Murder By the Glass Page 15

  “I think we should call.”

  “I’ll stop by the station in the morning.”

  The doorman finally let her go and then went over to the concierge who smiled and nodded at Nikki.

  She went up to her room. Wired and now hurt, she doctored her wounds, changed into her pj’s and picked up the paperback Sara Waltman had written and loaned her. She had to try and get her mind off of what just happened. She kept telling herself it was only a simple accident, and she was going to make certain she believed it. She got under her covers, and, as she was about to flip open the book, she saw that the message light on the telephone was blinking. Maybe Derek had called or maybe the boys wanted her to come back out and play some more. She dialed the message retrieval number, and her worst fear of the night was confirmed. The fact that someone had intentionally tried to run her over became reality—a mechanical-type voice came across the recorder, as if it had been slowed way down like an old forty-five record, playing at thirty-three speed. “Stop snooping. Next time you won’t be so lucky.”

  Chapter 17

  Nikki sighed with a heaviness in her chest like she hadn’t felt since she’d been fired from her acting gig and then the wait job last year. She clasped her hands together in an attempt to get them to stop shaking, the nerve system throughout her body still in overdrive. To call or not to call the police? And which police station would that be? In San Francisco, or at the sheriff’s department in Santa Rosa? Because obviously this was tied into Susan Jennings’ murder.

  More than likely the cops here in the city would take a report and that would be about it. The sheriff and detectives in Sonoma would take it about as lightly. Everyone knew that she and Isabel were close friends, and the possibility that Nikki could be making the whole thing up would surely cross the minds of the police. The bizarre phone call could have come from a pay phone or an unavailable number, so even if the hotel had caller ID, which she doubted, it would prove fruitless. She had to face it, she was going to wind up sounding like a paranoid bumbling idiot if she made a police report. Or worse, a liar.

  So, the next question remained, who knew she was here in San Francisco? Well, of course there were the Boys of Summer and even though they’d tried their damnedest to chase her off the vineyard last year without any success, they really did seem to have had a sincere change of heart toward her. Maybe they were good actors, but they didn’t have a motive to kill Susan Jennings. Not one she knew about anyway. She doubted that the boys even knew Susan.

  Then there was Jennifer Jennings and her hit man Paulo. Those two did seem like good candidates. She got out of bed and got her purse, taking out the business card that Paulo had given her when she’d left the condo the night before. For the first time she really looked at it. Huh? He was a realtor like Susan. His title was in commercial sales. He worked for one of the larger firms in the country, and Nikki couldn’t help but be surprised. She recalled him telling her that he knew a lot about Susan. Had they worked together and had Susan introduced him to Jennifer? Had those two conjured up the plan to take Susan out? But how and why set up Isabel? Because it was easy? Oh, God, Nikki’s mind was swimming in a bunch of muck trying hard to find some answers where there didn’t seem to be any.

  Derek knew she was here in town. That is, if he’d checked his messages. But he would have no reason to do anything like this and she couldn’t believe herself for even thinking of linking his name in that second to this insanity. And now Blake Sorgensen knew she was here. But she hadn’t told Blake or Jennifer or Paulo where she was staying, though they could have had caller ID when she’d phoned them and saw that it came up and figured it out. Had one of them followed her to time it just so, so they could nearly run her over? That would have meant that whoever it was had to have been watching from the time she and the boys left the hotel early in the evening, until she left them back at Club Rendez-Vous. That most likely being the case, then whoever it was really wanted her to leave things alone because they’d been awfully patient to tail her all night like that.

  She couldn’t think of anyone else who knew she was here. It was conceivable, but doubtful, that she’d been followed all the way from Sonoma. More and more, Nikki was setting her sights on Jennifer or Paulo or both, and as she rubbed the edges of Paulo’s business card, she made up her mind to pay him a visit in the morning before her lunch with Sorgensen and see what he had to say about Susan. Maybe she’d get a read on him and there’d be some sign that he was involved. She’d call the mobile phone he had on his card in the morning and ask if maybe he’d be up for some coffee—somewhere very public.

  For now, there was no possible way she was going to get any sleep, so she decided to pick up Sara’s paperback again and started reading Death Amongst the Vines. Interesting title. Two hours later and halfway through the book, the story was far more interesting than just the title. The storyline was a little closer to real life than Nikki wanted to admit at that moment.

  In the book the wife of the vineyard owner was murdered by drinking poisoned wine during a wedding! Granted the wife wasn’t the bride, but the mother of the groom! Kristof ’s mother had supposedly left her family, but what if Aunt Sara had poisoned her and made her fertilizer on the back forty of the vineyard and Marty had helped to cover it up? That was paranoia talking. So, it was a similar story line, and so it was a mother who, as Nikki read on, was having an affair with a millionaire from San Francisco. The people who ran the vineyard also had a son of about seven, which from all accounts Nikki had heard, was about Kristof ’s age when his mom took off. Nikki was surprised that Aunt Sara had it in her to write such a risqué story or that it would have been published, but then she checked the publishing date. It was 1975; okay, so Jacqueline Susann’s book Valley of the Dolls had already made its run along with Erica Jong’s Fear of Flying.

