“Who?
“Harvey Winkle.”
“I told you, he is in a nursing home.”
“Maybe, but his grandson was at the Brinkman estate.”
“Did he take Aunt Jemma?” Holly asked as she continued to try to open the door of the moving car.
“No one at the compound has your aunt. You have to believe me,” Bruce said.
“Why?” I asked and crossed my arms over my chest. “Why do we have to believe you?”
“Because I’m trying to help you,” he said.
“By bringing a bouncer to ensure we get in your car?” I waved at Bruno, who continued to move Holly’s hand away from the door lock.
“Bruno is here as my bodyguard,” Bruce said. “What I’m doing could get me badly hurt.”
“You? Why? Are you afraid the police will hurt you?”
“Just let us take you out to the compound. We’re almost there.”
The driver turned us into the gated compound. Holly slapped at Bruno as we waited for the gates to open. They did slowly, and soon we were driving down the long and winding road of the compound that was the Brinkman empire.
The car stopped, and Bruno got out and opened the door. Holly stumbled out and started to run back down the driveway, but Bruno went after her. I gave Bruce the stink eye as I got out. “What are we doing here?”
“I think I know where your aunt is,” Bruce said as he climbed out of the car.
“And you couldn’t just tell us?”
“No,” he said. “You were talking to Deputy Bloomberg, weren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I hate to tell you this, but he’s in on your aunt’s kidnapping.”
“What? No—”
“Yes,” Bruce said. “Come inside and I’ll explain.”
“Let me go!” Holly shouted as she squirmed and pushed against Bruno. He had her around the waist and physically carried her in behind us. The inside of the compound was quiet. There was a huge foyer like the kind you saw in the movies, with a large staircase and doors to rooms on either side. I hadn’t seen so much marble in my entire life.
“Put me down!” Holly shouted, and Bruno covered her mouth with his hand.
“Please stop it,” I said to Bruno. “Put her down.”
“She can’t go running off,” Bruno said. “It’s not safe.”
“Let’s all go into the parlor,” Bruce said. “We can have some tea and calm down.”
“You calm down,” Holly said as she squirmed. “I don’t like being forced into cars.”
“Fine,” Bruce said. “Bruno, put her down.”
He did as Bruce asked and Holly stopped, adjusted her top, and took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
“Are you going to run off?” Bruce asked.
Holly gave him a stern look. “I need to know that I can leave any time I want.”
“You can leave any time you want,” he said. “Now, please come in to the parlor. Let’s have some tea and talk.”
The parlor was decorated white with pops of orange and turquoise and had large glass windows and mid-century modern seating. I took a seat on a Danish couch. Holly sat beside me. Bruno went into another room and came back with a bar cart with a tea service.
“That was fast,” I said.
“We always have tea ready for visitors,” Bruce said. He took a cup and poured liquid in it and handed it to me.
“Is this the tea you serve at the lectures?” I asked and sniffed the cup.
“Yes,” he said. “It’s a special brew that Dr. Brinkman created. It’s quite soothing.”
“I think you should drink it first,” I said.
“Oh, sure. I understand your reluctance,” he said and sipped from the next cup he poured. “You’ve had a hard day. I want to prove to you that you can trust me.” He sipped some more. “See? Please, it will help.”
Holly took a cup from Bruno and shrugged. “I like the tea. It’s good.”
“Fine,” I sighed and sipped. What could possibly go wrong?
Chapter 26
“You said that Deputy Bloomberg has something to do with my aunt’s kidnapping.” I said as I put down my cup. I had taken a few sips of the tea that tasted of ginger and cinnamon and warmed my tummy.
“Yes,” Bruce said. “He is Harvey Winkle’s grandson.”
“Deputy Bloomberg?” I asked. “But wait—you were the one who told me that Harvey Winkle was the man who gave the lecture the night I saw Mandy kissing Dr. Brinkman.”
