Seven Deadly Zins

by Nancy J. Parra

  She popped her head out from behind a shelf. “Taylor, what brings you here?”

  “I was checking on you,” I said. “Are you okay? We didn’t get a chance to talk last night, and I hadn’t heard from you.” I pulled out my phone and wiggled it to emphasize that she was usually a mere text away.

  “Oh yes, I’m fine,” Holly said and stepped out into the aisle. “I’m sorry. I dropped my phone last night, and it hasn’t been working well. I planned to take it to the store later today.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried after yesterday night. I know you really were into Dr. Brinkman.”

  She hugged her waist. Today Holly wore over-the-knee boots and a floaty dress with peekaboo sleeves. “That was terrible, wasn’t it? I mean, we bought tickets, thinking we were listening to the actual Dr. Brinkman speak, and here it turns out it was not Dr. Brinkman at all.”

  “I know—that was odd,” I said and narrowed my eyes. “How did you know about the body double? I thought Dr. Brinkman’s group was keeping that a secret.”

  “It’s on the website,” she said.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. I checked the website at noon today to see if they had any information on when the memorial would be, and there was an announcement about the guys trained in the Brinkman Method. I mean, it’s nice that they are going to continue his great work, but I thought we were listening to the real deal. It turns out Dr. Brinkman hasn’t lectured in over a year.”

  “I’m sorry you’re disappointed.”

  “I’m not the only one. It’s causing quite the uproar.”

  “I imagine a lot of people are feeling duped right about now.”

  “What about Mandy?” Holly asked. “Did she know?”

  “She did. And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Dr. Brinkman I saw Mandy kissing.”

  “Oh, you think she’s sneaking around with one of the doubles?”

  “I didn’t have the guts to come out and ask her,” I said and frowned. “I wanted to see if she knew anything about who might have wanted the doctor dead. If I’d accused her of cheating on Tim, she might not have talked to me.”

  “Did she know anything?”

  “Just about the doubles, but I guess everyone knows about them now. They arrested Tim for Dr. Brinkman’s death.”

  “I heard,” Holly said. “You don’t think he did it?”

  “I really don’t. I mean anyone could have found out about the doubles and been angry enough to kill Dr. Brinkman. Tim is not a murderer.”

  “You talked to Mandy, right?”

  “Yes, she had some interesting things to say about Senator Paul Sutter. It seems he might have had a connection to both Jeffery and Dr. Brinkman. Chelsea is looking into the Senator now.”

  “It’s all a big mess,” Holly said. “And then my phone gets messed up, and to top it all off the water in my apartment has been turned off.”

  “What? Why?”

  “There was a water-main break, and they cut the water for the next day while they fix it.”

  “That does it: you’re coming home with me.” I took her hand and pulled her out of the back room and over to Aunt Jemma. “We need another girls’ night, don’t we, Aunt Jemma?”

  “Oh, I’ll bring the wine,” Aunt Jemma said. Her pale blue eyes twinkled.

  “I know,” Holly said, brightening. “Let’s have a séance and see if we can’t contact Dr. Brinkman. Wouldn’t it be cool if he could tell us who killed him? Or why?” Her eyes widened with delight. “Can you schedule your psychic to come and help us with the reading?”

  “It would be last minute,” Aunt Jemma mused and tapped her chin. “But it would be worth it if we can gain insights and help Tim.”

  “I’m in,” I said and pulled out my phone. “Can I invite Chelsea?”

  “Of course,” Aunt Jemma said. “The more, the merrier. We can make a huge salad and grill steaks. I love a girls’ night out.” She rubbed her hands together. “Now, let me see if I can’t get a hold of my psychic friend, Sarah. Frankly, it would be good for her to come out to the winery, if for no other reason than to do a general cleansing. Things have been a bit dark lately.”

  “This is great,” I said, “but keep in mind we can’t stay up too late. I have a tour in the morning.”

  “Where are you touring now?” Holly asked as she gathered up her things and waved goodbye to Miss Finglestein.

  “I’ve got a group of ladies from New Jersey who are out for a weekend of wining and dining. I called The Timbers and spoke to Jeremy.”

