“I actually threw the one I got in the Dumpster behind my office.”
Jonah shook his head. “Guys!”
“Who knew someone was planning this? I mean, okay, so someone was trying to kind of weird us out obviously, and neither one of us was aware that the other one was receiving this stuff, but I would have never expected this.” Nikki was trying hard to keep herself together.
“Whoever did this has an agenda. Your photo wasn’t the only thing I found up in the rectory.”
“What else did you find?” Derek asked.
Jonah took out another photo. This one was a picture of Kenny. The images behind him were blurred. It was hard to decipher what was in the background. However the most disturbing aspect to the photo was that, like in the picture with Nikki, Kenny’s face was also marked out with red ink.
“Kenny?” Nikki asked.
“What the hell?” Derek asked.
“Isn’t he one of the guys who was at your rehearsal dinner last night?” Jonah asked. “Kind of the clown of the party, right?”
“That’s him, and he was why I was late to the church,” Derek said.
“What do you mean?” Jonah asked.
“The guys, my friends, we all thought it would be great to ride over in the limo together, have a toast. But we couldn’t find Kenny. We all figured he probably went out last night after the dinner because he’d mentioned to one of the guys that he might.”
“Who was that?” Jonah asked.
“Tristan. Kenny told him that he’d heard about this new hot spot over in Sonoma Square that he wanted to check out. We kind of figured that he got wasted and was still sleeping it off somewhere. I was pretty pissed off when we couldn’t find him,” Derek said.
“If this picture tells us a story at all, it might be to say that maybe he isn’t sleeping somewhere. I have a feeling your friend could be in serious danger.”
Twelve
GUILT! Oh God, so guilty feeling! Nikki dragged herself out of bed feeling like she had a weight tied around her middle and two more balanced on her shoulders.
The dream stayed with her as she walked into the kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee. Derek was out for a morning walk with Ollie. She’d remembered him whispering in her ear about an hour or so ago. She’d tried to get up then, but he’d insisted she get some more rest. She hadn’t been able to fall asleep the night before, not with everything that had happened. Derek had found some sleeping pills, and she’d taken one and finally fallen asleep in his arms. He’d been so good to her last night, reassuring her that everything was going to be okay and that they would be getting married as soon as this mess was sorted out.
She hoped he was right. But after this morning’s dream . . . After Derek had left with Ollie and she’d fallen back asleep, she found herself dreaming of another man’s arms around her. Another man in her bed. Another man waiting for her at the front of the church. Andrés. The dream had been vivid, real. She could almost smell his musky, vanilla-scented cologne when he kissed her after they were pronounced man and wife. And then an image of Simon was what had jolted her awake—Simon dripping in blood and dying in front of her. She shook as if a frozen chill had slammed through her body. What in the hell did all of that mean? She’d reached for the phone and called the hospital to learn from the nurse that Simon was asleep and had had a good night. Relieved to hear that news, she’d rolled out of bed, but the guilt remained like a thick fog.
She stirred her coffee and took a long look out the kitchen window at the vines growing along the hillside adjacent to the house, their twisted old branches intertwining together. Golden bulbs of Chardonnay grapes on the ends of leafy greens were ripening. A morning ray of sun lit up a patch of dew-soaked soil. Ripples on the clear pond spread out as the ducks maneuvered their way through the water. A mother duck and her chicks slept against the grassy bank. There weren’t many sights more beautiful than the one out of their kitchen window. But no matter how hard she tried to focus on the beauty outside and the hot brew in her hands, she could not forget the painfully realistic dream. And then there was yesterday that she’d also like to forget—press rewind and start over, please. Fat chance she’d forget any of it. Her wedding day had wound up a disaster. So she stepped outside for a breath of fresh air and hoped she’d see Derek and Ollie heading her way. Nope. She sat down on the porch swing, sipping her coffee.
