She came up for air as we neared the Terrell exit from I-20 to Highway 80. “What are we doing today?”
I glanced at her, wide-eyed, and almost rear-ended a lumbering eighteen-wheeler that changed lanes without signaling. “Babby didn’t tell you?”
“No. And I tried to get it out of her. All she said is you’re working a small case and she thought it would be good for us to spend some time together. To bond. And,” my cousin said with a pointed look, “it would be good for you to have a licensed PI with you.”
So there we were, at something of a stalemate. I didn’t want Cindy here, but I needed her credentials. She didn’t want to be here, but she was dying to know why I was working a case. Inwardly, I sighed. Babby was right. Cindy and I needed to bond, to the extent that bonding was possible between a warm-blooded mammal and a reptile like my cousin. I really have to pass that PI exam. In the meantime, if we were going to work together, we’d have to find a modicum of trust in our relationship. So I filled her in, leaving out the inflammatory bits, like how I got the case and worked it without Kay or Babby knowing. When I got to the part about the credit card and bank statements, Cindy pulled a notebook from her bag and jotted notes.
She was silent after I finished, studying the one decent photograph of Bret Ivey from Texas Eats. “Your plan is to try and find Bret when he shows up at this bakery in Northpark Mall?”
“He’s there every Saturday morning, regular as Uncle Phil on prunes.”
Cindy actually laughed at that. “It’s a better plan than cruising Whiskey Bend, hoping to see his car.”
“It worked,” I said. “We found him.”
“And lost him. What happens if we see him today?”
I’d thought long and hard about this. I could approach him, tell him who I was, that Blue had hired me to find him because she was sick of his hemorrhaging money, and beg him to return her calls. Or, I could do what Blue hired me to do, which was find him. “We follow him. Find out where he’s staying and let Blue know. From there, she can tell us what she wants us to do.”
Cindy chewed on that. “Plan B?”
“For what?”
“If this is the one Saturday he doesn’t show up.”
“We’ll be at Northpark. We shop.”
Traffic grew heavier once we hit Mesquite but the ride to the upscale mall was uneventful. We argued over where to park, and although I hated to leave my Lexus in the boiling Texas sun, I agreed that given the trail of receipts he left through his past visits to the mall, Bret would most likely leave through Nordstrom’s. I snugged the car next to a tiny tree, hoping for a bit of shade, and we both groaned as we got out of the car and stretched.
Cindy pulled the large tote from the back seat. She extracted two white baseball caps with the Dallas Stars hockey team logo on the front and handed me one.
“No, thanks.”
“Your first lesson in tracking: disguises are invaluable.”
“A sun dress and a baseball cap?”
“Watch and learn, grasshopper.”
I grudgingly put it on and Cindy tucked my hair behind my ears, then pulled her chestnut hair into a ponytail and stuffed it through the opening in back of the cap. “That’s better. I hope this bakery does some sort of protein. I’m starving.”
“Their Eggs Benedict are wonderful.”
“As long as their coffee isn’t made with cat poop, I’m in. Speaking of, let’s find a bathroom.”
A KIND OF REVENGE
BLUE GAVE IN TO a yawn as she rounded a curve and broke free from the pines separating her house from the winery, driving the golf cart by rote when her eyes squeezed shut. She gave a gasp and nearly drove off the little road when she opened them again. “Oh no,” she moaned.
She left the little road to drive along the row of vines nearest the workshop. They and several other rows were wilting, and Blue checked to ensure the irrigation lines were in place. Then the chemical scent of weed killer hit her. Fury flushed through her system and her hands shook on the steering wheel. Face grim, she parked the golf cart under cover and stalked to the winery.
She unlocked the front door and reached for the phone, then hesitated, letting her anger abate. It seemed every decision these days was driven by an action taken by idiots, whether it was her husband, one of her staff, or some random act of hatred. For once, she would let her head clear and then decide whether to call the police.
