by Cat Chandler
The unflappable admin gaped at her. “Can we get all that done today?”
“Certainly,” Nicki grinned. “Go get your slippers and then I’ll amaze you with my story of how we baked and frosted seven hundred cupcakes for Alex’s wedding.”
“I heard, but I’m not sure I believed it when Matt told me.” Jane scurried out of the kitchen with Nicki’s laughter following her down the hallway.
They were both up to their elbows in cookie dough and frosting when Jenna and Alex strolled into the kitchen several hours later. Each of them was holding two coffee mugs.
Alex handed one of hers to Nicki. “We didn’t think you’d have any time or room to make coffee, so we brought you some.” She lifted her face and took a deep sniff of the air. “It smells great in here.”
Jenna handed a cup to Jane before leaning close to a finished batch of cookies cooling on the counter. “It sure does. I don’t suppose you have any samples you’d be willing to give out early?”
“Don’t even think it, Jenna Lindstrom.” Jane gave her a push to get her to move to the other side of the counter. “I’m not baking one more cookie than absolutely necessary.”
Jenna walked back around the big island. “But a sample is necessary. How else are you going to know if they’re turning out all right or not?”
“We’ve already tested that,” Nicki assured her. She pointed to a cute basket filled with cookies, sitting on one end of the counter. “Please take that with you. Emma Fabron will be picking it up. And thanks for the coffee. I should have put on a pot before we got started.”
“Can we bring you anything else?” Alex asked as she reached over and brushed some flour out of Jane’s hair.
“An extra set of hands?” Jane mumbled, leading the other women to exchange grins.
“Jane’s a little worried we won’t get finished on time,” Nicki said in a loud stage whisper.
Jenna shook her head at the thin woman who looked as if she’d taken a swim in the flour bin. “Don’t worry. Nicki’s never failed to come through for a charity event. And I wish we could stay, but our hands are already committed to helping all the exhibitors drag their stuff into the Events Center. We’re just waiting for myMason to swing by and pick us up.”
Alex nodded. “Lots of chef demonstrations going on.” She glanced over at Nicki. “I’m surprised you aren’t one of them.”
“I demonstrated at the last event,” Nicki said. “And Maxie wanted a cookie giveaway, which Suzanne volunteered us for.”
“She did?” Jenna looked around the kitchen. “Where is she?”
Nicki shrugged. “Still sleeping, I’d guess. Or at the Events Center trying to talk Maxie into moving our booth to the center of the room.
The four women were still laughing when Alex held up a slender hand. “Hang on. I think I just heard a horn beep.”
Jenna picked up her large bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Probably myMason. We need to go.” She winked at Jane. “Good luck, ladies.”
“Call if you run into any problems, or run out of anything,” Alex said before she picked up the basket of cookies and followed Jenna out the door.
“See you later this afternoon,” Nicki called out then grinned at Jane. “Okay, partner, let’s get this done.”
It was a good hour and a half past noon before the two women collapsed onto the tall stools next to the island. Jane laid her head onto her arms that were stacked on top of the counter and groaned.
“I’m never going to eat another cookie in my life. I might even avoid that entire aisle in the grocery store for the next decade or so.”
“I felt the same way about cupcakes. Fortunately, it didn’t last long,” Nicki assured her. But Jane did look exhausted. Glancing at the clock, Nicki saw there were at least three hours before they were scheduled to show up at the center with all their cookies in tow. Plenty of time for another shower, and for Jane to get in a nap.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down for a while,” she suggested to the woman who still had her head down on the counter.
Jane straightened up and yawned. “Don’t we have to get all these cookies over to the venue?”
“Not for a couple of hours,” Nicki said. “Maxie likes to spread the ‘giveaways’ out, and ours doesn’t start until four or so. I’m sure no one but Suzanne will notice if we’re a few minutes late.” She waved her hand toward the door. “You should get a little rest before we have to stand on our feet for another three hours handing out cookies.”
The admin groaned again. “Do you have a lawn chair I can bring? I’m sure no one will mind taking a cookie from me even if I am sitting down.”
Nicki laughed. “That can be arranged.”
Not offering any more argument, Jane slowly pushed herself to her feet and walked toward the front stairs. Nicki shook her head as she watched the older woman almost wince with every step. She’d definitely have to remember to bring a chair for Jane.
Too restless to lie down, even though she knew that she probably should, Nicki untied her apron and laid it on the counter. Within minutes she was sitting at her desk, powering up her computer.
Another full hour passed before she sat back and was once again glaring at the screen. She hadn’t found a single thing even remotely tied to Viola’s murder. Maybe Emma Fabron was mistaken about hearing a hint of Cornish in her mother-in-law’s voice.
Deciding to try a different path, Nicki put “Cornwall” and “Famous People” into her search engine. Then she tried variations of well-known and infamous people, and still came up with nothing useful. With her frustration mounting, Nicki sat back and took a deep breath. Her eyes narrowed as she considered another possibility. Finally typing in “Cornwall” and “Famous Crimes”, she only had to wait a few seconds for a whole screen of possibilities to pop up.
