Seven Deadly Zins

by Nancy J. Parra

  “Wait, what does that have to do with anything?” I asked.

  Sarah shrugged. “It must mean something to him.”

  “They didn’t find a notebook on him,” Chelsea said.

  We looked at her, and she shrugged. “I read the police report.”

  “There’s a report?” I asked.

  “Sure,” Chelsea said. “The police have to keep track of evidence.”

  “He had to have seen Mandy kissing someone who was not Tim,” I said.

  “But the man could have been Tim. That wasn’t ruled out,” Aunt Jemma said.

  “Why would it matter if Tim was making out with his live-in girlfriend?” Holly asked.

  “Unless it wasn’t Tim,” Chelsea and I said at the same time.

  “So it could have been someone else?” Holly said. “Someone like … who?”

  “Harvey Winkle,” I said. “We think that’s the guy who she was making out with at the lecture. The one I thought was Dr. Brinkman, but I only saw him from behind.”

  “Now I’m confused,” Holly said. “Are you saying that Mandy was possibly seeing another man while living with Tim?”

  “It could be that Jeffery Hoag stumbled onto something he wasn’t supposed to see,” I said.

  “But there’s no way Mandy could have killed that man and dumped him in the vat. He was at least twice her size,” Holly said. “I work out with weights, and there’s no way I could lift a dead man over my head and put him in the vat.”

  “Maybe Harvey Winkle did it,” Chelsea said. “I haven’t done a lot of research into the man.”

  “It seems odd that Jeffery’s car was never found,” I said. “Sarah, you said he drove up to the winery, right?”

  “Yes,” she said. “He said he drove a four-door sedan … beige. He seems like a very … careful person. Everything in its place. The car keys were in his pocket.”

  “No keys were ever found,” Chelsea said.

  “Well, he certainly had keys,” Sarah said. “Find the car and the notebook, and you will find your killer.”

  Chapter 21

  “Do you think Sarah was right?” Holly asked as we walked out to our cars the next morning.

  “She did seem to have some interesting insights,” Chelsea said. “I’m going to check on this Harvey Winkle.”

  “I’ve got a full day of tour guiding,” I said, “or I’d help.”

  “I know a guy who lives down by Tim,” Holly said. “I’m going to ask him if he knows the best place to stash a car.”

  “Seems like they would have looked for it,” I said as I unlocked the van. “Chelsea, did they do a search by helicopter? For all we know, the car could be sitting out in the middle of a nearby field.”

  “I’ll check,” Chelsea said. “But first I have to go into my office. They need a story by this afternoon.”

  “What are you going to write about?” Holly asked.

  “I’m going to pitch the story of the Senator and the wineries and upcoming rezoning. I’ve got a nice start to it. I wouldn’t mind digging deeper into the new senator.”

  “Holly, do you know if they have water restored to your apartment yet?”

  “I got a text that it’s still out,” she said as she got into her car. “I’ll be back tonight if it doesn’t get fixed. I hope that’s okay.”

  “As long as you make a salad like you did last night, I think it will be just fine.”

  Aunt Jemma came out as I got into my van. I started it up and rolled down the window.

  “Where are you off to?” I asked.

  “I have a full day, sweetie,” she said. “There’s a meeting with the coffee club this morning, lunch with the seniors at the center, and then an afternoon meeting with the wine appellation. I’ve got Julio working today as it’s time to strain the wine and put it into the fermentation glass.”

  “Don’t you want to be here to supervise that step?”

  “No,” she said. “Julio is my winemaker. I trust him to do a good job. He wants to buy up the nearby wineries, and that means his wine has to be premium to continue to grow his business. He won’t risk his future.”

  “Sounds like you picked the right man for the job. Will you be home for dinner?”

  “Of course,” she said. “Bring your girlfriends back. I like having people in the house.”

  “I will if they want to come.” I rolled up my window, waved goodbye, and headed to town. I was meeting my group at The Timbers.

