Silenced By Syrah (15 page)

Alyssa hesitated, then reached across and timidly took the cash. Nikki could see a look of vulnerability and shame. She knew it well. “Thanks. Maybe I
will
try to find a different job.”

Nikki smiled at her, hoping to give her some encouragement.

The waitress came over and Alyssa ordered a sandwich and a soda. The waitress gone, she looked back at Nikki. “I got a name for you.”

“You do? Who? Who was the man with Henry?”

“His name is Rick Moran.”

Chapter 14

“You know him?” Alyssa asked. The waitress set down her soda and Alyssa stuck a straw in it, swirling the crushed ice.

Nikki nodded. “I’ve met him.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” She tried to wrap her mind around the idea that Moran and Bloomenfeld were hanging at a strip bar right after she’d told Bloomenfeld about Georges’ murder. What were those two up to? With Bloomenfeld’s reaction to hearing about Georges’ murder, she had to wonder again if Moran had even heard the news about Georges. He’d left the restaurant right after Nikki had sat down with Janie yesterday to go over the wines. Hadn’t he? Could Bloomenfeld and Moran simply be associates or friends who met through Georges? Just because Georges broke off his relationship with Bloomenfeld didn’t mean that if Moran had cultivated one with the, uh,
literary agent
that he would necessarily sever ties. But none of it boded well for either man, and more and more Nikki was becoming convinced that the two of them had something to do with the murder.

“Who are you? You’re not a cop or you would’ve questioned those guys on your own. Are you a private detective?” Alyssa asked, breaking Nikki’s thoughts.

She shook her head. Funny as it was, she decided to tell Alyssa the truth. The woman deserved it. She’d gone out on a limb for her. Granted, she’d tossed her some cash, but Alyssa did seem to want to help, and Nikki didn’t exactly enjoy the white lies she’d told. From beginning to end, she told her how she knew Georges, where she worked, and how she’d found him murdered, plus who Henry Broomenfeld was in relation to Georges, as well as Rick Moran. She also told her about Janie and then being questioned herself by the police.

Alyssa studied her. “You’re doing this because that cop Jonah Robinson challenged you?”

Nikki laughed. “No. Not really.” Then she came close to pinching her thumb and index finger together. “Maybe a little.”

Alyssa smiled. “I like you. You’re cool. I can’t stand those chicks I work with. But you are very cool.”

“Thanks.” Nikki took a sip of her water. It was late and she knew she should be getting back home. She knew—as much as she didn’t want to—that she and Andrés needed to talk about
things
. “Plus, I think it’s even more than that for me. It’s . . . I don’t know. I liked the man. Georges, I mean. He was a character and he didn’t deserve what he got. I’m nosy, too, and this thing stinks real bad. Now with Janie coming to me . . .” Oops. Nikki had not told Alyssa about Janie’s DNA. Even though she didn’t think Alyssa would pass that info on, she’d kept it to herself. It was a promise she made to Janie. And who knew, now that Georges had started becoming a household name in the vein of Emeril, Alyssa here, desperate for money, just might find herself on the phone with a journalist from the
National Enquirer.

“Janie? The assistant, right? What do you mean she came to you?”

“She’s scared because they worked so closely together that the cops might target her. And, she’s young, kind of naive. I feel for her, you know, so I guess she’s one of the reasons I want to look into this.”

Alyssa set down her sandwich and in mid chew said, “How do you know this girl is as naive as you think? Couldn’t it be possible that she killed her boss over some sort of grievance? Hell, God knows I wouldn’t mind taking out the idiots I work for.”

Alyssa had a point. Nikki knew damn good and well that people weren’t always what they seemed. However, Janie
was
Georges’ daughter. She really believed that. Why kill the man she’d recently found out was her dad? A thought hit her, something she’d avoided because Janie was so believable. What if Janie had lied to her about her parentage and that’s why she made Nikki promise not to say anything? Or, what if the fact that Georges had kept this information from his
daughter
had angered her to the point of seeking revenge? Could Janie be a sociopath? She knew from experience and studying Aunt Cara’s criminal profile books that sociopaths were the best liars of all, and completely without conscience. “You know, I guess I don’t know. I’ve been lied to before.”