She scrolled down, skipping several lurid headlines, when the word “Falmouth” caught her eye. There were several reprints of newspaper articles describing the unsolved murder of a prominent businessman over thirty years ago. Nicki brought up the first article, which was part of a collection of victims who’d never received justice.
One was a Falmouth businessman named John Ferrier. He’d been found stabbed in his home, and his wife, Mary, and their infant son were missing. But blood matching Mary’s blood type was found at the scene, and it was feared she and the child had been kidnapped. Since they’d never been found and so much time had passed, they were presumed to be dead too.
Quickly typing in the family’s names, Nicki read several additional short articles about the Ferrier murder, then looked for one with more details. She finally found it in the local paper, published the year before on the thirtieth anniversary of the husband’s murder. She slowly scrolled through it and then stopped.
Leaning forward until her nose was practically touching the screen, Nicki’s mouth dropped open at the image in front of her. The caption read “John Ferrier”, but the picture looked like a slightly younger version of the current owner of Enfui. The two men could have been twins. Sitting back in her seat, Nicki stared at the newspaper photo, shaking her head as her tired mind tried to make sense of what she was seeing.
“We do bear a striking resemblance, don’t we?”
Nicki’s whole body froze. The voice had come from behind her. Taking a deep breath, she slowly swung her chair around and found herself staring at Christophe Fabron, and the very deadly looking gun he had pointed right at her.
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Eight
“Hello, Ms. Connors. I hope you don’t mind me dropping in this way. You really should lock your doors.” Christophe waved his gun back and forth. “Please put your hands up in the air and move away from your desk.”
Nicki slowly got to her feet and raised her hands above her head. She backed away as Christophe came toward her, careful to keep a good distance between them. He reached over and picked up the cell phone she’d set on her desk, and dropped it into the pocket of his jacket, his gaze briefly
darting to the computer screen before coming back to her.
“Father and son. No one would doubt it if they saw this picture. Viola Richards certainly didn’t.”
Nicki did her best to keep her breathing even, despite the nerves that made her want to jump out of her own skin. “She saw your picture at that wine event.”
“Stupid little gathering reported by a backwoods paper. What were the odds she’d come across it?” His disgusted tone rang through the room. “And with her penchant for chasing after sensational stories, of course she knew all about my father’s untimely demise. Did you know she kept a file on all the sensational murder stories she ever came across? Just in case she could ever find a genetic link for one of her clients, or, as she told me, in my case, a prospective client. Imagine her great surprise when she came across that old picture of a winery event in Soldoff? She’d been searching for possible new clients among wealthy vineyard owners but abandoned that idea quick enough when she came across the picture of a dead man.”
Christophe waved his gun back and forth, looking more agitated by the second as Nicki held her breath and kept her eyes glued to the deadly looking barrel.
“So thrilled.” Christophe’s voice rose an octave in an imitation of Viola’s nasal tone. “Imagine the book that will come out of solving John Ferrier’s murder after all this time. And to find the missing little boy too. And we can work out all the details of how to make the public announcement at a tea party I’m having, just for that occasion.” He snorted, his face contorted into a sneer. “She didn’t care she’d be ruining my mother’s life, or mine and Emma’s. Years of work, making a new life for ourselves, working our fingers to the bone learning how to run a winery, none of it meant anything to that woman. All she saw was dollar signs. She was almost drooling over the money she was envisioning from her tell-all book. It was ancient history, and she should have left it where it belonged. In the past.”
“Your mother killed him, didn’t she?” Suddenly it became clear as glass to Nicki. “Mary Ferrier killed her husband and fled to France with her young son. That would have been you, Christophe.”
“James.” He shrugged. “Not that it makes any difference now, but I was named James. Mother changed our names when we went to France, and again when we came to America. It wasn’t hard to do back then before all the computers started talking to each other. A few forged documents with official-looking seals and it was done.”
He glanced back at the picture on the screen. “Viola had this strange idea that Charlie and the Ingrams were in on the whole thing, just because she saw that picture of us together. The only connection we had was that we all ended up in the same event and someone from the local gossip rag took our photo together. Mother heard about Soldoff when we’d spent a year in Nuits-Saint-Georges. Her neighbor was always raving about how wonderful her cousin, Henry Ingram, had done here, so mother thought it was as good a place to start fresh as any.”
“What do you want from me?” Nicki kept her gaze glued to his face. The wicked-looking gun made her too nervous to think. And she needed all her wits about her right now. Especially since she wasn’t the only one in the house. Silently praying that Jane wouldn’t suddenly come down the stairs and right into Christophe’s line of sight, Nicki summoned up a smile.
“I’m not a genealogist. I don’t have any interest in the past.”
“But you are determined to solve Viola Richards’ murder, aren’t you? Like I told you before, you have quite a reputation. And Emma told me all the questions you were asking. I knew it was only a matter of time before you dug up the same thing that the Richards woman had. And I can’t let that get out. It would kill my mother. After all she went through to find peace after living with that monster who called himself her husband, I couldn’t allow that.”
“Your father was a monster?” Nicki frowned, wanting to keep him talking as she carefully edged further away.
