Murder By the Glass

by Michele Scott

  “You introduced them?” Those psych and self-help books she read on occasion had something to them, because he was blabbering. “I make most of my real estate deals up on the northern coastline in Mendocino or Monterey. I live in Mendocino most of the time, but I keep a place here in the city because I like to change it up once in a blue moon. Marty came to me and said that Kristof was looking for a place in the city, that he liked to visit here a lot on the weekends and wanted to have an apartment out this way. Susan dealt mainly with real estate in the city so I connected the two of them. They obviously hit it off.”

  “When did she tell you about them?”

  “Not too long after they started dating. You know what she said?”

  Nikki shook her head.

  “She told me that she loved me. That she adored me. However, she wanted children and so did Kristof. How could I deny her that? She knew I wasn’t going to ever have children with her. What could I do? I did the right thing and let her go.”

  “But you still saw her didn’t you?”

  He nodded. “We did still see each other on occasion. I loved her. I needed her. I begged her to see me.”

  “When was the last time?”

  “Two weeks ago. At my beach house. I pleaded with her to change her mind about marrying Kristof. I even told her that maybe we could have children. I could have a reversal on my vasectomy. But she told me no, and that she couldn’t see me anymore. She knew I was coming to the wedding, and she said that after the wedding she never wanted to see me again.”

  “Can I ask you, if you gave her money when she visited you?”

  Blake looked away and then back at her. “I’m a sorry sack. I did.” His tears were now streaming down his face. “I would’ve done anything for her, but the one thing I couldn’t give her was what she wanted and now she’s gone. I still can’t believe she’s gone.” He wiped his face and then brought his napkin to his nose and blew hard.

  What was it with Susan that the men she took advantage of stayed stuck to her like a fly on a sticky strip? She hadn’t been the sweetest gal in the world, but then again, Paulo and Blake weren’t exactly top-notch. Sure, they had some cash and Susan liked cash, but class? Not a lot of that. Blake had to have seen through her. One would’ve thought of midlife crises with him, but the way he was carrying on, maybe he’d really loved her. She was gorgeous, even from a woman’s perspective. Were the men Susan sunk her nails into so shallow that what was beneath Susan’s skin didn’t matter to them? Apparently so. Nikki took a few more bites of her lunch, which was delicious, but it wasn’t settling well. None of this was settling well.

  Waiting for the bill, Blake finished his drink. For a moment he appeared to sober up as he said, “I want to make this clear to you, and I will tell the police if they ask, I loved Susan. I loved her wholeheartedly, enough to let her go and make a life for herself, have a family. I wanted the best for her. I really loved that woman. I would’ve never killed her. Never. I’m sorry that your friend is in jail, but your insinuation that I may have killed Susan is very wrong.” With that statement he polished off his drink.

  “That said, do you have any idea who would’ve killed her? Who might have wanted her dead?”

  He set his napkin on top of his plate and stood. “I have no idea. This hasn’t been the pleasant lunch I’d hoped for and I simply need to go home and rest.” He turned and walked out of the restaurant, leaving the bill for Nikki to pay.

  A thought came to Nikki as she looked out the window at the bridge and bay, concerning Blake Sorgensen’s emphatic denial of killing his beloved Susan. Who was the man trying to convince? Nikki or himself? Because as far as Nikki was concerned, Blake had had a good reason to want to murder Susan. It was called that thin line between love and hate. Had Blake Sorgensen crossed it when Susan hadn’t made her way back into his arms?

  Chapter 20

  Nikki decided to make one last stop before heading back to the hotel. She doubted she’d get anywhere with where she was going because private investigators weren’t exactly known to give out information. But she had to give it a try and see if she couldn’t find out who had hired the private investigative team of Lawson and Rennert, the guys who’d taken the X-rated photos of Blake and Susan. If Blake wasn’t the killer, which Nikki was not ruling out, then maybe whoever had them followed was. The envelope had been addressed to Sara Waltman, and after reading through Sara’s sordid mystery, she didn’t discount the old woman as a suspect either.

  Nikki had memorized the address for the offices of the private investigative team. It was on California Street. But when Nikki arrived there, what stood in its place was none other than a pizzeria. Maybe she’d memorized the address incorrectly. She dialed information on her cell, and, to her surprise, discovered that there was no Lawson and Rennert in the San Francisco or surrounding areas. Why the bogus address? Nikki had no clue and no time to investigate further. She had to meet the boys back at the hotel.

  By the time Nikki made it back to The Clift, it was almost four o’ clock and she was dog tired. Had she just had lunch with a murderer? But could he have remained sober long enough to do the deed? Or had she had coffee with one that morning, or a drink the night before with a lunatic sibling, and who in the hell had given the bogus address and sent those photos of Blake and Susan? She didn’t know. What she did know was that she was more confused than before starting out that morning. Less than twenty-four hours ago someone had made a desperate attempt to steer her clear from discovering the truth, and that someone was still out there. Who knew if they’d make another attempt, because she certainly hadn’t backed off, like they’d insisted she do. She’d plowed right ahead, more resolute than ever to seek justice for Isabel.

