A Good Day for Chardonnay

by Darynda Jones

“Occasionally, I have a shooting pain in my left elbow.”

  “On the case?”

  “Nothing yet, but I just got started on this one.”

  “Anything from the state crime lab?”

  “Not yet, but they said they probably wouldn’t get started on it until this morning.”

  She nodded, then looked at Quincy. “Anything new on Seabright?”

  “They’re going to lower his meds today. Try to wake him up.”

  “Okay. Good. Stay on that.” She headed into her office to get settled.

  Quincy followed her and stood in the doorway. “We good, boss?”

  “Wonderful. I had to put on my sunglasses just to open the refrigerator this morning. Other than that, it’s all good.” She swallowed a couple of painkillers, then dropped the bottle into her desk drawer.

  “I mean, you know, concerning—”

  “Quincy.” She walked from behind her desk and stood in front of him. “Last night is on both of us. You were right. It was worth a shot.”

  He nodded. “I agree. And just for the record”—he glanced over his shoulder then turned back to her—“you look amazing naked.”

  She laughed and pressed a palm to her temple. “So do you, handsome.”

  Anita, Sun’s admin and confidante, walked in from the front followed by one of Levi’s cousins. All the Ravinder men, aside from Levi and, surprisingly, Wynn, were stocky with sallow complexions and muddy brown hair. Joshua was no exception.

  “Joshua Ravinder would like to have a word with you,” Anita said, “if that’s okay, Sheriff.”

  He ripped off a faded baseball cap and stepped forward to shake her hand.

  Sun ignored it, raised an index finger in warning, and said as firmly as possible, “No.” Anita stopped short and blinked in surprise, but Sun rounded Quincy to come face-to-face with Joshua. “Absolutely not.”

  “What?” he asked, as confused as Anita.

  “I refuse to hear anything you have to say.”

  “You don’t have to listen.” He handed her a handwritten note.

  She scanned it, then glared at him. “No way.”

  “I’m sorry, Sheriff, but I—”

  “No way do you have better handwriting than I do.” It was perfect. The slant and loops all equal. The height a veritable straight line. Sun’s chicken scratch barely qualified as a written language, and Joshua Ravinder’s penmanship rivaled John Hancock’s?

  “Um,” he said, taken aback.

  She made a show of ripping the letter in half, then halved it again before handing it back.

  “Hey.” Disappointed, he tried to reconstruct it. “You have to take my confession.”

  “No, I don’t.” She turned and headed for her desk again, stopping short with his desperate plea.

  “But I did it,” he said, following her.

  After he stepped into her office, she closed the door, pointed to the chair across from hers, and said, “Sit,” before sitting herself.

  He obeyed instantly.

  She gave him a lengthy inspection, then asked, “What is going on? Why is everyone confessing?”

  “Everyone?” Either he was a really good actor, or he was genuinely surprised. “Who’s everyone?”

  It was her turn to be surprised. “You don’t know?”

  “Sheriff, I’m confessing because I did it. I killed my dad.”

  Sun hadn’t realized until that moment that Kubrick was Joshua’s dad. She softened under that knowledge, but tried not to show it. “No, you didn’t. So why are you in here trying to convince me that you did?”

  He lifted a shoulder and toyed with his cap like a child being scolded in the principal’s office.

  She leaned onto her elbows. “I could arrest you for submitting a false confession.”

  He lifted a shoulder again, and said meekly, “Not if I really did it.”

  Okay, fine. She’d go through the drill. “How was he killed?”

  Amusingly, the guy perked up with the question. “Stab wound in the chest.” He said it as though answering a question on a game show.

  “What kind of knife was it?”

  That tripped him up. He chewed a nail in thought, then said, “A Jimmy Lile split fourteen-tooth model FB Titanium Grey Cerakote with mirrored borders, a steel guard, and a green, nylon-wrapped handle.”

  Okay, that was specific. And pretty much the exact knife Rambo used in First Blood. “What was he wearing?”

  “Oh!” He thought back. “Probably a denim jacket and a plaid shirt.”

  “What were his hands tied with?”

  “Rope.”

