“Yes. We’ve worked together for years.” He swirled, sniffed, and sipped. “A number of inns and resorts follow our recommendations.”
I took a drink, then dutifully cleansed my taste buds. How could I find out where Phil was earlier this afternoon when the BlackBerry was taken?
“You have an interesting job. What’s a typical day for you?” I reached for another piece of bread. “Like, what did you do today, for example?”
“Handled e-mails and phone calls first thing in the morning. I deal with vendors across the United States and Europe. I met with Andy about the festival. We were going to have lunch together, but one of his appointments got changed to one, and we had to cancel. Left some sample wines at several places, then back here to meet you.” He poured the third wine.
Andy and business stops. That didn’t help much. Where was he at one thirty? Maybe I could find out.
“Do you like all the driving you have to do?”
“Love it. No sitting behind a desk. I have an office in Petaluma but spend very little time there. Travel around one of the most beautiful areas in the world, talk wine, taste wine.” He laughed. “What more could you ask for?”
“Sounds great. Where did you travel to this afternoon?”
It was the best I could come up with. I waited for him to ask me why I wanted to know. My sleuthing skills needed a lot of work.
“Only to Fort Paul.”
That didn’t get me the specifics I wanted. Time to leave it alone and rethink my approach before he got suspicious. Maybe I could find out from Andy.
“What do you think?” Phil rubbed his hands together after the last pour. “Do you have a favorite?”
“I can taste differences, but I’m not a connoisseur, and I don’t know enough about the clientele here to know what they expect.” I took a last sip and put my glass down. “How long had you worked with Bob?”
“About two years.”
“You have a much better idea about what he would choose. You pick.”
“He wasn’t about playing it safe by going with the mildest wine. Bob wanted people to notice there was something special in what they tasted.” He surveyed the bottles. “These are all within the price range he requested.” He paused. “I think he would’ve gone with the second one. Distinct taste, but not as much oak as the last one.”
“Sounds fine to me.”
“Done. I’ll order three cases.” He began to clean up, whistling once again.
I recognized the melody. “‘Never on Sunday,’” I blurted. Folk dancing had been a favorite of mine in high school.
Phil nodded and executed a few Greek line-dance steps.
“Hi, everyone.” Daniel came in, carrying a couple of grocery bags, which he placed on the counter. He walked over to me, concern in his eyes. “How are you feeling? Helen told me you were attacked.”
“I’m fine. Only a few bruises.”
“Attacked?” Phil’s eyebrows almost caught up with his receding hairline. “What happened?”
“Shoved is more accurate.” I recounted the story. It was probably the highlight of afternoon community gossip by now.
“Heavens. We could certainly have postponed our tasting.” Phil tut-tutted as he put the wine bottles in a box.
“I’m glad we met. I learned a lot. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Phil carried glasses to the sink. “Any time.”
Daniel began unpacking the bags. “Helen asked if I saw anyone. I didn’t. I was outside most of the time.”
“I’m going back to my room to read some of the files.” I left.
My cell phone rang as I reached my door.
“We solved it. We cracked the code!” an excited, rapid voice exclaimed.
Chapter 13
I barely recognized the Professor’s voice.
“Navajo Code Talkers,” he spluttered.
“Who?”
“Bob was a WWII buff.” He enunciated clearly this time. Some of the Professor’s calm demeanor was returning. “The Navajos used their unwritten language to transmit information. Many believe they hastened the end to the war, and the marines probably wouldn’t have taken Iwo Jima without them.”
“Bob was using the Navajo code in his notes?”
“Correct.”
“But if it’s unwritten . . .”
“The military made a dictionary. It was declassified in ’68.”
“What did you learn?”
“Bob discovered an abalone poaching gang. It’s a huge operation. Can we use the conference room to meet with a Fish and Game warden?”
“I’ll check availability and get back to you.” My excitement was building. Navajo code? Abalone poaching? It sounded like a scene from a movie. I went to the computer. A couple of clicks later I determined the room was available. I typed in Silver Sentinels and blocked the space.
