1 tbsp ground cumin
1 tbsp brown sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp onion powder
CHILI
1 tbsp cooking oil
3 lbs London broil, cut into 1/4” cubes
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 green pepper, chopped
8-oz can chopped green chilies
8-oz can tomato sauce
12-oz can beer
13-oz can beef broth
13-oz can chicken broth
3 tbsp chipotle hot sauce
1/2 tsp Tabasco sauce
In a large Dutch oven, heat cooking oil over medium heat and cook beef until brown on all sides. Add onions, peppers, tomato sauce, beer, beef broth, chicken broth, and spice mix A. Bring to a boil, lower heat, and simmer for about 1 ½ hours.
Stir in spice mix B, chipotle sauce, and Tabasco. Simmer ½ hour longer.
Twenty-eight
THE night had been interesting on so many fronts. Nikki was tired but she wanted to write it all down and sort through her thoughts. Ollie climbed up next to her. “You’re getting spoiled,” she said. “Wait until your master gets home.” Thinking about Derek made her sad. She wished he’d call.
If there was anything at all to that “ask and you shall receive” verse, or the law of the universe stuff, then it must’ve been working because the phone rang and on the other end was Derek.
“It is so good to hear your voice. Why haven’t you called?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said, sounding exhausted.
“Of course I would. Is everything okay?”
“For the most part.” Derek’s voice sounded funny.
“Derek, what in the heck are you talking about?”
“I don’t think this thing between us and the Salvatores is going to work out.”
“Why? What gives?”
“Today, Vicente decides he wants to go to the Catskills. It’s freezing-ass cold and he wants to drive to the Catskills . Let me remind you that the biggest snowstorm ever is going on here.”
Uh-oh. He’d had a few drinks. Not like Derek to sound tipsy and even then some. He would often have a glass or two of wine in the evening, but never enough to make him slur. And he was definitely slurring tonight. “Uh-huh.”
“Right. We all get in the limo, and don’t ask me why I agreed to this. Right now I feel so stupid.”
“Who is ‘we all’?”
“Vicente, and get this, he has a bodyguard.”
“Is he in the mob?”
“I wonder. Total ass, though.”
“You’re kind of scaring me.” She scratched Ollie between his ears, reminding herself that there was nothing to be scared of with him right there.
“And his daughter was with us, too.”
“Sophia, right?” She jumped up and went straight for the computer. She’d forgotten to Google “Sophia Salvatore.” She kept the phone in the crook of her chin. Ollie did not follow her. Bad dog.
“Yeah, yeah. Her.”
“Oh.” Oh. Sophia Salvatore was listed on some site about Italian winery owners. The photo was small. She stood next to her father, but small or not, Nikki could tell she was gorgeous. Just as she’d thought. “What happened?”
“Okay, so we get halfway there, going as slow as can be, and even the bodyguard is trying to explain to Vicente that we should go back to the city, but you think that old fart is listening to anyone else? No. Claims he’s on his death bed practically and may never get back here and something about his aunt who moved to the Catskills when he was a boy and he wanted to go back because he’d spent a summer with her before she died and it was the best time of his life. Talk about sentimental.” Man, was Derek rambling tonight.
“Oh, Derek.”
“It gets better. We get out and the driver gets lost, and the next thing I know, we start having car trouble and the driver has to pull over. He calls his dispatch service and they tell him it’s gonna be at least two hours before anyone can get out there. So, we’re sitting there with the heater on, and I’m still trying to make a deal with this guy, and all he wants to do is drink port and shove his daughter on me while telling me I need to marry her.”
Nikki’s hands folded into fists. “He what? That—”
“I know. Don’t get yourself all worked up.”
“Excuse me?”
“I love you and only you. Finally, after something like three hours or more . . . God, I don’t know, I lost track of time . . . but finally some guy pulls over in an old pickup and offers help. About that time another limo pulls up for the Salvatores. I was three sheets to the wind by then, and I told Vicente to forget the deal. He was too difficult to work with and I didn’t want to marry his daughter. I paid the guy who stopped to help us two hundred dollars to drive me back to Manhattan. I just got back here.”
“Oh, no.” Nikki tried not to laugh.
“How about you? How was your day? Tell me they caught whoever murdered Iwao. I’m hoping I can get out of here in the morning. They’re saying there’s a chance.”
“No. They actually don’t have a suspect yet.”
“Hmmm.”
She couldn’t tell him now about Mizuki. Not after the day he had, and he sounded like he needed to go to bed. “Gosh, it must be two o’ clock in the morning there.”
“Don’t I know it. I’m worried about you, and I miss you.”
“I miss you, too, but you don’t have to worry. I have Ollie at my side.”
“Yeah. Good. How is the boy?”
Nikki removed herself from the desk and went back into the bedroom, sliding in between the covers. “He’s good.”
“You in bed?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Nice. I wish I was there. What are you wearing?” he asked.
“Well, um. It’s lacy and blue and very pretty.” She was never good at this kind of thing, and lacy, blue, and pretty wasn’t even close to what she had on.
“Liar.”
“I know.”
