Truman’s expression was so sincere that I couldn’t help it: I giggled. Blue joined me, and then Cass, and pretty soon the girls were howling while the guys looked on in amused confusion.
“I need sleep,” Blue said, sniffling back a chuckle. “And I’m sure y’all do, too. But one question before you go. Why do you think he spent a lot of time in the music room? It looked like someone walked in and started bashing.”
“Most of the destruction is methodical,” Kado said. His gray eyes were bloodshot but he was as sexy as ever. I wondered how serious he and Cass were, then chided myself for the thought. “The instruments are destroyed and although the damage looks random, there’s a precision in how they were taken apart. The banjos got hit especially hard. It feels like he was looking for something.”
I was stumped. “What would that be?”
“Drugs?” Kado answered.
“No,” Blue said absolutely. All the humor was gone from her face. “Not Bret.”
“Then money.”
“Who hides money in a banjo? Or a guitar?” Blue asked.
“Maybe it’s neither of those things. Maybe they stole something. Did you notice if anything was missing?” Cass asked.
“I don’t know what he had. In all that mess, I’m not sure I would notice.”
“Were the instruments insured?”
Blue nodded.
“Find the inventory and see if you can determine if anything is missing.” Cass looked at Kado. “If the fingerprints don’t pan out, searching for a stolen instrument might be our only lead.”
I SEE RIGHT THROUGH YOU
BLUE KNELT AMONG THE ravaged remains of her husband’s instruments and stifled a sob. It was a rare occasion when she gave in to self pity, but it wasn’t supposed to be this way. Bret wasn’t supposed to leave, to abandon her, their marriage, the winery. He wasn’t supposed to walk out and leave Blue to deal with the business and now the whole mess from the break-in. What had happened to the man she married? Her lip quivered and tears hung on her lashes. What had happened to her? How in the world had she missed the fact that he was shagging the help? Probably on the warming counter, God help us. And given the size of the girls he bedded, she’d better check the supports under the counter.
At that very practical thought, she threw her head back and laughed. The tension in her chest eased and she wiped her nose, then swapped Adele for Alanis Morissette in the CD player, cranking the volume up. “We Could’ve Had It All” and more songs of lost love, even sung by a voice as fabulous as Adele’s, weren’t what she needed right now. Morissette’s “Right Through You” and “You Oughta Know” were the kick-ass tonic that would get her through this awful night.
The inventory list she’d scavenged from Bret’s desk was a huge help. The horns and amplifiers were quick to identify because there weren’t many pieces to put back together. But the stringed instruments were a nightmare. Blue had no idea whether this neck fit on that guitar or the other banjo, or even if that guitar body was supposed to have a neck. Bret was notorious for buying fixer-upper instruments and never getting around to the fixing part. She’d had some luck checking serial numbers on the instruments that had them and was down to a collection of instruments with no serial numbers, a stack of parts that didn’t seem to belong together, and an alarming number of instruments that weren’t checked off the inventory. The night was passing from young to old at an amazing pace.
The CD stopped and she stretched, watching her blurred reflection in the beautiful floor to ceiling windows creating the walls of this room. Suddenly she wondered if she should leave the inventory until daylight. She was a perfect target, perfectly visible to anyone watching. Never, until the last few days, would Blue have entertained the thought that she wasn’t safe in her own home. Now she found herself jumping at the smallest sound and seeing shadows flit around the room.
“Get a grip, girl,” she said to the quiet room. Then she stepped into the hall and headed for her bathroom. “There’s nobody here and no point scaring yourself to death. Let’s get some sleep and see if we can figure this out in the morning.”
__________
IT WAS JUST AS she was floating in that blissful but often elusive space between wakefulness and sleep that Blue heard the creak. Her sleep had been light, her dreams restless and filled with images of a sun-washed car accompanied by the deep rumble of a growl from a big cat’s chest. White teeth flashed against tanned skin in a broad smile that disappeared into a startled ‘o’ at the intruding sound. Blue’s eyes snapped open and her breath caught in her chest. That creak belonged to the third step from the top of the staircase. The only way to avoid it was to miss that step entirely, which meant whoever was coming up the stairs wasn’t familiar with the house, or didn’t care if they made noise. Blue ran her fingers gently along the bedside table and found her cell phone. She slipped it under the covers and had pushed 9-1- when she heard a whispered, “Blue?”