  This particular tour group was made up of five women who had flown in from St. Louis to get the full Sonoma experience. Mae Bramble was the leader of the group and had coordinated everything from the hotel to my tour, to the flights.

  “Hi ,Mae,” I said as the ladies walked out of the hotel. They were dressed for a causal tour in sundresses, sunglasses, and walking shoes. This morning’s hike would be more of a stroll. They were holding mimosas. I knew it was going to be an interesting day.

  “Welcome, ladies, to Sonoma. I see you have drinks already.”

  “This wonderful tour lady was giving away mimosas this morning. We couldn’t resist,” the first woman said. She had short blond hair and blue eyes. Her silk tee shirt had a palm tree on it that was the same color as her capris.

  “Tour lady?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes, I think her name was Bridget something or other,” Mae said. “She had a logo hat with a cute pink bus on it. Do you know her?”

  Quirky Tours …

  “Yes,” I said slowly and tried to smile. “Did she say why she was here giving out mimosas?”

  “Something about working with the resort owner to bring Quirky Sonoma Tours to life,” Mae said. She shrugged. “Whatever, I’m only in it for the drinks. We already have our tour guide. Right, ladies?”

  “Right,” they answered.

  “Let us introduce ourselves properly. I’m Helen,” a smiling woman with a strawberry-blond bob lifted her drink. She had brown eyes and freckles. “And this is Josie in the palm tree shirt, and this is Karen and Rachel.”

  “Hi, ladies,” I said and tried to regroup as best I could. “Welcome to Sonoma and Off the Beaten Path tours. We have a full day ahead of us. Let’s load up the van and get started.”

  I was helping the ladies onboard when my phone rang. “This is Taylor,” I said when I didn’t recognize the number.

  “Taylor O’Brian?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have your Aunt Jemma.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I have your Aunt Jemma.”

  “Is she all right?” I asked as a spike of fear went down my spine.

  “For the moment,” the man’s voice said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You have one hour.” He hung up.

  I stared at my phone, not knowing what he meant or what to do.

  Josie stuck her head outside the van. “Is everything all right?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “I need to make a phone call.”

  “Can we help?” Rachel asked behind her.

  “Oh, I’m sure I’ll be fine. It will only be a moment.” I put on a brave face. The last thing I needed was to lose my tour to Bridget. “If you want, I’ll have the hotel bring out another round of mimosas.”

  “Don’t worry, honey,” Karen said. “I’ll get it. I need to use the little girl’s room anyway. Better to be safe than sorry, I always say.”

  The ladies laughed and piled out of the van. I stepped to the side of the hotel and called Aunt Jemma. She didn’t pick up. Instead, I got her voicemail. I tried three times, and not once did she answer, and each time my worry deepened. Where had she said she was going? To the coffee club. They met at The Beanery. I gathered up the ladies once more and got them settled in the van.

  “If you don’t mind, I’m going to make a quick stop at the local coffee shop,” I said. “The Beanery is a few blocks up and quite popular with the locals. I suggest the Americano after a couple of mimosas. Can I get you all one? Cream and suga
r?” I parked the van, took their orders, and hurried to the shop. The sound of the bells jangled as the door closed behind me.

  “Hey, Beau,” I said to the barista.

  “Taylor, what can I do for you?” Beau was a skinny guy with long, curly blond hair and green eyes. He was about six or eight years younger than me and worked the morning coffee shift on a regular basis. In the afternoon, he played his guitar on the corner of Main Street for the tourists. He was quite good.

  “I need these six drinks to go,” I said as I looked around for Aunt Jemma and her group. “And cream and sugars, sweeteners, and such.”

  “Got it,” he said and studied my list. “Is this for a tour group?”

  “Yes,” I said. “They want the full local experience. Listen, I thought Aunt Jemma’s coffee group was meeting here this morning.”

  “Oh, Elise and Sarah came in. They waited about thirty minutes, but when your aunt didn’t show up, they left.”

