The Caspian Wine Mystery/Suspense/Thriller Series

by Maggie Thom

  Tarin blinked at her a couple of times, tempted to look over her shoulder to see if there was someone behind her. “Yes. I’m fine. Things are good. Graham and I have come to a bit of an understanding. We still have a few things to work out.”

  “Yeah, he barks and you—”

  “No, it’s not like that anymore. He’s mellowed some. I guess I brought out the worst in him. Guy has said a few times he’d never seen him so growly in the eight years he’s known him.”

  “Oh? Hmm. Interesting. Anyway, I really do have to run. Hey, do you want to do lunch sometime?”

  “I’d love that. Do you think you could show me Caspian Winery at some point?”

  “Sure,” Bailey nodded. “I’ll call you.”

  Tarin rattled off her cell number before Bailey slipped out the door. Feeling a little out of sorts, she was tempted to sit there and contemplate their odd conversation but then she realized maybe it was awkward because she’d never really talked to Bailey before. The soft ding from her computer reminded her she had a lot of work to do.

  She quickly logged on to her site. There were fourteen more women who had asked to join. A few shared their story but none were what Tarin was looking for.

  I shouldn’t be sharing this with you but I’m being asked to do something that is so wrong. But if I don’t, he’ll hurt my family. I thought I was rid of this man. I did something that might end everything for me. I hate being bullied. I’m standing up to him in a roundabout way. I didn’t know what else to do. Sorry I needed to vent with someone. LJ

  LJ, I’m sorry you’re in this situation. I know what it’s like to have an abusive man in your life. I’m currently trying to leave mine. Can you go to the police? I know he’s probably threatened you if you do but if you don’t... I don’t know what to tell you to do. I ran. I don’t know that it’s the best advice. Maybe you’ve done the best thing. If I can help, I’m here. Tarin.

  After she replied, she wished there was something she could do. There were way too many women in situations similar to this. She hated feeling so helpless. Skimming through the other information, she realized there was nothing more from the other two women. She sent a personal email welcoming each new member. She posted some new information. There was nothing new from any of the women. None of those she had questioned had responded, so she logged off.

  Graham hadn’t come out to check on her, but she knew he wouldn’t be pleased that she was over an hour late. For whatever reason, Chance hadn’t wanted her to leave that morning. He’d clung to her crying. It made her feel all the more guilty for what she’d put him through and if truth be told, she hadn’t really wanted to go to the office at all.

  Pushing away her thoughts, she quickly opened K.A.’s emails. The first one stopped her. There was nothing special about it except for the banner that had been included. It was the same logo on the paper left underneath her when Tarin had awakened from her week-long drugged state. It was one of the only clues she had.

  The logo for Caspian Winery wasn’t out of the ordinary; but seeing it on something sent to Knights Associates looking exactly like that piece of paper stuck to her back, hit home like nothing else had.

  It’s run by an eighty-year-old woman. It didn’t even make sense but it was all she had to go on. She couldn’t stop staring at it. In her gut she knew it was the link she needed. She was tempted to connect the USB from the winery. There was no way she could do it during the day, she didn’t want to be found with something so incriminating. It reminded her of the information she’d been accused of stealing at school, only that time she hadn’t stolen it. She’d barely been able to use computers back then. She still had no idea who’d set her up.

  Being caught was not something she was ready to go through again. The best place to look over that information would be through the office but how was she going to do that? Her brilliant midnight run had turned out to be her usual screw-up. She’d have to try again. She didn’t have a choice. She needed to know what connection Caspian Winery had to her. One question from that situation three years was ago reverberated through her mind: Had she gone willingly?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Graham. Calling to let you know your suit’s in. Go down to Jasper’s Menswear so they can get you measured and fitted. Today. Tomorrow. That would be great.”

  Graham hit the delete button on the message. Guy was going to drive him just a little crazy with his wedding. The good news was he only had two months or so left to listen to him. Not that he begrudged the guy the awesome woman he was marrying or the fact he was getting hitched. Graham stopped himself in midthought. Okay that’s bullshit. Then he laughed as he realized jealousy’s ugly head had reared itself, something he’d sworn would never happen to him.

  Guy and Bailey were good together. It had taken Guy two years to wear down Bailey’s adamant resolve that they needed more time to get to know each other. She wanted to make certain she wasn’t suffering from the woman-in-jeopardy syndrome, since Guy had rescued her from her uncle. The whole thing still made him scratch his head. Crazy didn’t even adequately describe how they’d met or what they’d been through. Graham was thankful they were going to have a happy ending. What concerned him was all they’d gone through to find each other. The whole concept was a little off his radar and if the only way he could find the same kind of happiness was to go through a similar ordeal, no thanks. All he had to do was show up, be the best man and then run like hell.

