Silenced By Syrah

by Scott, Michele

  He veered away from the ticket counters. Where was he going now? A few minutes later he came to the airport travel agency, where he checked his bag into what Nikki knew to be the storage area. Since 9/11, lockers were no longer available at SFO. The protocol now was to check anything anyone wanted to be stored at the travel agency. Damn. What was he up to? He took the ticket. She continued to follow him until he was back out the door and onto the elevator leading up to his car. That’s where she decided to end tagging along after Moran. She had a feeling that whatever answers she might find that could connect Moran to Georges’ murder would be located in that suitcase. She aimed to find out what was in it.

  Several minutes later she stood in front of a bored-looking, acne-scarred young man of about twenty-three. She’d already staked him out for about a minute before heading off to the ladies’ room and stooping about as low as she could to get information—undoing the top two buttons of her blouse, fluffing her hair, and applying fresh lipstick. She wasn’t Pam Anderson by any stretch of the imagination, but she was gonna have to work the assets she did have to the best of her ability.

  She found her Southern accent when she opened her mouth to the man at the front desk. “Hi. My name is Sally Anne Moran, and my husband was just up here about fifteen minutes ago checking in a bag.” She went on to describe what Rick Moran looked like. She leaned across the counter and watched as the scrawny, dark-haired kid turned his gaze to her cleavage. “And, you’re not going to believe this, but he forgot to give me the ticket to retrieve the bag. See the thing is, he had to leave on a business trip to New York and I was scheduled to go to Tennessee to visit my family, and well, he grabbed the wrong bag when he left home this morning because he had to go into work first. Well, I got a hold of him on his way to the airport while I was also drivin’ here. He said that he didn’t want to have to drag my heavy suitcase all over while he waited for me to come and get it, because he still needed to get in line to get his ticket and all.”

  Either all the B.S. coming out of Nikki’s mouth had the kid bored or else he was mesmerized by the boobs, because he hadn’t even looked at her face during this diatribe.

  “Anyway, silly man has already checked himself through and is ready to board the plane. He can be so absent minded. Can you believe that he forgot to meet me in the bar to give me the ticket to get my luggage?”

  The guy didn’t say anything.

  “Can you believe that?” Nikki asked and ran her finger across his nametag. “Martin.”

  “Huh? Oh no. That’s a bummer.” He finally looked up at her. She batted her lashes and smiled.

  “I know, but I am sure you can help me out. As I said, the last name is Moran. Do you think you could go and get the bag for me?”

  “Oh no. I need to get a manager.”

  Nikki crossed her arms under her breasts, trying to lift them as much as possible. “Manager? I don’t have time for that. You can make decisions on your own. You look like a competent man. I’m a good judge of character.”

  Martin took a step back and eyed her.

  “You know, Martin, my husband travels quite a bit. I’m always dropping him off here. Maybe we could meet for a drink sometime. A woman can get quite lonely when she’s left on her own.”

  Martin rubbed his chin, either thinking over her proposition or wondering if she was as full of crap as she sounded. “Okay. I guess I can get your bag. Um, but do you have any ID?”

  Damn. He was smarter than he looked. “Of course I do, honey, but crazy thing is, it’s in that beige suitcase of mine. As soon as you get it, I’ll show you the goods.”

  “I could get in trouble for this.”

  “Tell you what, I’ll make it worth your trouble.”

  Martin left her standing there as he went through a door behind him. Nikki breathed out a woosh of air. How in the hell was she going to get out of this one? Quickly.

  Martin came back with the khaki suitcase. Nikki reached into the side pocket. “Hmmm. I thought that was where my ID was. Hang on, I’ll just open it.” She lifted it onto the counter, Martin watching her intently. She undid the zipper and cracked open the suitcase, not wanting Martin to see what was inside, because she had no idea herself as to what she might find, and she was already breaking several laws. If Moran had stored weapons or something else illegal in there, she didn’t think that Martin could continue to be bought off by a pair of jugs. She almost gasped when she saw what was in the bag. But instead, kept her composure and closed it. She sighed. “Uh, Martin, this is not my bag.”

