Silenced By Syrah (20 page)

“Scotty?” Nikki asked.

“Yeah, as I said, he’s my assistant—Scott Nielsen. We go everywhere together. I need someone to keep me organized. He’s out sick today. At least that’s what he claims. He better be back in by Thursday or I don’t know what I’ll do. He’s the best, but he does this moonlighting thing, you know”—she lowered her voice—“he’s a female impersonator.”

What was it with this woman? Just ’cause she drove a Beemer, looked like God’s gift to men, and her daddy provided her with endless amounts of cash under the guise that she had a
real
job, she couldn’t pick up the phone and make inquiries on her own? No. She had to have some poor schmuck named Scott do it.

“I would deal with Leonard Kingston myself but he’s a really unpleasant bastard. I’ve dealt with him over the phone before, in a similar situation with an author’s estate. I’ve never personally met him, and the phone call was enough to turn me off. I want to go into his office with my guns loaded. My weapon of choice is Scotty. He has a way with people. I don’t know what it is with gay men, but they all seem to have that schmooze factor. I refuse to go meet Leonard Kingston without him.”

Okay, so maybe she was a smart woman after all, or maybe a manipulative one, and she hadn’t been anything but nice to Nikki. However—and the pointer finger was raised here—Nikki could not help but notice the white-hot chemistry between Renee Rothschild and Derek.

“You and your assistant go meet with Kingston then, and if there’s anything I can do on my end, let me know,” Derek said. “Why don’t you have Scott give either me or Nikki a call, since she’s now been made aware of the situation, and we’ll go from there.”

“Sure. One other thing,” Renee said. “You know, I really liked Georges a lot. He was fun to work with and I’ll miss him. Rothschild Publishing specializes in cookbooks and some of these chefs can be difficult, but Georges wasn’t. He could be kind of silly if he’d had more than his share to drink, but he was a good man.”

“I agree. I think Nikki would, too,” Derek replied.

“That said, I know this might be short notice, but he told me how excited he was to be opening the restaurant here and how he wanted to have the book launch here. He was really enthusiastic. I understand that his body is being flown back to France for burial next week and since there won’t be an official ceremony here, I was wondering if Friday we could do something in his honor?”

Oh, jeesh. Not only was she pretty, smart, and owned the dream Beemer, she was thoughtful, too.

“That’s a great idea. We’ll do a dinner in his honor at the restaurant.” Derek smiled. “Make it informal, seeing how that’s only four days away, but I’m sure he would have liked that.”

“Me, too,” Nikki said. Brilliant. That sounded brilliant. Here Renee goes on and eloquently discusses a tribute for Georges, Derek follows up with the right kind of input, and Nikki only adds a “me, too .” Yep, brilliant. “I can handle the arrangements,” Nikki added.

“No. I’ll do it,” Derek said. “You’ve got enough things going on right now, and since you’ll probably be heading to Spain for a few months, I should get used to taking on some extra work.”

“Spain?” Renee turned to her.

“With her boyfriend,” Derek answered.

“Sounds terrific. You’ll be coming back here though, I take it?” Renee asked.

“Of course,” Nikki replied. She could feel embarrassment mixed with maybe a tad of anger stinging her cheeks. “I actually haven’t decided yet. I love my job here and don’t want to lose it, and Andrés isn’t really my . . .”

“Now Nikki, we discussed it; you won’t lose your job here. You’re a valuable employee to me, and I’ve already told you that I’d like you to check out the countryside, see if there’s a plot for Malveaux over there.” Derek shifted in his chair and eyed her.

Renee tossed her hair behind her shoulders. “Sounds like a dream. Not only Spain, but the job. How could you pass something like that up? You have to go.”

Nikki stood and smiled. “Yeah, well, I need to check on a few things in my office and then, um, head over to my room.”

“Oh, yes. You’re staying at the hotel, aren’t you? I’m sorry about your place. Derek told me.”

“Thanks. Nice to meet you.” Nikki said good-bye and left the office, swallowing back the lump that had nearly seized her throat. After she’d calmed down, checked her messages, replied to a few e-mails, typed a memo, and gone over a wine order being sent out the following week to a big-time movie star, she locked up her office and headed back to her car. Passing Derek’s office, she could hear Renee and Derek still talking. She couldn’t help herself from listening at the door.