“Right,” Bruce put down his cup and pinched his nose. “Right. Okay, things are a little complicated. Let’s start from the beginning. Dr. Brinkman came to visit Sonoma last year and fell in love with the area. He met with a realtor named June Reddington. She told him that Harvey Winkle was on his deathbed, and his family was looking to sell the vineyard. They toured the space, and Dr. Brinkman loved it. He wanted to set up a retreat house, so he got a developer who knew about local politics and who could get us more land and the proper zoning.”
“So you lied about the guy Mandy was kissing being Harvey Winkle.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I thought he was Harvey Winkle. You see, Dr. Brinkman went to Harvey Winkle’s family and offered to buy them out and let Harvey spend his final days in comfort and peace. Well, his grandson said if they were going to invest in his family’s land, he wanted to be a part of the organization.”
“So why change his name?”
“He said it was to honor his grandfather, but I think it was to keep his involvement in the group secret from the rest of Sonoma society.” Bruce sighed. “We all knew him as Harvey. He was really interested in all parts of the Brinkman community and soon became Dr. Brinkman’s right-hand guy.”
“If you all bought his family’s land, then he stood to gain.”
“Only if the permits went through,” Bruce said. “You see, the contract to buy the land was contingent on the proper zoning. Dr. Brinkman thought it would be easier to get all the proper permits if the locals had a stake in the profits.”
“And Deputy Bloomberg?”
“He had all of us but Dr. Brinkman convinced he was Harvey Winkle and the owner of the property. We treated him like our number-one guru next to Dr. Brinkman.”
“But then the zoning didn’t go through,” Holly said. “Wait—was he working as a deputy the entire time he was with Dr. Brinkman?”
“Apparently,” Bruce said. “We thought he was evangelizing in Washington State. Only he and Dr. Brinkman knew who he really was.”
“Except Mandy,” I pointed out. “Mandy knew who he was.”
“He’s the one who brought Mandy into the fold,” Bruce said. “He convinced Dr. Brinkman to train her for the West Coast moderator position.”
“I can see why he knew about our investigation,” I said. “We’ve been pretty honest with Sheriff Hennessey. But I don’t understand why Deputy Bloomberg would kidnap my aunt.”
“Bruno and I have a theory,” Bruce said.
“And?”
“Well, when you told Sheriff Hennessey about Harvey Winkle, he went to Deputy Bloomberg to look into it.”
“But Deputy Bloomberg didn’t have to look into Harvey Winkle. He was Harvey,” I said. “He went after us instead.”
“Yes,” Bruce said. “We think so. When I heard that your aunt had been kidnapped and the kidnappers weren’t asking for ransom, I thought about Harvey. I did some digging myself and discovered he was a deputy. Bruno and I went to get you as soon as I realized the connection.”
“You could have called,” Holly pointed out.
“You wouldn’t have believed me,” Bruce said. “In fact, you didn’t believe me.”
“But you don’t know for sure he has Aunt Jemma,” I said, “unless you saw him take her.”
“We didn’t see anything,” Bruno said and put down his teacup, “but we found out that Harvey was really Deputy Bloomberg.”
“Then, when Sheriff Hennessey came by earlier today, it wasn’t a big leap to figu
re out who would do such a thing. Think about it. Wouldn’t your aunt go with a deputy? Who else would you trust?”
“Plus Harvey, er, Deputy Bloomberg,” Bruno interrupted, “would be able to hide the car. He grew up in the area, owns over two hundred acres south of here. Go check out the outbuildings on his property. I bet you find the car.”
“But Deputy Bloomberg told me that they found my aunt’s MG,” I said.
“And you believe him? Did you call Sheriff Hennessey?” Bruce asked.
“You left my phone on the street,” I pointed out. “I didn’t have time to call.”
“My point is that you wouldn’t have checked, would you?”
“You must think that Deputy Bloomberg killed Dr. Brinkman,” I said. “Why else would he be the first one you thought of to take my aunt?”