“I know what you’re wearing. You’re wearing one of my old T-shirts and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms.”
“Nope. I have your boxers on.”
He cracked up. “I can’t wait to see you.”
“You better get some sleep.”
“You, too. I love you, Nikki.”
“I love you, too.”
A few minutes after they’d hung up, Nikki thought about getting back up and writing down her thoughts about the night. Instead she opted for falling asleep, knowing that there was a man a few thousand miles away, a man who really loved her, who was keeping her warm with his words.
Twenty-nine
EARLY the following morning, Nikki checked the news and found out that the airports were still closed on the East Coast. The snowstorm was causing major mayhem all over the country, and after talking to Derek last night, there was nothing she wanted more than for him to come home.
She grabbed the notebook she was going to use to write down her murder theories and notes, and then the phone rang. Maybe it was Derek and the news was wrong. Instead, it was Robinson.
“Hey, I was just calling to thank you for last night. I know it was kind of weird under the circumstances and I’m not sure everyone there was exactly pleased to see me. I got the feeling that I threw a few people off their game. But after the Sansis left, when it was just you and Alyssa, it was cool. I can’t remember having such a good time in ages.”
Nikki looked out the family room window and watched a few ducks fly in on the pond. She grabbed her sweater off the back end of one of the chairs and wrapped it around her. The early spring morning had a chill to it. She wondered where Robinson was sitting or what he was looking at. Was he already at work? “Did you like Alyssa?”
He laughed a little. “Don’t think that I don’t know what you’re up to. I know you’re playing Cupid, but I can’t say that I’m unhappy about it. Your friend Alyssa is cool and, yeah, I like her. A lot.�
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“She’s a good lady and she’s been through some hard times.” Nikki watched the ducks fly off and went back into the kitchen, where she started doing dishes from the night before. She’d had a few left over to clean and hated coming home at the end of the day to dirty dishes.
“I get the feeling you’re now going to give me the don’t-hurt-my-friend speech.”
“Sounds like you’ve heard it before.”
“What’s all that noise you’re making?”
“I’m doing the dishes and don’t try to change the subject. Yes, I am playing Cupid, but I will still give you that warning. I don’t know you all that well, Robinson, but you’ve got some dimensions about you that I think are really great. Still I’ll wager there’s a bad boy lurking in there somewhere.”
“You and your theories. I’m a cop.”
“You know what I mean by bad ‘boy.’”
“I suppose so. But hey, I like your friend and I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
There was a softness in his voice that she’d never heard before. The sincerity rang true and she hoped that her matchmaking would pay off for all involved.
“You were good with her little boy, too.” Nikki finished loading the dishwasher and walked over to the cupboard to get out Ollie’s food. He heard her opening the can and moved at a rate much faster than his usual drag-along self.
“I like kids. Actually I love kids.”
“Robinson?”
“Yeah, Sands?”
“You okay?” She dumped the food in the bowl, and tossed the can. Robinson didn’t sound right.
“I’m fine. I . . .” He let out a long sigh. “I had a little boy once. His name was Neil. After Shaq. You know, Shaquille O’Neil? I’m a fan.”
“Oh.” Nikki didn’t know what to say. She’d had no idea and she had a feeling Robinson was verging into territory she wasn’t sure she wanted to enter with him.
“I lost him when he was about the same age that Petie is. I lost him and his mom. Five years ago. To a car accident.”
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything, Sands. I don’t talk about it much, but after playing with Petie last night and meeting his mom, I don’t know what happened, but like I said, I haven’t felt that good in a long time. It reminded me of what living is really all about. All this other stuff don’t mean so much without a real life. I guess I have my work, and I do a decent job, but that’s about all I have now. And, you know, I’m starting to remember that isn’t what really counts. It’s family. And it’s friends. You know it is. That’s why you’re who you are and why you do the things you do for people. You get that.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.” She’d never thought about it, but she supposed she did get that—sort of. She didn’t have a close family, other than Aunt Cara. But she had her friends and they were as much a family as any could be. And of course, she had Derek.
“I guess that’s it then. I wanted to say thanks and I’ll be by sometime this morning. I want to speak with Juan Gonzales and Ruben Pearlman again before they leave about their dealings with Yamimoto. I’d also like to talk with the nephew some more.”
“Okay. Good. I have something for you that I forgot to give you last night.” She hated to shift gears on him after what he’d unloaded on her, but she knew he’d already shifted. He didn’t want to talk about the tragedy in his past any further. She told him about the note she’d dug out of the garbage and her idea that maybe it was the one Iwao had thought Juan had sent to him. She also filled him in on what she’d learned about Kurt and Jen’s possible motives.
“Nice work. I’ve already got a jump-start on Jen Yamimoto. I want to be sure he flew in from Japan. When I called the number for him there to tell him what had happened to his uncle, I got a voicemail message in Japanese. I left a message to have him call, but I didn’t tell him about his uncle, so he must have heard it elsewhere. I’ll come on by and get that note from you in a bit. I think Jen’s probably clean, though. I’m looking deep into this Gonzales and Pearlman angle. Those dudes lost a lot of money with Yamimoto. Money can be a great motive to kill.”