  “Aunt Jemma didn’t show up? Not even after?”

  “No,” Beau said as he made the coffees. “The ladies were disappointed.”

  “I’ll call Sarah.” I dialed the psychic’s number. She picked up immediately.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Hi, Sarah,” I said. “I’m looking for Aunt Jemma.”

  “She didn’t show for coffee club,” Sarah said. “I found that odd since she said she would after our meeting last night.”

  “That’s the thing,” I said and winced. “When she left this morning, she said she was going straight to the coffee club. I tried to call her, but she isn’t picking up.”

  “I think something’s wrong,” Sarah said. “I’ve tried contacting her too, but she didn’t answer. Elise went to the library to see if she went there for a meeting with the garden club.”

  “Sarah.”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “I got a strange phone call from a man a few minutes ago. He said he had my Aunt Jemma. What does that mean?”

  “Oh my goodness, she’s been kidnapped,” Sarah gasped with conviction, and I felt a cold chill in my veins. “So you have his number?”

  “Yes,” I said. “He called my cell phone.”

  “Did he say what he wanted?”

  “No. He didn’t demand anything.” I tried to think about the conversation. “He didn’t ask for anything. Are you sure she was kidnapped?”

  “You have to call the police,” Sarah said. “This is bad. Very bad.”

  “I’ll trust your judgment. I’m going to hang up now.”

  “Wait!”

  “What?”

  “I need to be with you. There might be something I can help with.”

  “I’ve got a tour group. The ladies are kind, but I’m not sure what will happen if I back out of the tour.”

  “Oh goodness, where are you? The least I can do is entertain your group while you get this figured out.”

  “I’m at The Beanery,” I said. “I was looking for you.”

  “Of course you were. I’m a few blocks away. Don’t go anywhere.”

  She hung up, and I turned to see Beau putting the drinks in cardboard drink trays. “Is everything all right?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “You’re the second person to ask me that this morning.” I paid for the drinks.

  “These are all marked with names from your list,” he said. The extra cup has cream in it, and the smallest cup is filled with packets of sugar, raw sugar, and other sweeteners.”

  “Thanks, Beau,” I said and picked up the drinks.

  “Do you want some help with the door?” he asked.

  “Yes, thanks.” He opened the door, and we both had a full view of the van. The ladies were snapping pictures of Main Street and generally laughing and talking and having fun. I was glad. They’d paid for a tour, not my personal problems, no matter how unusual.

  I opened the door and held out the coffee trays. “Thank you for your patience, ladies,” I said. “There’s been a bit of trouble in my personal life.”

  “Oh no—I thought maybe something was up,” Josie said. “What can we do to help?” She distributed the coffee cups.

  “I’ve called in a friend who is going to take over the tour,” I said. “You will love her. She is California through and through. Plus, she’s a psychic. So you can ask her anything, and she can steer you in the right direction.”

  “Oh,” Karen said, “I’ve always wanted to meet a psychic. Can she talk to dead people?”

  “Yes,” I said. I glanced down the street to see Sarah power-walking my way. “There she is.”

  “I came as fast as I could,” Sarah said and stopped to give me a quick hug. “What’s on the agenda?”

  “Well, I was going to take them to the botanical gardens for an hour walk, but no one is really dressed for hiking …”

  “No problem,” she said and stuck her head into the van. “Hello, ladies, I’m Sarah. How would you like to tour the Schultz Museum? They have all the Peanuts characters.”

  “Oh, that would be wonderful!” Josie said.

  “You read my mind,” Karen said.

  Sarah looked at me.

  I shrugged. “I told them your profession.”

  “No problem, I can use the endorsement. I see the keys are in the ignition. I’ve got this—go figure out how to save Jemma.”

  “Thank you.” I hugged her. “Goodbye, ladies. I’m leaving you in good hands.”

  “Bye, dear,” they said.

  Sarah climbed into the driver’s seat and drove off. I grabbed my phone and redialed the number of the caller.