  “We’re done.” She tossed a pen on her desk.

  “But you didn’t finish reading my letter. It was self-defense.”

  “Joshua, we’re up to fourteen confessions now. I get it. You figure by claiming self-defense, you’ll get off easy. You could even say you were rescuing me.”

  “You?” he asked, utterly lost if his expression were any indication. “I’m sorry, Sheriff, but what do you have to do with it?”

  She leaned back. “I want to know why everyone from Levi’s milkman to his pastor is filing a false confession.”

  He twisted the cap in his hands. “Ravinder’s the best thing to happen to this family in a long time, Sheriff.”

  Her heart swelled. It always amazed her that Levi, the youngest of the Ravinder men, had become the head of the entire clan and had earned the title of Ravinder. As far as she could tell, the others were all called by their first names.

  “The whole town, really,” he continued. He was right. Levi’s distillery employed dozens of Del Sol’s finest.

  “So, you’re all protecting him?” She knew the answer, of course, but wanted to hear it from him. She also wanted to know who was behind it. Levi would never put his people up to something like this.

  He studied the nail he’d chewed on earlier. “No, ma’am. Like I said, I did it.”

  “All right, then. Thank you, Joshua.” She stood and opened her door, inviting him to leave. He started to follow her but turned and put the torn letter on her desk.

  “Great!” Quincy yelled out in the bullpen. She looked over at him as she escorted Joshua out. “Just great. Randy ate my almonds.”

  When he threw an empty wrapper into his trash can, Sun couldn’t help but notice Rojas, whose desk was next to Quincy’s, cringe in guilt and turn away as he wiped salt off his mouth. Oh, yeah. He was going to fit right in.

  She saw their latest blasphemer out, then locked herself in her office to make a call. To make the call.

  After being transferred, put on hold, and transferred again, a female came onto the line with a short, to-the-point, “Danforth speaking.”

  “Yeah,” Sun said, lowering her voice, “I was wondering if you’re naked.”

  A high-pitched squeal nigh burst her eardrum. “Sunshine! Is it really you?”

  “It is if you’re naked.”

  “Oh, my God, how are you? How’s the sticks? How’s Auri? Is she willing to cut off her hair so I can make a wig out of it yet?”

  Sun laughed. “Not yet, but I think I’m wearing her down.”

  “Holy shit, it’s good to hear your voice.”

  Nancy Danforth was a hot mess who’d gotten Sun into more trouble than she had a right to back in the day. She’d started at the forensics lab at the New Mexico Department of Public Safety around the same time Sun started with Santa Fe PD. After a particularly brutal reaming they’d both received concerning a tainted blood sample—an incident that turned out to be neither of their faults—they’d bonded over a glass of wine and a case of Thin Mints.

  Not a box. A case.

  And they’d been close ever since.

  “What did I do to finally warrant a call from you? I was beginning to think you’d lost your voice, what with all the texts I get.”

  Sun cringed. “I’m sorry, Nancy. Turns out, sheriffing is a full-time gig. Who knew?”

  “I’m so proud of you, Sun.”r />
  “Thanks, love. But you and I both know I didn’t do a thing.” Nancy was one of the few people Sun had trusted enough to tell the truth about the election.

  “Doesn’t make it any less awesome. Oh!” she said before lowering her voice and asking, “Is this about the you-know-what?”

  Sun took a swig of coffee for courage, and said, “Yes, it is. Have you had a chance—”

  “I have.”

  Normally Sun’s stomach was made of stouter stuff, but it lurched at the thought of what was about to be revealed. “And … was there a match?”

  “There was.”

  Sun fought a wave of dizziness and chalked it up to her hangover when really it had more to do with the fact that Wynn was lying. He had to be. Somehow, he knew all—or most—of the sordid details of that night fifteen years ago, but the more Sun thought about it, the less she believed him.

  If he really did know Kubrick’s accomplice, he could’ve gotten everything from him. And with Levi’s ID bracelet clutched in Kubrick Ravinder’s hand, there was almost no way Levi was not involved. She just didn’t know to what degree. Nor to what end.