  “Isn’t he a doll?” Holly said with a twinkle in her eye.

  “Yes, I worked out a deal with him for my tour groups and got rooms at The Timbers. He said they were prepping for the grand opening and could use a few dry runs with having guests. The restaurant wasn’t quite ready, but the ladies got a deal for being test subjects. They want a full day of Sonoma hospitality. I’m going to take them on a short hike and then off to the sculpture gardens, three wineries, and a meal in town at the best restaurant.”

  “Fancy,” Holly said. “Are you sure they want to tour around in your VW van?”

  I laughed. “Yes, they want the full experience, from funky to outdoors to fine dining.”

  “And you are the perfect woman to give them the experience,” Aunt Jemma said. “The only thing missing is a séance.”

  “I think one night full of ghosts is good enough.”

  “I’ll go get my overnight case and meet you back at the winery,” Holly said. “Thank you both for taking such good care of me.” She gave Aunt Jemma a squeeze and blew her air kisses. Then she hugged me and hurried down the street to her apartment building.

  “I’m going to see what I have to do to bribe Sarah into coming out for the séance,’ Aunt Jemma said. “I’ll meet you at home.”

  “I’ll see you in a bit.” I texted Chelsea as I crossed the road and looked up when a car honked. “Sorry!”

  “You should be more careful,” Bruce said from behind the wheel of his black Toyota. “Outliers,” he shouted and drove off.

  My phone vibrated, and I waited until I was safely inside my car to check it.

  I’ll be happy to come, Chelsea texted. I have some interesting information on the Senator.

  Anything we can use to save Tim? I texted back.

  Not sure. We’ll talk soon, she responded.

  I studied the sleepy streets of Sonoma. “A senator, a guru, and a realtor walk into a bar …” I muttered. “There’s a joke in there somewhere.” I started up the van and pulled out into the road. Whatever the joke was, I don’t think Tim was laughing.

  Chapter 20

  “Sarah will be here in an hour,” Aunt Jemma said and handed me a glass of zinfandel.

  I was out on the patio, grilling fish. Holly had arrived a few minutes earlier, and I put her to work making the fresh salad. “Do you still have the table set up in the den?”

  Millie barked as if to answer my question. She ran around the patio chasing whatever caught her attention. Clemmie sat on the cushion of the outdoor settee and licked her paws. She had her eyes on my salmon, and I knew I’d slip her a morsel or two once it was cooked. It was a ritual. We both pretended that it wouldn’t happen and then that it didn’t happen. I loved my pets in all their silliness.

  For all Aunt Jemma complained of Clemmie, I’d seen her sneak the cat a bit of chicken on occasion. So the curmudgeonry about my cat was all for show.

  “Yes, everything is still set up in the den,” Aunt Jemma said. “I did a sage smudge to cleanse it of any residual energy from the last séance.”

  “You mean your fake-out,” I teased.

  “It wasn’t fake to the group,” Aunt Jemma said airily, and picked Clemmie up and placed her on the ground. Then my aunt draped herself across the settee and basked in the fading light of a cool California fall day. She sipped her wine. “I do my research, and Sarah has taught me a thing or two.”

  “She won’t be playing tricks with us
tonight, will she?” I asked, waving the metal spatula around. “I’m serious about figuring out how to get Tim out of jail and keep him out.”

  “You are a good friend,” Aunt Jemma said.

  “Tim’s not a bad man.”

  “I heard you questioned Mandy today.”

  “I asked her a few questions. But nothing hardball,” I said. “I want her to think I’m on her side. That way she might confide in me.”

  “They say you catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar. It’s something more people should understand. The world would be a better place.”

  “I’ve got salad,” Holly said as she came out onto the patio, carrying a large wooden bowl full of colorful fresh veggies. Holly’s salads were to die for. I asked her once to teach me how to make them. She said you simple reproduce the rainbow. Start with deep green things like spinach and kale, and then add romaine and cucumbers, green peppers and green onions. Then you go to red and chop in radishes, red peppers, and red onion (if you didn’t put in scallions). Next is orange peppers and then yellow peppers. White was mushrooms, and then you finished with black olives. Literally as many colors of the rainbow as you could place in a single bowl. Then she tossed all of that and drizzled it with red wine vinegar and olive oil.

