not loaded . . . yet.”
I got into the van and kept looking around to see if I could spot anyone watching me as I left the winery. I didn’t pass anyone on the way to the bank, and I didn’t see any other cars on the road. I drove into town and parked in front of the bank. I glanced around but didn’t see anything unusual. So I walked into the bank and went up to the counter to write out the check and request for withdrawal.
There was a man beside me, writing one as well. He set his phone on the counter close to me.
“Are you with Sheriff Hennessey?” I whispered.
“Put your phone on the counter,” he said as he looked away from me. I did what he said and was not surprised to see him switch phones out of the corner of my eye. It was a sleight of hand that I would’ve missed had I not been expecting it. I picked up the decoy phone and held it as I got in line for the teller.
When I got to the front of the line, I looked at the girl, whose name tag said, “Arielle.” “Hello, Arielle,” I said and pulled out my ID card and my checkbook. “I need ten thousand dollars in small bills, please.”
“I’m sorry,” she said with a shake of her head. “We don’t keep that kind of money in the drawer. I can check and see if we have that much available.”
“Okay,” I said. “Can I see the manager?”
“Certainly,” she pressed a button by her station, and I waited until the bank manager came out from around the back.
“Hello, can I help you?” The young manager wore a suit with a name tag that said, “Guy Winnington.”
“Yes, Guy.” I pushed my ID and bank account card toward him. “I’m Taylor O’Brian, and I need to withdraw ten thousand dollars in small bills, please.”
“I see. It sounds as if you are robbing us,” he teased.
“What? No, why . . . ? Oh, no, no. I need the withdrawal for a . . . a . . . handyman who is working on my aunt’s house.”
“That must be some handyman.”
I swallowed as tears came to my eyes. “Yes, he’s replacing windows.” I figured it was best to stay close to the truth. What with the rock throwing, Aunt Jemma did need to replace her windows. “I have five thousand in my account. I need a loan of the next five thousand. I’m good for it. You can check my history and see that I have good credit.”
“We don’t generally give out loans that quickly,” he said.
“I’ll sign my van and my shares of Sookie’s Vineyard as collateral,” I said.
“I don’t know. It will take some time to get that kind of cash to this location.”
“You don’t have ten thousand on the property?”
“Not in small bills, no,” he said. “Why are you in such a hurry?”
“He’ll be done in two hours and needs his pay,” I said, “but that was almost an hour ago.”
“Come into my office,” he said and showed me past the teller area. “I assume there is more going on here than replacing windows.”
“No, no,” I assured him. “It really is just for windows.”
“Then I would recommend you do a cash withdrawal on your credit cards.”
“Oh, right, credit cards,” I said and fumbled through my purse and pulled out three cards. “Run these.”
“It’ll take some time to get here and count it out,” he said.
“I’ll wait.”
“Fine. I’ll run the cards.” He ran all three cards. “Combined I can get you nine thousand in small bills.”
“That’s fine,” I said and looked around. Over my shoulder, I could see people waiting in the bank to do business. The walls were glass. People went about their business as if nothing were happening out of the ordinary today; they had no idea that I was sweating bullets as I dealt with possible dog killers and definite dognappers.
“Let me take a few minutes to collect that amount of cash,” he said. “Are you sure a cashier’s check won’t do?”
“I’m sure.” I waited impatiently while he did whatever banks do to transfer cash. I glanced down at my watch—the hour was almost up, and I still needed to get my phone back. What if I missed the call?
“Please, I need the money now.”
He got up. “I’ve contacted the other two banks in town. They are messengering the money over. I’ll check and see if it’s arrived. I’ll be back shortly.”
I sat and waited for his return. I was impatient, wishing I had my phone with me. Suddenly, the cop in plain clothes came striding toward the office. I stood as he came inside.
“Excuse me, miss, but I think you have my phone,” he said as the door closed behind him. He handed me my phone back.
“Oh.” I fumbled for the matching phone. “I’m so sorry. Thank you.”
“Take care,” he said and left.
My phone felt the same, and I wondered what to do next. I looked at the texts. Nothing new. So I texted the dognappers. “I’m getting the money now.”
“You have five minutes,” came the reply.
I felt a spike of fear run down my spine. “I’m at the bank. They’re getting the money. You have to be patient.”
There was no answer, and I paced in the bank manager’s office. Six minutes later, the manager came in with a full bank bag. “Here you go. Sign here.” He handed me the bag. “You should count it.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.” I signed.
“No, count it.”
“Fine.” I hurriedly glanced at the twenties and fifties. “That’s a stack of money.”
“It is. That’s why you need to count it,” he said.
“Sheesh.” I counted as quickly as I could and shoved the money back in the bag and hurried to the door. When I got outside, my phone vibrated. I looked down.
“You’re late.”
“I had to count it,” I texted back.
“Go to the corner of Napa and First Street,” came the next text.
It wasn’t far, so I started walking.
“Faster,” came another text. I stepped up my speed. When I arrived at the corner, I got a
nother text: “Cross to the park.”
I did as they said and looked around.
“Cross back to the Sebastian Theater.”
I jaywalked across, not worried about a ticket at this point. I didn’t know why they were taking me back and forth across the same street. I wondered if it was to ensure I wasn’t being followed. I waited in front of the theater for what felt like an eternity, but it was only five minutes before I texted.
“Where is my dog?”
“Leave the bag in the dumpster in the alley behind the theater.”
I did what they said.
“Your dog is in the park.”
I hurried back across the street, calling Millie’s name. I heard barking and found Millie tied to a park bench. I fell to my knees and hugged the pup, who licked my face and squirmed in excitement at seeing me. Tears came to my eyes. It didn’t matter that I didn’t have a job or a business and now all my money was gone. What mattered was that I had my puppy back. It was such a relief.
Chapter 25
“We arrested Joe Smith,” Sheriff Hennessey said when I answered the door to the house. I was carrying Millie. It had been five hours since I’d gotten her back, and I hadn’t let her out of my sight.
“Come in,” Aunt Jemma said over my shoulder.
“Joe Smith?” I asked as he stepped inside. Holly was there with me, along with Aunt Jemma and Chelsea. We had been sipping wine and giving Chelsea an exclusive on what had happened with the dognapping.
“He was part of the identity-theft ring. In fact, we’re pretty sure he was the ringleader.”
“How did you catch him?”
He held his hat in his hands. “We watched the dumpster until we saw a teen boy climb in, looking for the bank bag. We arrested the boy, and he led us to Joe.”
“Why did they dognap Millie? I mean, besides the money.”
“Joe blamed you for the sting operation.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “I didn’t even know about the sting. I don’t even know who Joe Smith is or what he looks like.”
“Here’s a mug shot of Joe,” Sheriff Hennessey said and showed me a picture he brought up on his cell phone.
“Wait—that’s the man from the park,” I said. “He’s not as swarthy as I remember, but I would know those eyes and that nose anywhere.”
A Case of Syrah, Syrah Page 20