“Haven’t we all?” Alyssa checked her watch. “Hang on a minute.” She took out her cell phone and called what Nikki assumed to be her child’s caregiver. “Hi Lilia. How is Peter? Good. Okay. Thank you. Yes, my study group goes until nine tonight. Can I say good night to him?” She paused and held a finger up to Nikki, who finished off her water and decided the hell with it and ordered a tuna melt along with a Coke, realizing she was hungry as her stomach rumbled. “Hi buggaboo. I know, Mommy misses you, too. I’m sorry. I’ll be home tonight. Yes. I’ll come in and kiss you and snuggle, but you better be in bed. Okay. Take all of your medicine for Lilia, okay? I love you, boo. Bye-bye.” She hung up her phone and stashed it back in her bag. “Sorry. I had to tell him good night.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s fine.”

“I need to get to my study group, but, Nikki, look, I don’t meet a lot of quality people and I don’t have many friends. I don’t have time. Peter takes up my time after work and school and I don’t put myself out there at school because if people found out what I did, they’d ostracize me. I’m doing this study group because I’m having a tough time with this business class I’m taking.”

Nikki sat back in the booth.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I felt a connection with you. That might sound weird, but you look like someone who
gets
people and you’ve been nice to me, and well, I want to help you with this . . . this murder thing. That dude. That Henry. He comes into the bar almost daily and he’s up to no good. I can’t stand him. He’s always totally disrespectful. He’s slimy, you know.”

Did she ever. “I don’t want you getting involved in this. I’m grateful you got me the info that you did, but you have a child and a lot going on. The last thing you need to do is help me snoop around to find the killer of a man you didn’t even know.” The waitress set down Nikki’s tuna melt and soda.

“No. I know I have a lot going on in my life, but I want to help. I know how to handle myself. Let me see if I can’t work him for more information. I’ll be careful, and it’s not about you giving me any money. Really. I can’t stand that guy, and if he killed someone, I want to see him get nailed for it.”

Nikki squeezed a lemon into her soda and took a sip of the Coke. Refreshing. She sighed. She could use the help of someone in the city, because it wasn’t like she could be here regularly. She still had a job back at the winery and Henry was here and up to something and after running away from him the way she had, she didn’t think she could get close enough again to garner any more information. But she hated the idea of putting Alyssa in any danger.

“I can do this, Nikki. Funny thing is, I’ve been taking some criminology psych classes thinking maybe I want to go into law enforcement. I know, sounds crazy since I’m a stripper.”

“You’re not just a stripper.”

“I know. But there is the stigma. Anyway, I’ve been going to school taking general classes working toward a BA, but kind of floundering, figuring out who I want to be when I grow up, and I don’t have that kind of time. I gotta figure it out now, for my little boy. Maybe I should be a private dick.” She laughed at her choice of words and Nikki joined in. “C’mon, let me try this, see if I’m any good. Think of it as on-the-job training.”

Nikki looked at her. The woman was bright and maybe all she needed was a break. “Tell you what. See what you can find out. But please be careful.”

Alyssa beamed. “Thanks.” She took a pen and notepad out of her backpack and jotted her information down. “Here’s my number.”

Nikki fished out her business card and wrote her home number and cell down on the back of it. Standing up to leave, Alyssa said, “I’ll call you, but call me first if you need anything.”

“You got it.”

Nikki watched her walk out of the café and crossed her fingers she was doing the right thing by involving her. Nice woman. Maybe by doing this she’d find a start toward a new beginning. Nikki hoped so. She finished her dinner and headed out. Before long she was crossing the Bay Bridge and driving back to Napa with a gazillion thoughts traveling through her mind.

All of them about Georges and the people he knew. Henry Bloomenfeld, of course, the literary agent who didn’t know the definition of ethics; then there was Rick Moran, the accountant Georges did not seem to care for, and who was obviously slumming it up with Henry . . . and for what reason? She could not overlook the fact that Janie could have had a reason to see her father dead. How could Nikki find out if Georges was really the young woman’s dad? Had Georges included Janie in his will and stated in it that he was her father? Even the seemingly happy-go-lucky Baron O’Grady appeared to have something to hide, or at least confess in church last night. And, what about Lauren Trump? She’d gone to the spa, according to Baron O’-Grady. Lauren and Georges. Were those two simply carrying on a business relationship, or were they carrying on? And if so, or even if not, could Ms. Trump have a reason to want to see Georges in the grave? Could Charlotte have been right about the possibility of hearing something other than murder going on in the treatment room? In fact, now that Nikki thought about it, she had not seen Lauren Trump anywhere after the murder. There were a lot of people around and Nikki had had other things to deal with, including that overbearing detective Robinson, but Lauren Trump was a hard woman not to notice. Could she have gunned Georges down at the spa? If the two of them were having a fling, he would have let her into the treatment room most likely without a second thought. Maybe the killer hadn’t been on the balcony as Nikki had thought. Maybe Lauren had walked through the spa and into the treatment room. She would have gone unnoticed if she’d already been having a treatment of her own.