  All I could say was “Yum!”

  Chelsea came walking through the living room and out to the patio. “Hello! I rang the bell, but no one answered, so I came in.”

  “Millie didn’t even bark,” I said, and I looked down at the puppy, who was bouncing around Chelsea’s legs. “Some guard dog you are.”

  “You really shouldn’t leave your door unlocked,” Chelsea said. “Not with a killer on the loose.”

  “I suppose you are right, dear,” Aunt Jemma said. “We do have people coming in for our tasting hours. We should lock the house doors.”

  “Grab a plate—the salmon and salad is ready,” I said. “Aunt Jemma is pouring the wine.”

  We all filled our plates, then sat around the brick fireplace and ate while we watched the fire pop and snap in the hearth. “Okay,” I said as I sipped wine, “Chelsea what did you find out about the Senator? Is he as evil as Mandy made him out to be?”

  “It’s true that Senator Sutter had the zoning commission looking at the wineries around Tim. But I can’t connect that to who supported his campaign. It looks like he had some real estate thing going on, so we really can’t say he was targeting only certain wineries.”

  “Hmm,” I said. “Aunt Jemma, did you get any zoning commission inquiries?”

  “Oh, heavens, not recently,” she said. “In fact I was surprised that the commission was looking at any property in the county. We’re pretty traditional here. Old families and old wineries. It’s rare that the zoning commission does anything but rezone areas for highways and such. Wait—they aren’t considering a highway, are they?”

  “No highway improvements that I could tell,” Chelsea reassured her. “I do think Senator Sutter is up to something, but not murder.”

  “What about Senator Sutter’s feud with Dr. Brinkman? Did you find out anything there?” I asked.

  “The only thing I found was that Dr. Brinkman petitioned to have some land zoned for multiple housing. The Senator turned him down. There is a document that said the Senator did not want communes in his district.”

  “I don’t think the guru was going to have a commune,” I said doubtfully.

  “Oh, he was trying to raise money to start a retreat house,” Holly said. “It’s in the brochure I got from Mandy.”

  “I don’t see why the Senator would protest a retreat house,” Aunt Jemma said. “It sounds like a nice thing. I bet it would bring in tourists from around the country.”

  “The brochure said it would bring in people from around the world,” Holly said.

  “But the Senator stalled the permits,” Chelsea said. “Something about water rights on the property.”

  “What did Dr. Brinkman do about it? Do you know? Did he threaten him or something?”

  “There’s no record of any threats,” Chelsea said.

  “We should check Dr. Brinkman’s social media pages,” Holly said. She grabbed her phone. “I think they are still up. We can’t see private messages, but we might see comments.”

  “That’s a good idea,” I pulled up my phone and checked for Dr. Brinkman. The guru had a lot of social media pages. It was clear he was social media savvy.

  “I didn’t see anything on his main page,” Chelsea said.

  “You know, girls, you can simply call people and ask them,” Aunt Jemma said. “I know it’s old-fashioned, but it does work.”

  “Who could we call?” I asked.

  “I know Elsa Smith in the permits department for the county. I also know Mary Persimmon, the realtor who handles those kinds of properties. Then there’s Sarah.”

  “The psychic?” Holly said and drew her eyebrows together in confusion.

  “Yes, the psychic,” Aunt Jemma said. “Sarah is really plugged into the community. She knows everything that’s going on. People tend to confide in her, you know.”

  “Of course,” I said and leaned back. “You didn’t invite her here just for a reading.”

  Aunt Jemma smiled.

  “Well, let me get you some more wine,” I said and stood. “You deserve it.” I took my plate and the other empties and brought them into the kitchen. Then I grabbed a new bottle of wine. I glanced outside and saw that a car had pulled up. Sarah got out. You would think a psychic would dress like Aunt Jemma, all robes and turbans and flowing clothes. Not Sarah. She dressed in a simple black sheath dress and sandals. Her black hair was pin straight and flowed in a curtain to the middle of her back. Her olive skin was flawless, and her brown eyes filled with empathy and expression.

