Cereal killer, p.4
Cereal Killer, page 4
I chuckled, resting a hand on my belly. “I practically just ate, but it does seem like the twins are always hungry. Although I ate a lot during my first pregnancy, too, and that was just one baby.”
She stood. “Abuela will whip up more food for you. Let’s go back to the kitchen—we’ll do tapas and virgin sangria.”
“But the power’s out,” I said, struggling to extricate myself from the stuffed chair. “We can’t cook anything.”
Luz grinned and helped me to my feet. “Doesn’t matter. We have a gas stove, so as long as we haven’t lost the lighter, abuela can make tapas on the stovetop.”
An hour and a half later, I leaned back against the couch cushions, stuffed to the brim. The food had been delicious—as had the mocktail. Gloria was spoiling me, and I didn’t mind it one bit.
Gloria hovered over me with a motherly air. “I can make more tapas!” she exclaimed. “What did you like best? The croquetas? Tortillas? Patatas bravas?”
“I can’t eat another bite,” I replied with a contented groan. “Your cooking is so good that I ate more than I should have already!”
“Babies need food.” She crossed her arms. “I will make another tortilla for you.”
“Abuela!” chided Luz. “Kate says she’s full.”
Gloria leveled a suspicious gaze at me, as if she couldn’t quite believe it, then nodded and sat next to Luz on the sectional. “Where is Vicente?” she asked. “How long can a phone call take?”
I’d been wondering the same thing—and from the grimace that crossed Luz’s face, I suspected I wasn’t alone. We’d told Gloria that he’d stepped out to take a call . . . and now we needed to invent another excuse.
Abuela had a heart attack a year ago, Vicente had said. She needs to avoid stress.
Well, I certainly wouldn’t be responsible for killing Vicente’s grandmother.
“Oh, he sent me a message that he went to run an errand,” I said smoothly. “He’ll be back soon.”
He should have returned by now—hadn’t he just popped outside to look around? But the vineyard was large. He’s probably just combing through things carefully—maybe taking photos of anything that looks like potential evidence.
Still, I felt vaguely sick to my stomach. I shouldn’t have let him go alone.
Where are you, Vicente?
Chapter 5
The doorbell chimed its melodious tune.
Vicente must be back! I let out a little sigh of relief, the guilt receding. It was true—I shouldn’t have let him go alone.
Mistakes were made, but all’s well that ends well. The babies shimmied in my abdomen, sending a fluttering feeling through me.
Luz shot to her feet. “There he is! I’ll let him in.”
“I’ll come, too,” I replied, pushing myself upward with a grunt and flailing to catch my balance. Vicente and I would need to steal away to discuss the case and go over any evidence he’d collected.
Hopefully, he’d made a break in the investigation while he was away.
We left Gloria in the kitchen and headed for the entryway. As we walked toward the door, I glanced out the large front windows.
Oh no. My heart sank. Fred’s tow truck was parked in the driveway. Which meant . . .
Vicente’s not back. Where could he be?
Luz threw open the door. “Oh!” she said, surprise lacing her voice. “Hey, Fred.”
The tow truck driver stood on the doorstep, an apologetic expression on his face. “Hey, Luz! Sorry to just show up like this. I heard back from the mechanic.”
“Oh,” she said again, offering a shy smile.
His face blushed pink. “Tried to call Vicente, but it went straight to voicemail, so I figured I might as well swing back here and let ya know. Since I didn’t have any more calls about cars needing towing. Vicente around?”
It went straight to voicemail. Something churned in my stomach. Did that mean Vicente’s phone was off? Or just that he’d declined the call right away, before it could start ringing?
But why would he decline a call? Was he in some sort of danger and couldn’t let his phone make noise?
I bit down hard on my tongue. I was letting my mind run away with me.
For a second, I thought that detail would jar Luz out of her composure, but she recovered herself. “Um, Vicente’s not here right now. But, thanks so much. Would you mind coming in? We’ve had a power outage, and I don’t want to let out too much air conditioning.”
