“He’s not under duress now, so isn’t our job done? And was it ever our job to begin with? Or was this Charles’s favor to Ernie?”

  If I didn’t know Cortnie to be one of the hardest working people in our office, I’d think she was trying to get out of something.

  “It’s turned into something completely different now. Nick’s on the homicide.”

  “Homicide?”

  “Charles called him from Haris’s house.”

  “Why the hell did he do that?”

  “Probably to piss me off. Anyway, it’s Nick’s case, which is good and bad. We might be able to get more information than we’d get if it was another homicide dick.” I tried to sound positive.

  “Like Nick can’t be dick enough.” Cortnie immediately jumped up and backed away from my desk.

  I flinched at the remark, but said, “We both know what it’s like.”

  “I have my own homicide dick. Shit, I wonder how bad Gabe’s gonna be.” Cortnie headed toward the door.

  Before Cortnie could get out of my office, Charles blocked her.

  “Hello, ladies, and I do use the term loosely.” He moved into the room, turning Cortnie around and pushing back to my desk.

  They sat down in front of my desk.

  “Haris has been a very busy man.”

  He didn’t have anything in his hands, so I didn’t know what he was basing his statement on.

  “Not anymore,” I said.

  “Do tell,” Cortnie added.

  “I couldn’t salvage his phone.” He hung his head.

  Charles would never have come into my office to give me bad news or to admit he’d failed at something. There was more to it. I decided to wait him out. Cortnie knew better, too, so she sat silent.

  “Aren’t you going to ask what I could do?”

  We both stared at him.

  He stood and paced the room. “Where’s Lola?”

  I didn’t answer.

  Cortnie said, “Groomer.”

  He paced some more.

  “I called Ernie. It didn’t go well.” He stopped pacing. “I grilled him about who he saw Haris with, but he said he couldn’t tell me more. But he did give a short list of known acquaintances.”

  “That’s it? That’s where we stand? Right where we were when I was in Pacific Grove.”

  “Ernie has invited me to come by the house tonight. He wants to talk about the counterfeit lot of wine, and what he knows and who else might know. He also might have some leads, but he didn’t want to talk on the phone.”

  “Did you tell him about Haris?” I asked.

  “You mean that he’s dead?”

  “That,” I said.

  “I may have skipped over that detail.” Charles’s mouth twitched.

  “I see.”

  Omission is a way of life when you need answers.

  Perfect. Charles could go hang with Max and his dad and get his car back, and I could spend the evening with Nick, if he got done at a decent hour. This wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

  “What are the logistics on this one?” Cortnie asked.

  “I need you in the office. Use what you know about Haris to break into his cloud. Mimi should at least have one of his email accounts from the information she pulled from his laptop. People are always saving that shit in a folder somewhere in case they need it. It’s got to be there somewhere. If not, we’ll have to think of another way.” He paused. “I need you to somehow get into his phone. And I want a record of all of his phone calls for the last two weeks. Something has to trace back to who he’s working with. I doubt he’s committing this fraud alone.”

  “I’m on it. I thought you already had it done.” Cortnie stood.

  “I have some of it. Just not enough.”

  “Okay, I’m headed to get Lola. Keep me posted.” I stood to leave.

  “Not so fast,” Charles cut me off, trapping me behind my desk. “You’re taking me to Ernie Daniel’s house. I don’t have my car, remember?”

  “Take an agency car, then Max can follow you home. I have to go get Lola. Besides, Nick won’t be happy to see me involved in this one.” I sidestepped to walk around him.

  He stepped to block me. “You’re taking me to Ernie’s, then you’re going back to Vin Rouge to chat up Aden Beck.”

  “Who is Aden Beck, and what am I going to chat him up about?”

  “He owns Vin Rouge, and he’s hosting the vintage wine auction on Friday. I want you to talk to him about Haris.”

  He was asking the impossible. I knew nothing about Haris. How was I supposed to ask questions about someone I knew nothing about, didn’t care about, and didn’t like? Even though I’d never met him, I was sure I wouldn’t have liked him.

  “Haris fancied himself a ladies’ man. Adrianna, Aden’s daughter, said as much. You can talk to her, too. Maybe she’d be better to talk to. Tell her he asked you out, but you don’t know him. I told you about her, and you want to know more about him before you go out with him.”

  That sounded reasonable. They probably didn’t know he was dead yet. “Fine.”

  “And change your clothes. This is a nice restaurant. You’ll want to look like you belong. Adrianna will be able to spot a fraud a mile away.”

  “She didn’t spot Haris,” I countered.

  “Maybe she did.” Charles always had to have the last word. “I’ll meet you in the car. We can grab Lola, then drop her off at the house and I’ll make sure you’re wearing something appropriate.”

  Chapter Six

  Charles

  If you ever want to be frustrated beyond your last nerve, help Mimi pick out an outfit she’ll look good in. Had I not put my foot down, the restaurant would have been closed before Mimi dropped me off at Ernie’s and gotten there. All the while, Lola sulked and whined, making it clear she was unhappy with being left at the groomer’s all day.

  On the drive, Mimi grilled me about people I didn’t know. She’d have to wing it, like I’d winged it earlier in the day. This wasn’t new to us. We worked with people we didn’t know all of the time. Our job was improv, but our chances of being discovered and becoming movie stars was zero.

