I wasn't sure if that was true or just what he'd told her in order to put us off. "That's fine," I said, matching her pleasant smile with a falsely cheery one of my own. "We can wait."
"Uh, he didn't say how long he'd be…" She trailed off. Clearly she'd been told to get rid of us.
"We're not in a rush," Ava piped up. She glanced over at the tasting room. "In fact, we can make ourselves comfortable in there until he's free."
"Um…sure," the woman said. To her credit, her smile only faltered a bit before going back into professional mode. "I'll let Mr. Atherton know."
We thanked her and stepped into the room on our right, where two sommeliers stood behind a large wooden bar, pouring small glasses for the crowd of tourists. Ava and I took a spot near the end of the bar and caught the attention of the wine steward closest to us.
"Hello, ladies," he said, giving us the same friendly smile the receptionist had started out with. It must have been standard issue to employees along with their health package. "What can I get you two to try today? We've got a full bodied Cabernet Sauvignon and an oaky Chardonnay uncorked?"
"How about the Cab?" I asked.
Ava nodded approval.
"Sure thing," the man said, reaching for a pair of glasses and pulling a bottle out from behind the counter. While he poured professionally enough, he lacked some of the dramatic flourish of Jean Luc's style. Though as he set the glasses in front of us, the fruity aroma and dark color was excellent.
I was just about to reach for my glass, when my phone buzzed from my purse. I quickly pulled it out, fearing a response from Grant.
Only, as I looked at the readout, it was David Allen's name that came up.
You're coming tonight, right?
"Who is it?" Ava asked, nodding a thanks to the sommelier as she picked up her wineglass.
"David. Wants to make sure we'll be at his show tonight," I said, texting back a reply.
Ava and I will be there.
Six. Sharp.
I grinned at his reply. David must have been really nervous about the showing. He'd never "sharped" me about anything before.
"This isn't bad," Ava said as she tasted from her glass.
I put my phone away and took a sip. I had to admit she was right. I wanted to hate it a lot more than I did. While it was a little more fruit forward than I would have liked, the sweet cherry notes and the bitter finish were actually a quite pleasing combination.
"They seem really busy," Ava noted as a new group of tasters entered the room, laughing and chatting animatedly as if this hadn't been their first stop that day.
"And our room was empty," I noted. I'd checked before leaving, making sure I wasn't shirking any vintner duties. Jean Luc had looked downright lonely behind our empty bar.
"Things will pick up," Ava said, putting a hand on my shoulder.
"I'm not sure it will be fast enough." I set my glass down on the bar. "As much as I hate the idea of giving up some of Oak Valley, I think Schultz is right. It's the only way to keep our doors open."
She gave me a sympathetic smile before taking another sip from her glass. "Schultz have anyone interested yet?"
I shook my head. "I haven't heard from him."
"Well, look on the bright side. Maybe you'll get lucky and some tech exec will be looking for some little winery to throw his billions at but be too busy to bother you with how it's run?"
"Oh, to have that kind of luck," I said, raising my glass in a salute.
Ava grinned, clinking her glass to mine in a cheers-to-that, before we both sipped.
"Wow, I have to say, this is really good," Ava said, licking her lips.
"Our Cab always is," came a male voice behind my shoulder.
I spun to find myself facing James Atherton's sparkling white veneers. His tan was darker than when I'd last seen him, and if I had to guess, I'd say he'd been spending his shutdown days either south of the border in Baja or under a tanning bed. His salt-and-pepper hair was a little more salty than when I'd last seen him, though he looked like he'd had some work done—his forehead was as smooth as a baby's and his eyebrows didn't seem to move at all.
"It's nice to see you again, Emmy," he said, shaking my hand.
I found that phrase hard to believe, but I matched his salesman smile with one of my own. "You remember my friend Ava."
"Hi." She gave him a wave as she set her wineglass down on the bar.
"Of course. Lovely to see you too," he told her before addressing me in a voice that was way too excited for the occasion. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"I was hoping I could talk to you about a mutual acquaintance."
