Corked by Cabernet (21 page)

TWO murders in two days. Derek would be thrilled to hear this news. Thank God it was too late to call him in New York. It was already eleven o’clock in Napa when Nikki walked back to their house, and with the three-hour time difference, she doubted he’d even be awake. Police were still busy at the hotel, and Nikki hated that she had not heard from Simon and Marco.

Once inside her home, and with Ollie at her side, she gave a deep sigh of relief. She set the folders on the kitchen counter and bent down to hug the dog, who looked at her like she was crazy but enjoyed the attention all the same. “Hi, kid. How’s it going?” Nikki patted his head.

Ollie wagged his long tail. Nikki went to the cupboard and took out a can of wet food and fixed him a bowl to eat. She then poured herself a glass of wine, sliced off some cheese, and put a piece of bread in the toaster. While the bread was toasting, she tried to call Simon and then Marco and got no response. She then went out into the garage and located the box with the books her aunt had given her and pulled a few out that looked chock-full of information. If she was going to stay up reading, then not only would she get to these applications, she could refresh her memory of what constituted a sociopath and a psychopath. She would do that first because reminding herself about what makes up the behavior and mind-set of a killer might help her when reviewing the applications.

A few minutes later, feet on the coffee table, bread and cheese in hand, and Ollie next to her on the couch, Nikki started flipping through a book called
The Mind of a Killer.
She found the definitions of a sociopath and a psychopath.

Both personalities have no empathy for others. Neither feels remorse or guilt. They are self-serving and seem to lack any conscience. They routinely disregard rules, social mores, and laws, unmindful of putting themselves or others at risk. Sounded like a wonderful type of human being—just like Derek’s first wife, come to think of it.

Nikki went on to read that the sociopath was less organized in his or her demeanor, nervous and easily agitated—someone likely living on the fringes of society, without solid or consistent economic support. A sociopath was more likely to spontaneously act out in inappropriate ways without thinking through the consequences. A psychopath would think them through and figure out how to get away with it.

Nikki took a sip of wine. Was there anyone she could think of in the group who was steadily nervous or could be considered living on the fringe of society? Kensington did not strike her as nervous, but of all these people, she could see him having a solid lack of empathy. How about consistent economic support? Everyone who was a member had that. They had to in order to be able to afford the membership fee.

She gave Ollie a pat on the head and read further, learning that a psychopath tends to be extremely organized, secretive, and manipulative. The outer personality is often charismatic and charming, hiding the real person beneath. Though psychopaths do not feel for others, they can mimic behaviors that make them appear normal. Upon meeting, one would have more of a tendency to trust a psychopath than a sociopath.

Okay, now that could fit almost anyone because all someone had to do was put on a good act. And what better outlet to do it in? Who would think that anyone involved in an enlightenment group would be a psychopath? It was a good cover. Robinson was sure that the killer was a man, but there was Sierra Sansi to consider. She was a martial artist, had done some acting, dated Iwao’s nephew. Nikki had seen enough photos to prove that. She’d been drunk—or had she?—the other night. Was Sierra Sansi putting on an act for her family and the entire world? Was the young woman more than just confused and a little messed up? Was she, in fact, a psycho?

There was more information about the psychopath that could fit Sierra. “Listen to this, Ollie.” Ollie lifted his head. How she loved this dog. “ ‘Because of the organized personality of the psychopath, he or she might have a tendency to be better educated than the average sociopath, who probably lacks the attentive skills to excel in school. While psychopaths can fly under the radar of society, many maintaining families and steady work, a sociopath more often lacks the skills and drive for mimicking normal behavior, making seemingly healthy relationships and a stable home less likely. From a criminal standpoint, a sociopath’s crimes are typically disorganized and spontaneous, while the psychopath’s crimes are well planned out. For this reason, psychopaths are harder to catch than sociopaths, as the sociopath is more apt to leave ample evidence in his or her explosions of violence.’”

“What do you think of that? Could be we’ve got ourselves an old-fashioned psycho here at the winery. Speaking of psychos, I wish the boys would call me.” She leaned her head back against the couch and closed her eyes. It was almost midnight, and she couldn’t help drifting off.

She wasn’t sure if it had been fifteen minutes or fifty, but just as she’d started dreaming, Ollie jumped off the couch and gave one of his low growls startling her awake. He slinked toward the front door. “What is it, boy?”

He gave another growl and Nikki knew that someone was lurking outside her home.

SHE got up and inched behind Ollie, who maintained his low growl. Ridgebacks were traditionally hunters used in Africa to hunt lions, so when Ollie was on alert, as he was now, he did not go into the barking guard dog mode like a Doberman or German shepherd might. Instead, he went into a focused mode, slinking low to the ground, and Nikki knew that if someone tried to come through that door, they would have one hundred and ten pounds on them before they knew what hit them. Yes, she loved the dog even more at that moment. Her body shook and adrenaline pumped through her until she heard, “Snow White, open up the goddamned door. It’s freezing out here.”

Nikki swung it open to see the boys standing there. “I’m gonna kill you two!” She pulled Simon inside and Marco slunk behind him with a Barnes & Noble bag. She should have known they’d gone shopping. “Where have you been and what have you been up to? Do you know how worried I’ve been? It’s past midnight.”

“That’s so cute, she was worried about us,” Simon said.

“You are so sweet, Bellissima.” Marco kissed both of her cheeks.

“Sweet, my ass, and don’t you Bellissima me and do the kissy face thing.” She wagged a finger in front of Marcos’s nose. “Do you have any clue what has gone on here tonight?”

They both looked at each other. “No,” they replied.

