Smooth move, Neverall!
The sheriff returned to his questions, asking where and how the car had been parked. I admitted I didn’t know where the lot was, just that we had turned it over to the valets in front of Wolfe-Bowers. I remembered thinking it was safer than parking it on the street.
“What’s going to happen to my car?” I asked. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. The images in my mind of the shredded front end and crumpled headlights made my stomach hurt and brought tears to my eyes.
“It’s being towed,” Mitchell said. “They’re taking it to the impound yard. One of our mechanics will take a look at it, see if he can determine the cause of the accident. When we’re through, you can claim it.”
He’d carefully avoided telling me anything about the’Vette’s condition, and I didn’t ask. Right now I really didn’t want to know.
“I think that’s all I need for now,” the sheriff said, picking up the recorder and slipping it into the pocket of his shirt. “Do you have any questions?”
I didn’t. My wrist throbbed, my head hurt, and all I wanted to do was crawl into a hole and pull it in after me.
The sheriff stood and nodded to Sue, who quickly moved to my side. “Let’s get you home,” she said. “You’ve had enough for one day.”
She gave the sheriff a look that wasn’t meant for me to see. My accident had interrupted their plans, which was why she hadn’t gone with me, and now she was leaving him to take me home.
The mention of home finally seeped into my pain-dulled brain. There was something I needed to ask the sheriff.
“Does my mother know about the accident?”
“Why would she?” the sheriff said.
I shrugged, instantly regretting the movement when it wiggled my wrist. “She’s in jail, people in the office talk. She might have heard something.”
Sheriff Mitchell smiled warmly. “I’ll stop by and make sure she knows you’re okay,” he said. “No sense adding to her worries.”
“Thanks,” I said. I appreciated his compassion, especially since I had messed up his evening in several ways.
The doctor had given me a sling for my arm and insisted I wear it. It took Sue and Fred together to get me up and into the passenger’s seat for the short ride to my house.
chapter 25
By the time we reached my house, the pain pills had started to kick in. The throbbing in my wrist subsided, and exhaustion washed over me.
Sue insisted I get into bed, ignoring my feeble protests that it was my mother’s bed for now.
“Well she’s not using it and she’ll have her own bed back whenever she’s able to come home.” Sue’s matter-of-fact tone left no room for argument. To tell the truth, I wasn’t trying very hard. After several days on the couch and an evening on the exam table in the emergency room, the bed looked like heaven.
With Sue’s help I got undressed and crawled under the blankets. She fluffed up a pillow and placed it under my wrist, elevating it the way the doctor ordered.
“I’m beat,” Sue said. “You ready to sleep?”
I murmured my assent.
“Then I’ll see you in the morning.” She turned out the light and started to pull the door closed.
“You leaving?” I asked.
“Naw,” she answered. “You may need some help in the morning, so I figured I’d stay. Besides,” she teased, “somebody has to sleep on the couch.”
“Thanks, Sue. I owe you.”
The door closed softly behind her.
There was a long list of things to do, but all I wanted was to sleep.
I gave in and closed my eyes.
When I opened them again, the sun was shining through the windows and I could hear Daisy whining at the bedroom door. I knew it was Daisy. Buddha usually waited patiently, but she seemed to lack that ability.
I stretched and was instantly rewarded with pain in my wrist. I froze, then moved carefully to the edge of the bed and sat up. The sudden pain had dissipated, leaving an ache behind to remind me to be careful.
I managed to get into my robe and wobble down the hall to the bathroom by the time Sue caught up to me. “You should have called for help,” she said accusingly.
“I can manage.” I sounded whiny. “Sorry,” I said, more pleasantly. “I think I can shower okay. But I’ll holler if I need you. Okay?”
I surprised Sue when I made it to the table without help. She had coffee ready, and I gratefully accepted a cup. “Sorry for interrupting your plans,” I said. “I don’t think spending the night with me was on your agenda.”
Sue bristled. “I didn’t plan to spend the night with anyone,” she said tartly. “You just got lucky.”
I rolled my eyes and sipped the coffee before I answered.
“Seriously,” I said, “I said I wasn’t going to let our friendship screw up whatever you and Fred have going, and I meant it.”
“It’s really okay. We had dinner and watched a movie, and he was on his way home when the alert came over the radio. He called me as soon as he knew it was your car, said you might need someone. No interrupting.”
“Thanks for coming. I really appreciate it.”
Sue put a plate of toast on the table and sat down across from me.
“So what are we doing today?”
I thought about the laptop files safely hidden on my thumb drive. “I have some work to do, and you have a business to run.”
“Day Spa’s closed for the day,” she said.
“Sue, this is silly! I have a sprained wrist. I can take care of myself just fine. You go do what you need to.” As though to prove my point I picked up a piece of toast with my left hand and took a bite.
She didn’t look convinced. “What if you need to go somewhere?”
“I swear I will stay here until you get back.” I planned to spend the time trying to unlock the e-mail files.
“You promise?”
“Promise. Scout’s honor. I will stay right here.”