  She plopped down on one of the lobby sofas and took a quick glance around to see if she noticed anyone suspicious keeping tabs on her.

  Nothing but a family with two kids registering at the front desk—hardly the first thing to come to mind as being questionable. However, watching them did make her think. There was a little girl and boy, twins, actually, of about three, and they were having a good time playing patty-cake with one another. Nikki’s heart started doing that thing it had just recently started doing when she got around children. Even after the bizarre, exhausting day she couldn’t help but smile at the toddlers whose joyful faces sent a bittersweet pang through her. A family would be nice. The mom and dad looked tired but happy. The husband finished the paperwork and gave his wife a kiss. Then he picked up the little girl, and swung his arm over his wife’s shoulder. Their little boy held onto his mom’s hand. Maybe someday.

  It was now after four and Nikki fidgeted with her watch. Where were the boys? Marco had insisted on four o’clock. What if they’d been caught by Jennifer or Paulo, and the police were called? Or worse? Nikki couldn’t allow herself to even go there. The boys had really grown on her throughout the weekend and she didn’t want to consider that something might have happened to them, and that she would’ve been the catalyst that put them in harm’s way.

  She called in to check her messages, both at home and work and then on her cell. Only one message—a client ordering more wine. Not the boys. And not Derek. So much for thinking that he might actually take her up on her invite to the city so she could explain her whereabouts the other night. It was for the best. She knew she needed to put the major crush—and that’s all it was—she had on Derek behind her and move on.

  She started to dial Marco’s cell phone number when he and Simon came bounding through the lobby doors arm in arm, smiling like two Cheshire cats and way too cheerful looking. She sighed, relieved that they were absolutely fine, but she grew pretty angry as they came closer, the reek of alcohol surrounding them.

  “Sorry we’re late, Goldilocks, but we’ve been down at the Buena Vista Café having Irish coffees. We really should’ve had her meet us there.” Simon turned and looked at Marco, who nodded dumbly at him, his eyes glassy.

  “You two have been out drinking? Do
you have any idea how worried I was getting? I thought that maybe something terrible happened.” She lowered her voice. “That maybe you had been caught inside that apartment by either Paulo or Jennifer.”

  Marco laid a hand on her shoulder, which she shrugged off. “Isn’t that sweet? She loves us.”

  “You two didn’t even go there. Did you? I knew I shouldn’t have told you what was going on. I didn’t want you to get involved in the first place, but then blah, blah, blah, Marco. You go and tell me, oh no, we’ll help you.” She put on a fake Italian accent and waved her arms about. “I’m a big pickpocket, trust me. We will help you, Bellisima . What a bunch of . . .”

  Simon clamped his hand over her mouth. She rocked back in surprise. “Would you shut up, Goldilocks? Of course we went there, and we have something to show you. Now come on. We’re going to the bar first and we’ll show you what we found.”

  “Uh, uh. You two are already three sheets to the wind. Tell me now.”

  “You are being, what you call her, a spoilsport.” Marco jutted his hip to the side and put a hand on it. “We no gonna tell you, if you don’t come have a drink with us, and trust me, this you wanna know.”

  “You two are terrible, did you know that?”

  Simon smiled. “When we’re good, we’re good, but when we’re bad, well, honey . . .” He licked the tip of his finger and stuck it on his hip and made a hissing sound. “We’re hot.”

  “Fine. It’s your head and your livers you’ll have to cope with.”

  They went inside the hotel bar and sat down at a row of open bar stools. Simon pulled a package out of his leather pack. “A round of mojitos,” he sang out to the bartender, who nodded their way. Simon then opened up the package and took out a pile of photos and spread them on the table. “Somebody has been watching somebody or somebodies, should I say.”

  Nikki’s mouth dropped. There was a whole row of photos, all of them containing pictures of Kristof and Isabel. There were photos with the two of them kissing on a yacht, the one Nikki knew the Waltmans owned. Nikki knew the Waltmans berthed up in Mendocino. Isabel had mentioned spending a weekend there with Kristof. Then there were photos of them holding hands in the parking lot at Grapes, photos of them hugging, and even a picture which someone had taken outside Isabel’s window while the two of them were kind of looking like they were getting ready to do the naked tango. Nikki had seen enough, too much in fact, of her friend and Kristof.

  “Where did you find these?” she asked.

  “Actually, we pretty much tore that place apart,” Simon said. “At first, I didn’t know if it was a good idea. I mean, we were breaking the law for you, Goldilocks, but Marco insisted that you have nothing but good intentions and that helping you out would be a good way for making up to you all the bad things we kinda said and did a while back. We are sorry, you know.”

  “I know, I know. Okay, already. Where did you find the pictures?”

  “Good intentions or not, that doesn’t sound very grateful.” Simon frowned at her.

  “I’m sorry. It’s been a long hard day and all I want to do is find out who murdered Susan Jennings so that Isabel can get out of jail and live her life.”