“I saw Harvey leaving Mandy’s dressing room earlier that night,” Bruno said. “I was working the door. He seemed upset and wouldn’t turn when I called out to him.” Bruno shrugged. “I didn’t think anything about it until later. Harvey always treated the bodyguards like second-class citizens. He rarely acknowledged us unless he wanted something. Then it was ‘Bruno do this. Bruno do that.’ ”
“We need to call Sheriff Hennessey,” I said and grabbed Holly’s phone. “If you think Deputy Bloomberg killed Dr. Brinkman, the Sheriff should know.”
“He won’t believe us,” Bruce said and pulled the phone away from me. “Trust me, we tried.”
“How did you try?” I asked and drew my eyebrows together in question.
“When he asked about Harvey Winkle, we told him that Harvey Winkle and Deputy Bloomberg were the same person. He looked at us as if we were making stuff up. Then he dismissed it with ‘You must be mistaken.’ ”
“He was protecting his own,” Bruno said. “It happens.”
“Okay, let’s say for one moment that Deputy Bloomberg is involved. That he killed Dr. Brinkman for some reason, and he doesn’t want us to investigate. Why would he take my aunt?”
“You said so yourself that you were starting to look at connections. He knew that you told Sheriff Hennessey about Harvey. It would only be a matter of time before he was found out.”
“But taking my aunt made this worse,” I said softly, “didn’t it?”
“He might think he’s protected by his status as deputy,” Bruno said. “Sometimes bad guys get involved with local law enforcement. It’s an easy way to stay on top of the investigation.”
“I bet he volunteered to help you with this, didn’t he?” Bruce piped in.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Chelsea called the sheriff’s department, and when I went into the gallery, he was already there.”
“If he was involved, he might have volunteered to be the inside person,” Holly said.
I blew out a long breath. “Arguing about whether he’s involved doesn’t get me any closer to finding my aunt. She has a heart condition. I need to find her and get her home. If you can’t help me with that, then there is no reason for me to be here.” I stood. “Please take us back to the gallery.”
“We think we know where your aunt is,” Bruce said.
“Why didn’t you say that in the first place? Let’s go!”
“We can’t,” Bruno said. “Deputy Bloomberg is a member of our board. We can’t have anyone think we know anything about this.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Holly said. “You’re already involved. Deputy Bloomberg knows you took us.”
“Tell me where she is, and I’ll take care of it,” I said and took back Holly’s phone.
“Who are you calling?” Bruce asked.
“I’m calling an Uber. Tell me where you think she is, and I’ll go get her.”
“There is a small farmhouse and numerous outbuildings on the Winkle property,” Bruce said. “We feel there’s a good chance she’s there. It’s relatively secluded, and there are places to hide cars.”
“Come on, Holly,” I said. “Let’s go check it out.”
“We can drop you up the road,” Bruno said, “but that’s as far as we can take you.”
“Let’s go.”
Holly and I got back in the car. Bruce stayed behind as Bruno drove us out of the compound.
“How are you going to explain taking us?” I asked.
“Deputy Bloomberg is going to know we were here,” Holly said. “There are cameras.” She pointed at the cameras on the gate.
“I’m part of security,” Bruno said. “I’ll see that no one asks questions.”
“And tossing my phone?” I asked. “How are you going to explain that?”
“A misunderstanding,” he said with a shrug.
“I hope it’s that simple.”
He dropped us off at the corner of Main Street, where I’d dropped my phone. It was still on the side of the road. “My phone’s still here,” I said and swooped down to pick it up. “That means that Deputy Bloomberg didn’t report us being taken. Or maybe he didn’t come looking for my phone.”
“Let’s go to my apartment complex and get my car,” Holly said. We were careful not to be noticed by the police, and got into her car and drove off. My phone rang just as we headed out of town. “Hello?”
“Where are you?” It was Sheriff Hennessey. “I’ve been trying to call you, and you haven’t answered. Deputy Bloomberg tells me you left the gallery and haven’t returned. He can’t leave, in case the building is being watched.”
“We had an interesting conversation with Bruce from the Brinkman compound,” I said and encouraged Holly to drive faster.
“You saw Bruce? I asked you not to talk to anyone.”
“Well, he had a theory about who took Aunt Jemma, and Holly and I are following up on it.”