And, don’t forget the pregnant interior decorator, Stacey Redwall. Could the poor woman have feared that Georges’ pressure on her would cause her to lose the baby she so desperately wanted?

A lot of possibilities and theories hung in the air, and Nikki knew that one by one she’d have to begin clearing them away.

Upon her return home, she found Janie gone. Her things were still there. She must have gone out for dinner, or her husband had arrived and they were spending time together.

Ollie was also nowhere in sight. He was probably at Derek’s.

She played her messages. Two were from Andrés saying that he was worried and wanted to talk to her. She wasn’t up to it. Not now. Maybe after a bath and some time to think about their situation instead of Georges’ murder, she’d call him back and they could talk. There was a message from Derek, too, saying he also needed to talk to her.
When it rains it pours
. Then both Simon and Marco left messages, along with Detective Jonah Jerko. “Miss Sands, I have a few more questions for you. I’ve tried to reach you several times today. However, your cell phone was not on. Call me.”

It’s still a free country, buddy. “I don’t have to have my cell phone on,” she muttered.

She did find a note from Janie on her bed saying that Trevor had to stay in the city for one more night because of something work related and that she had to get out. She’d apparently gone out for dinner. Nikki hoped she was okay, but there was still the thought in the back of her mind about whether or not Janie was indeed the innocent she appeared to be.

Nikki opened her front door. Derek’s lights weren’t on. He must’ve been either up at the main house or out to dinner himself. She closed the door and sighed. She took a long bath and sipped a glass of Pinot Gris, then climbed into bed, staring at the phone.

She closed her eyes and thought about Andrés, his proposition—Spain. What did she want out of life? Was it him? Were his dreams hers, too? A family. Hmmm. That
would
be nice. Before long she drifted off to sleep and her dream consisted of Andrés, Spain, and babies, and then while holding the dream child in her arms, Derek entered the room. Andrés was also in the room. Was the baby hers? Who was the father? Who did she want to be the father? A candle flickered on a nearby table. Andrés blew it out. Smoke. That faint smell of smoke after a candle gets blown out.
Stronger now
. Someone screaming her name.

Her eyes shot open and out of her dream, Nikki came to the horrid reality that her cottage was on fire.
Flames everywhere
. Again, someone screamed her name. “Nikki! Nikki!” It was Janie.

Coughing and gagging, she remembered the duck-and-crawl rule as she saw bright orange flames flickering from her family room, spreading toward her bedroom. No time to save anything.
Get out! Get out!
Where was Janie? Nikki looked over at her French doors, where she could see Janie pounding on them outside her bedroom. The smoke filled her room.
Losing air
. She made it to the doors and pulled herself up in a coughing fit. She unlocked the doors and opened them, collapsing outside on her deck. Janie grabbed her and dragged her away from the burning cottage. Sirens echoed through the valley from a distance as she lay in the grass where Janie had pulled her, watching her place go up in flames.

Chapter 15

Nikki, tucked into the corner of Derek’s mocha-colored leather sofa, sat in stunned disbelief, grateful to be safely in his home. Looking up, she managed to smile her thanks as he offered her a cup of tea. Her eyes hurt from the tears she’d shed the last couple of hours as she realized all that she’d lost in the little cottage. Clothes she could replace, furniture, knick-knacks, but not photos with memories attached to them. Vacations with Aunt Cara, her first real acting gig, being on the set, move-in day at the cottage, birthdays with friends, all of it—up in smoke. How had this happened? She’d drifted off to sleep after the grueling day and the next thing she knew, she’d heard Janie yelling her name and then the smell of smoke, and then the flames. Thank God Janie had been there. She was outside now, talking with an arson investigator, who Nikki knew would be in soon to speak with her. The paramedics had shown up and, after giving her oxygen, had recommended that she go to the hospital, which she had refused to do.