  “What do you mean? This is the Moran bag and I checked it with the guy, your husband. This is it.”

  She shook her head. “No, no it’s not. I do not wear polyester and extra large size grandma panties. That bag is filled with it.”

  “Lady, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I think I’m going to go and get my manager.”

  “You know what, you do that. In fact, I would like to speak to him myself.” Martin grabbed the suitcase off the counter and headed for the door. “Hurry up, and bring me back the correct suitcase. I’m sure your manager would love to hear how you botched this up,” she said after him. As soon as the door was closed behind him, Nikki turned around and sprinted back through the airport and down to her car.

  Her heart didn’t stop racing until she was twenty minutes out of the airport. If Martin reported her, there could be big trouble, but then the kid appeared bright enough to want to keep his job. If he’d taken a minute to think about it, Nikki was pretty sure he would have just put the suitcase back and let it go. At least she hoped so.

  But what was troubling Nikki even more was the fact that when she’d opened Moran’s suitcase, it was filled with stacks of hundred dollar bills, and if she had to guesstimate how much money there was, she’d figure at least a hundred grand. The questions that remained on her drive back to Napa were, where did Moran get that kind of cash, why did he have it, and furthermore, why was he storing it at the San Francisco International airport? She should probably tell Robinson. But, then again, telling Robinson would raise the red flag she didn’t want raised, alerting him to the fact that she was indeed snooping. No, she wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. Besides, the cash inside Moran’s bag could have been completely legitimate. Right? Anything is possible. For now, she’d let the money stay where it was at the airport without going to the police, until she’d checked out a few more things, because although Moran did look guilty as sin, there were a few other people who needed some checking out in conjunction with Georges’ murder, and she was not a woman to leave any stone unturned.

  Chapter 9

  Driving back to Napa, Nikki decided to exit in Yountville, stop off at Grapes, and get an early dinner to go. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and the day had now started to come to an end; it was after four o’clock. She also secretly hoped she’d run into Andrés. With Isabel in New York, Nikki knew that her friend’s big brother was keeping tabs on the place. Passing by St. Joan of Arc Catholic Church on Washington, she put her car visor down to keep the sun out of her eyes. As she did, something caught her eye. Was that Baron O’Grady going into the church? She pulled into the parking lot as she watched the chubby man open the front door. Yep. That was Baron, all right. Nikki read the church bulletin board in the parking lot. No mass right now—but wait a minute. Confession. Confession? It started in five minutes. Okay, now maybe Baron was simply a devout Catholic who went to confession on a regular basis. Maybe. Or maybe he had something horrible to confess. Like murder. Weren’t priests bound to confidentiality? The best friend and business partner. Too obvious? He appeared to be so tight with Georges. Maybe he was going in to light a candle for his friend. But what if he did have secrets to hide? The deadly kind? Nikki didn’t know, but was determined to find out as she parked her car and walked toward the church.

  She made the sign of the cross as she entered, knowing that was what she was supposed to do. But wait a minute, she wasn’t Catho
lic. She’d grown up a Protestant and now had spread her wings spiritually, even studying some of the Buddhist philosophies. Uh-oh. Was she being sacrilegious? She hoped not. Hell was not a place she desired to visit.

  She sat down in one of the last rows. There were a handful of people scattered throughout the pews and a few more lighting candles in the front, but no Baron. Then she saw him coming from the other side of the church. She bowed her head as if in prayer and watched as he slipped behind a pair of velvet curtains. Confession. What was he confessing? She wished she could hear. About fifteen minutes later she saw him emerge, then go over and light a candle. He then turned and came down the aisle. He spotted her and their eyes connected. She nodded and stood. He did not smile. She squeezed out of the row. “Hello, Baron. I was here reflecting.”

  “I see. Yes, well, tis a good place to do that. I had some reflections of me own to tend to.” He palmed his hand through his thick head of dark hair and lowered his voice. “I best be going. Nice to see ye, Ms. Sands.”

  “I’m going, too. I’ll walk out with you.”

  Baron didn’t say anything and Nikki had to walk briskly to keep up with him. He moved like he needed to get the heck out of church in the worst way, or away from her. Nikki wasn’t sure which.