  Nikki couldn’t put the book down until the very end, at nearly three in the morning. It was the father-in-law, or the grandpa, depending on how the reader looked at it, who had done it. This was so disturbing. Could Sara Waltman have played a part in all of this—the real thing? Could she have murdered Susan? She certainly had no problems expressing her distaste for the woman who had briefly been her great-niece by marriage. But that wouldn’t have accounted for what had happened to Nikki earlier in the evening. She doubted that Sara would have had the wherewithal to follow her into the city, try to run her down, and then use some kind of crude technology to disguise her voice on the hotel’s messaging system. The woman couldn’t even walk without the use of a cane. If she was behind Susan’s murder, then she was in cahoots with someone else. Finally, without any more desire or strength to stay awake, Nikki shut her eyes and went to sleep with thoughts of ninety-year-old grand-motherly types going on a murdering rampage.

  She woke up startled and groggy as the phone on her bedside rang in her ear. At first she didn’t realize that she wasn’t in her own bed, and it took a second as her mind processed everything. She picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Bellisima.”

  She plopped back down on the pillow. It was Marco. “Hi.” She glanced over at the clock—seven. Four hours sleep, ugh.

  “Simon doesn’t ever wake before ten, and I’m one to get up in the morning and get going, no matter what the night before might have brought on. You should have stayed with us and had some more party time. We had a wonderful time. That’s a-okay. Okay? I figure since you are always so fresh faced and bright-eyed as you Americans say, that you would awaken by now. Yes, you will meet me for coffee downstairs, no?”

  “Sure. Why not?” Nikki knew that as she became fully awake her mind would start off on its tangents again and that she wouldn’t get back to sleep. Aunt Cara used to always remind her that the early bird catches the worm, and the worm she wanted to catch was more like a snake. She needed to get that early start because there was a lot on her agenda today, and even more after reading through Sara Waltman’s book last night. “I’ll see you in a half an hour.”
>
  “Perfetto.”

  A half an hour later Nikki was scrubbed with a dab of makeup on and her shampooed hair slicked back into a ponytail. The May morning in the City of Love made her want to climb back under the down duvet upstairs in her hotel room, as the typical gloom of cloud cover hung overhead. She’d seen it through the window when she’d pulled back the drapes. It probably wouldn’t burn off for quite some time, so she’d put on a white turtleneck that wouldn’t only keep her warm, but also hide the scrape and bruise on her arm. She didn’t need Marco asking unwanted questions. She paired the sweater with jeans and made her way to the elevator.

  Marco was already seated in the restaurant, daintily pouring cream into his coffee when she walked in. She slid into the chair across from him.

  “Good morning. Did you have a night of good rest?” he asked.

  Before Nikki knew it, she blubbered out the whole story. Marco sat up straight. “Ah, so you are playing detective again? Your story to Derek about seeing a writing coach was a deception. Not good, Bellisima. But I understand your plight, and Simon and I are going to help you.” He waved a finger at her.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Every good detective needs a partner. I watch all the television police shows and I learn this. You now have two.”

  “No, no. What can you do? Please, I can’t let you get involved. I just needed someone to talk to. I’ll take care of what I need to today and you two go tour the city. This afternoon we’ll meet up for happy hour.”

  He shook his head. “No.” He leaned in closer over the table, placing his chin in the palms of his hands. “I want you to know that Simon and I have every apology for the way we treated you when you came to Napa Valley. We were jealous and Simon wanted to be the ruler of the vineyard. The king. No more what we want. It’s not. We have changed our motives and ways in the past months and that’s one of the reasons we wanted to join you and treat you in the city. We need to make amends.”

  Nikki was taken aback by his apology. “Thank you. I appreciate that. You two were kind of hard on me.” She laughed remembering the antics the two of them had pulled to chase her away from the winery. Everything had changed since then, like things do, so she couldn’t continue to hold a grudge. “But you can’t get involved in this. I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t let you do it.”

  “You want to see your friend free, don’t you? And you don’t think she murdered that woman, do you?”

  “Yes, and no.”

  “Let us help.”

  The waiter came over and Nikki ordered a mushroom and cheese omelet along with sourdough toast and a mocha. Today was not a day for dieting, or, as all the eating healthy and exercise gurus wrote in the mass of books out on the shelves, “an eating lifestyle change.” No, today was definitely not a day for an eating lifestyle change. Maybe she could use the help that Marco was proposing. There was a lot she wanted to get done today and some support would be appreciated. After last night she’d felt kind of alone in this thing. “What do you suggest?” she asked.

  “Whatever you need.”

  Over breakfast, she finished telling Marco all of the details of what had occurred and what she’d found out since Susan’s murder. Marco concocted a plan with her. She felt wary about it, and didn’t know if it would work or if it was prudent, but he kept reassuring her.

