“Wait—you have to give him money first?” I asked. “It sounds like a scam.”
“Oh no, it only covers the cost of the video and training. Think of it like school tuition. You pay, get trained, and start to earn.”
“A half a million dollars a year and I could eat at the Japanese steak house every day if I wanted,” Holly said.
“Your sandwiches,” the barista said and set our bagels in front of us.
“Are you eating lunch?” I asked Mandy.
“Oh no, I have to watch my figure. They say the camera puts on ten pounds.” She patted her nonexistent stomach.
Holly dug right into her egg salad sandwich. I had tuna salad on my bagel, and we both had a small bag of chips.
“When I’m rich, I’ll hire a dietitian and a personal trainer,” Holly said as she chewed.
“Not that you need one,” I said with a smile. “I do have one question.”
“What’s that?” Mandy asked.
“What is the deal with Dr. Brinkman? Why do people treat him like a rock star? You should have seen the crowd. I didn’t know there were that many people not working in the middle of the day.”
Mandy laughed. “You are too funny, Taylor. Those people have all taken Dr. Brinkman’s seminars. They adore him. You will too, once you go see him. Trust me, you’ll fully understand.” She glanced down at her fitness device. “Oh my, look at the time. I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll be there tomorrow night. Will I see you there? I promise it will change your lives. What do you have to lose? You have the free tickets.”
“Sure,” Holly said. “I’ll be there. I’m up for any excuse for a girls’ night out.”
“Taylor?”
“Why not?” I said and picked up my sandwich. “Curiosity is a good thing, right?”
“It never hurt a soul,” Mandy said and stood. “Bye, ladies—see you at the seminar tomorrow.”
We watched her walk out.
“Promise me one thing,” I said to Holly.
“What’s that?”
“When we go to this seminar, don’t drink the Kool-Aid. Okay?”
Holly laughed. “I won’t if you won’t.”
“I’m only going because I’m curious,” I said. “Not because I have a thousand dollars to invest in getting rich.”
“I’m going for the pure entertainment value,” Holly said. “After seeing your aunt Jemma in action with her séance, I know better than to believe anyone without the right research.”
“Oh, research,” I said. “That’s brilliant. I don’t have a tour today, so I’m free to dig around and see what I can find out about this Dr. Brinkman.”
“Why don’t you give Chelsea a call?” Holly asked. “She gets paid to dig around into the backgrounds of shady characters.”
“Brilliant,” I said.
Chelsea McGarland was a friend of Holly’s and now a good friend of mine. She wrote for the North San Francisco Chronicle. She had earned her job by helping me catch a killer last month, so I knew firsthand how good her investigative chops were. Right after lunch, I would give her a call and get the wheels rolling on finding out as much as I could about Mandy’s guru and why anyone would give away two $200 dollar tickets to go see him.
* * *
My phone rang later that night when I was sitting on my couch in the poolhouse, researching quirky places for tours in Sonoma Valley. “Hey, Tim, what’s up?” I asked as I picked up my phone.
“Taylor, who was your lawyer? You know, the one who helped when you were under suspicion of murder.”
“Patrick Aimes.”
“Do you have his number handy?”
“Sure,” I said and frowned. “I’ll text it to you. Why? Are you all right?”
“No, I’m not,” he said. “I’ve been charged with murder and have turned myself in. I really need a lawyer.”
“Oh no, Tim,” I said. “Whatever you do, don’t say anything without him present, okay?”
“I can remain silent,” he said. “You on the other hand …”
I shook my head at the poke. “Thankfully, I’m not a suspect. I’ll call Patrick.”
“Thanks, kid,” Tim said. “You know how much I hate germs. This place is crawling with them.”
“That’s why you like wine.”
“No human pathogens can survive in it.”
I hung up the phone and dialed Patrick. Holly and I had gone to school with him; he’d been in her older brother’s class, and so darn handsome.