  Nancy rustled some papers, then asked, “Are you ready for this?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” She held her breath as Nancy spoke.

  “You were right. The blood on Kubrick Ravinder’s jacket belonged to another Ravinder.”

  Sun’s lids drifted shut.

  “His brother. Wynn Ravinder.”

  Sun sat silent for a solid minute, blinking back the encroaching darkness. He hadn’t been lying.

  When she didn’t respond, Nancy continued. “Seems he’s an inmate in the Arizona State Pen. Do you know him?”

  She sank against the back of her chair. “We’ve only recently become acquainted.”

  “Well, there’s about a gallon of blood that places him at that crime scene.”

  “And … and you’re sure?” Sun asked.

  “Admittedly, DNA evidence is not as exact a science as the public would believe, but yeah. He’s your guy, Sun. No doubt.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “Holy shit, indeed. I’ll get this report to you today. When are you coming to see me?”

  She fought through another wave of disbelief, then teased her with, “Call me when you’re naked.”

  Nancy giggled and hung up.

  Sun walked through a cloud of euphoria and into the bullpen.

  “I’m winning!” Salazar said to her. “Confession number fourteen puts me on top.”

  Both Salazar and Zee had come in while she was on the phone. Zee cast them both a saucy grin, as though she knew something no one else in the station did.

  That fact didn’t faze Sun. Somehow she made it to Quincy’s desk, but her BFF—whom she now knew every inch of—was watching Rojas as he walked to the front door to meet his tia Darlene.

  Quincy depressed the TALK button on his radio and said, “Poetry is in motion. Repeat, Poetry is in motion.” He chuckled and turned to Sun. “I’ve been waiting for days to say that.” When he got a look at her, however, he sobered and jumped to his feet. “What’s up, boss?”

  Darlene Tapia, Poetry Rojas’s honorary aunt, had brought a basket of homemade breakfast burritos for him and the gang. She handed it over, wrapped the uniformed deputy in her arms, and said, “I am so proud of you, mijo.” She set him back, licked her fingers, and tried to tame a recalcitrant cowlick with her spit.

  “Tia,” he said, feigning embarrassment, but he loved it. He adored the woman. Even though she’d only been a neighbor, not a blood relation, she’d practically raised him and his twin brother.

  “Boss?” Quincy repeated.

  “They got a match.”

  His face morphed into a grim expression. “Ravinder?”

  “Yes, but not the one we expected.”

  “No way.”

  She shook her head, still in disbelief. Why? Why would Wynn Ravinder come to her rescue? Why would he kill his own brother trying to save her, if that was what really happened?

  He sank back into his chair. “He was telling the truth.”

  “Looks like it.”

  Quincy stabbed her with a glare. “Then he was in on it. Your abduction. He had to be. Things went south and he and Kubrick fought. You can’t tell me he went there to save you.”

  “I don’t know, Quince. None of it makes any sense. There is a part of him that seems … almost noble.”

  “You keep saying that, but nobility in that family borders on psychopathic.”

  A knock on the front window sounded. Sun and Quincy looked over at Carver. The exterminator waved enthusiastically and pointed to his phone.

  Sun lifted hers to read a text from him, inviting her to lunch. She groaned.

  Quincy read it over his shoulder. “He’s persistent.”

  She typed back, Huge case. Rain check? She hit SEND then waved back at him.

  He read it and his manic expression faded. After texting her a thumbs-up, he waved goodbye, a sad, dejected thing.

  Rojas walked up. “Want me to take him out?”

  “Someone needs to,” Quincy said. “He clearly hasn’t gone out with anyone since the aughts. Is that how he dressed on your date?” he asked Sun.

  “What? No. That’s his uniform.”

  The guy had been wearing a pair of stained gray overalls with his signature four Cs on an embroidered patch and carrying an aluminum spray can and nozzle.

  “What’s up, Rojas?” she asked Poetry when he continued to linger.

  “I’ve gone over the footage from the Quick-Mart and it’s impossible to get an ID on the man our victim was arguing with.

  “But there was definitely an argument?”

  “Oh, yeah. A pretty heated one.”

