by Nancy Skopin
I called Bill’s cell to let him know I was home and got his voicemail again. I was just leaving a message telling him I was running out for dinner when I felt the boat rock. Buddy lunged up the steps and met Bill in the pilothouse. Happy dog.
Bill managed to wrestle Buddy back down the steps, even though he had the binder in one hand and a large, greasy-looking bag of take-out in the other. I love a man who can multitask. He set the binder and food on the counter and wrapped his arms around me so tight I could barely breathe.
“I missed you,” he whispered, tickling my ear.
I leaned back and looked into his warm hazel eyes. “I missed you too,” I said, leaning in for a welcome home kiss.
Before I knew what was happening Bill scooped me up in his arms and carried me into the stateroom.
“Hey!” I protested. “I’m hungry!”
“We can eat later.”
“You mean if Buddy doesn’t get into that take-out bag in the next thirty minutes?”
“Oh shit.”
Bill dropped me on the bed and hustled back into the galley, snatching up the bag of greasy goodness. “This is not your dinner,” he said to Buddy, who made a mewing sound that never fails to melt my heart. “You can have a few bites,” Bill relented.
Bill put the bag in the head and shut the door, then came back into the stateroom.
“He’s getting pretty good with doorknobs,” I said.
Bill lifted an eyebrow at me and then picked up his acoustic guitar case and set it outside the door to the head. I barely managed to contain my laughter. The truth is, Buddy has extremely good manners. He’d never take food that wasn’t offered to him, though he’s a shameless beggar.
“What’s in the bag?” I asked.
“Stop talking and let me show you how much I’ve missed you.”
I stopped talking, and the extra thirty minutes before dinner really piqued my appetite.
Turned out the to-go bag was from La Viga, a seafood and Mexican restaurant on Broadway. Bill had brought me a jumbo order of their Ostiones Frescos, fresh oysters on the half shell for those of you who don’t speak Spanish. There were twelve of them, and they were all mine.
He’d also brought home three orders of Pollo Relleno, which is a chicken breast stuffed with spinach, zucchini, Oaxaca cheese, and rainbow carrots, and an order of potato salad prepared with a spicy tomato oregano sauce. One of the chicken breasts was, of course, for Buddy. I opened a couple of beers while Bill put the food on the table, nudging Buddy aside as he leaned closer to the plates.
I poured some kibble into the boy’s dish and quickly diced one of the chicken breasts, tossing it on top of his kibble. He was done eating before I’d even had my first oyster. I frequently have to remind him to chew.
After dinner I presented Bill with his mug. His face lit up. As a little boy, growing up in Oregon, Paladin had been his hero.
“I’m taking this to work,” he said. “Thank you!”
Bill offered to take Buddy for his last walk of the day, and I handed him the gift box for Kirk, asking him to drop it off with my thanks for all the Buddy-sitting services.
“Did you get him a Paladin mug too?” he asked.
“John Wayne.”
“Paladin is better.”
“I know, honey.”
As soon as my two favorite males were on their way up to shore, I snatched the murder book and began scanning for updates. I found a toxicology report that hadn’t been there before and snapped a photo before reading the details. Apparently, Chet had ingested a dose of Zolpidem combined with bourbon, in the hour prior to his death. Zolpidem is a prescription drug classified as a sedative-hypnotic. From what I’ve read, alcohol is contraindicated and can cause serious side effects.
I checked Bill’s notes in the margins. Chet did not have a prescription for Zolpidem, but I’d be willing to bet Vanessa did. Bill had also noted that no open or empty bottles of bourbon had been found on board the yacht. So, she’d drugged Chet’s favorite bourbon, waited for him to pass out, shot him in the head, then taken the bourbon bottle with her when she left in Chet’s dinghy, probably tossing it overboard on the way to Cooke’s Harbor. All I had to do now was get her to confess, and record her confession.