I grabbed my phone and punched in his number. “Professor, the room’s yours.”
“I’ll let Fran Cartwright with Fish and Game know. Hopefully, she can meet with us. We’ll be there in an hour or less.”
“Professor, my congratulations to the Sentinels for breaking the code.”
“Thanks. Maybe this is connected to Bob’s murder.”
There was that word again, murder. But now, after all that had happened, I was ready to believe it. Still, what was the motive? Did abalone poaching net enough money to kill for? And who? Was it one of the poachers or someone else? I didn’t think it was random. Maybe in a big city. Small town, unlikely.
I went to the work area and started to pull water glasses from the top shelf of the cupboard. My bruised muscles protested as I struggled to reach them.
Daniel came in with a log carrier full of wood. “Hi.” He put the canvas sack down. “Is there something I can help you with?” The fresh air of the outdoors clung to him.
“Thanks for the offer. I need four more glasses.”
“No problem.”
“The Silver Sentinels are coming over. I want to put out water and some snacks.” I opened the refrigerator and examined the possibilities. Gouda, a dark cheddar, and some local goat cheese were on the top shelf. I reached in and pulled out the cheddar.
“What are they up to this time?” Daniel asked.
I hesitated. The group had no proof, and I didn’t want to stir people up. However, I’d already told Helen and Suzie about the Sentinels’ suspicions. It would get to Daniel eventually, if it hadn’t already. “They think Bob was murdered and are trying to figure out why.” No reason to mention the envelope of papers.
Daniel frowned, took down a couple of glasses, and put them on a nearby tray. “Remember when we were at the accident site and you asked if there was anything else?”
“Yes.” I chose English water crackers and organic wheat thins from the supply of boxes on the work counter and then slid a platter out of the rack next to the stove.
“The Sentinels had talked to me. I didn’t feel comfortable saying anything about their thoughts at the time. It seemed like such a stretch.” He took down two more glasses and paused. “If a man could exist with no enemies, it was Bob.”
“So you don’t think he was murdered?”
Daniel came over and stood next to me. I never think of myself as short until someone tall stands beside me, and Daniel was tall.
“I just can’t imagine it. But . . . strange things happen in life.” He looked at me. “They’re a good group and bright. In the Indian culture, age is wisdom. Unfortunately, less so in the White world. I’d listen to them.”
I studied the high cheekbones and straight black hair. “Do you have a Native American background?”
“I’m part Lacoda. They originally populated this area. Now there are about two hundred left. They live on the Lacoda Indian Reservation near here.”
“Do you have relatives there?”
He laughed quietly. “No. Gone many years ago.” Daniel placed napkins next to the glasses. “I want Allie to understand our heritage. She’s learning the la
nguage from one of the elders and participating in some of the ceremonies.”
“That’s wonderful.” I arranged cheese slices on the dish and put the remainder of the brick of cheddar next to them. I washed my hands and wiped them on a dish towel. “What a great experience for her.”
“She’s enjoying it. That’s what counts.”
“Thanks for your help and for the information about the Sentinels.”
He grinned. “And thanks for your help.”
“What do you mean?”
“I heard about the altercation with Allie, Tommy, and the young thugs, as Allie refers to them.” He shook his head. “Allie has a past to overcome.”
“What kind of past?”
“There was a time not long ago when she got into lots of fights.” Daniel turned away and filled a pitcher with water. “The school district has her red-flagged. Any more trouble, and she could be kicked out.”
“I’m glad I was there. I taught for a while and hated the teasing and the bullies.” I thought about the emotional pain I’d witnessed and the hurt students who’d shared their stories in subdued voices, tears running down their cheeks.
“Kids can be cruel.” Daniel leaned down and pulled out another tray, his long ponytail swinging over his shoulder.