“Sure!” he said enthusiastically.
Huh. If I didn’t know any better, I might think sparks were flying between Fred and Luz. They’d make a cute couple, I decided.
“Power outage, huh?” he asked as she closed the door. “Is a line down, or are they doing another rolling blackout?”
“Neither. It’s just us,” said Luz. “Thankfully, we’re done processing the season’s wine, so the worst part is the loss of air conditioning.”
He tilted his head. “Just you guys? Only the house, or the whole winery?”
“The wine cave’s out, too, so not just the house.”
His brows furrowed. “That’s funny. Mind if I take a look at your breaker?”
“Uh, sure,” she said. “I’d really appreciate that. It’s in the barn. Fastest way is out the back door. Let’s go this way.”
The three of us headed down the hall, and Luz said, “What did the mechanic say about Vicente’s car?”
“Right! Mechanic!” exclaimed Fred, running a hand over his clean-shaven face. “Whole reason I came here. Anyway, it’s a simple fix, but because it’s a fancy car, he has to get a part in from Sacramento. It’ll be here by ten o’clock in the morning, and the car should be good to go by tomorrow evening.”
“That’s great news.” Luz reached up to smooth her braid as we walked.
We turned the corner and pushed through the back door into the sweltering heat. I would definitely need a freezing shower after this.
But the barn was in sight—in the opposite direction of the wine cave—so I just waddled faster, trying my best to keep up with Luz and Fred.
“Is everything all right, Luz?” Fred asked. “You seem . . . tense.”
She chuckled and shoved her hands in her pockets. “Are any of the vineyard owners all right this year? Everyone’s on edge with the power shortages and the drought.”
“Fair enough,” he replied slowly.
From my vantage point behind them, I caught him giving her a sideways look, as if he didn’t quite believe her.
Luz unlocked a side door, and we strolled into the barn. I braced myself for the scent of hay and manure, but instead the air smelled vaguely of . . .
Wine.
It only took me a second to realize why. My gaze traced the architecture—the barn had originally been built to house horses, but it had since been converted into a small wine processing plant. Barrels of wine occupied the stalls, and fermenting tanks were evenly spaced all the way down the central walkway.
Luz turned to the right and gestured to a panel box. “Breaker is there,” she said.
Fred brushed past her and opened the box. I tried to make eye contact with Luz, but she was staring off into space, a trace of a smile on her lips.
Not imagining the chemistry. They’d definitely be a cute couple.
“That’s odd,” Fred muttered.
There was a series of loud clicks from the direction of the box.
Is he flipping the breakers?
“What is it?” Luz asked, popping up onto her tiptoes and peering toward him.
“Your main circuit breaker tripped,” said Fred, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm. “The big central one. You don’t see that very often—usually it’s just individual breakers that trip. If it happens again, have an electrician come look at it.”
“Can you fix it for now?” she asked.
“Yep,” he said. “I’m flipping off all the individual circuit breakers first. Then I’ll turn the main power back on, and then reset the individual breakers. Safer that way. Don’t want to risk frying myself.”
“I don’t know, Fried Fred has a lilt to it,” she teased.
He turned his head and rolled his eyes at her, but he was smiling.
I’d left my notepad in the house, so I fanned myself with my hand. “What would cause a main circuit breaker to flip?”
He flipped a few more breakers. “Mmm. Maybe a power surge from the electric company, but I doubt that was it. If that were the case, Castillo’s probably wouldn’t be the only customer affected. There’s not a cloud in the sky, so it wasn’t a lightning strike. Luz, have you plugged in anything new that might take a lot of power?”
“No,” she murmured, clenching her fists at her sides.
He clicked a few more breakers, and the whole atmosphere changed. The lights flicked on, and the gentle rumble of an air conditioning unit roared to life.
Luz jolted, glancing first at Fred, then at me. “That’s it?”