Doing so did not elicit the calming effect she’d hoped for. In fact, just the opposite. She found herself becoming increasingly pissed off. How dare someone try to scare her and Derek. How dare they ruin the wedding, and most of all, how dare they hurt her best friend! And how dare she dream about anyone but Derek! Damn her! Yeah, she was good and pissed off now. She couldn’t necessarily control her dreams, but she could find out who was causing all of this upheaval and kick some ass. Figuratively speaking, anyway. But it was how she felt. She wanted whoever it was to be locked up for a long, long time—preferably for life.
She planned to go over to the hospital as soon as she got ready. Derek would want to go, too.
Marco had Violet now, and Alyssa and Petie had gone home with Jonah after he’d detailed his report the night before. Jonah said that he’d also be by in the morning, and Nikki knew he’d have plenty of questions. In retrospect, she’d known better than to throw away the newspaper clipping and photo she’d received, but at the time she hardly thought it would lead to an attempt on her life.
And what about Kenny? Had he come back to the inn or was he still MIA? And if he was, what did that mean, if anything at all?
Nikki spotted the newspaper on the porch and picked it up. Maybe reading about others’ news would get her mind off of her own sorrows. And it worked, sort of, until she turned to the local page. There was Derek. There she was. It was their engagement photo. And the caption read, “The Wedding that Wasn’t. Tragedy for Napa Valley’s Malveaux Family.” What the hell? But it got worse when she spotted who had written the column—Renee Rothschild! Whoa . . . hold your horses! Nikki scanned the article and, upon doing so, decided that either someone who’d attended “The Wedding that Wasn’t” had given Renee the details of what had happened or somehow she had sneaked into the church herself. She certainly had not been invited. Who had taken those photos?
For starters, Renee had an exact description of Nikki’s dress and the flowers—all of it was written about in her gossipy, icky piece. Nikki crumpled up the paper but then caved in and unfolded it to reread it.
The Wedding that Wasn’t
What was supposed to be the best day of their lives and the wedding of all weddings in Napa Valley yesterday turned suddenly tragic for Derek Malveaux and Nikki Sands.
The beautifully decorated St. Luke’s Church held nearly four hundred of the couple’s guests. The bride wore Badgley Mischka and, with her new pixie-cut, platinum blond hairdo, looked stunning in the crystal-laden silk sheath that certainly must have cost a pretty penny. But, after all, she was marrying one of Napa Valley’s golden boys, for years a seriously sought after bachelor amongst the vines. But it may be that the catch amidst men could be single soon after yesterday’s ordeal—what with the black cloud of death lurking around Nikki Sands.
As the bride made her way down the aisle, a gunshot rang out. The guests, first shocked and then frightened, took cover as Detective Jonah Robinson of the Sonoma County sherriff’s department quickly took charge of the situation and went running up the back stairs of the rectory. There he found the cellist had been knocked out and the gunman had gotten away. The groom’s brother Simon Malveaux was hit in the arm and suffered injuries. He was taken to Valley of Hope where he was treated and is in good condition.
With a gunman on the loose, and the should-be honeymooners having to regroup, this reporter has to wonder if it’s in the cards for a Malveaux/ Sands wedding to actually take place. One guest speaking anonymously said, “I don’t think I’d tempt fate again. Not after what happened today. Maybe they just weren’t meant to be married.�
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Nikki crumpled the paper up even harder this time and let out a loud gasp. “Of all the gall!” Who would write something so cruel? And what anonymous guest used that damn word “fate”? Nikki had to find out.
She went back inside and hurriedly got dressed. She was on a mission to find Renee Rothschild. As far as she was concerned, not only did that woman owe her an apology, but she also had some explaining to do.
Thirteen
NIKKI didn’t really think about how she was going to find Renee. She wouldn’t be in her office in San Francisco today. It was Sunday, and damn it, Nikki should’ve been on the Malveaux jet at that moment with her husband on their way to Italy!