“What I’ve seen so far of Allie is she’s a sweet and loyal kid.” I hesitated. I didn’t know Daniel well. Asking questions about his personal life felt awkward, but maybe I could help. “What was up with the fighting?”
Daniel didn’t look at me. He put the cheese platter on the second tray. “My wife left us. Didn’t say a word to Allie. Just wasn’t there one morning.”
I stopped arranging crackers. “How could a mother do that to her child?”
“She was never a mother, other than in the biological sense. Wanted as little to do with Allie as possible.” Daniel glanced at me. Pain filled his eyes. “Allie could never understand why Pam didn’t treat her like the other moms she knew.”
“Good thing she has you.” Tears threatened to well up. “You obviously love her deeply.”
“I do.” Daniel picked a knife from the holder and put it next to the cheese. “We make a good team. It hurt when Pam left, but I believe it was for the best.”
We finished putting together the trays in companionable silence and carried them to the conference room.
“If there’s anything else you need, let me know.” Daniel gave me a wave good-bye.
Attractive man and devoted father. What would make a woman leave someone like that? My ex only cared for himself and his immediate needs.
I shook off the past and surveyed the room, feeling ready for the silver-haired crime busters.
The Sentinels knew how to organize themselves, so I headed to the lounge area to check on the guests.
In the parlor, Andy was writing at a desk tucked in the corner. “Hey, Kelly, how’s it going?”
“Fine, thanks.” Now was my chance to question him about where he was this afternoon when I was attacked. “How did your visit go with the cheese makers?”
“Lots of luscious tastes. I’m making notes while they’re still imprinted on my taste buds.”
“Phil mentioned they changed the time on you to one and the two of you had to cancel your lunch date. Too bad.” Would he corroborate the information?
“Yeah. They had to juggle some appointments.” He put his pen down and stretched. “It’s okay. Phil and I will catch each other another time.”
“Good luck with your notes.” I left for the conference room.
Check him off as a shoving suspect for now. If I needed to, I could figure out a way to confirm his meeting.
The Sentinels were filling their plates when I returned. A stout woman in a drab olive uniform sat with her back to the door. A CALIFORNIA DEPARTMENT OF FISH AND GAME patch was emblazoned on one sleeve. She turned as I entered, pushed her chair back and stood, holding out a hand in introduction. Her calloused palm scraped against mine as we shook.
“Fran Cartwright. Pleased to meet you.”
“Kelly Jackson, executive administrator with Resorts International.”
“Thanks for arranging the room on such short notice,” the Professor said and smiled.
“And thank you for the treats,” said Mary in her soft voice.
“You’re welcome.”
Mary had a plastic container next to her. What confection was yet to come?
The Professor said, “Fran, we really appreciate your prompt response.”
“No problem.” She sat back down and withdrew a small notebook and pen from her pocket. “I hear you have some exciting news.”
I pulled out a chair and sat next to the warden.
The Professor’s pen spun in his fingers at an alarming rate. A helicopter ready for liftoff.
“We crack code.” Ivan’s chest appeared to expand a couple of inches.
Fran shifted in her chair, leather belt creaking. “Professor, you said you had evidence of a good-sized abalone poaching ring.”
He reached for the envelope labeled JERRY AND JOEY on the table and pulled out the papers I’d given him. “It’s a list of dates, times, and some notes. They’re written in the code the Navajos used in World War II. TSA-ZHIN means ‘reef’ and GAH-GHIL-KEID stands for ‘ridge.’ We’ve never used the Navajo language in our investigations. However, we decided to use abbreviations and as few words as possible during our last case, to expedite our reports. We made a list we all used. ‘Reef’ and ‘ridge’ refer to Agate Beach and Crystal Bay. Once we got the key words, the dates and times fell into place.” He set the papers on the table.
“Bob usually kept me in the loop, but I didn’t know about this.” Fran reached for the notes.
Rudy stood and leaned over the table. He stabbed at a place on the page with his finger.