  I opened the door before she could knock. “Hi, Sarah,” I said. “Come on in. Everyone’s out on the patio. I grilled some salmon, and there’s one of Holly’s fantastic salads, if you’re hungry.”

  “Hi, Taylor—I’m good,” she said. “But a glass of wine would be nice.”

  “Perfect. Go on out and I’ll get you a glass.”

  Sarah was in her early forties but looked ten years younger. She always made me feel somehow not quite up to snuff.

  I grabbed a glass and went out to the patio. Sarah had pulled up a chair next to Aunt Jemma and was laughing with the girls. I handed her a glass and then uncorked the bottle and poured wine for everyone. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers,” everyone said before sipping.

  “That is wonderful,” Sarah said and settled back. “Now, I understand you all have questions. Do you want a séance, or can we simply talk over wine?”

  “Oh, I was hoping for a séance,” Holly said. “I love all the mystery and such. I mean, you can’t just talk to dead people without the whole ceremony, can you?”

  “Of course you can,” Sarah said. “The whole dark room and table and hands touching is to help people get in the right mood to receive messages. If I simply walked up to someone on the street and said your grandmother is worried that you spend too much time alone, the person would think I was a kook. But if they come to you, and you light a candle and close your eyes and ask for their grandmother to come, well, then they are completely ready to receive the message.”

  “Oh,” Holly said, her eyes wide. “So can you talk to my grandmother?”

  “What would you like me to say to her?”

  “I guess I would like to know that she’s okay and happy.”

  “She says she is,” Sarah said. “She also says she’s disappointed with your brother’s recent girlfriend.”

  “Oh, right, Valerie is not all that into Ethan,” Holly said. “We all told him he should be with someone who really cares about him. But he’s smitten.” She paused. “Wait—we just met. You wouldn’t know that unless …”

  “I was talking to your grandmother?” Sarah asked gently.

  “Okay, I’m sold,” Holly said.

  “W
e’re looking into the recent murders,” I said. “Do you know anything about them?”

  “Which ones?” Sarah asked. “Sadly, a lot of murder victims come around looking for help.”

  “Oh,” Holly said, “that’s terrible.”

  Sarah shrugged and sipped her wine. “I have to tell some of them I can’t help them. So they go find someone else who can hear them.”

  “It must be crazy with all those people in your head,” Chelsea said.

  Sarah turned to her. “It’s sort of like sitting in a crowd all the time.”

  “Like a concert?” Holly asked.

  “Exactly,” Sarah said. “You learn to shift information to what’s relevant and let the rest go as noise.”

  “We’re interested in who killed Jeffery Hoag on my friend Tim’s winery,” I said.

  “We want to know if there is a connection between Jeffery’s death with the recent death of Dr. Brinkman,” Chelsea said.

  Sarah closed her eyes. “I’m not getting anything from a Jeffery. Wait … he drowned?”

  “I’m not sure if he drowned,” I said, “but he was found floating in a vat of wine must.”

  “Ah,” Sarah said, “he thinks he’s in darkness, and that has him confused.”

  “Does he know how he got there?” I asked and leaned forward.

  Sarah frowned. “No, he’s not sure where he is … I told him he was found floating in a vat.”

  We all sat in silence and waited on her next words.

  She kept her eyes closed as if concentrating on a faraway sound. “I asked him what he last remembers. He said he pulled up to the wine-tasting building. There was a woman there.”

  “What did she look like?” I asked.

  “Blond and pretty,” Sarah said. “But there was also a man. The two were making out on the bar. He thought they were tasters, but then he realized the woman was … Amanda?”

  “Tim’s Mandy?” I asked. “It had to be her. Was she working that day? Did Jeffery see her kissing Dr. Brinkman?”

  She paused. “Paper. He said he liked the old-fashioned paper and pencil because he was often in places where there was little cell service, and his notebook and pen were always in his pocket.”