  He checked over the email listing all the tasks Tarin had completed the day before. The little lull they’d had in business requests hadn’t lasted long. They’d been hit with a deluge again. It was bizarre and he didn’t understand why. He didn’t have time to ponder it, though, but he had to admit Tarin had made it much easier. She’d honed it to an awesome science. She’d open the emails and put them through a ten-step crap test—his title for it, not hers. The ones she could eliminate, she put in a file in case there was something there they could check out later. Then she’d put the ones she was pretty sure were bogus in its own file. Then those that appeared both promising and legit despite remaining questions would go into another. That left those that were definitely legit—or at least as much as they could tell without a deep dive. The interesting thing was about twenty percent of them now seemed to be real—way up from the five percent when they’d first been hit.

  It made him wonder if they were being tested, perhaps to see if they were any good before they were hired. He needed to figure out a way to configure a trap, tracing some of the emails back to their source.

  “We’ve got a problem.”

  Yeah and I’m looking at them. Graham looked up and nodded at Guy, who was just entering the office. “What? You put on too much weight? You’re turning into a fat, married man before you’ve even gotten hitched?”

  “Ha-ha. Funny. No, unfortunately it’s more serious than that. A wine shipment headed for Calgary got hijacked.”

  Graham’s head jerked up. “Who steals a truckload of wine?”

  “Wine lovers?”

  “Is there really a demand for that kind of alcohol on the black market?”

  “If it can make money, I’d say yes.”

  “Jesus, something is fishy. I mean fishier than normal fishy.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. We need to see if we can help in any way.”

  “Any leads?”

  “Nope. The truck was stopped by two armed men. The driver said he was sure they were using machine guns.”

  Graham looked him in disbelief. “Really. In Canada? That’s got to be a new one. The driver’s okay?”

  “Yup. It happened late in the evening, little traffic. Well planned by the sound of it. They took his cell phone and smashed it and then drove away in the truck. They left him by the side of the road in the middle of Saskatchewan. Another trucker stopped about an hour later and picked him up.”

  “So they had a good head start?”

  “And no leads. The driver is being questioned.�
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  “‘K. Let me see if I can find anything about a black market for wine. That still sounds odd to me but I guess if it’ll make money, it’s up for grabs. How’s Dorothea doing?”

  Guy shrugged. “Upset. Never has anything like this ever happened before. Two incidents in a little under a month is too much. Oh and guess what I found out today? She’s already hired an assistant. Her name is LJ Brown.”

  Graham looked at Guy’s drooping eyelids. The long days and late nights of trying to catch the bad guy was wearing on him. “Oh-oh. What do you know about her?”

  “Dorothea interviewed her, checked her out or so she says and hired her immediately. She’s convinced this woman is legit. Grandma says she has sources besides us. God, I’m worried about her.”

  Graham thought back to the rides he’d given her. Oh wow, is that what she was up to? He was tempted to mention it to Guy, but the way Guy was pacing and rubbing his forehead, he didn’t look like he could take too much more.

  “Your grandmother is a smart woman who’s been running that business for what, fifty years? She’s pretty savvy.”

  “Yeah but since Geoff—” Guy suddenly dropped into his chair behind his desk, leaning back.

  “She won’t make the same mistake again. And don’t worry, I’ll check out the woman.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Oh and Dorothea wants us to find someone—the granddaughter of Charles Cooper, owner of Cooper-Lite Hotels.”

  “I’ll add it to the list but do we have to make it a priority?”

  “Well, to her everything she asks us to do is high priority. Add it to the list; when you have time look into it, but we have a few other things to solve first. I’ll stall her on it. I want to know more about this LJ first.”

  Graham was about to close out the email account he’d been browsing when one of the subject lines caught his attention.

  ‘Shipment of wine for sale, 70% off.’

  He glowered at it. Finally, he looked up and was about to mention it to his partner when he discovered Guy’s chin had dropped to his chest and he was snoring softly.

  Why would someone drop this in our lap?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Tarin poured herself a glass of wine and sat on the couch. As she sipped her drink, she realized it had been months since she’d last enjoyed a drink—well, except for that slight slip at the office that still made her want to bury her head in shame. Thankfully Graham hadn’t brought it up.

  Chance had finally fallen asleep, and she hoped he stayed that way. He’d been quite fussy earlier, whining and clinging, signs she wouldn’t get anything done if he woke up.

  “Tarin? Kim and I are going out for a couple of hours.”

  “All right. Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, just going over to Mom’s.”

  Tarin stiffened. “Uh, she hasn’t or won’t—”

  “Don’t worry. She hasn’t talked with your dad... in... uhm, a while. She’ll keep quiet. I promise. She’s on one of her usual spending sprees and I need to put some brakes on her. In her bubble, money grows on trees. Anyway, we’ll see you later.”

  “Have fun.”

  She had really wanted to return to the office, but she couldn’t figure out what lie to tell Bobbie this time. As they prepared to leave, Tarin had a brainstorm to use her friend’s computer. She should be able to wipe it afterward so Bobbie wouldn’t have a clue she’d used it. She didn’t want to involve her friend any more than she had to.