What was she thinking trying to find this woman? But Renee had seriously gotten under her skin. What she’d written was trashy and wrong. It was one thing to report what had happened. Nikki had expected that. The facts were the facts—a gunman did injure Simon and their wedding had been ruined. But to write such conjecture and b.s. about a possible breakup between her and Derek. And Nikki planned on getting the name of the anonymous guest. She had to know who had used the word that seemed to be haunting her. And when had Renee even interviewed anyone from the wedding? Again, the thought that Renee could have actually attended entered Nikki’s mind. There had been a sea of people in the church. There was no way she would have noticed Renee as she walked down the aisle. She certainly would have been the last person she’d expect to see at her wedding. Nikki tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Likely Renee had been a wedding crasher. Of all the nerve!
She thought about seeing Renee with Andrés just two days ago when she’d been out with Ollie, and she had a hunch that Renee hadn’t left Napa to go back to the city at all. If Nikki was right, she knew exactly where to find her.
Driving up the winding hill to Andrés’ driveway, Nikki spotted the blue Beemer. Her hunch had been correct: Renee Rothschild had seduced her way right into Andrés’ life, and from the looks of it, his bed as well.
Nikki’s hands were shaking when she knocked on Andrés’ front door. How weird it was to be standing here like this when only a little more than a year before she would have just walked right on in? She heard laughter coming from inside. This was insanely stupid. She needed to get her bearings and think logically. Irrationality was going to get her nowhere, and the sounds of Renee and Andrés laughing together inside turned her stomach. Nikki was heading back to her car when the front door opened and out came a giggling Andrés and Renee. Renee wearing one of Andrés’ shirts over a pair of his sweat pants—sweats that Nikki had once worn.
“Nikki?” Andrés said.
She turned back around. “Hi,” she replied, chagrined.
He looked at her oddly. “Why . . . why are you here? What about, uh, how was your wedding?”
She stood there staring at him and then went back to her car and grabbed the crumpled up newspaper from the front seat and handed it to him. Renee’s eyes popped.
“What is this? I don’t understand,” he said.
“Read it.” Nikki smiled at Renee. “I have to wonder when you found time to write this. It looks as if you’ve been busy.”
Renee looked down and then back at Nikki. “Look, I was only doing my job. That’s all. No harm, no foul. I was only reporting the news.”
Andrés finished reading and took a hard look at Renee as though he was seeing her for the first time. “You wrote this?”
“I did, but like I just explained to Nikki, I was only doing my job.”
“But this is, this is . . .”
“Mean,” Nikki interrupted. “It’s callous, and it’s mean. Yesterday I was supposed to marry Derek and something terrible happened. My friend, my future brother-in-law, was hurt and could have been killed, and you treat it like it’s a National Enquirer story. And what was that all about saying that Derek could be back on the market? Please. You wish.”
“Oh, come on, Nikki. I’m obviously over Derek.” She tugged at the bottom hem of Andrés’ shirt.
“Huh. In my book there is a difference between reporting the facts and making up salacious scandals, which is exactly what you did.”
“Please. That’s what readers expect from my column.”
“So you’ll write this crap at the expense of others? About people you know? It’s hurtful, Renee.”
Renee shrugged. “It isn’t exactly as if we’re best pals, Nik. Seems to me you kinda stole my man.”
Nikki took a step back as if she’d been struck. “What?”
“Yeah, and then you left this poor guy here hanging in the lurch. Trust me, I know all about it.” She smiled at Andrés. “Sorry, my Latin lover, but as good as you are in the sack, and, well, let’s just say it was really good.” She gave Nikki a look full of devious joy. “I have heard more about this woman in the last two days than I ever cared to know.”
“What?” Nikki and Andrés shouted simultaneously.
Renee glared at Nikki. “Oh, yeah, girlfriend, seems you have some pheromones that men don’t easily get over. I don’t know what your secret is, but first Derek, then this guy.”
“I think you should go,” Andrés said.
Renee looked at him, surprise clouding her face. “Fine. If that’s the way you feel. I should have known that as soon as Blondie showed up it’d be all over. I’ll have my office call you then, and we can set up a time next week to work on the project.”