She froze. That voice. “Bret? Bret, is that you?”
“It’s Will, Blue. Are you okay?”
Blue sank back into the mattress. “Will?”
“Yes. I saw the police cars earlier and decided to come check on you. I grabbed the spare house keys from the winery. Are you all right?”
She switched on the lamp, grateful she’d worn pajamas to bed. “Come in.”
The handsome young man she’d hired only a couple of months ago poked his head around the door. “I’m sorry to bother you, but it looked like the cops were here a long time. Is everything okay?”
Blue blinked, torn between gratitude that someone had noticed something unusual was happening here, and irritated because she’d never get to sleep now. “Yes. I mean, no. Everything’s not okay. But it is okay.”
Will cocked his head to one side.
“What time is it?” she asked, pushing up to a sitting position.
“Almost two. We’ve closed up and everybody’s gone home. Chef put kitchen assignments up for tomorrow and left a shopping list. We ran out of specials tonight. And Toni got a call from her mom - they’ve taken her dad to the hospital. It looks like a heart attack and they’re Care Flighting him to Dallas. She won’t be in tomorrow.”
Blue’s mind flew into planning mode and she pushed the covers back. “Meet me in the kitchen. Do you know where the kettle is?”
WHAT PAPA GETS
“NOTHING? HOW COULD YOU find nothing?” The small man paced the narrow room and glared at the two men sitting mute before him. “Nothing?”
The men shook their heads.
He slapped a cigarette from its pack and lit up. The blond opened his mouth to speak, but the dark-haired man bumped his shoulder. Instead, the blond pulled on his nose.
“You broke it all?” the small man asked.
They nodded.
“Then it’s at the Dallas house. Go there tonight.”
“But that place is armed to the rafters,” the dark-haired man protested. “And the neighborhood. There’s all kinds of cops. All the time.”
A set of brilliant white teeth gleamed in the light from the bare bulb. “That’s why you get the big bucks.”
“What do we do?”
“Same thing. Search the music room and all his files. Wreck everything.”
“We didn’t -” the blond started, but the dark-haired man pinched his thigh. “Ouch.”
“What was that?” the small man asked.
“Nothing,” the dark-haired man answered, glaring at the blond.
“Some of that stuff is valuable,” the blond man offered. “What if we stole it instead?”
“Destroy it,” the small man said. “That’s what Papa wants, so that’s what Papa gets.”
THE TRUTH AT LAST
BLUE JOINED HIM, DRESSED in jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and sandals. He slid a steaming mug to her as she slipped onto a barstool.
“Is chamomile okay?” Will asked. “I’ll never sleep if I have caffeine this late.”
“It’s perfect. Wha
t’s happening with Toni? How is she?”
“She was freaking out when she left. Chef had someone drive her home, she was shaking that bad.”
Blue reached for a pad of paper and a pen and made notes, talking as she wrote. “We’ll send flowers and a snack basket to the Dallas hospital. I’ll call Clover Leaf Ranch first thing and see if they can get some more steaks to us early tomorrow. That’s usually not a problem, but they had a big order going to New York this week.” She tapped the pen against the pad, and then ran both hands through her hair. “We’re two wait staff and one expediter down. College is out for the summer, but do you know anybody who has extensive restaurant experience who’s dying to work a night of madness for low pay and bad tips on short notice? The food is good, if that’s any incentive.”
Will grinned. “I do.”
Blue perked up. “Really?”
“Some friends are taking summer classes. I’ll call in the morning. You want two more staff?”
“Three, if you can get them. It’ll help with the learning curve.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Will blew across the top of his mug and sipped, then drew a breath. “Can I, uh, ask something?”
Blue felt her insides grow still. “Sure.”