I’d been reunited with him last month when I’d found myself under suspicion of murder and Aunt Jemma had called him in to help guide me through the legal process. Unfortunately, I was a bit more stubborn than most and kept going against Patrick’s advice. He stuck with me through the process, though, and helped save the day a time or two.
I’d offered to take him out for drinks after that, but I’d never gotten around to calling.
“This is Patrick Aimes,” he answered.
“Hi, Patrick—it’s Taylor O’Brian. Thanks for picking up the phone.”
“Hi, Taylor. Is everything all right?”
“With me, yes,” I said. “With my friend Tim Slade, not so much.”
“What’s going on?”
“We found a dead man floating in one of Tim’s grape vats. It turned out to be Jeffery Hoag, Tim’s girlfriend’s boss and a realtor that Tim got in a public fight with over zoning. Now Tim called me to say he’s been arrested and asked that I call you for him.”
“Where’s he being held?”
“At the sheriff’s office,” I said. “Can you take his case?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Patrick said. I could hear him get up, and it sounded like he was putting on his shoes.
I suddenly realized the time. It was after 9 P.M. “I’m sorry—did I catch you at home?”
“Just got home actually,” he said.
I felt the heat of embarrassment rush up my cheeks. “It’s a bit early to be home from a date,” I tried to tease, but it fell flat.
“I was at work,” he said. “Mrs. Pearson’s grandson got pulled over for a DUI.” He paused. “Were you fishing to find out if I’m seeing anyone? Because I’ve been waiting for you to call about that drink you promised me.”
“Me, fishing? Not really. I just didn’t want to interrupt.” My cheeks burned hotter.
“Taylor, when I’m with a beautiful woman, I don’t answer my phone. It’s that simple.”
“Oh, right.”
“And that drink?”
“I do owe you that,” I said with an embarrassed chuckle. “I’ve got this thing tomorrow night, but I’m free on Sunday.”
“Good—I’ll pick you up at eight.”
“Okay … nothing fancy, right? Just drinks.”
“Just drinks, Taylor,” he said with a warm chuckle. “But you can wear something fancy if you want.”
“Right—because I’m such a fancy girl,” I muttered.
“Bye, Taylor.”
“Thanks, Patrick!” I hung up and stared through my patio doors at the dark night sky. I should have called him a couple of weeks ago. The thing is, I thought maybe Ron Hennessey would’ve asked me out before this. Yes, I was kind of sweet on the sheriff. Trust me, he wasn’t as polished and handsome as Patrick, but there was something rough and action hero about him.
But he’d never called, and I couldn’t keep pining over something that never happened. It’s not that I didn’t like Patrick. I mean, what’s not to like? The man had a law degree from Berkeley and was movie-star handsome. He also was patient and kind with me. Any other lawyer would have given up on my antics, but not Patrick. It wouldn’t hurt to have a drink with the man.
Then I remembered Chelsea. I dialed her next.
“Hi, Taylor, what’s up?” I could hear that she was in a noisy place.
“Hi, Chels, where are you? Are you busy?”
“I’m at work,” she said. “Just put the finishes on tomorrow’s story. There was an inci
dent with a gang member at the train station today.”
“Oh no, was anyone hurt?”
“He threatened some kids, but a couple of good Samaritans stepped in and contained him. Turns out they were Marines on leave from Afghanistan. Great guys. It was a feel-good piece. How are you? I haven’t heard from you lately. Is everything all right?”
It was the second time in the last hour that I’d felt embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Chelsea,” I said. “I’ve been a bit self-absorbed. I’m still trying to get my business off the ground.”
“I keep telling you to go into murder mystery tours,” Chelsea teased. “Speaking of which, were you part of fishing that dead guy out of a vat of grape juice?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Is that what you’re calling for? Because if you’re giving me a scoop, all is forgiven on not calling me lately. We are friends, you know.”
“I’m the worst friend,” I said. “And yes, I’ll give you the scoop. Did you meet my friend Tim?”
“Hmmm, Tim … I don’t know—is he cute?”
“He’s older and owns Rocky Path Winery … blond hair?”