She went behind the bar to make a cappuccino, and then took it out onto the winery’s wide front porch and sat in a rocking chair. The porch faced west and was bearable despite the onslaught from the morning sun that was steadily baking her vines. Blue sipped and rocked, and rocked and sipped, reaching for that place of inner calm. She sighed deeply when she felt her muscles releasing their tension.
Her mind wandered over the past few days, thinking about the work going on at the winery and the contract laborers. Was it possible one of them had grabbed the wrong container and sprayed the vines with weed killer? But that made no sense. Given that harvest was under way, there was no reason for anyone to spray.
She went inside to make another cappuccino, then sipped and rocked, coming back to the snap conclusion she’d reached when she saw the damage: it was Daphne.
Given the degree of distress the vines were showing, they must’ve come into contact with weed killer last night. Everything was stressed this summer. The intense heat, the lack of rain. Every plant in East Texas was more vulnerable to damage than normal. Contact with weed killer in any concentration would wilt the vines faster than normal.
Tires sounded on the gravel drive and Will’s car stopped at the far side of the parking lot. His smile was wide as he opened the door. “What are you doing here so early?” he called.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“Thought I’d help Chef get ready for the staff meeting.”
She forced a smile. “You’re planning a takeover of the kitchen?”
He eased into the rocking chair beside her. “No way. Kitchen people are crazy. And they have knives. What brings you out so early?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Were you worried about whoever broke in?”
“Maybe. A little. You’re probably too young for this to happen, but sometimes your mind switches on and won’t shut off.”
Will looked out across the parking lot, a wistful look on his face. “I know something about that.” He glanced at her cup. “Can I get you another?”
“I’ve already had two.”
“You’ll need the caffeine before the morning’s over.”
“Go on, then.”
Will returned quickly with two cappuccinos and sat next to her again. “This is my favorite time of day.”
“Is it?” Blue asked. “Why?”
“Everything is fresh and new. Yesterday’s problems might still linger, but there’s hope to get through them today.”
Blue studied him. Will was a handsome young man and from everything she’d seen, solid emotionally. His features were even and strong, and his eyes a unique gray with long, beautiful lashes tipped with gold as if he’d spent considerable time in the sun. His optimism made her think of Bret in the early days of their relationship. “I like that. And I’m glad somebody has hope, because we’re going to have to replant three rows of Cynthiana.”
“Which ones?”
“Those nearest the workshop.”
“No way. I was out there yesterday and they looked fine, given the conditions. The drought finally got them?”
“It wasn’t Mother Nature. There’s a human culprit.”
“What do you mean?”
“They were sprayed with weed killer. Undiluted glyphosate, I think.”
Will started. “Who would do that?”
“Who left mad last night?”
“Daphne?”
“Who else?”
Will was quiet. “Did you call the police?”
Blue looked out at the vines. “She’s lashing out.
And I was thinking about replacing all the Cynthiana vines anyway. They’ve never produced well out here.”
“You have to call the police, Blue.”
“Why?”
His words were slow in coming. “Daphne’s volatile. I mean, her ups are way up but when she’s mad or down, she’s a wild one. When Bret dumped her,” he glanced at Blue who returned his gaze without blinking, “she promised she’d get even. Not just with him, but with you.”
“You don’t think she had anything to do with the music room, do you?”
“It’s a big coincidence if she sprayed the vines but didn’t bash the instruments.”
“Maybe,” Blue said. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Maybe I am. The police can check for fingerprints on the jugs of poison. If it’s not her, no big deal. If it is, she needs to be dealt with. Harshly, in my opinion.” He hesitated. “Please call, Blue. You’re important to me and to everyone at the winery. None of us want you to get hurt.”
She watched him as he spoke, taking the measure of his words. She sensed nothing untoward in them, only a genuine concern.