  “What took so long?” the male voice asked.

  “I had to know that Aunt Jemma was truly missing,” I said and walked with purpose toward the sheriff’s office. “I want to speak to her.”

  “You are in no position to make demands,” the voice said.

  “What do you want?”

  “I want you and your friends to stop digging into Dr. Brinkman’s death.”

  “Why?”

  “Let’s just say I have a vested interest in seeing that the police do the job.”

  “I want to speak to my aunt,” I said. “She has a heart condition. I need to know she is all right.”

  “We’ve made her comfortable,” the man said. “I suspect we will need to keep her for a while to ensure you aren’t investigating any further.”

  “I want you to put her on this phone right now,” I said as I stormed toward the station. I was going to get Sheriff Hennessey to trace the call and get this guy. “If you so much as harm a hair on her head—”

  He hung up on me. I felt anger boil inside me as I redialed the number.

  “I said no cops.” He hung up again.

  Frustrated, I stopped in front of La Galleria and studied the roads. There didn’t appear to be anyone watching me or even following me. I dialed the number again. “I haven’t called the cops.” Which wasn’t a lie. “If you want money, it’s going to take me some time to raise anything substantial.”

  “Taylor?” Aunt Jemma sounded scared.

  “Aunt Jemma, are you all right? What happened? How did they get you? What can I do?”

  “I’m fine,” she said in a shaky voice that told me she was far from fine. “Be careful.”

  “He said he would keep you for a while. I can’t have that—”

  “I can’t have you investigating,” the man said again. “I want you to call your friend the reporter and tell her to stop investigating. Then I want you to go home and wait for further instructions.”

  “I can’t tell Chelsea not to investigate.”

  “You can and you will if you want to see your aunt again.”

  Then all I could hear was the dial tone.

  Chapter 22

  I might have said something dark under my breath as I stared at my phone. I called Chelsea.

  “What’s up?” she asked in a cheerful voice.

  “Please tell me you haven’t pitched any stories about Dr. Brinkm
an’s death yet.”

  “I might have. Why?”

  “They’ve got Aunt Jemma.”

  “Who? Why?”

  “I don’t know who,” I said. “All I’ve got is a phone number and a man’s voice.” I started to shake from head to toe, so I found a bench and sat down.

  “Do they want money? Can you get money?”

  “He says he wants us to stop investigating Dr. Brinkman’s murder.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes. Weird, right? He didn’t ask for ransom. Does that mean he’s keeping Aunt Jemma? I mean, he has to know that as soon as we get her back, we’re going to be looking into this. Do you think he will ask for money? I don’t have any …”

  “Have you called Sheriff Hennessey?”

  “No,” I said. “I was on my way over to the police station when the guy called and said no cops. I don’t know how he knew I was going that way, but he seemed to know.”

  “They must be watching you.”

  “I don’t see anything,” I said and looked around again. “Listen, can you meet me?”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know …” I glanced around. “How about La Galleria?”

  “I can be there in forty minutes.”

  “Great.” I hung up and walked over to the art gallery. It wasn’t open yet. I glanced at the time. It was only nine forty-five. It felt like it had been the longest day of my life. I texted Holly:

  Where are you?

  She texted back immediately. I stopped in to Safeway. Why?

  I’m at the gallery, I texted. Aunt Jemma has been kidnapped.

  OMG! What can I do?

  Can you meet me at your work? I want us to stick together.

  On my way.

  A sheriff’s patrol car went by, and I felt a fission of panic like electricity down my back. All I could think was, “Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” I didn’t want to make things worse for Aunt Jemma. The car slowed and turned down the next street. I took a deep breath.

  This was nuts. I called the number again. This time there was no answer. I didn’t know what to do. I guessed there wasn’t anything I could do but wait.

  “Taylor.”

  I looked toward the sound of my name and saw Sheriff Hennessey standing in the alleyway out of the line of sight of the street. “Go away!” I said in a stage whisper.