  “Listen to me, Bellisima, before I become a famous designer I have my time in the poor section of Italy, and I learned as a boy how to pick a lock and do things that I am not proud of. I steal a few things in my life, and now I am so sorry, but today my old skills they will come in handy.”

  “I don’t know, Marco. I don’t think it’s safe. These people could be very dangerous; and what if you two get caught?”

  He waved a hand at her, brushing off her comment. “That will not happen. You go and see this Paulo man and then this Blake slimeball.”

  She laughed.

  “That is what you call sneaky here. No? I am only telling you how you say it to me. The man is a slimeball, you tell me.”

  She nodded and finished the remnants of her coffee, now fully awake and satiated. “He is.”

  “Bellisima, you don’t know if any of these people are killers so you be very careful.”

  “You have to be more careful than I do. At least I’ll be in public.”

  Marco looked at his watch. “I’m going to go wake my love, and we shall plan for the day. You take care of your business and we meet here at four o’clock.” He stood and kissed her on the cheek, reminding her of Andrés for a second. The men of the romance countries did know how to be charming, didn’t they?

  Nikki took out her cell phone and prepared to call Paulo Borrelli, hoping to reach him. It was almost nine. She watched Marco head toward the elevator as her gut swam in a wave of emotion. She was still not totally convinced that it was such a good idea to allow Marco and Simon to break into what was now Jennifer Jennings’ home.

  Chapter 18

  Paulo agreed—actually more than agreed; he sounded way too eager to make contact with Nikki, and this put her even further on guard. They met at the Starbucks just around the corner from her hotel at ten. Paulo was all Armani’d out—a bit too dapper for a Saturday morning coffee. One also had to wonder where his other half was and if she’d truly forgiven him from the night before.

  They sat down at a corner table, and Nikki knew that the best defense was a good offense, so she played ball like any good quarterback and threw one right at him. “Did you and Jennifer have a chance to patch things up last night after I left?”

  “Ah, that was nothing, like I told you. My little Jenny forgets that we made an agreement to have an open relationship.”

  Paulo reached across the table and tried to take Nikki’s hand in his, which she quickly wrapped around her coffee cup. “That’s nice,” she replied.

  “It is. It works well and the theatrics that you saw are simply that. Theatrics. It makes things a bit more spicy for us.” He winked at her and rubbed his thumb and pointer finger over his other thumb. Trying to be nonchalant about it.

  Could this bozo get any sleazier?

  “But there is always room for more spice.”

  “Speaking of, you said that you knew Susan Jennings quite well, or at least you implied that you did.”

  “Yes. Susan was an amazing woman in many ways.”

  Was that sadness in his eyes? Could this man actually have that sort of feeling? “How so?”

  “She was an extremely intelligent woman, and sexy as hell.” He looked away.

  “I have to ask. How well did you know Susan?”

  “It’s none of your business, but since you asked, a lot of men knew Susan very well, but I knew her better than most. Sexy as hell, like I said—a real she-devil, that one. If anyone could have tamed her, well, baby, you’re looking at him.”

  It was getting thick in the Starbucks, and Nikki took a drink from her coffee to keep herself from telling him what she really thought of his bravado. “That said, and assuming it means what I think it means, what happened? Why settle for the sister?”

  He laughed. “You mean seconds? Yeah, well, I’m not one to settle down, but I did like Susan a lot and we had a good thing for a while. Then some older dude she thought she could get a decent payout from came along, so she started making it with him, you know. I make good money, but not like this hombre did, or used to anyway. I saw that old dude at the wedding. I guess Suzy Q liked inviting all the old flames.”

  “But she obviously dumped him, too.”

  “Oh yeah. The richer the better, and Kristof Waltman was the richest by far. Susie Q made a decent living and always lived high on the hog, but that Waltman family, well . . . You’ve seen their place. They make a lot of moolah, baby. I’m not surprised that someone was murdered there. I’m only surprised it was Suz.”

  “Really? What do you mean by that? Who would you think would’ve been the murder victim?”

  “Sweetheart, I knew Susan
really well, and she was never the type to fall in love. Men weren’t her passion. Oh, yeah, she liked the old sausage of love, but money was her first love. Her real gig. If anyone was gonna get axed in that marriage, I’d have thought it would’ve been down the line and that it would’ve been the hubby. In my world I would’ve placed bets that the killer would’ve been dear Suzy Q herself.”

  “Interesting. Why, then, do you think Susan was murdered, and who do you think might have murdered her?”

  “They got your friend behind bars don’t they? Signed, sealed, and delivered, from what I heard.”

  Nikki couldn’t help but cringe. “Yes, Isabel is in jail, but get this straight—nothing at all is signed, sealed, or delivered.” She shook a finger at him.

  “Hey, baby, you don’t have to go getting all testy on me. I’m only going by what I hear and read.” He held his hands up in the air, palms facing her, as he leaned back into his chair.