  They opened the doors. Nikki broke the silence. “I’m terribly sorry about Georges. I know you two were quite close.”

  “We were.” She followed him to his truck. “Can I ask ye what ye want of me? I’m not in the mood to talk and want to get back. I’m making plans to go home.”

  “To San Francisco?”

  “No. Ireland. I’m not happy here and now with Georges gone, I don’t want to stay. We had a dream together to build these restaurants, but home is where I want to be.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but can I ask you, since you were so close, who might want to see Georges dead?”

  He sighed and stopped to face her. Nikki caught a whiff of Old Spice and sweet tobacco. “I can’t say that I know. He could be a difficult person, but in his heart he was a good man. Not always honest. Did some things that I did not approve of, and now he will have to take that up with his maker.” Baron looked skyward.

  “What kind of things did Georges do that troubled you?” Nikki pressed.

  “Ye know, Ms. Sands, that is all private business and I like to leave the past where it belongs. I need to be moving along now. Once the police clear me of any wrongdoing, which I believe should be soon, then I have to get on a plane and make me way home.”

  He climbed in his truck and shut the door before she had a chance to ask him anything further. Wow. Really a different man from the one she’d spoken with yesterday, who’d been jovial and charming. Okay, so he had lost his pal, but did he have to be so rude to her? There was something behind his confession and there was something behind his curtness with her. Nikki felt certain that Baron O’Grady was hiding something.

  Chapter 10

  After she left the church, Nikki was disappointed to find that Andrés wasn’t at Grapes. She placed an order for a filet with a walnut, caramelized onion, and gorgonzola sauce. She wanted something substantial after her day and she knew she had a terrific bottle of Merlot that would go with it. Then, she remembered her house guest and placed a second order, for Janie.

  Janie was in the shower when Nikki returned to the cottage. With all the running around during the day, chasing financial advisors carrying copious amounts of cash, flashing her not-so-hefty cleavage at a pock-faced kid, and then winding up in church, where she really could have confessed quite a bit of her own sins of the day, she’d forgotten to make the one phone call she’d meant to.

  It was after hours but she placed the call anyway to the Central California Women’s Facility in Chowchilla. Since it was also Sunday, she had to go through a whole rigmarole of voice mail, until she finally found the person she thought she’d need. She left a message, but figured that to get what she wanted, which was to visit Bernadette Debussey, she’d probably have to call back in the morning.

  Janie came out of the shower looking a bit better than the night before. Nikki needed some downtime from thinking about Georges and she figured that Janie would appreciate that, too. They decided to eat dinner, share the wine, and watch sitcoms until about nine o’clock when both of them started to drift off to sleep. Nikki covered Janie up on the sofa and headed into her room. As she crawled into bed, she couldn’t help wondering why she hadn’t heard from Andrés. She truly missed him. They hadn’t spoken all day and that was unusual, but in a way she felt relieved, because if they did she knew that the topic of Spain would come up, and she wasn’t prepared to give him an answer yet. These thoughts running through her mind along with the itinerary of her day finally put her into a fitful sleep.

  The following morning, Nikki, still irritated over Derek’s reaction to Andrés wanting to take her to Spain, decided to take another day off and continue seeing what she could find out about Georges’ murder.

  At a little after nine she headed to the spa. Janie was still asleep, and Nikki figured that was the best thing for her. She would have to do some more follow-up on Rick Moran today, but there were a few other things she wanted to check out.

  She really needed to get the personnel files at the spa, which she was sure the cops already had. She didn’t want to go back to the office to access anything via the computer.

  Even though she knew she’d get grief for going about it this way, she decided to ask Simon for the information she needed. He answered his cell right away. “Halooo, Goldilocks. I could see on my caller ID that it was you. What’s shakin’, bacon?”

  “Cute. I need something.”

  “You do? Why do I have a feeling this isn’t good?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not a big deal. I need Charlotte’s address and phone number.” There was silence on the other end of the phone. “Simon?”

  “I heard you. You mean Charlotte, the therapist who ran the Syrah bath splash for Georges?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly who I’m talking about.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean, no?” Nikki asked. “I need it. I want to talk to her about a facial.”