“I am not working with you,” he said.
“Yes, you are. You signed a contract. And please remember to keep the blabbering about Blondie here down to a minimum when we meet up again. I am not a good shoulder to cry on. We can get it on any time of the day, but I am not here to mend any hearts. I have to grab my things.”
Nikki and Andrés didn’t look at each other when Renee dashed back into the house. Nikki had no clue what to say, and she got the feeling that Andrés didn’t either.
A minute later, out came Renee. “Thanks for the memories.” She kissed Andrés on the cheek. He wiped it away. “See you soon.”
“Wait a minute,” Nikki said. “You owe me. You can’t just leave. I think you owe me an apology. And you need to tell me who your source is. Who did you interview for this story?”
Renee laughed. “Sure.”
“You know I need to know who the anonymous guest was that made the comment about our wedding not happening having something to do with fate. It has to do with the investigation.” Not usually at a loss for words, Nikki was finding it difficult to express herself at all at that moment. There was so much more she wanted and needed to say to Renee. She needed information from her. “If you don’t give me the information, I’ll have you fired.” Even as the words came out of her mouth, she realized how ridiculous they sounded. Sure—have Renee fired from the company her father happened to own.
“Oh, please, Nikki. Even you can’t be that naïve. I’m a reporter and a publisher. I don’t give up my sources.” She held her arm out straight. “And your threats have me shaking.” She tossed back her hair.
“Renee! That’s just wrong. I’m going to sue you for slander, or libel, or something!”
Renee started her car, put down the convertible top, and laughed. “Go for it!” She peeled out and drove down the drive.
Andrés and Nikki stood there, not knowing what to say or do. Nikki finally turned to him, and before she could stop herself, she asked, “What did she mean that she’d heard more than enough about me?”
Without looking at her he let out a long sigh and replied, “I’m still in love with you.”
“Please take that back,” Nikki whispered, unable to look at Andrés. “Please don’t mean that.”
“I’m sorry.”
Nikki closed her eyes and shook her head. “I am getting married. I am going to marry Derek. I can’t talk to you about this. You moved on. You said so. You don’t mean that.”
He took a step toward her. “I do mean it, and I am sorry. I do not want to be a problem for you. Tell me you don’t
have any feelings for me at all anymore, and I will go back to Spain and you will marry Derek.”
Tears in her eyes, she shook a finger at him. Feeling her face contort into confusion and anger, she said, “I am going to marry Derek and you should go back to Spain.”
“So you have no feelings left for me? None?” His dark eyes sparkled in the sunlight. He lifted his chin slightly. Standing there in his jeans and white T-shirt, the newspaper in his hand, tendrils of his dark hair that had grown longer since he’d left for Spain fell into his eyes as he studied her, made him seem poetic and, in a way, tragic. It was like he could see right through her.
“That is a stupid question! Of course I care about you. We were friends. We are friends! We, well that is it. We’re friends.” She thought about the dream she’d had that morning. And she couldn’t look at him.
He nodded. “Okay. Friends. We are friends then.”
“I have to go.” She got into her car, and Andrés walked over to her as she started it. She rolled down the window.
“Maybe Renee got one thing right in her article. Is it possible that this is a sign? That you and Derek are not meant to be married,” he said.
“Ugh,” she moaned, and rolled up her window. She drove away, but couldn’t help looking in her rearview mirror—Andrés standing there, arms crossed in front of him and an amused smile on his face.
Fourteen
“WHAT’S going on?” Nikki asked the guard at the front gate of Malveaux Estate. A sign on the gate read that they were closed for the day.
The guard—a beefy, but nice enough guy—shrugged. “Don’t know. But must be bad. Sherriff pulled in thirty or so minutes ago, and so did that detective along with an ambulance and, a few minutes ago, another van. Driver handed me a badge. It said . . .”
A Toast to Murder Page 9