He raised an eyebrow (with difficulty) my way. "Oh? This isn't about Leah, is it?"
"No." I shook my head. "It's about someone who worked for me until recently. Bill Buckley."
The fake smiled faltered at the mention of the name. "Didn't I read that he passed away?"
"Unfortunately, yes. He, uh, died at my winery."
Atherton smirked. "That can't be good for business."
"No," I reluctantly admitted. "It's not."
"Well, I'm sorry, but I'm not sure how I can help you." Atherton shook his head. "I barely knew the man."
"But you did know him?" Ava pressed.
He was slow to answer. "Yes. I hired him for a couple of security jobs."
"When was this?" I asked.
"The last one was maybe three months ago," he responded, eyeing us both. "Why?"
"Because he had pictures," Ava said.
Atherton's fake tan paled. "Pictures." He looked from Ava to me. "Wh-what do you mean?"
"Photos. Of the party, I'm guessing. You were in them."
He made a sort of strangled sound in the back of his throat and suddenly looked ill. His eyes darted left and right, and he stepped in closer. "Come up to my office. We can't discuss this here."
"Can't discuss what—" I started to ask, but he'd already spun on his polished shoes, his long legs pumping with purpose toward the stairs.
Ava shot me a questioning look.
I shrugged and quickly hopped down from the barstool to follow him.
We finally caught up to him at the top of the landing, where he pushed open the doors to a large office on the right. Tall windows provided a breathtaking view of vineyards and rolling hills. A large desk sat in the center of the room, and several glass cupboards holding various vintages of wine bottles stood opposite the windows.
Atherton ushered us in and shut the door behind us, still looking concerned as he crossed behind his desk to a leather chair beneath a wall of commendations and awards. Ava and I sank into a pair of chairs in front of him. I'd barely sat with a soft hush of leather beneath my thighs when Atherton leaned on his desk, clasping his hands in an unconscious pleading motion in front of him.
"Where did you see the pictures?"
I opened my mouth to answer, but Ava put a hand on my arm and said, "Why don't you tell us what you know about Buckley first."
Atherton licked his lips. "Like I said, I hired him to provide some security for me."
"Were you threatened?" I asked, thinking I could see how Atherton's personality would lend itself to that.
But he shook his head. "No, no. Nothing like that. I just wanted some extra security for a couple of events I threw."
"How did you find Buckley?" Ava asked.
"A friend gave me his name. Said he'd done an event for him."
"When was this?" Ava asked.
"The first time I used him was for a New Year's party. Winery sponsored. I hired him to keep an eye on the door. You know—make sure no one drove home who shouldn't and everyone had Ubers. That sort of thing."
"And then?" Ava asked. "You mentioned a couple of events."
"Yeah." He paused, did more lip licking. "At my house. My birthday."
"And?" Ava pressed.
He took a deep breath, his eyes going from me to Ava. For a second I thought he wasn't going to say anything more. Then
he finally looked down at his hands and opened his mouth to speak. "And about a week later, Buckley called me looking for money."
"Money? You mean, payment for the security work?" I asked.
"No, I'd already paid him for that." Atherton sighed deeply again. "He said he'd seen what happened at the party, and if I wanted him to keep his mouth shut about it, he wanted payment."
"Wait—are you saying Buckley was blackmailing you?" Ava leaned forward in her seat.
Atherton's head bobbed up and down. "Yeah. Some nerve, right?"
"How much was he asking?" I wanted to know.
"Two grand," Atherton said. His eyes lifted to meet mine. "At first."
"At first? You mean, you paid…and he asked for more?"
He worked his jaw back and forth, and I could tell his pride was taking a nice hit telling us this. "He said he had pictures." He paused. "I'm guessing that's how you saw them?"
I nodded. "They were among Buckley's possessions."
He grimaced. But luckily didn't ask what I'd been doing among Buckley's possessions. "Buckley said that if I wanted to keep them from getting out, I had to keep him happy."
"How happy?" Ava asked.
"Very. Several thousand dollars over the course of the last three months."