“Okay.” Sue looked relieved. “I have a few deliveries coming this morning. Give me a couple hours. I’ll be back before lunch and we can figure out what to do from there.”
She gave me an appraising look. “You sure you won’t do anything crazy while I’m gone?”
“Go.” I waved her away. “I need to do some computer work. No heavy lifting required.”
I waited until she was out of the house to fire up the desktop and plug in the thumb drive. Finally I had time to work on Gregory’s e-mail files.
First, though, there were a few phone calls I needed to make. I started with the easiest one.
Wade was properly distressed when I told him about the accident, and it took me several minutes to convince him I was fine. Once he accepted my assurances, he wanted to know if there was anything he could do.
“Not unless you know who else was in Veritas,” I said, “and I already know you don’t. Or if you know what the connection is between William Robinson and Phil Wilson.”
“I don’t know either one, I’m afraid. And I don’t know how they’re connected to Gregory.” He hesitated, and I heard him draw a deep breath. “I did look back in Gregory’s records,” he said slowly.
“And?”
“I found a few receipts for Veritas. From the figures he gave me for his cellaring income, I’m guessing there were four partners. If you’re right about Wilson that leaves two more partners out there.”
“Which means two people out of the entire population of Pine Ridge.” I sighed. “If Wilson is a partner it isn’t just year-round people, it could be any of the weekenders, too.”
“Everyone except you and Sue and me,” he answered. “And William Robinson. He was pretty definite about that.”
“Then why was he talking to Wilson?” I was back where I started and it made me crabby. I should be able to figure this out.
On Wade’s end I heard his other line ring. It stopped quickly as Karen picked it up, but I knew Wade had work to do.
“I bet
ter let you get back to work. I just didn’t want you to worry if you heard about the accident.” I chuckled. “And in this town I knew you’d hear.”
I checked in with Paula. She was stiff and sore, but otherwise undamaged. I assured her I would be fine, and promised to call if I had any news.
The next call was to my insurance agent. While he was dismayed to hear about the ’Vette, he promised to follow up with the impound yard and get some estimates on the repairs.
I didn’t tell him I was afraid it was beyond repair. I wasn’t ready to admit it, even to myself.
The final call was to the sheriff’s office. I spoke to Fred Mitchell and told him the insurance company would be sending someone to look at the car.
“It may be a couple days before I can release it, Georgie. Our accident investigator will be going over it first.”
“The brakes failed, Sheriff. Seems pretty simple to me.”
“He still wants to take a look.”
I asked him about my mother, and he said she was holding up okay. He told me I could visit in the evening if I wanted to come see for myself. I told him I would.
With all the calls out of the way, I settled down with my computer and Gregory’s files. I was determined to make use of the enforced down time.
When Sue returned just before noon I had managed to crack the encryption on the files and open the message archive.
But that was only the first step. I was faced with a file full of contacts and incoming and outgoing messages and I had no idea where the information I wanted might be.
If it was there at all.
“This is taking too long,” I complained to Sue.
She dropped a white paper bag on the table. “Take a break,” she said. “I brought sandwiches from Dee’s.”
Dee’s Lunch was an institution on Pine Ridge’s Main Street. Dee had been serving breakfast and lunch—and closing promptly at 2:00 p.m.—for as long as either of us could remember.
One of Dee’s sandwiches was reason enough to take a break.
Sue and I ate while I filled her in on the previous night. It was the first time she’d heard the details of the accident, and she was horrified by what happened to the ’Vette. And, like Wade, she couldn’t figure out what the connection was between William and Phil Wilson.
Frustration bubbled through me. I couldn’t find the information I needed in Gregory’s files, I couldn’t work, and I couldn’t get my mother out of jail.
I needed to do something useful.
And I knew where I had to look.
Mom’s backup key ring was on the dresser in the bedroom
On that key ring were all her keys.
Including the one to Gregory’s house.
Never, ever, ever put coffee grounds or grease down the drain. Most kitchen sink clogs are the result of grease buildup that traps tiny food particles. Better to avoid a clog in the first place than spend time and money clearing it.
—A Plumber’s Tip from Georgiana Neverall
chapter 26
Sue was, as usual, underwhelmed with my plan.
“You can’t break into Gregory’s house. Fred may be sympathetic right now, but if he catches you ...” Her voice trailed off and her face clouded with worry.
“I won’t be breaking in,” I argued. “They released the house. I have a key. No breaking in involved.”
She looked skeptical. “And what do you hope to accomplish, anyway? The police have already searched the house. If there was anything to find, they would have found it.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I can’t just sit here and do nothing!”
“Yes you can. Remember what happened when you tried to search Martha Tepper’s house? Remember how we nearly got caught, and we had to tell Wade what we were doing?”
“This is different.”
“How?”
“Wellll . . .” I tried to come up with a good reason, but I couldn’t.
“See? It’s just the same.”
“No, it isn’t!” I leaned back and folded my arms.
“Great answer, Georgie,” she said sarcastically. “What are you, six? You going to pout?”