“Is Bret coming back?” He glanced up at her and hurried on. “We haven’t seen him for a while now, and with the infidelity -”
What a word that is, Blue thought. Totally bereft of emotion. How perfectly inadequate a word to describe what he’s done.
“- everyone’s wondering if you’ll stay married. And if you guys divorce, what’ll happen with the winery.”
Blue opened her mouth to speak and tears stung her eyes. She pressed a dishcloth to her face and felt Will tense across the expanse of granite covering her kitchen island. After a moment, his fingers touched hers and she clutched at his hand, feeling waves of fear and desperation threatening to pull her under. She drew deep breaths and searched for that place of serenity she’d cultivated long ago. Life had never been easy for Blue Ivey, but she’d decided early on that no one could give her the life she wanted: she’d have to find it, build it, and do whatever it took to protect it. Regardless of the choices Bret made, the winery was hers and she would push it to success. And at that thought, she felt the fight return.
She dried her eyes and nearly laughed at Will’s look of concern. “It’s okay,” she told him. “I guess we need to get some of this stuff out in the open. Do you think that would help?”
“I do.” Will grimaced. “There are some things you need to know, too.”
Butterflies stirred in her stomach, but Blue sipped her tea. “Like what?”
Will had the grace to squirm.
“Like what?”
“Like who he’s been sleeping with.” Will bit his lip and watched her.
“Have there been more than Daphne?”
Will nodded and Blue heaved a great sigh.
“How do you know all this, Will? You’ve only been with us for a few months.”
“People talk. There’s tension in the winery, you’ve noticed, right?”
It was Blue’s turn to nod. “I thought it was because I was traveling so much. Demanding so much from the staff.”
“They’re okay with that. You’ve got some loyal people working for you. They’d walk on hot coals if they thought it would help you.”
“They’re not loyal to Bret?”
He shrugged. “With Daphne and Annie gone, I think the balance has swung in your favor.”
Blue’s blood ran cold. “What do you mean, with Daphne and Annie gone?”
“I really hate men who do this, Blue, especially to women as nice as you.” Will hesitated. “Annie was his latest conquest.”
“Good Lord. I had no idea. Is that what Daphne was upset about? Why she was acting so strange? Bret dumped Daphne for Annie?”
He nodded.
Blue’s eyelids slid closed. “These girls are what? Late teens? Early twenties? What is he thinking? Has anybody heard from Annie?”
“Several people have called and texted, but she hasn’t made contact. She’s a great expediter, and the staff really like her.”
Blue straightened her shoulders. “Who else?”
“Daphne and Annie are the two I’m sure about. There were only a couple of others, from what I’ve heard.”
“Only,” Blue snorted. “When was the last time you saw Bret?”
“A few weeks ago. No, maybe a couple of weeks ago. But he’s called the winery since then.” He hesitated. “And you?”
“I haven’t seen him in almost a month, or talked to him in almost two weeks.”
“So, what happened here tonight, with the cops, it wasn’t about Bret?”
“What do you mean?”
“Someone saw the Corvette pull in earlier. He’s got a temper, and we wondered if the two of you had had a fight.”
“No, nothing like that. Someone trashed Bret’s music room.”
Will’s eyes went wide. “His instruments?”
“All of them.”
“Man. He’s got some expensive stuff.”
“He does?”
“Yeah. Some of those instruments were old. He had banjos from the 1920s and a few pre-war Gibson guitars. Who would do that? Why would somebody destroy his gear?”
“No idea. But that reminds me: the forensic guy wants fingerprints from the staff to eliminate everyone.” Blue pushed her mug away. “Okay. Staff meeting at ten o’clock tomorrow morning for whoever can make it. I’ll send a text first thing. We’ll get all this crap out in the open and do the fingerprint thing. Sound good?”
“I’ll see you then. Glad everything is okay. You know, relatively speaking.” He put their mugs in the sink. “You’re good people. In some ways, you remind me of my mom.”
Her smile was warm. “Thanks, Will. That’s very kind of you. It’ll all work out. It always does.”