There were additional notes in the murder book about Dr. Feelgood. Apparently Chet’s son, Chance, was going to inherit the company. Michael had confirmed that Chet had called Vanessa, I assumed to tell her he’d removed her from his will and his life insurance policy. She wasn’t in line to inherit the company. We now knew she’d embezzled millions from Dr. Feelgood. If Chance planned to go through with the partial sale of the company, that would certainly give Vanessa a reason to get him out of the way. She couldn’t risk her crimes coming to light.
CHAPTER 34
I slept in on Monday morning, and Bill woke me with a cup of coffee before he left for work. He’d already walked and fed Buddy. I really needed some gym time, but I felt guilty about ditching Buddy with D’Artagnon again after being gone for three days, so instead I pulled on my Track II boots and we hiked through the Bair Island Nature Preserve for an hour.
When we got home I gave Buddy some fresh water and then showered before we went up to the office.
I had a few new voicemail messages from regular clients wanting to schedule special surveys. I’d made a point of checking my office voicemail from Vegas and e-mailing Jim about any jobs that were urgent. Now that I was back, I could handle the special requests, at least until I figured out how to corner Vanessa. I had an avalanche of evidence against her, all obtained illegally. Of course, she wouldn’t know that. Maybe I should take Lily’s advice and confront Vanessa with everything I knew and hope she took the bait and confessed. I could tell her that I was going to take the evidence to the police unless she paid me to remain silent. That might work.
Considering she’d already killed two people, I knew she was dangerous, but it wasn’t like I was going to turn my back on the bitch. The only problem was how to arrange a meeting. Michael had given me her cell phone number. Maybe I’d just call and tell her I was the PI Chet hired to find out who was trying to kill him.
I dialed the number before I could over-think my plan, and when I got her voicemail I said, “Ms. Poneke, my name is Nicoli Hunter. I’m a Private Investigator your ex-husband, Chet Fortune, hired to find out who was trying to kill him. The day after he hired me, he was murdered, but he gave me a substantial retainer before he was killed, so I’ve been looking into the circumstances surrounding his death. I’d like to speak with you about my findings at your earliest convenience.” I left both my office and cell numbers before disconnecting.
“Ball’s in your court, Vanessa,” I said to myself.
Buddy looked up inquisitively from his post between me and the door.
“Good dog,” I said.
I responded to the e-mail requests and loaded the necessary data into my iPhone’s calendar app. I’d be having lunch at Chez Jacques in Atherton today, to evaluate a new server named Tomas, whom the owner had neglected to have me pre-screen. Then I’d be having dinner at Benedetto, a Northern Italian restaurant in Belmont, because the owner, Anna Maria Miola, had, once again, hired a new chef. I liked the last chef. I’d given him a good review less than two weeks ago, but I’d noted in my report that he’d altered her recipes, and she couldn’t get past that. The only person allowed to be creative in Anna Maria’s restaurants was Anna Maria herself. Some people have control issues. Not me, of course.
My office phone rang as I was shutting down the computer and heading out to Chez Jacques. I checked the caller ID. The Palo Alto Police Department was calling. I answered, despite the fact that I was in a hurry.
“Hunter Investigations.”
“Halstaad here. I’m having trouble reaching Jea. Do you know where she is?”
“I don’t, actually. Didn’t she bring Sky in to make a statement?”
“She did, but the D.A. will need Sky to testify against the kidnappers.�
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“I’m sure Jea won’t want to put Sky through the additional trauma. Did you tape her statement?”
“Yes, Hunter. I’m not a moron. I taped her statement.”
“So the prosecuting attorney can just play the video for the jury.”
“What if it’s not enough?”
“Then I’ll testify.”
“That could work. What about your friend?”
“What friend?”
“The one who helped you rescue Sky.”
“Oh yeah. What about her?”
“Are you being deliberately obtuse? I need her name and contact information.”
“Sorry. She prefers to remain anonymous.”
“You are a pain in my ass, Hunter.”
“Join the club. I’m on my way out the door. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“You haven’t done anything for me.”
“Well, there you go.”
I couldn’t tell if she was sputtering in frustration or trying to hold in her laughter.