“What do you say? You want to go and grab some dinner with me?” Derek asked.

“I’d love to,” Renee replied.

Why had Nikki stopped to listen? She closed her eyes and sighed, then walked outside into the early evening. She hadn’t realized that she’d been there for over an hour. What could those two have been talking about for that long? Oh, who cared?

She took her cell phone from her purse and called Andrés. He wasn’t home. She left a message for him asking if he wanted to meet her for happy hour at the hotel wine bar. The idea of being with him in Spain was suddenly sounding more and more appealing, but right now the idea of just being with him appealed to her and she hoped he’d get her message. But what if he didn’t come? Could she blame him? No, not really. She’d been such a dumb ass. That was the only way to put it. Here the man couldn’t get enough of her, gave her space to sort through whatever she needed to sort through, was always there when she needed him, and in return, what did she do? Yanked his chain, that’s what she’d done. She was almost as disturbed as Lauren Trump. Maybe not that bad, but Andrés didn’t deserve a game player. Dammit. No he did not, but . . . But, oh, it was confusing. She loved being with him, cared about him, he made her laugh, and damn he had one fine bod and a pair of amazing, mesmerizing eyes, so why, oh why, in the hell could she not make that commitment?

Chapter 19

Nikki sat down at the wine bar, Marco was behind it. “Ah,
Bellisima,
Simon and I are pleased you are fine. When I saw what happened to the cottage I was frightened for you.”

“It’s okay. I’m obviously fine.”

He frowned. “You do not seem fine. Come and stay with me and Simon.”

“No, really I’ll be okay. The hotel is amazing and everything is here, and please do not worry.”

“Do not worry?
Impossibile
.
Vino?
”

“Yes. Grazie.”

“Vivanda?”
he asked.

Nikki knew he was asking her if she wanted food.

“I made
margherita
pizzas with pine nut, smoked mozzarella cheese, and basil. I also have spinach salad with maple bacon and caramelized walnuts. It’s my own version.”

“Look at you becoming quite the chef. Maybe you should take over at Georges’. I don’t know what’s going to happen or who will replace him.”

“Oh, no, no. I could never be like a Georges Debussey. He was a great c
uoco
, chef as you say here. I am certain that the other
uomo
he worked with, the Irish man, he will do the job. No?”

“I don’t know about that. He mentioned something about going back to Ireland,” Nikki replied.
Or, maybe to the slammer.

“I do not know either.” Marco shrugged. “A Syrah? Or a Viognier if you want
bianco
tonight,” he said, referring to a white wine. “Wait, wait,
uno momento
.” He snapped his fingers. “I have a beautiful Albariño wine tonight with the appetizers. It’s from Spain you know.” He raised his eyebrows at her.

She was too tired to fall into that trap. As much as she wanted Marco to be a sounding board to her love life, at that moment she simply wanted to enjoy a glass of wine and some good food and keep her fingers crossed a handsome Spaniard would join her. “Sounds nice. Where is Simon?”

“Getting beautiful, like the Spanish wine is.
Bellisima
, like you.”

No dice. She wasn’t taking the bait. She smiled and continued to act stupid. Marco got the hint.

“He will be here pronto.” Marco looked at his watch. “He better be.” He winked at Nikki and went to get her wine.

She twisted around on her chair and spotted Janie and her husband walking in. Janie approached her. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been thinking about you, and I was telling Trevor how worried I was, and how great you were to me and how I confided everything to you.”

“She did,” Trevor said. “Thank you again for helping my wife.”

“Sit down,” Nikki said. “No need to thank me. Janie saved my life.”

Janie blushed. The young couple sat down on the stools next to her. Marco brought her wine over and took their orders, too.

“Do you know if they saved anything from your house?” Trevor asked.

“I’m not really sure, actually. From the looks of it, I don’t think so. The fire got hot really fast and spread quickly. I forgot to ask the fire marshall, and I’m almost afraid to ask Detective Robinson.” Nikki tasted her Albariño.

“That’s tough. Janie told me that the detective is a real jerk. She said that they also told you that it was arson?” He raised his brows.