SATURDAY
I’M WORKING WITH A WOMAN
“HURRY.”
“SHUT UP AND let me work,” the dark-haired man said. He snipped the wires and then wiped sweat from his face. “That’s it. Check out front again.”
The blond peered up and down the street, pulling at his nose. Occasional cones of golden light filtered through the tree branches. Cars passed on the main thoroughfare at the end of the block, but all was quiet on this street. “It’s clear,” he whispered.
“Then get this door open.”
The blond patted his pockets. “Uh oh.”
“What?”
“My picks.”
The dark-haired man sighed. “Where are they?”
“In the truck. I think.”
“We have one job to do tonight. One job. In a hot part of town. And you leave your tools in the truck?”
“I was in a hurry when we parked. I had to pee.”
“I swear, I’m working with a woman.”
“I think it’s my prostate.”
“You’re gonna have bigger problems than your prostate if you don’t get us in this house. Right now.”
The blond looked at the dark-haired man, worry on his face.
“What now?”
“I have to pee again.”
TO BOND OR NOT TO BOND
WITH DEEP FOREBODING, I pulled into Cindy's driveway at five-thirty Saturday morning. A deep rose tint was creeping into the eastern sky, but it would be an hour before the sun would make an appearance.
Cindy slammed her front door and hopped into my Lexus, pulling a smirk at my beautiful car. “Black is classier.”
“Red is cooler in Texas,” I retorted, and backed out of her drive. “Had you rather take your stylish Buick?”
She slipped a massive white tote bag over the console and into the backseat.
“This is a day trip, Cindy. No need to pack a bag.”
“Oh ye of little faith. The contents of that bag have saved many an investigation.” When I asked what she meant, Cindy ignored my question and looked me over. �
�Not bad.”
“It’s better than not bad. You said to wear a light colored sun dress and sandals. That’s what I did.” I pointedly looked her up and down. “Although if I’d known we were dressing alike, I would’ve rebelled.”
She again ignored my comment and twisted around to dig in the bag, then sat with a smaller purse in her lap. She switched my radio from the nineties station I love to talk radio. I switched it back.
“It’s good manners to let your guest pick the station,” she said.
“You’re not a guest. And it’s good manners to ask before changing the station.” I motioned to a travel mug in the console. “It’s Kopi Luwak. You take your coffee black, right?”
“Yes.” She took a cautious sip. “That’s good. Where’s it from?”
“The guts of an Asian cat-like thing called a palm civet.”
She thought about that. “This is cat poop coffee?”
“Well, no. But kind of. See, the civets eat berries that have coffee seeds in them, then poop out the undigested seeds. The enzymes in the cat’s guts change the flavor of the beans.”
“I’ll bet,” Cindy muttered.
“Somebody cleans the poop off before turning the beans into coffee.”
She placed the mug back in the console. “I could’ve done without the details.”
“You asked. It’s the most expensive coffee in the world.”
“Of course it is. Because you can afford the best, as opposed to we poor schmucks who have to work for a living.”
I refused to engage with Cindy on the subject of money. “I’ll drink it. It’s better than you deserve.”
She popped a Kindle from her purse and turned it on. I glanced over but couldn’t catch the title.
“What are you reading?”
“A series by a Hawaiian gal called Toby Neal.”
“What genre?”
“Crime fiction. I’m at a good part. Shut up and drive.”
Dallas is roughly three hours from Arcadia. We passed most of it in silence and, thankfully, without stopping. Cindy has a notoriously small bladder. The roads were almost entirely clear this early on a Saturday morning, as everyone with any sense was still tucked up in bed. We hopscotched our way across East Texas with three eighteen-wheelers, two guys in a silver Camry, and a woman in a white Kia who took turns tailing us for a while, then would speed up and pass us, only to slow down again. Seriously annoying, but I consoled myself by finishing my coffee and Cindy’s. I needed it after my two late nights.
A Case of Sour Grapes: A Cass Elliot Companion Novel (Cass Elliot Crime Series Book 3) Page 9