  “Long hard day? Don’t we know. We’re like criminals today, which by the way totally goes against our ethics these days, you know especially after studying under Guru Sansibaba. He says that the journey to enlightenment forces us to leave behind all criminal activity, be it from the smallest of lies, to wherever the greedy heart takes us in achieving only the material.”

  “It’s for the higher good,” Marco interrupted. “Guru Sansibaba also says that truth for the higher good is all important in releasing us from the material. We must remember that an innocent woman is in jail. Right, Bellisima?”

  “I’m going to wring both of your necks and then fly out to Sedona and wring Guru Sansibaba’s neck if you don’t tell me where you found these photos!”

  “We found the pictures inside a book in the dining room.”

  “How did you know to look there?” she asked.

  “We didn’t. It was inside Dante’s Inferno, which I absolutely adore,” Simon replied. “I decided to take it off the shelf and flip through it. Out dropped the pictures and we knew they meant something. I know what Kristof Waltman looks like and I’ve seen Isabel around. We also went to opening night at Grapes. Remember that night?” He lovingly looked at Marco who smiled. “I knew it was the two of them and I thought that they might mean something. What do you think?”

  “I think they definitely mean something. Susan knew that Kristof and Isabel were having an affair and if you look at the date on these photos they were taken four months before the wedding, which was about the time Susan came to see Isabel about catering the reception. I had heard that originally she planned to have Domaine Chandon do it, but had a falling-out with the chef and claimed she wanted to give Grapes some recognition because she’d tried Isabel’s cooking and loved it.”

  “Why marry a cheat, then?” Marco asked. “If Susan knew that Kristof was sleeping with Isabel, why not break it off with him?”

  That was a good question because from what Paulo had told her earlier, Susan had no problems getting wealthy men on the line, and there were even bigger fishes in the sea than Kristof Waltman. He was a big one, but Nikki was certain Susan could’ve caught something even bigger. Could Susan have really loved Kristof? “I don’t know. I know these pictures mean something. What they mean, I haven’t the faintest idea, other than that Susan had some proof that Kristof had cheated on her with Isabel four months before their wedding. What it doesn’t tell us is who killed Susan and why.”

  “Listen, Goldilocks, I hate to mention this, but Marco and I have discussed a possibility that I think you may have to consider in light of these photos.”

  There was a long pause between the three of them as Nikki took a drink from her mojito. Simon looked away from her.

  “Okay, speak, Inspector Clouseau,” she said after setting down her drink.

  “Bellisima. I think what Simon is wanting to say to you is that does the photographs of Isabel and Kristof not bring up the possibility that Isabel did commit this crime?”

  “What? No! Absolutely not.”

  “Shouldn’t you maybe consider it?” Simon asked. “Guru Sansibaba says that your reality may not be that of others, and our need for approval and love can lead us astray from our reality. Could your friendship with Isabel be clouded because of your love for her? Therefore, your reality is not the reality that is real.”

  “What? You two don’t make any sense. Isabel is not guilty.” She grabbed the photos and stood to leave. “I’ll prove it, and I’ll do it on my own, thank you.”

  “Now, Bellisima. Guru Sansibaba says that you should never leave a situation in anger.”

  “Oh for Heaven’s sakes, screw Guru Sansibaba. He’s just some shyster who worked you two over for a bunch of cash and fed you a bunch of bull.”

  Simon held up a finger. “Maybe this is true, but you must admit that you like us far better now, and we love you and know that you’ll reconcile with your anger. We are only here to help.”

  Marco nodded emphatically. “He is right.”

  “You love me because you’re drunk.”

  “No, no. We do love you and want to help.”

  Nikki couldn’t help but laugh. Simon patted her chair seat and she reluctantly sat back down. They had helped her out today and they did know how to make her laugh.

  Simon turned his head and seemed distracted. “It looks like we’re not the only ones who want to come to your rescue.” He scraped up the photos and shoved them into Nikki’s purse. “For now, looks like we better stop playing Charlie’s Angels, because Prince Charming is at this very moment gallivanting through the door.”

  Nikki followed Simon’s gaze until her eyes met Derek’s as he walked toward her.

  Chapter 21

  “Hi,” Nikki said as Derek slipped into a chair next to her.

&
nbsp; Marco smiled slyly at him, which Nikki caught. Derek actually turned red in the face, and Nikki’s stomach did one of those swan dives only Olympic divers were meant to do.

  Simon quickly ordered his brother a drink. Nikki overheard him say to Marco, “Get some alcohol in him, loosen him up.”

  “It is such a shame we can’t get him to Guru Sansibaba. He could let go of all of those intimacy issues the past has created for him.”

  Nikki turned and glared at them.

  “Don’t you two have plans or something? This is your town,” Derek said.

  “Sure, sure, sure. Of course we do,” Simon replied. “Maybe we could all get together later for dessert or a drink or something fun like that. I’ll have my cell on.”

  He winked at Nikki, who wanted to deck him.