Chef’s little Mercedes rolled into the parking lot and he backed under a shade tree. Will took Blue’s empty mug. “If I can give the boss instructions, your first job is to call the police. Your second is to call about tonight’s flat iron steaks.”
WHEN A MAN WANTS INTO YOUR PANTS, OR YOUR WALLET
NORTHPARK WAS QUIET, PEOPLED with early mall walkers and staff coming in before the shops opened at ten. Three tables were occupied when we got to the little bakery. Two women and one guy in a dark suit who looked vaguely like Bret Ivey, if a little on the young side. I detoured to pass his table and saw ‘Steve’ on his name tag.
We took turns in the ladies room to make sure we didn’t miss our target, and then placed orders for Eggs Benedict and coffee. I traded air-kisses with two of the staff I hadn’t seen in several months and spent a few minutes gossiping about changes in the mall. I finally got around to telling them I was looking for a friend’s lover, a guy who had dumped her and refused to pay child support. Yes, I lied, but it was for a good cause. Both of these gals had deadbeat husbands who didn’t pay child support. They were sympathetic and knew exactly who I was talking about, and promised to let me know, subtly, when he arrived.
Our Eggs Benedict arrived before Bret did, and Cindy gasped when she took her first bite. It seemed there was something we could agree on. We’d finished breakfast and were lingering over our second cups of coffee when Cindy shifted ever so slightly in her chair. I glanced up to see her gaze flick to the counter. Just then, one of my waitress friends walked up and asked if we wanted another orange juice when she refilled our coffee. It took a moment but I remembered that this was our prearranged signal. I handed over my mug and turned to look at the counter.
There stood a man and a woman, their backs to me. The woman had big hair and was curvy, her hips a definite size fourteen. From behind, the man had a nice shape. He wore a baseball cap, black t-shirt, jeans, and black boots, everything just tight enough to highlight his assets. I waited impatiently for him to turn around.
Cindy tapped my shin with her toe. “Close your mouth.”
I frowned. “Stop bossing me around.”
“Maxine,” she said quietly. “His bimbo is doing a periscope. Lord. Look at those boobs. They’re bigger than yours, and hers look real. Not now, Max. She’ll tag you if you keep gawping. Look at me, and pretend we’re having a conversation.”
“Oh. Right. About what?”
“You’re supposed to be the clever one. Make something up. How about your favorite topic, shopping?”
I couldn’t help it. I looked at the counter again. Cindy kicked me. “Ouch.” I rubbed my shin and glared at her. “What?”
“Stop. Looking. At. Bret.” Cindy waited until my gaze met hers. “They’re sitting by the window, right in my line of sight. Say ‘cheese’.” She held up her camera and snapped a photo. And then another. And another. “I’ll let you know if they decide to leave.”
“But I want to see,” I protested. “Are you sure it’s them?”
“Maxine,” she growled, passing me the phone.
I squinted. “I’m not sure.”
“I’m almost sure. Tell me about the shops in this mall, and then go to the bathroom. Try not to drool as you walk past.”
“What kind of shops?” I asked, still pouting.
“Which one is your favorite?”
“That depends. Nordstrom’s has a brilliant personal shopping service and spa. I love the soaps at L’Occitane and the cosmetics counters at Neiman’s.” Yes, I am that easy to distract. “There’s a sweet little shop that sells cards and notepaper, and I love the bath fizzies at Lush. What are you in the market for?”
“Lingerie.”
“What do you need lingerie for?”
Cindy glared. “I’m making conversation, Maxine.” She lifted her chin. “They’ve got their food. Go to the bathroom and don’t make a spectacle of yourself.”
I stood with as much dignity as I could muster, straightened my sun dress, and sauntered past the table by the window. There Bret Ivey sat with a wide-bottomed million-dollar bimbo, big as life. He was one of those men who wavered on the edge of handsome, but his personality and high-wattage smile tipped him over the edge. He and the bimbo held hands across the table, ogling one another over their breakfasts. He gave her one of those “you’re the only one for me” shit-eating grins I knew all too well. It was the kind of smile a man gave you when he wanted into your pants. Or your wallet.