I walked Buddy down to Kirk’s boat and found him at home with D’Artagnon and his son, Jonathan. They were eating lunch out on deck and invited me to join them.
“Can’t. I have a restaurant survey to do. You mind watching Buddy so he doesn’t have to sit in a hot car?”
“Of course not.”
I opened the gate on the swim platform and unclipped Buddy’s leash. He jumped aboard. I thanked Kirk, rubbed my boy’s ears, and said I’d be back pretty soon.
I enjoy French cuisine and Chez Jacques is one of my favorite restaurants. My long-time friend, Jessica James, owns and manages both Chez Jacques and the Garden Grill in Menlo Park. Normally she has me run background checks on new employees, but her instincts are generally good, so I cut her some slack when she neglects to get me involved beforehand. Jessica had made the reservation for me herself, so I was confident I’d be seated in Tomas’s section. The hostess escorted me to a table for one, offered me a menu, and asked if I’d like anything to drink. I told her I wanted to think about it. I needed as much Tomas time as possible.
Two minutes after I was seated I spotted my quarry. He was delivering a check to a table of three women. Tomas was a little over six feet tall with short, dark hair and sculpted features. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties. His physique was slim but athletic, his demeanor friendly and professional. The three women at his table were openly flirting with him and it appeared to make him uncomfortable. After leaving the check on their table he turned his attention to me, and I spotted his only visible flaw. Tomas had ears that stuck straight out from his head like a taxi with the doors open. They weren’t large. They just jutted out, making his almost too perfect beauty more tolerable, and, no doubt, making him seem more approachable to his admirers. He arrived at my table and introduced himself, asking how I was doing today.
“I’m well, thank you.”
“May I get you anything to drink?”
“I’d like to try one of those nonalcoholic beers, but I don’t know anything about them. What would you recommend?”
It wasn’t really a fair question, since he’d been working at Chez Jacques less than a week.
“Do you prefer a light or a dark beer?” he responded.
Good question. The truth is, it’s not about light or dark for me, but about flavor.
“I could go either way.”
“We have quite a selection. The dark would be Guinness Kaliber and Beck’s. The lighter varieties would be O’Doul’s, St. Pauli N.A., and Heineken Buckler.”
“Have you tasted any of them?”
I saw no indication of exasperation whatsoever on his handsome face. “I have,” he said. “I prefer the Guinness Kaliber. It’s a low alcohol beer with a rich flavor and a lot of body. It also has a peppery aftertaste that I enjoy.”
“Sold. I’ll have one of those.”
“Very good. Any questions about the menu?”
“I haven’t actually looked at it yet.”
“Would you like to hear today’s specials?”
“Sure.”
Tomas described the Coq au vin, the Duck confit, and the soup of the day, which was French onion. I thanked him and asked for a little time with the menu. He bowed politely and moved off in the direction of the bar. By the time he’d returned with my Guinness I’d decided on the Salade niçoise.
Salade niçoise originated in the French city of Nice. It is traditionally made with tomatoes, hard-boiled eggs, Niçoise olives, anchovies, and is dressed with olive oil. It was the anchovies that sold me.
My lunch experience was outstanding and Tomas would be getting a glowing review. I still wanted to run a background check on him, but I was pretty sure Jessica had hired herself another gem.
CHAPTER 35
I’d completed my dinner survey at Benedetto and was in my office putting the finishing touches on the report when my cell vibrated in my purse. I dug it out and recognized Vanessa’s number on the display. I almost couldn’t believe she’d called me back.
“Hunter Investigations.”
“Ms. Hunter, this is Vanessa Poneke. I received a voicemail message from you regarding Chet Fortune?”
“Yes. Thank you for returning my call. As I mentioned in my message, I’ve been looking into the circumstances surrounding Chet’s death. I’d like to speak with you about it in person.”
“Things are in a bit of an uproar at the moment, as you can imagine. I can’t possibly squeeze you in until Friday.”
“That’s fine. Where would you like to meet?”
“My office. Friday morning at ten.”
“I’ll be there,” I said, but she’d already hung up.