“What’s the theory? Where are you going?”
“The theory is that someone in the sheriff’s office is involved,” I said. “So I am not sure I want to share where we think she is. If you tell the wrong person, they could move her.”
“Taylor, where are you going?” His voice got low and fierce.
“We are heading out of town,” I said. “I’ll let you know when we get there. My phone is being tapped. Remember?”
“Taylor—”
I hung up and looked at Holly, who was concentrating on getting us down the winding country road as quickly and safely as possible. “Who was that?”
“Sheriff Hennessey,” I said.
Holly glanced at me and then back at the road. “If Deputy Bloomberg is listening in to your phone, then he knows we are on to him.”
I chewed on my bottom lip. “He also has my phone tracked, so I imagine Sheriff Hennessey is looking up my GPS coordinates as we speak.”
“Then we’ll have to go faster,” Holly said and stepped on it. The car zoomed. I was glad we had seatbelts on and hung on to the sissy bar at the top of the door.
“Is that a siren?” I asked and looked behind us.
“No,” she said. “It’s the radio.” She turned down the music, and she was right: blissful silence.
“How far out are we?”
“Another ten minutes of normal time,” Holly said. “I can make it in five.”
“As long as we make it in one piece.”
Holly grinned at me. “I live to go fast.”
The scenery zipped by. I looked up at the rolling hills and acres and acres of rows of vines. “We’re getting close. You’d better slow down or we’ll miss the entrance.”
“Right.” Holly slowed, and the property we came up on had a large “For Sale” sign out front. The entrance was rather hidden. It was clear the property didn’t have a tasting barn, and it had been awhile since anyone had lived here. The drive was about three quarters of a mile from the road. The grapes were well tended and trimmed up for winter. “Somebody must be still caring for the vines,” Holly said as we slowly rolled up the drive.
“They can rent the acres,” I said. “Sell the grapes to other wineries. Aunt Jemma sometimes buys from others and mixes grapes f
or a variety of flavors. Stop here.”
Holly slowed way down and pulled to the side of the drive. The road curved ahead of us, but we were not within viewing distance of the buildings. “Are you thinking we should get closer on foot?”
“Yes—pull over under that tree.”
Holly pulled the car over to where I pointed, and we both got out. She locked the doors, and we walked up the rest of the drive. It was quiet and smelled of fall and cut-back grape vines. The first building was a barn. We crept up to it and peered into the dust- and dirt-coated window. It was dark and difficult to see. I put my finger to my lips, but there was no sound except for the rustling of the dead brush against the peeling paint of the wood building.
I looked around the corner. There was a door, but it was in the line of sight of the farmhouse. I frowned and Holly waved for me to follow her around the back. There was a hole in the wood that used to be a knot. Holly looked inside. “A car!”
“Shush,” I said softly and motioned for her to let me see. I glanced inside, and the dim light from the grimy window shone off a beige sedan. It didn’t look very dirty, so it hadn’t been parked in there long. I looked at Holly. “Do you think that’s Jeffery’s car?”
“Or someone from the Winkle family is living here and is going to call the cops on us for trespassing,” she whispered.
“We need to find Aunt Jemma’s MG.”
“And Aunt Jemma.”
I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “There’s a shed and then the farmhouse,” I whispered. “Let’s see what we can find out.”
“And if they catch us?”
“We can say we’re looking for our dog.”
“What?”
“Shush—we tell anyone we run into that our dog ran away and we are looking in the bushes for it.”
“Huh. Okay.”
We glanced around the side of the barn. The shed was angled behind the house, but beside the barn. We hurried to the shed. It didn’t have any windows, and like the barn, the main door was in the line of sight of the house. If anyone was watching out the window of the farmhouse, they would see us. The shed was made of metal, so there was no chance of a hole to peer into. That left just the house on the top of the hill.
It was a two-story farmhouse that looked as if it had been built in the 1800s and added onto. It had once been painted white but now was mostly gray. The windows were tall and narrow. We made a fast dash to side of the house and ducked under a window.
Seven Deadly Zins Page 20