They were still in that lovey-dovey pose when I returned to our table. It had been cleared and the dishes replaced with to-go cups.
“They didn’t have cat poop coffee, so I got Sumatra,” Cindy said. She stood and slung her bag over her shoulder. “Let’s go. And make happy with me, like we’re friends.”
“Go where?” I whispered. “They’re still here.”
“They’ll notice if we linger too long. We can shop nearby and keep an eye on them. Come on.” And with that, she picked up her coffee and headed for the lingerie store.
COMING OUT
BLUE RESISTED THE URGE to pour a glass of wine and opted instead for coffee and orange juice. She selected a warm croissant and fruit from a tray, and waited while the staff served themselves. She studied the faces in the room. Only Daphne, Toni, and Annie the expediter were missing.
Normally an uproarious lot, the staff was subdued. The usual cliques sat apart from one another and conversation was muted. Will sat near the back and gave her a small smile.
After everyone was seated, Blue cleared her throat and stood. “Thank you for coming in this morning, especially those of you who aren’t working today. It seemed best to have this conversation with everyone at once. But first, Toni texted this morning to say that her father is stable, but they’re still calling his condition critical. She’s not sure when she’ll be back, but she promised to keep in touch.” She took a sip of coffee. “Has anyone heard from Annie?”
No one replied.
“No one’s seen her?” Blue asked.
One of the wait staff spoke. “I drove by Annie’s house on my way here this morning. I didn’t see her car, but it might’ve been in the garage.”
“Does anybody know what’s going on with her?”
Blue heard the shifting of bodies in chairs, but no one replied. She decided to change tack.
“I understand questions have come up about the future of the winery, given the fact that Bret hasn’t been here for a while. I’ll get it out in the open: I know he was cheating with Daphne.” Blue felt color bloom in her cheeks and heard her voice crack. Everyone exchanged glances. Blue slowly counted to ten and lowered her voice. “If you worked last night, you’ll also know that I fired her. Not for sleeping with Bret, but for problems related to her performance. I also understand he’s had affairs with other women who’ve worked at the winery, Annie included.”
Blue stud
ied the room and saw several faces turn red, those of both men and women. She wondered if Bret had been sleeping with these girls, or perhaps with these guys.
Chef spoke up. “The girls he’s been with are gone, Blue. He started up with Annie in the last couple of weeks, but he’s already dumped her. Daphne found out about it and blew a gasket. Bret hasn’t been around much so she took it out on Annie.”
“How?” Blue asked.
“Snide remarks, bumping Annie while she was handling dishes. I think Daphne dumped extra salt on a dish that was ready to go out, but Annie dealt with it.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me about all this?” When no one replied, she nodded. “I know I haven’t been around much, but surely you know you can tell me anything. Some of you have been with the winery since it opened. Didn’t you think I deserved to know what was going on?”
Again Chef spoke. “Nobody was sure what to say, Blue. Bret hasn’t exactly threatened anybody, but you know what his temper is like. If we said something to you and Bret found out, he would’ve fired us. And as weird as things have been around here, it’s still a great place to work.”
Several of the staff nodded.
Blue felt the iron band that had been wrapped around her chest for the last several weeks loosen. Only a little, but it helped. They wanted to be here, and that was all that mattered. “It may not have been great lately, but in the future I’ll make sure it doesn’t suck as bad as it has.”
A few chuckles sounded and the band loosened further.
“Here’s where things stand between me and Bret: I’ve begun divorce proceedings and as soon as I can find him, we’ll finalize things. Some of you know I’ve hired a private detective to help me track Bret down. He’s not returning my calls. Has anyone seen him or heard from him?”
A Case of Sour Grapes: A Cass Elliot Companion Novel (Cass Elliot Crime Series Book 3) Page 10