“Right. I don’t know about Ruben Pearlman, but as you’ve reminded me before, that’s why you’re the real detective. I’m sitting down to write out some of my impressions and some of the things I’ve learned over the last few days.”
“You’re good, Sands. On all levels, you’re good.”
She hung up the phone with a different feeling about Robinson. She’d liked him and his quirkiness before learning of his wife and child, but now she thought she might just understand this guarded detective.
Thirty
NIKKI didn’t know how this investigation would end. She was stumped, and from everything she could tell, so was Robinson, although he seemed convinced that Ruben and Juan were involved. Maybe Juan was, but she simply could not imagine Ruben having anything to do with the murders.
She called Derek’s cell and got no answer so she turned on The Weather Channel. It sounded like things were going to be clearing up back East and planes might actually start flying. Her fingers were crossed that Derek was in the air and on his way back home to her.
“Ollie, want to go for a run?” Ollie didn’t move off the couch. “Not interested today, huh?” That was fine. She should check in with Alan and see where everyone was and if he wanted to set up a time when he and Derek could talk further about their negotiations.
Nikki decided to take a run on her own first, this time without the revolting trash-hunting activity on the side. Once out in the fresh air, she felt a real sadness—almost an emptiness. How had she failed to really help Robinson? The one time when she’d actually been asked to help solve a crime and she hadn’t been able to put two and two together. Dammit. There were too many pieces and none of them fit.
Running down through the Chardonnay grapes, she heard footsteps behind her. She glanced back to see Kurt Kensington. She didn’t like that one bit. She mentally scolded Ollie for preferring a nap over jogging. Perhaps she should have had the same mentality?
“Howdy,” Kurt said, coming up next to her, breathing hard and sweating.
“Hi.”
“Sansi told all of us that we could head out today. Guess he wants to do a lunch first. You know about that?”
“No. I planned to meet with him after my run. See if I could track him down. Did you enjoy the time you had here?” She didn’t know what to ask him. The only real encounter she’d had with him was during the dream board session, when she’d determined that he was a no-good creep. His bizarre application only strengthened the possibility that he could very well have killed two people—brutally. She knew he was capable of killing.
“I did. I’ve learned a lot, believe it or not.”
“Good.” Oh, Lord, get me out of here. She kept trying to keep distance between them but he had no problem keeping up with her.
“I know you don’t like me. I know you think I’m crazy. I’m not, though.”
Sure, that was reassuring. “I did think your dream board was strange.” What else was she going to say? The guy was crazy!
“Maybe so. I do have a dark sense of humor. I went through some bad stuff in Iraq.”
She kept on running.
“I’m not a bad man, Nikki. I’m not. I’m who I say I am. I thought when I came here that I wanted to write the scary stuff. The violence and murder and horror, because that’s all I’ve lived over the last few years.”
What was he trying to tell her? Adrenaline pumped through her, not just from the run, but because she was trying to carry on a conversation with someone who was at best a lunatic and at worst a killer. Fear coursed through her. Kurt was a big, strong guy and she was out here alone with him.
“I know my poster was dumb. In bad taste. War warps your mind.”
Great, now he was admitting that he was demented?
“I don’t want that in my life any longer. These past few day
s, I’ve realized that I want to spread light, not darkness.”
“That’s good stuff.” Why was this guy not running out of breath? She was.
He grabbed her arm and she jolted back.
“Hey!” she yelled.
“Sorry. I need to talk to someone.”
Why her? “I thought that’s what we were doing,” Nikki said.
“We were talking, but I don’t know if you’re really listening and I want your attention.”
This was not good. “I’m all ears. I promise.”
“I read these graphic novels and many times they’re violent,” he said.
“Right.” She edged away from him.
“I think I could write a book with the intensity of the graphic novels, but have it be all about good, forgiveness, and love and getting the things in life you want.”
“Like a children’s book?” Yes, he was looney tunes. Completely!
“I could do that.”
“Yes, you could. I encourage you and wish you well on all your endeavors.” Nikki started up the pace again. “I hope you don’t mind, but I really do need to talk with Alan.”
“No. I understand. I didn’t want to leave here without talking to you and letting you know that I’m like everyone else—totally normal. Or at least I want to be.”
“Thank you for sharing. Have a safe trip home if I don’t see you.” She ran faster than usual and looked back to see if he was going to keep running with her. He’d stopped and seemed to be watching her. Kurt seriously unnerved her. Maybe he hadn’t murdered Iwao or Mizuki, or maybe he had. Either way, having him run alongside her had not been pleasant.
Up at the café, she took out her cell phone and saw she had voicemail. “Hello, Nikki. It’s Hayden. My dad was wondering if he could get some of that wine you served last night to take home with us. If so, you can drop it by my room. Thanks.”
She hung up the phone and went into the café to grab a water bottle. Nikki was pleased that Alan had liked the wine enough to ask to take some with him. She hated going into the warehouse, but she’d do it for Alan.
Corked by Cabernet Page 19