His meaning sank in. He'd been paying Buckley right up until the man had died. Conveniently. "When was the last time you talked to Buckley?" I asked.
Atherton let out a short laugh. "I don't think so."
"Excuse me?" I asked.
"I'm not helping you play Nancy Drew again." He shook his head. "I was nowhere near Buckley when he died. I just got back from a buying trip to Santiago, and I have several colleagues who can vouch for that."
"Tell me, exactly how much did you pay Buckley in all?" Ava asked.
He worked his jaw back and forth a little more before finally spitting the answer out. "Twelve grand."
I let out low whistle without meaning to.
Atherton turned his predatory glare on me. "Which I'm sure seems like a lot to someone at Oak Valley," he said on a sneer, "But it was worth it to me."
I was dying to know…"What exactly did Buckley see at the party?"
Atherton sucked in a long breath, eyes again going from Ava to me. "You said you've seen the pictures?"
Ava nodded. "We have. But indulge us."
He sighed. "He had a photo of me. With Harold Heimlich."
"Who?" I asked, glancing at Ava. The blank look on her face said the name was lost on her as well.
"He's the leader of the CANE."
"Cane?" I asked. "What's that?"
Atherton squirmed in his seat. "California Nazi Enthusiasts."
I blinked at him. "You're a Nazi?!" I hadn't thought my opinion of James Atherton could sink any lower, but I'd been wrong.
"No!" he practically yelled. He waved both hands in front of his face as if trying to magically wave away the idea. "No, nothing could be further from the truth."
"So, you just party with Nazis?" Ava shot him a look.
"No! No, listen—I didn't know who he was at the time." James sighed again and scrubbed a hand over his face. "He was introduced to me as a friend of a friend. We shook hands and had a couple of glasses of wine together. That's it."
"And his Nazism never came up?" Ava still looked like she wasn't convinced.
"No! And I swear to you, I had no idea who he was at the time."
"But Buckley did," I said, piecing it together.
Atherton nodded, looking practically ill again. "Look, I'm throwing my hat in the ring for the state senate this fall." He turned to me. "Senator Foxton's former seat is free. You remember him?"
I did. The entire scandal surrounding the death of Atherton's second wife had been what preceded Foxton's withdrawal from the reelection race.
"Anyway," Atherton went on, "Buckley threatened to go public with the photo. To say that Heimlich and I were friends! Friends!" He shook his head at the very thought.
"So you paid him twelve thousand dollars for his silence."
Atherton nodded.
"Until someone killed him," Ava noted.
"I told you, I know nothing about that. I was in Chile."
For once, I had the feeling Atherton was being totally straight with us.
"Now, if there's nothing else?" Atherton said, trying hard to infuse his voice with some of his usual pretension as he rose from his desk.
Ava and I stood too, following him to the door, which he held open for us. Only, as I was about to step through, he stopped me.
"By the way," he said, the pretension working up to usual speed now, "I heard through the grapevine, so to speak, that you're looking to take on a partner at Oak Valley."
I froze, that sick feeling immediately hitting my stomach again. "I'm looking at funding possibilities," I hated admitting.
He shrugged. "Frankly, I'm surprised you lasted this long. Small family operations can't compete with us in this market."
"We have a niche audience," I said, not able to help defending the place.
"Sure. Sure." He nodded, as if placating a child as Ava and I stepped out into the hall. "But uh, let me know if you don't find that partner. We'd be happy to make an offer on the acreage." He sent me a shark-like grin before shutting the door with an ominous click.
I cringed, praying it did not come to that.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Since it was lunchtime and we'd already each had a glass of Cabernet, Ava suggested we stop for something to eat before heading back to the winery. We chose Nick's Niche, one of our favorite local hole-in-the-wall delights to refuel and regroup. The server had brought us each a peach iced tea and a plate of Nick's Smashburgers and hand cut french fries, and after several moan-worthy bites of juicy burger smothered in sweet caramelized onions and spicy sauce, our conversation organically turned to what we'd learned in Atherton's office.