Christophe made a grunting sound deep in his throat. “He beat her. She told me how often she’d had to hide in the house because of the bruises. I think she would have simply accepted it as part of her life until he bragged that he was looking forward to keeping me in line as well. I was only a few months old. My mother did what she had to, to protect her child.”
“But she could have claimed self-defense.”
He laughed. “Back then? No one would have believed her, or even if they did, the police wouldn’t have cared. She was his wife. C’est la vie, as the French would say.” He jerked his head toward the open office door. “Now we need to take a little walk in the woods. Let’s get going, Nicki Connors.”
Her heart dropped to her knees as she backed away toward the door, taking a step for every one of his. “You’re taking a big chance, Christophe. Too many people will be coming down that road at any minute.”
The tall man only shrugged. “I don’t think so. You told my wife all about having to bake cookies this morning, and when I dropped her off at the event, I stayed long enough to confirm that Maxie and her husband, as well as your next-door neighbor, were all very busy. Jenna, isn’t it? She works with computers.”
“Just like you do at that security job of yours,” Nicki said slowly. He’d already backed her out into the hallway. Just a few more steps and she’d be at the front door.
“That’s right.” He smiled. “I’ve learned a number of very handy skills on that job.”
“Was it hard to hold Viola down, Christophe? Did it bother you when she was struggling for her life?”
“Not really.” He nodded at the door directly behind Nicki. “Now open that door nice and easy, and we’ll be on our way.”
In the next instant he jumped a foot into the air, jerking his head around at the loud thump and piercing scream that came from overhead. Not willing for even an instant to leave Jane alone in the house with this man, Nicki launched herself into the air, knocking him off his feet.
She screamed for Jane to run as she prepared to jump on top of Viola’s killer, who was sprawled out on the floor, when she was grabbed from behind. Flailing wildly, she tried to free herself but lost all her leverage when strong arms lifted her right off her feet.
As she continued to struggle, a long leg lashed out, giving Christophe’s hand a hard kick, sending the gun he was still holding skittering across the tiled entryway. As the winery owner howled with pain, what sounded like an army came stampeding up the steps to the townhouse.
“Freeze, Fabron.”
Chief Turnlow’s voice rang out at the same time another one sounded right next to her ear.
“Stop, Nicki. I won’t let him hurt you. I have you, honey.”
Nicki went stiff from shock and then completely limp. She turned her head and looked up at the man holding her tight against his chest. “Matt?”
He set her carefully on her feet, keeping one arm locked around her waist while he lifted his other one and laid a gentle hand against the side of her face. “Are you all right?”
“Matt,” she breathed again, looking up into those deep-brown eyes. Without another word she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face against his shoulder. “Jane’s upstairs,” Nicki mumbled against his shirt.
“She’s fine. Danny’s gone up to get her.” Matt tightened the arm he had around her waist as he ran a large hand up and down her back.
Nicki closed her eyes at the soothing gesture. He was solid and real, and most importantly, he was right there with her. Deciding she was never going to move from that spot, Nicki tilted her head back and gave him a watery smile.
“I love you, Matt Dillon.”
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Nine
Several hours later, Nicki looked around her living room, smiling as almost everyone she loved was sprawled out in a chair or on the floor. Matt had her cuddled against him on his lap. The only time he’d let her out of his sight was when she’d taken a hot bath, and even then he’d stood guard outside the bathroom door.
He really was adorable.
&nbs
p; She still couldn’t believe he’d worked day and night to get the Paris office set up and squared away in record time so he could come home early. Which certainly explained why their phone calls had been so short. He’d told her flat out that he hadn’t wanted long phone calls. He wanted long hours of being with her. So he’d made it happen.
How did a girl get so lucky?
Content to keep her hand on his chest so she could feel the steady beat of his heart, Nicki’s gaze landed on Maxie, and brought up a worry that had been at the back of her mind ever since her landlady had come charging through the front door.
“Who’s running the event, Maxie? Please don’t tell me you shut it down.”
Maxie raised an eyebrow. “Of course not, dear. Suzanne is there keeping everything running smoothly. She’s gotten Roe to agree to sell all those cookies you and Jane made in her bakery, since neither of you can make it to the event. She’s become quite the good business manager.”
Nicki laughed. “Yes, she has.”
Mason walked back into the room, his cell phone in his hand. “I just got through talking with Chief Turnlow. He said they got a full confession out of Christophe Fabron. And they recovered the bike he’d stashed in a ditch near the edge of the woods that lead up to our property.”
“That’s how he got to Viola’s place? Riding a bike and then hiking through the woods?” Jenna asked.
The former police chief nodded. “Apparently. He killed Viola and then grabbed the first bottle of liquor he found in a cabinet in her living room and splashed it around to try to make it look like an accident.”
Jenna frowned. “So Viola did drink Scotch after all?”
“I don’t know, dear,” Maxie spoke up. “But she didn’t buy that Scotch. I stocked that cabinet for her. I had no idea what she liked, so I bought several types of liquor.” She nodded at her web designer. “Including a bottle of Scotch.”