  “You can’t lie to me. I so know you. And, no. I know what you’re up to. Charlotte didn’t take out Georges. She didn’t even know him.”

  “That’s what you say.”

  “Nikki, for once let the cops do their job. I’m sure they’ve already been to see her, and honestly I don’t want you bothering her. She’s a good therapist and aesthetician. I don’t want her quitting on me because you think it’s your job to be a vigilante.”

  Nikki sighed. New tactic must be taken. “Simon, you should know me.” She switched the phone to her other ear as she made it to her car. “I won’t bother her. Besides, if that Detective Robinson has been to see her she might already want to quit on you. I can smooth out his rough edges. Let her know that we as a company support her and know that she would not in any way have been involved in this.” No reply. “I’ll buy you dinner.”

  “Dinner in the city?”

  “Yes, in the city.”

  “A night at the W?”

  “What? I don’t make that kind of cash! And you know if you don’t give me what I want, I will find a way.”

  “Oh okay, fine. But you be careful, dammit. You always go and get in these messes and then Marco and I have to come to the rescue.”

  Please. “Yes, I know. I promise, I’ll be careful.”

  She clicked off her phone after writing down Charlotte’s address on a piece of paper.

  As she drove to Charlotte’s place she made two more calls. One to Janie, who told her what she needed to know about the interior decorator, and then to the interior decorator herself. The woman, a Ms. Redmond, was in and agreed to see her that afternoon.

  Nikki pulled into the apartments where Charlotte lived on F Street. They were nice and looked pretty new. Granted they weren’t five-star, but Nikki had lived in some d
umps while “acting,” and this place beat them hands down.

  She found number 23 and rapped on the door. A young woman with red hair pulled back in a long ponytail opened it. She wore workout clothes. “Hey,” she said.

  “Hi. Charlotte?” Nikki asked. She didn’t recognize her, and didn’t know if she would anyway. She hadn’t met all of the aestheticians at the spa yet.

  “No. I’m Monica. I’m her roommate. Can I help you?”

  “Maybe. I’m Nikki Sands. I work at the Malveaux Estate. Charlotte works there at the spa.”

  “Not anymore,” Monica said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Not after what happened on Saturday with that murder out there.”

  Nikki took a step back. “Have the police been by?”

  “Oh yeah, and they had poor Charlotte in tears. She’s pretty sensitive. Some cop named Robinson was here late Saturday night when Charlotte got home from her other job.”

  “Other job?” Nikki asked.

  “Yeah. She works at Auberge du Soleil in St. Helena.”

  “I know the place. Nice.” Real nice. Simon, Marco, and Nikki had taken a trip up there when the spa was being built. It was a Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous hangout all the way. But not exactly what they wanted at Malveaux. They wanted something a bit quainter, plus the kind of cash it took to run Auberge was far more money than even the Malveauxs had. “Well if she’s working there, then what about Malveaux?”

  “I don’t know, but she was freaked about what happened. Said there was some weird stuff with that guy who was killed. I think she told the cops about it, but I don’t know.” Monica glanced at her watch. “I gotta go. I have a class to teach at the gym in fifteen.”

  “Right. Sorry. Do you know if Charlotte is working at Auberge today?”

  The woman shrugged. “Don’t know. She’s my roommate, not my kid. It’s not like I keep tabs on her.”

  Nikki backed away as Monica came out and locked the front door. Well, she had to go to St. Helena anyway. The interior decorator’s place was up there. Hopefully she’d kill two birds with one stone. She called Auberge and discovered that Charlotte was working. Nikki asked if she had any openings. It turned out that they’d just received a cancellation, so Nikki took it, knowing that getting a facial might be the only way to get to speak Charlotte. She then called Stacey Redmond back and asked the interior decorator if she’d join her for lunch at Auberge. Nikki appeased her by adding that she so much liked the decorating she’d done at the spa, hotel, and restaurant, that she was interested in having her do some work on her place. Hey, whatever it might take to get the answers she needed. Ms. Redmond agreed to the lunch date.