"So Buckley was a blackmailer," Ava said, licking sauce off her fingers.
I nodded. "So it seems." I sipped my sweet tea. "Though, it's not a huge leap from taking bribes to blackmail artist. I mean, he'd traded his silence for money in the past."
"Right. Sorta. I mean, he wasn't exactly silent in the end," Ava pointed out.
I nodded. "All the more reason for someone he's blackmailing now to feel nervous about Buckley actually keeping quiet."
"Only, Atherton has an alibi." Ava looked disappointed. "You think he's telling the truth about it?"
I nodded. "Seems too easy to check up on."
"Well, maybe Atherton hired someone to kill Buckley?" Ava offered.
"Maybe." I pushed a couple of fries around on my plate. "Or maybe Buckley wasn't just blackmailing Atherton."
"What do you mean?" Ava asked, sipping her tea.
"I mean Buckley had photos of Katy Kline too."
"That's right!" Ava nodded. "You think he was blackmailing her too?"
"It's possible."
"But over what?" Ava asked. "I mean, he already spilled the beans on her business two years ago."
I shrugged. "Maybe something else he knew about her from back then? Or some parole violation he found now?" I thought back to the pictures we'd seen. They'd simply looked like Katy interacting with a cookie customer. Like with the ones of Atherton, nothing had immediately stood out as nefarious about it.
"If Buckley had photos of people he was blackmailing," Ava said slowly, "what was he doing with pictures of Grant?"
The burger stuck in my throat. "I don't know."
Ava bit her bottom lip. "You don't think there's something from Grant's past that maybe…" She trailed off, and I could tell by the look on her face that she hated even thinking it.
"No." I shook my head, protesting more confidently than I felt.
"Right." Ava nodded agreement. Then paused. "It's just that the way Eckhart described Grant…and there was that IA investigation…I mean, maybe…"
"No," I said again, making a mental decision to stick by the man I knew despit
e the question marks being thrown my way. I sucked in a deep breath. "The photos of Grant have to be there for another reason."
"Okay." Ava didn't look convinced. But she was a good enough friend that she let it go. "Well, let's just say that Buckley was blackmailing James Atherton and Katy Kline, then."
"Right. Let's go with that," I told her, relieved.
"If Atherton has an alibi, then maybe it was Katy who didn't want to pay Buckley's asking price."
I nodded. "And she knows firsthand what the consequences are of Buckley not holding up his end of the deal. She paid him for his silence once and ended up in prison anyway."
"So, you think maybe this time she decided to silence Buckley before he could let whatever secret she's holding out?" She raised an eyebrow at me.
"I think it's definitely worth another trip to Katy's Cookies to find out."
* * *
Half an hour later, Ava and I pushed through the glass front door of Katy's Cookies, the bell above us jingling merrily. As it had been on our last visit, the place was empty. Baskets of baked goods lined the walls, and the scents of freshly made chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies linger in the air. But the white tables and chairs were again void of customers. The only sound in the place was the hum of a mixer from somewhere back in the kitchen, which ceased as soon as the bell signaled our arrival. A beat later, Katy's round frame filled the doorway.
"Welcome to Katy's Cookies, can I help—oh it's you again." Some of her friendly perk faded as recognition set in.
"Hi." I waved and gave her what I hoped was a friendly just-here-to-chat smile.
"What do you want?" She crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowing beneath her feathered bangs.
"I, uh…"
"We wanted to check up on that cookie basket she ordered for her mom," Ava jumped in. She shot Katy a wide smile.
Katy's eyes pinged from one to the other of us before she finally answered. "Derek's delivering it today. It'll be there by four."
"Oh. Well, good," I said. I bit my lip, not sure where to go from there. I glanced at Ava.
"Was there anything else?" Katy asked, hostility lacing her voice as she arched an eyebrow at us.
"Actually, yes," Ava said, taking a step closer to the counter. "We wanted to ask you something."
Killer Among the Vines (Wine & Dine Mysteries Book 7) Page 15