“Let me tell you then.” She relayed the entire evening while they stood in the doorway with Ollie sniffing at them. She finally let them pass through in numbed silence. When she was finished and they were seated in the family room, she stared back at them. “And now, do you want to tell me where you have been and why you come a-knocking on my door at midnight?”

“That poor woman,” Marco said. “This is terrible. What will we do?”

“Tell me about it,” Nikki replied. “Robinson has been all over this place. This is not good at all, but I want to know where you two were. I was seriously worried after I’d had you go into Kensington’s room and then you never showed back up, or called, or anything, and with Mizuki and all, God, I thought . . . well, I thought that maybe something bad had happened to you.”

Simon shuffled his feet. “No. We’re sorry, hon. I forgot my cell phone and Marco turned his off while we were out because we were talking.” They glanced at each other.

What was going on between them? They were keeping something from her.

“But we did what you asked and then we went and did some more investigating because of what we found in Kurt’s room.”

“What do you mean, what you found?” Nikki asked.

“Show her the photos, Marco.”

Marco pulled out his cell phone and scooted in next to her. “These are the books he had. The ones you asked us to look for.”

Nikki looked at the thumbnails of the photos. “I don’t understand.” She was looking at a photo of a book. It looked to be some type of comic book.

“They’re graphic novels. Very popular in Japan and the cool thing for teens in this country. They read from the back to the front, and when you look at the photos, they tell a story. Look at these.” Marco brought out a handful of books from his shopping bag. “We think we got copies of every book that Kurt had stored in his room.”

“You guys are smart, but tell me what caused you to do that? What about the books made you think to go out and buy copies?”

“Look at this one.” Simon tossed her one of them.

Nikki started from the back as they suggested. It showed a GI Joe-type hunting a businessman who had wronged a group of people.

“Interesting.”

“We thought so. See, we can be like you, too.” Simon kicked his feet up on the coffee table.

“Like me. What does that mean?”

“I think he means smart,” Marco answered.

“No, I meant snoopdavilicious.”

“Snoopdavilicious?”

“Come on, Snow White. You’re snoopy. We all know it. All of Sonoma County knows it, and your davine and delicious.”

“I think it’s divine,” she said.

“No. It most definitely is not. It’s davine.”

“I guess I’m flattered.” She shook her head. “Okay, so since you two are so snoopdavilicious, what is your gut telling you about these books?”

“That Kurt is a total flipped-out comic book nut,” Simon said, sounding proud of himself.

“Beyond that.”

Simon took his feet off the table and leaned forward, his face turning so serious it almost made Nikki laugh. “Okeydokey. Here’s what we think, because we talked about it.” He looked at Marco, who nodded. “Kurt lives in a fantasy world, a violent one. He reads these Japanese comics, then he comes here as part of the Sansi group. He sees Iwao. Ooh, he thinks. Bad Japanese man just like in my book. I must take him out, like the hero in the book.” Simon leaned back, clearly pleased with himself. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re nuts, too,” she said.

“No, really. Think about it.”

“We forgot to tell you, Bellissima, that Kurt has dog tags.”

“Dog tags?”

“Yes, like the kind you wear in the army,” Simon said. “He’s a trained killer. Now that’s a theory. Oh, ding, ding, ding.” He tapped the side of his head excitedly. “This just came to me. What if Kurt Kensington is a trained killer who was hired by someone else to kill Iwao and Mizuki?”

“I think I could believe that, but what about the taunting of the police with the cork-in-the-mouth thing?” Nikki asked.

“Maybe whoever hired him is beyond prosecution. Maybe Kurt is being protected by someone untouchable, like a government agency, and Iwao really was a bad guy or someone trying to harm our country and now Kurt is trying to plant diversions by doing the crazy stuff.” Simon was talking at warp speed, caught up in his titillating theories.

“Okay, Jason Bourne, say that’s true, why kill Mizuki?”

“Because she’s also bad.” Simon propped his feet back up on the coffee table. Ollie sidled up to him and Simon shooed him away. “I’ll be Jason Bourne any day, by the way. I
looove
Matt Damon.”

“I thought you loved me,” Marco said.

“Don’t be silly. You know what I mean.”

“Guys!”

They both looked at her.

“You could be on to something.” Nikki
had
thought of the organized crime angle before. What if Iwao did have some kind of bad business deal? From all accounts with Juan Gonzales (and possibly Ruben Pearlman), he’d done so. What if he’d screwed over someone he shouldn’t have and Kurt Kensington was simply a hired gun, or like the other two men, Kurt had a direct link to Iwao? Had Iwao done something to piss him off, too, and Kurt, being a loose cannon, snapped? “Hold that thought.” Nikki jumped up from the couch and took the applications off the counter. “We have work to do, boys.”

“Wait a minute, are those what I think they are?” Simon asked.

“Yes, and I don’t need a scolding. Let’s start with Kensington.”

“What does she have there?” Marco asked.

“The S.E.E. applications,” Simon said.

Marco brought a hand to his mouth. “No!”

“I do.”

“Bellissima, you have gone too far.”

“No. I have not. Maybe we can read these over and find the crazy person who did this. It’s worth a shot and I say we start with Kensington.”

“Don’t fight it, babe. It’s a losing battle.” Simon knew that there would be no stopping Nikki now. “At least you know that you can remove ours from that pile. Go ahead and hand me some.”

“You are a quick study, my friend,” Nikki said.

Simon shrugged, and took a handful from the stack of folders.

Marco followed suit and Nikki opened up Kurt’s file. She skimmed over the usual name and address stuff and then read the essay section. The first question was,
Who are you?
Kurt’s first sentence was,
I am a killer
.