  She waited a good ten minutes after they left before coming to her feet. After a quick check on her sleeping son, she made her way upstairs. She plugged the USB into the port and logged on. There were reams of information to sift through and since she really had no idea what she was looking for, she snooped through a lot. Most had to do with sales, business contacts, shipping logs, nothing that was overly helpful. She skimmed through nearly everything she had but there wasn’t anything that really jumped out at her. Sighing heavily, she rested her elbows on the table and placed her chin on her hands. Disappointment filled her as she stared at the screen. What had made her think she’d find anything there? As she was about to close out the files, a niggling little voice urged her to keep looking, so she opened even the deepest buried files, some of which were twenty folders deep. But there was really nothing; just drafts and old files that really should have been deleted and some information stored in a backup file and archived. Frustrated and very bored, she skimmed through about five more. Fed up but not quite ready to quit she clicked on one, not expecting anything of importance. When she saw it was a group of pictures, she was about to close it out when what she was looking at finally registered.

  She blinked a few times in disbelief. She flipped through a few of the fifty or so pictures that involved the man from whom she’d stolen the information—photos she would never have guessed in a million years that he would be involved with. He appeared like someone’s middle-aged, kind-hearted uncle in contrast to what she was viewing now.

  Could he be the creep behind her lost week? There was nothing familiar about him but as she skimmed through a few of the photos and the vulgarity of the acts, she knew anything was possible. He was doing some unspeakable sex acts. She clapped her hand over her mouth and had to look away for a long moment as her nervous stomach threatened to lose her supper.

  They were perverted but they weren’t illegal. Realizing everything she was staring at would most likely remain in her subconscious forever, she finally closed it out. As she clicked on a few more files, she realized they were encrypted. It struck her as odd that he wouldn’t have encrypted the photos, as potentially damaging as they were. She tried a few procedures in an attempt to open the files but nothing she did worked. It would take a special program to break the encryption. She hoped they were answers, maybe even financial files that would show some payments to help her figure out who was behind, all that had and was going on with her life.

  Her computer downstairs would work but she didn’t want to chance it. She had discovered that Stephen had secretly accessed the GPS for her car, which was still in Calgary so it didn’t matter but the one on her phone did bother her. Both had been disabled but she wasn’t taking a chance—she knew with him being the control freak he was, he could very well have installed something that she hadn’t found on her computer.

  The only other place that would have the software that she needed was at work. She dropped her head into her hands. What am I thinking?

  Deciding she had a good opportunity to see if anyone had responded, she logged onto her website. There were several requests to join, some sharing some basic information and appreciation for her website but there wasn’t any in response to her emails. Sighing heavily, she was about to close out when an email came in.

  ‘I’ll meet with you but don’t expect me to spill my guts. I want to know who you are. And more about your story. Maybe then I’ll tell...’

  The email went on to suggest a little restaurant where they could meet on Friday morning. Excitement coursed through Tarin like an electric charge. She hit reply and agreed to the time and date. She had no idea how she was going to get out of work but she’d think of something.

  As she was logging off, she remembered that she’d intended to get a new birth certificate. She accessed the government agency website and read what information was needed—information she didn’t have, at least not yet.

  She heard Chance whimpering and hurriedly closed out everything, quickly erasing her tracks from Bobbie’s computer while praying that she hadn’t made a big mistake.

  She went downstairs to check on her son. He was sitting up crying, his little cheeks bright red. His arms thrust into the air at her. He was her reason for everything she was doing. She crawled into bed beside him and snuggled with him. Several lullabies later, he finally fell back asleep while she lay wide-awake for hours, trying to figure out how to use her computer at work without getting caught again.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine


  “I thought you should know she’s applying for another birth certificate. Or was trying. I stopped it of course.”

  “Dammit. Why now?”

  “I don’t know. You also need to know that she’s living back in Ontario.”

  “What? Where?”

  “I’m still checking on that. I happened to catch her as she was applying. My first thought was to shut her down quickly. I never really thought about her address. Sorry.”

  “Jesus. Get me that information. I want Tarin found. I want her brought to me before she causes more problems.”

  “Oh?” Cal felt sick to his stomach. This was what he’d wanted to avoid.

  “I’ll straighten her out. A little time with me and she’ll start acting accordingly, doing as I ask. Find her, bring her back. I want this to end.”

  “Yes sir. I’ll find her.” Long after the call had ended, he sat immobile. What if Cal found her and then HE didn’t want him around anymore? The streets were a great place to learn to look after oneself but there was no way he was going back to that way of life. The man that had saved him and had told him he was the son he’d never had but always wanted. But the truth was that nothing ever replaced blood ties.

  He clicked on his computer and opened his emails. He flipped through the twenty or so that he normally got. All were from different websites where he’d registered to receive their information. He clicked to open a few more in an effort to distract himself more than anything else. The next thing he knew his monitor was displaying a blaring message that read that his computer was locked because he’d been caught performing cybercrimes and if he didn’t pay within a short period of time, the RCMP would be at his door to arrest him.

  “Son-of-a-bitch.” He wanted to chuck the damn laptop across the room but managed to stop himself. Someone had sent him a ransomware virus. Standing, he kicked his chair which spun into the far corner, slamming against the bookshelf. His prized bronze statue of a bum lying on a bench, a reminder of what he wasn’t going back to, tumbled off the shelf and landed with a loud thump on the floor. “Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.”