Nikki nodded. “That much they told me. Why? I don’t know.”

He shook his head. “Man. A fire.” His eyes went distant for a second and Nikki could have sworn they were glassing over with tears. He shook his head again and looked away. “Sorry. Fire is horrid. I lost my folks in a house fire.”

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. That’s really awful.”

He nodded.

“Thank goodness for his grandma. My baby wouldn’t be here without her,” Janie said.

“Did she save you?” Nikki asked.

“Sort of, I suppose,” Trevor replied. “The night the fire happened, I was spending the night at my grandmother’s house.”

Nikki didn’t know what to say. Poor man. “Is your grandma still alive?”

“No. She passed away about a year ago. She was living in an assisted living home at the time. She’d grown pretty senile and had diabetes.”

“But Trevor went to see her every week before she died,” Janie chimed in. “When we first met, he’d come by the restaurant and get takeout for the two of them and then go and see her. I regret never getting to meet her.”

Trevor took her hand. “She would’ve loved you, baby.”

Janie smiled at him.

Sweet
.

Marco set their wine down along with two platters of pizza and salad for all three of them.

“Andrés may be joining us, too. I’m not sure yet,” Nikki told him.

Marco wiggled his eyebrows at her, in a Groucho Marx sort of way.

Nikki waved him away and turned back to Janie and Trevor. “Janie, you said that you told Trevor about confiding in me?”

“I did. I told him last night when he got here about Georges being my dad, and that I’d told you because I needed to talk to someone and you were there for me.”

Trevor set his slice of pizza back on his plate. “Crazy, isn’t it? Who would have known? I don’t know why he couldn’t have told her earlier.”

“I told you, baby. He said that he wanted to honor my mother’s wishes. See how I fared after she died, to see if I could handle any more of a shake-up. He did the right thing, but now, well now . . . I can’t ever know him as my dad.”

Trevor put his arm around Janie and hugged her. She kissed his cheek.

Ah, young love
.

“I know that Georges just revealed all of this to you before his murder, but Janie, did he, also, maybe indicate anything about a will?”

Janie looked truly horrified as her eyes widened. She shook her head, and replied, “No. Not to me. Of course not. Why would he need to do that?”

“Seeing that you’re his daughter and he knew this for some time, my guess is that you would be included in the will, and his publisher is trying to track down the heir in order to make certain that person receives the royalties from his cookbooks.”

“Oh. No. But, until they find the killer, I don’t want anyone to know, and you promised.”

“Janie, I think you have to say something and it will likely come out in his will anyway, which I’m certain will be revealed in a matter of days.”

“Then that detective will come after me. I mean, it totally looks like I have a motive. Doesn’t it?”

“Baby, Ms. Sands is right. You have to tell the police. You didn’t kill him and the truth will come out. I’m in law school. They can’t arrest you without evidence. The worst they can do is detain you for questioning, and then they have to release you. And that won’t happen.”

Janie took a sip from her wine and looked up at Trevor with complete trust. Her eyes brimming with tears, she nodded. “Okay, tomorrow we’ll go and tell the police.”

Nikki thought a second about Detective Robinson and how if he hadn’t already uncovered the fact about Janie being connected to Georges, which he obviously hadn’t because he’d have been on her faster than a rabid dog, he’d figure it out soon. Nikki thought it a good idea, though, to buy a day or two’s time. “Why don’t you wait for another day, okay?”

“Why?” Trevor asked. “Like I said, they won’t be able to arrest her.”

Nikki set her wine down. If the police honed in on Janie because she reported to them about her parentage, then whoever the real killer was—if it wasn’t Janie, which Nikki believed—would simply have more time to cover his or her tracks.

“I think that it’s a good idea for Janie to give it a day to get her emotions in check, and maybe she should wait until the will is read, because if she’s not an inheritor the police won’t be able to tie Georges and her together, unless one of us says something.”

“I’m sure she’s the heir,” Trevor replied.

“Maybe, maybe not. Say Georges didn’t have a chance to change his will, or was only recently convinced that Janie was his daughter. You have to consider that there is the possibility that she was not included. You do realize that there was no DNA testing?” Nikki asked Trevor. “So there is no real proof.”