“Yeah,” he said. “But really do call an electrician if it happens again, in case there’s a short circuit in the panel.”
This really, truly can’t be a coincidence. The saboteur had been here . . . had flipped the circuit breaker to shut off the power. I was sure of it.
My mind flickered back to the morning’s ominous note. LIGHTS OUT.
But why cut the power? And why hadn’t Vicente returned?
A sick feeling squirmed in my stomach. Had the saboteur killed the power to lure Luz out of the house? Had they hurt Vicente?
Don’t panic, I warned myself. There’s probably a perfectly good explanation for why Vicente’s not back.
But another detail churned in my mind—that Fred had said he’d tried to call Vicente, but his phone had gone to voicemail.
Why was Vicente not answering his phone?
“Well, thanks so much for your help,” said Luz. “Shall we head back to the house?”
Fred’s phone rang, and he tipped his hat. “Sounds like I have a call coming in. I’d best be off.” He answered the phone. “Golden Medal Tow Service. How can I help you?” He listened for a second, then nodded at us and whispered, “I’ve got a job. Talk to you ladies later.”
He strode out of the barn, and I turned to Luz.
“Well, what do you think?” I asked.
She crossed her arms. “About the power outage?”
I gave a small nod.
Hissing through her teeth, she said, “Do you think someone plugged in something in one of the outbuildings? Something that used so much power it overwhelmed the system?”
Hadn’t thought of that. “That’s possible,” I replied. “But I was thinking that they might have manually flipped the breaker.”
She looked around the barn. “This building stays locked,” she said. Sweat beaded on her brow. “To keep the machinery safe.”
“Let’s look around for any sign of forced entry, then. That will help us narrow down what happened.”
I walked along the exterior wall, checking the windows, and Luz headed to the other end of the barn. A little gray tabby materialized out of nowhere and rubbed against my legs.
“Hi, sweet girl,” I murmured, squatting down and scratching her chin. She mewed at me, then wandered off. I grabbed the wooden framing to haul myself back to my feet.
Was I out of breath from petting a cat? This pregnancy was getting ridiculous.
“Found it!” called Luz.
I hobbled in the direction of her voice. She was standing at a door on the other side of the barn. A shattered window was set in the doorway, and broken glass littered the floor in front of her.
“Be careful!” I called.
She glanced down at the shards of glass and took a step back.
I caught up with her and studied the scene. “Window was broken from the outside,” I said. “That’s why the glass sprayed inward. Then the burglar just reached through and unlocked the door.”
“All that trouble to knock out the power?” she asked slowly, turning and eyeing the machinery with a groan. “Man, I’m going to have to get a technician out here to inspect the equipment. Make sure that they didn’t sabotage it.”
I took pictures of the door with my phone camera, then drifted away to look through the barn for any other clues. Nothing looked out of place.
“I’m worried about Vicente,” she called. “Whoever knocked out the power was here . . . that meant they were still nearby when he went to investigate.”
My jaw tightened, and I turned back toward her. “It concerns me that he’s not answering his phone, too. Now, there are a lot of reasonable explanations. No need to panic yet. He could be gathering evidence, and he might not want to answer his phone if he’s suspicious that the saboteur is on the property.”
“Let’s get the golf cart.” Luz squared her shoulders. “We need to find my cousin now.”
Chapter 6
Luz and I spent forty minutes driving through the vineyard, calling for Vicente. But there was no sign of him.
“Where could he be?” she demanded, her voice cracking. She slammed her hand against the steering wheel and scrunched up her face, fighting off tears. “We’ve looked everywhere.”
“I don’t like it,” I said. “I don’t like it at all. But let’s remember that there are a lot of reasonable explanations. Sabotage is one thing, violence is another—it would be a huge escalation for someone to hurt or kidnap Vicente. We need to stay calm and keep our heads clear.”
But Luz wasn’t calm. Not even close. “Should we file a missing-person report?” Her breaths were coming fast and shallow. “Oh my gosh. What will I tell abuela if something’s happened to him?”