I opened the calendar app on my phone and entered the appointment, then ran a Google search to find out where the Dr. Feelgood offices were located. Finding their website was not a problem, but the address wasn’t listed, nor was their phone number. I finally did a web search asking, “Where in San Francisco is Dr. Feelgood located?” I got one hit that showed me an address on Folsom Street. Still no phone number and no office hours listed, but there was a link to their website, confirming that I had the right location. I loaded the address into Google Maps and got directions, which I added to my calendar reminder for Friday morning.
Enough. I was tired and I wanted to go home to my dog and my man. I e-mailed the Benedetto survey to Anna Maria, grabbed my to-go box of leftovers, and locked up the office.
Buddy met me in the pilothouse. I’d only finished half of the carpaccio di Manzo I’d ordered, which is thinly sliced filet mignon with a tangy mustard sauce served on a bed of arugula. Buddy obviously smelled the filet mignon. I held the box out of his reach while backing down the companionway into the galley.
I found Bill in the main salon playing his acoustic guitar. He gave me a sad smile and set the guitar aside when I came in.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, leaning in for a hug.
“Nothing.”
I stood back and looked into his eyes. “Come on. You’ll feel better if you talk about it.”
Bill sighed. “It’s this case. Everything points to the ex-wife, but I can’t get any concrete evidence without a warrant, which I can’t get without any concrete evidence. Sometimes I hate this job.”
“No, you don’t. You love your job, and you’re great at it. It’s not your fault the law is designed to protect criminals as well as victims.”
Bill just shook his head.
“I brought leftovers,” I said, hoping the filet mignon would cheer him up.
“What have you got?”
I opened the to-go box and Buddy stood on his hind legs, anticipating treats. Bill took the box and sampled a bite, then tossed one to Buddy. By the time the box was empty both of them were smiling.
I didn’t mention my scheduled meeting with Vanessa on Friday. If I played my cards right I’d be able to trap her into a confession rather than setting myself up as her next victim. If Bill knew what I was planning, he’d t
ry to talk me out of it. I wouldn’t let him. We’d fight. So not worth it.
CHAPTER 36
Friday morning arrived and I was ready for it. We’d rescheduled Jack’s bachelor party and Elizabeth’s lingerie party for tonight, to be held at their estate in Hillsborough. Being Jack’s best man, I was in charge of his fête, which would be held outdoors on the pool patio. Lily was responsible for Elizabeth’s lingerie party, which would take place in the massive living room. I didn’t need to manage the menu because Jack’s live-in cook and house keeper, Ilsa, had arranged for the event to be catered, under her direct supervision of course. There was enough booze in the house to get an army drunk, so that wasn’t an issue.
I’d purchased a box of Cuban cigars for Jack. Do not ask me where I found those. I won’t tell you. I’d found a teal silk La Perla negligee for Elizabeth, which would look great with her coloring.
The issue I was struggling with was that the only men I’d invited were Bill, Joachim, who was Ilsa’s husband and Jack’s groundskeeper, and Jack himself. It was pitiful. I’d invited Jim Sutherland and he’d planned to attend the party last week, when it was originally scheduled, but the change to tonight wasn’t going to work for him. He was still covering some of my clients as well as his own. I was having an early dinner with Michael tonight. Maybe I’d drag him along. Michael didn’t socialize much, at least I didn’t think he did. He lived in the mountains like a hermit and always answered his phone when I called. It would be good for him to be around people who weren’t CEOs of major corporations with inadequate cyber defenses.
After my morning workout, I dropped Buddy off with D’Artagnon and drove to San Francisco for my meeting with Vanessa. I knew exactly what I was going to say. I’d rehearsed it in my head enough times that the words would sound natural coming out of my mouth. I just wasn’t sure I was emotionally prepared to face another cold-blooded killer.
I found the Folsom Street address easily. The building looked just as it had on Google: two-story, gray, with a couple of overhead doors and one human-sized door. There was parking on the street, so I locked my Bimmer and took a deep breath before approaching Dr. Feelgood.