“He’s the proprietor of the winery with the body in the vat?”
“Yes,” I said.
“We didn’t meet, but I’m happy to tour the place and get the scoop.”
“The scoop is that he is innocent, but they put a warrant out on him for murder,” I said. “He turned himself in a bit ago.”
“Oh, juicy,” Chelsea said with a laugh. “I’ll be over there within the hour.”
“Pack a bag,” I said. “You can stay with me at the poolhouse.”
“There’s more than the man’s arrest?”
“There’s this weird healing guru in town, and I thought you might help me dig up more information about him.”
“Did I mention you are my favorite friend?” Chelsea asked.
“I won’t tell Holly you just said that.”
“Oh, right, that was completely off the record. Do you want me to meet you at your place, or are you going to the jail?”
“I’ll meet you downtown.” I hung up and stood. I really should go see if there is anything I can do for Tim, or Mandy for that matter. She must be beside herself over this terrible turn of events.
Chapter 8
“Oh my gosh, Taylor.” Mandy rushed toward me the moment I entered the sheriff’s station. “I’m so glad you are here.” She smothered me in a Chanel hug. “Mateo called me at work to tell me about Tim. I’ve been trying to get in to see him ever since.”
“I don’t think you can visit like a hospital,” I said. “Tim called me, and I sent Patrick Aimes out. He’s a lawyer and a good one. He helped me in my last run-in with the law.”
“A lawyer.” Mandy pressed her fingers to her cheeks. “I didn’t think of getting Tim a lawyer. Is he going to be in there all night? Are they going to make him wear an orange jumpsuit? You know how he feels about other people’s clothing and such.”
“They will have already put him in the jumpsuit,” I said from experience. “He will have to wait until he goes before the judge for a bail hearing. Then if he makes bail, he can get out.”
“How long will that take?” Her eyes were wide and she looked horrified.
“It takes twenty-four to forty-eight hours,” I said. “It could take longer, but we have Patrick, so I’m sure it will be only a day or two before Tim gets out. Are you staying at the house?”
“I was, but I haven’t been out there since the murder. I certainly won’t stay there alone,” she said. “I’ve been staying with my sister. My boss was murdered not a hundred yards from the back door. You can’t pay me to sleep in that house again.”
“I’m sure you would be safe,” I said. “Who’s taking care of Maisie?” Maisie was Tim’s beloved dachshund. She was a farm dog and usually left to run free, except at night when Tim called her in to spend the evening on the couch with him or in bed.
“Oh, Maisie—I forgot about her. I’ll call Emily, the pet sitter who takes care of Maisie when Tim’s in Seattle on business.” She pulled out her phone and dialed.
“Wait—does this Emily have a key to the house?”
“Sure, she watches Maisie on a moment’s notice,” Mandy says. “Why?”
“We need to see if she was at the winery the night the guy was murdered,” I said.
“No, she wouldn’t have been,” Mandy said. “I left that night, and Tim was still there. There would have been no reason for Emily to be there.”
“If it were a stranger, though, wouldn’t Maisie have alerted Tim that someone was on the property?”
“Sometimes,” Mandy said and pursed her lips in thought. “I’m not sure she would bark at a stranger—we have visitors most every day at the winery.”
“So Maisie may not have barked had she witnessed a stranger at the winery.”
“She might have gone out to investigate without barking. Sometimes Maisie will go to the door and ask out. We’ll open the patio door, and off she’ll go. Tim doesn’t generally worry about her since there are so many acres between us and cars and such.”
“Did you see anyone at the winery when you left that night?”
“Gosh, not that I can remember,” Mandy said. “I was pretty peeved at Tim. He said some bad things about Dr. Brinkman, and the thing is, he has never once attended a seminar to see just how smart and gifted Dr. Brinkman is. Poor Tim—he could really use Dr. Brinkman’s spiritual guidance.”
“Can I help you, ladies?” A deputy stood behind the front desk and studied us. He was tall, with dark hair and blue eyes. His name tag said “Bloomberg,” and I remembered he had been at the crime scene, questioning my group.