I swallowed back a wave of nausea. “There’s no point in filing a report yet. He’s an adult, and he hasn’t been missing twenty-four hours. That means police won’t take it seriously. They might let you file a report if you disclosed everything—the sabotage, the notes . . . all the reasons you’re concerned for his safety—but they’re still not going to start looking for him until tomorrow. Plus”—I hesitated—“police reports are generally something the public can request, and could be used in, say, a news story.”
She looked almost green as she pulled out her phone. “But surely we have to try.” Then she swore under her breath. “No cell service here. Let’s go back to the house. Maybe he’s come home. If not, we can call from there.”
She shoved her phone back in her pocket and hit the gas pedal, still breathing too quickly. I put my hand on her shoulder, hoping to calm her panic attack. The wheels of the golf cart churned on the gravel path, spitting pebbles out behind it. Then we were gliding forward, back toward the blessed air conditioning.
Please, let Vicente be there, safe and sound, I prayed.
When we arrived back at the house, Luz ran inside. I headed after her, but quickly despaired of keeping up. I was not in any kind of shape to run.
“Abuela!” she called as she opened the door.
I ambled inside, huffing and puffing and muttering, “I’m ready to not be pregnant anymore.”
Luz met me when I was halfway to the kitchen. “Abuela says he’s not home yet,” she whispered. “I acted unconcerned in front of her, but I’m really, really starting to freak out.”
The fear was apparent on Luz’s face, and I swallowed back my worry that she hadn’t acted nearly as unconcerned as she thought.
“I have an idea,” I said, trying to project calm control. “One that might help us find Vicente faster than the police will.”
“Shoot.”
“Let’s invite the suspects here. I’ll ask them questions, and we’ll see if we can narrow down the identity of our saboteur—and if we can glean anything that will help us figure out where your cousin is.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Is that safe? What if we corner the culprit, and . . .”
“Take deep breaths. Nothing about this situation is safe,” I replied evenly. “The best thing we can do is catch the saboteur as quickly as possible, before the situation escalates further.”
For a moment, she seemed to consider this. Then, her shoulders slumped, and she gave in. “Vicente said you’re the best PI he knows.”
My chest puffed up a little at the compliment. He said that? Really? He’d never deign to say such a thing to my face.
She continued. “I trust his judgment, and so I trust you. Let’s do it.”
“Then call Thomas and Bruce and ask if they can meet us here. Have Bruce bring his wife.”
Luz pulled out her phone and started making calls. I snatched my notepad from the living room and studied my scribbles, reminding myself of everything I knew about the case. I wanted to go into these interrogations as prepared as I possibly could be.
Seven minutes later, a knock sounded at the door. I tilted my head as Luz hurried to answer it.
That was fast. Town was ten minutes away—I’d mapped the distance earlier. Had the new arrival been on the road already—or had they been hanging out nearby? Doesn’t necessarily mean anything, but it’s potentially suspicious, I concluded. Something to follow up on.
“Thank you so much for coming,” said Luz.
“Well,” barked a shrill, headache-inducing voice. “I want to know why you dragged us all the way out here. To gloat about how you fired my husband, because you’re a smug traitor?”
“Now, Regina,” chided a man who could only be Bruce, Luz’s former manager. “That’s unkind.”
While Regina was openly aggressive, there was something in Bruce’s tone I didn’t like. He seemed . . . oily. Outwardly polite, but snakelike.
“Let’s talk more in the wine cave,” said Luz, glancing toward the hallway that led to the kitchen.
“Why?” spat Regina. She was a tall brunette with frown lines around her mouth and a stiff posture. Her husband, in contrast, was short for a man—they were almost exactly equal in height—with a more relaxed demeanor.
I stood and crossed the room toward them—they smelled vaguely of cigarette smoke, and my nose twitched. “I’m Kate Connolly, a private investigator looking into some odd happenings here at the vineyard. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