I craned my neck to see what he was pointing at and saw 4LS above his jagged fingernail.
“Means four large sacks,” he beamed, “of abalone.”
“A phrase on one of the pages translated to ‘regulate schedule.’ The words are not an exact match, but we think it meant regular schedule,” said the Professor. “That makes this an ongoing operation.”
“These are clipboard notes,” Gertie piped up. “There are creases along the top edge. Bob carried them on the front seat of the pickup, along with his schedule for the day.”
“The clipboard.” Mary’s brown eyes stared out from her Pillsbury Doughboy face. A white, fluffy coconut bar halted on its path to its demise as Mary’s hand stopped. “Where’s Bob’s clipboard?”
Chapter 14
“Bob brought the clipboard in with him when he was done for the day,” Rudy volunteered.
“I’ll go search for it while you fill Warden Cartwright in on the details,” I said.
“Fran will do. We’re casual in Redwood Cove,” the officer said.
“Got it. Same applies to me. Please call me Kelly.” I frowned. “Professor, you said this might be why Bob was killed. Going from stealing mollusks to murder seems like a big leap.”
“I can help with that,” Fran said. “Our last bust netted one hundred sixty-six abalone. On the black market that’s about sixteen thousand dollars. We caught them as they were getting ready to harvest more.”
“Wow!” I exclaimed. “That’s a lot of money. I had no idea they could be worth so much.”
“Most end up in San Francisco. Some to be eaten as a delicacy, others to be dried and shipped to China and put on a shelf as a magic cure.” She gave a snort of derision and leaned back, running thick fingers through cropped salt-and-pepper hair. “We seized two vehicles and six thousand in cash, as well.”
The Professor handed Fran several typed pages of information. “We’re not done yet, but we felt we had enough to get in touch with you.”
“We’ve heard rumors of a large, organized ring operating in the area.” Fran flipped through the papers. “I see the top page is from a few days ago and the bottom one is almost twelve wee
ks ago.”
“We deciphered the top two pages and the bottom two first,” Gertie said. “We thought it might give us a time span.”
“Clever.” Fran gazed at the intent faces. “It was the community’s lucky day when you created the Silver Sentinels.”
Broad smiles greeted the compliment.
I got up to search for the clipboard.
“Honey,” Mary said to me, “before you go, take one of these.” She pushed a Tupperware container across the table.
I noticed some white coconutty things. “Thanks, Mary. I’ll grab one when I get back. They look tasty.” Sweet described Mary in more ways than one.
I left them in deep discussion. A quick check of the work area next to the kitchen revealed nothing. The clipboard hadn’t been in the office when I went through everything. Taking the key to the company pickup from its peg near the door and a navy blue loaner fleece sporting the company logo in artful gold lettering, I stepped outside. A cold ocean breeze slapped my face, causing my eyes to water and a shiver to run through me. I quickly put on the jacket, zipping it against the wind.
My boots crunched against the gravel as I walked to the small, red Toyota pickup parked against a fence behind the inn. Peering in the driver’s window, I didn’t see the clipboard. I unlocked the door and searched under and behind the driver’s seat. I sat behind the wheel and reached down between the seats. Nothing.
A metal clip protruding from under the passenger’s seat caught my eye. I leaned down and grabbed the edge of what turned out to be the missing item. On top was the sought-after day’s schedule and a to-do list. It was followed by the previous two days. Three pages of coded notes were on the bottom of the stack.
Great. These papers would tell us what Bob was doing the day he died. I studied the top page. Suzie’s name appeared at eleven. Redwood Ranch was at twelve thirty, and Javier at two completed the day. Helen might know what the last two were about.
I grabbed the door handle and paused for a moment as the fragrance of Old Spice filled my mind with memories. Grandpa wore it, and I pictured him in his rocker. His straw cowboy hat jammed on his head, the brim tightly curled with a sweat-stained hatband. The one Mom had thrown out over and over only to have him dig it out each time.
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