  Zee walked up, holding a black-and-white printout of a screenshot from the altercation. She handed it to Sun and pointed. “That baseball cap? That’s a Denver Broncos hat.”

  Sun looked at Quincy. “That’s the cap Levi had at the scene. I’m sure of it.”

  “Then he stole evidence from a crime scene. Can I arrest him already?”

  “If you can find him. Any of the employees hear anything?”

  Rojas pointed to the store owner, who couldn’t have been more than ten feet away from what looked like a very volatile argument. “Mr. Walden swears he didn’t hear a thing.” His expression deadpanned. “My ass. Said Seabright was a semi-regular customer. Always very pleasant. Always paid in cash. But somehow he didn’t have a clue as to what the argument was about.”

  “How would he remember he always paid in cash?” Quincy asked.

  “No clue, but I’m guessing Seabright was off the grid. Especially if he never used plastic.”

  Sun studied Seabright’s profile. The guy was tall with striking features underneath a layer of scruff. “Interesting. Okay, I want to see the footage.”

  “You got it, boss.” Zee went back to her desk to cue-up the video, but Rojas stayed put.

  “What else you got?” she asked him after looking closer at the printout.

  “This may be nothing.”

  She raised a brow. “That’s what the Duke of Wellington’s first officer said when he saw Napoleon coming.”

  “Really?”

  “No, but he might have. What’s going on?”

  “There are some guys hanging out in town.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, this is a tourist town. People tour.”

  He propped a hip onto his desk. “Yeah, but they’re just hanging. They’re not touring.”

  “Interesting. Are they locals?”

  “No.”

  “You haven’t been in Del Sol long.”

  “I know a local when I see one. And at least two of these men have been to prison.”

  That got her attention. “You can tell that by looking at them?”

  “I can.”

  She didn’t doubt him for a microsecond. “What do you think they’re doing?”

  “They’r
e waiting.”

  “For?”

  “Us.”

  That surprised both her and Quincy, who didn’t seem to be questioning Rojas’s judgment in the matter, either.

  “For us to do what?” he asked him.

  Rojas pointed at him. “That’s the ten-million-dollar question.”

  Sun whistled. “Ten million. Geez, prices have gone up. Can you get some pictures?”

  “Of course, boss.”

  “Thank you, and—”

  Anita stuck her head into the bullpen. “The DA is on line two for you, boss. He sounds angry.”

  “Great,” Sun said, embracing the adrenaline spike that shot needles into her heart. She’d need the extra boost to deal with the man. She looked at her deputies. “Wish me luck.”

  “Luck,” Quincy said, knowing she didn’t get along with the DA.

  Still, convincing the man to transport Wynn Ravinder across state lines would not be the hardest thing she’d done that day. She’d had the talk with her daughter, after all.

  12

  If it turns out you’re not an afternoon person, either, we can help!

  —SIGN AT CAFFEINE-WAH

  Sun hung up with the DA, scrubbed her face, then headed into the bullpen. “Rojas!” she shouted, even though he was only a few feet away from her. Her conversation with the surly DA had not gone well, but she finally convinced him to have Wynn Ravinder transported to Santa Fe. The fact that she had to resort to blackmail did not sit well with either of them, but the married father of two shouldn’t have asked her out last year.

  Zee had cued up the Quick-Mart video showing the argument between their victim, Keith Seabright, and one of his assailants, but that could wait. She needed to know more about these men casing the town. And Zee wasn’t at her desk anyway.

  Rojas jumped and turned to her, his burnished skin glowing healthily in the soft morning light. He looked good. Better than he had when she’d met him four months ago, before she sent him off to the police academy.

  “Let’s grab a cup.”

  He grinned, hopped up, and followed her to Del Sol’s latest and greatest coffee shop, Caffeine-Wah.

  The owners, Richard and Ricky, two of her best friends from Santa Fe, opened the establishment when Sun found out she’d been elected sheriff. They’d wanted to put a shop in Del Sol for a long time. Her win gave them the perfect excuse, as they wanted to remain close to Auri. Sun understood. They’d helped raise her, after all. Which would explain Auri’s incredible taste in clothes. She sure didn’t get that from her mother.