“We’re here to check on our friend,” I said.
Just then Sheriff Hennessey walked by the front desk. “I’ve got this,” he said to Deputy Bloomberg. “Taylor, what are you doing here?”
“Tim asked me to call Patrick,” I said. “I came down to see if there was anything I could do.”
“There is nothing to do,” Sheriff Hennessey said. “Go home. It will be at least twenty-four hours before a bail hearing.”
“Did you happen to check on Maisie?” I asked.
“Who?”
“Tim’s dog, Maisie. She might have evidence as to what happened that night.”
“A dog could have evidence?” He sounded incredulous.
“Well, she might have come in contact with the killer and have—I don’t know—a hair or something in her fur.”
“You’ve been watching too many police shows,” Ron said. “To begin with, there is no way to prove that any evidence we may find on Maisie came from the night in question. Even if we did find something, it will be months before it can get analyzed. I’m sorry, Taylor—you’re reaching. Maisie isn’t a smoking gun.”
“Maybe not, but she should have barked when the FDA inspector entered the barns.”
“Not if Tim went out to meet him,” Ron said.
“Well, what about Mr. Hoag’s car? Did you find it? I mean how did he get out to the winery without a vehicle?”
“We’re looking into that.” Ron put his hands on his hips. “Taylor, when are you going to trust me to do my job?”
“When you don’t arrest my friends for crimes they didn’t commit.”
“Taylor? Why are you here?” Patrick asked as he walked into the lobby area from behind the door. The man was gorgeous in an open-necked dress shirt and slacks.
“I’m checking on Tim,” I said. “Did you see him? How is he?”
“Yes,” Mandy said. “How is my Tim? Is he doing okay?”
“Who are you?” Patrick asked.
“Mandy Richards,” she said and stuck out her hand. “Tim’s girlfriend.”
“Are you the one who was living with him during the night in question?”
“ ‘The night in question’?” she asked and looked at me to interpret.
“The day the guy died.”
“Oh, yes
,” she brightened. “Tim and I had a bit of an argument, and I went to spend the night with my sister.”
“That’s pretty convenient,” Patrick said.
“My sister lives nearby,” Mandy said. “She knows I love Tim, but sometimes he gets a bit sour. When he’s in a bad mood, I prefer to spend time with nicer people.”
“When did you leave that night?” Patrick asked.
I noticed that Ron leaned on the edge of the reception counter and watched the exchange.
“I’m not sure,” Mandy said. “Nine-ish maybe. We were supposed to go out for dinner—Tim loves fancy dinners. We had reservations, but he was being mean about my new opportunity, so I left.”
“What new opportunity?” Patrick asked.
“I’m going to be a spokesperson for Dr. Brinkman. He’s a healer and a visionary. He’s been talking to God and says the world is in desperate need of change. I’m going to help him with his cause.”
“Was this Dr. Brinkman there that night?” Patrick asked.
“Oh, goodness me, no,” Mandy said. “No, no, no. He wouldn’t bother to come to where I live. He’s above making money and all that, you know.”
“I see,” Patrick said.
“Hi, people,” Chelsea said as she walked through the door. “What’d I miss?”
“We’re not making an official statement until morning,” Sheriff Hennessy said.
“Patrick?” Chelsea asked and took out her phone and hit her Dictaphone app to record.
“My client is innocent,” Patrick said. “It’s best if this doesn’t hit the papers. It may cause people to form an opinion before they should.”
“Well, we’re not about giving people opinions,” Chelsea said. “The news is about the truth. That truth is that your client, Tim Slade, has been arrested for the murder of Jeffery Hoag, who was found dead in one of Mr. Slade’s wine vats.”
“It’s still early,” Patrick said. “I think the police are fishing.”
“It’s more than fishing,” Sheriff Hennessey said and crossed his arms. “It takes a lot of evidence to make an arrest.”
Seven Deadly Zins Page 6