“Look, Sue. I have to do something. The police are through with Gregory’s house, so what can it hurt for me to go look around? I probably won’t find anything,” I said before she could start that argument again. “But what if I do? Did the police look for wine records or check out his cellar? Did they even find two hundred cases of wine?”
“Two hundred cases?” She leaned forward, eyes wide. “He had two hundred cases of wine in that house?”
I shrugged. “Wade and I did some checking. I, uh, I managed to retrieve some files from my mom’s laptop.” I told her about finding the hidden files and breaking the encryption. “We figured there had to be a couple hundred cases owned by Veritas, and Wade said Gregory was storing the Veritas wine.
“So there should be a couple hundred cases of Veritas wine in Gregory’s cellar. And who knows how much more of his personal stock?”
Sue gave a low whistle. “So you want to go look for wine?”
“And other stuff.” I uncrossed my arms and rested my left wrist on the table. It ached and twinged, a constant reminder of my accident.
“I have an idea how to do this without attracting attention.”
I laid out my plan, while Sue listened, nodding.
“Okay, Georgie. If I can’t talk you out of this, what can I do to help?”
I backed the Rent-a-Dent panel van into Gregory’s driveway. I wished we’d had time to get some signs to put on the doors, but the battered, plain white van would have to do.
I’d driven it through a couple mud puddles and artfully splattered more mud over the front license plate. I hoped if any of Gregory’s neighbors was watching they would assume it was one of the construction or contractor vehicles that were so common in the neighborhood.
My coveralls strained around my padded torso, disguising the feminine curve of my waist. I’d covered my short hair with a dirty baseball cap and darkened my face with makeup. It wasn’t much of a disguise, but I figured I didn’t need a lot. People would see the coveralls and toolbox and assume it was a man. That should be enough to make me practically invisible in a neighborhood still under construction.
In the back of the van, Sue sat in a folding lawn chair with a book and her cell phone. “I’ll call you if anyone comes along,” she said. “Be careful, okay?”
I nodded and climbed out of the van. I reached back and took my toolbox in my good hand. I walked up to the front door, selected the key from Mom’s key ring, and unlocked the door.
I stepped across the threshold, my heart hammering in my chest, my toolbox a reassuring weight hanging from my right hand, and closed the door behind me.
No turning back now.
I had never been in Gregory’s new house before. It had been completed only a few weeks earlier. He and Mom had just started to move in, and it still smelled of fresh paint and new carpet.
The entry was paved with marble tiles set in an intricate pattern. The frosted windows surrounding the door soared two stories, flooding the entry with light while maintaining a semblance of privacy.
Ahead of me the entry widened into an airy room with large windows at the far end, overlooking the lush green of the backyard. I remembered Mom talking about the landscaping project. She and Gregory had planned to be married there, and Gregory had spent lavishly to create the perfect backdrop for the ceremony that would never take place.
I pushed away thoughts of the wedding.
The dining room was on the right, the kitchen on the left. If I was looking for a wine cellar, the kitchen seemed the logical place to start.
The kitchen was large, packed with every state-of-the-art gadget and gizmo. Custom wood cabinets lined the walls, surrounding the stainless-steel appliances. The counters were a wide expanse of specially ordered granite with two separate sinks and an instant hot water tap.
I checked
each cabinet, finding a wealth of top-end small appliances, a pantry stocked with a mixture of staples and gourmet foods, and neatly stacked china and racks of crystal stemware.
No wine.
Several doors led from the kitchen. The first one was a broom closet. No help. The second door opened into a laundry room with a washer, dryer, and several more cupboards and closets. I gave the cabinets a cursory exam, not expecting to find anything. I didn’t.
One door left. I turned the knob and pulled but the door resisted. I tugged harder, and it yielded slowly. When it swung wide, I understood why it had been difficult to open. The door opened into a small, refrigerated room, and I’d had to overcome the seal on the refrigerator door.
I’d found Gregory’s wine.
I grabbed my phone and called Sue.
The connection was poor, and the signal kept threatening to drop, but I was able to talk to her. “I found the wine,” I told her. “Everything okay?”
The connection faded and I stepped back into the kitchen. The signal was stronger. Something in the refrigerated room must be blocking reception.
“Nobody around. Even the neighbors seem to have disappeared.” She sighed. “Are you through, then?”
“Give me a few more minutes, okay?”
She sighed again, more dramatically. “Okay, but hurry it up. If anyone checks out this van I am going to look pretty silly sitting here in a lawn chair.”
“I’ll be out soon,” I promised and flipped my phone closed before I went back in the wine room.
Back in the chilly room I took a careful look around. I pulled my notebook from the pocket of my coveralls and started writing notes about what I’d found.
Something wasn’t right. It took me a few seconds to figure out what.
The room was chilled. Not just cool, but downright cold. Too cold to cellar fine wine.
And all the wine was white. Not a single bottle of Burgundy or Bordeaux or Pinot Noir.
A rough calculation confirmed what I suspected. There were only about a hundred bottles in the small room. All I had found was the kitchen wine cabinet.
Drip Dead Page 16