  In my case, I couldn’t afford to become famous. My life expectancy would be very short if that happened. And I couldn’t consider cosmetic surgery, because the doctors wouldn’t want to mess with perfection. I’d done too many things in my life that would warrant me staying out of the spotlight.

  I rang the bell at the Daniels house and the housekeeper (uniform and all) answered the door. “Good evening, Mr. Parks, Mr. Daniels is expecting you. Come in.”

  A hot flash came over me, and I felt a spot of vertigo. It was like a flashback to when my mother lived in England. But I shall not digress.

  “Charles, please join us. Have you eaten?” Ernie stood as I entered the formal dining room.

  I hadn’t, but I didn’t want to disturb their family meal. “I’m good, but thanks.”

  Mrs. Daniels now stood. “Nonsense. Take a seat.” She waved her hand to the housekeeper. “Nanette, set another place, and get Mr. Parks a bottle of fizzy.”

  She walked over and hugged me. “I’m sorry, but my ALS charity event ran late, and we’re just now sitting down to dinner. Max and Ernie said they waited for me, but I think they snacked before dinner.”

  I’m so not a hugger, but I sucked it up and hugged back as I watched Max hold back a belly rolling laugh. “I’m sure they starved themselves. They’d never eat without you.”

  “Come, come, sit,” she said, sitting back in her chair and pointing at an empty one.

  I did as I was told, and another houseman served me a hot, fresh plate of food.

  He said, “Beef tenderloin, with creamed carrots in mashed potatoes, and grilled Brussels sprouts.” He pulled the top off of the plate.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said as I placed a cloth napkin in my lap.

  I hadn’t eaten a formal meal like this at home since my mother’s third husband had me stay with them for a week because he wanted to get to know me. The memory had me sweating.

  Ernie said, “If you don’t mind, Charles, we’ll save the business talk for the library after dinner. Marie doesn’t like to hear the vulgar realities of the world.”

  I nodded since my mouth was full.

  Such mundane topics as the weather, the beach, and local politics were discussed as we ate, drank fizzy water, and sipped fine wine. I declined dessert, as did everyone else.

  It was rare that Max had this much time off, but the last case he’d worked had been long and arduous, and the next sting they were planning was in our own back yard again. Max would be around for a few weeks more, at least. For now he had at least a week off. I was glad about it, even if I wasn’t going to be able to spend the entire week with him. I had work of my own that would take me away for a bit.

  “I’ll take my dessert in the library, with a brandy,” Ernie said.

  Brandy sounded good to me, but I’d be driving my baby home, so I stuck with sparkling, um, fizzy water.

  Once in the library, a room that looked exactly like something out of a game of Clue, Ernie sat in his red leather club chair and lit a cigar. His man heated a snifter of brandy and set it on the side table next to his chair. Max and I were on our own.

  I settled onto the saddle leather couch, and Max sat across from me in a chair similar to his father’s. The room had bookshelves floor to ceiling and a rolling ladder to gain access to all. One set of shelves had a glass cover and was locked away from the public. I must have been staring in that direction.

  “Very rare signed first editions. My prize books,” Ernie explained to my non-verbal question.

  “Excellent.” I wanted to ask my questions and get on the road. We needed to stay two steps ahead of the police if we were going to get access to information.

  “So, about Haris Nasution?” Max started the conversation.

  “You said you thought he was in trouble when he left today?”

  “Right. Did you find anything? You asked questions, but you haven’t told me anything.” Ernie sipped his brandy.

  “My partner, Mimi Capurro, and I found Haris at his house. He was in his car.”

  Ernie sighed. “Good. Was there anyone with him?”

  “That’s just it. It’s not good. He wasn’t with anyone, and he was dead.”

  Now Ernie sighed as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He took a large gulp of his brandy. “No. I didn’t know him that well, just from seeing him at parties and wine tastings. Something didn’t look right this afternoon. I told you it seemed like he was in trouble.”

  “He was. It looked like he may have committed suicide in his car.” I had to tell him what it looked like. I wasn’t going to give him all of the details. And telling him something was better than nothing, because he’d keep asking questions I couldn’t answer.

  “Haris? No way.” Ernie stood and walked around the large room, his snifter in one hand, and his cigar in the other. “Unless that man was one hell of an actor, there’s no way he was depressed or suicidal.”

  “Some people put on a pretty good front in public, but might be hiding some terrible demons.” I knew it to be true. I’d seen it too many times.

  “Can you tell us more about what you found? You know, how you found him?” Max asked.

  I decided I could tell them what I knew. “He was in his car. The driver’s side window was broken, with glass shattered all over the driveway. He was slumped down in the driver’s seat, and a good portion of the back of his head was in the passenger seat.”

  Max reenacted what would’ve had to have happened for the scene to look like it did. “Dad, do you remember if Mr. Nasution was left or right-handed?”

  Ernie came back and sat down. His brandy nearly gone. We were silent as his man came into the room to replace the nearly empty glass with a new warm glass of brandy.

  “I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t pay that much attention.” He closed his eyes. “I’m going to say right-handed, because left-handed people stand out.”

  Ernie’s man left the room, and no one said anything, so before he closed the door behind him, I said, “Thank you.”

  They both looked at me. I looked at the help.

  At least Max looked contrite.

  Ernie spoke again, “I’m not going to say for sure.”

  “Still doesn’t explain the broken window,” Max said.

  “I have a theory on that. If it was suicide. And even if it wasn’t.” I’d been mulling it over.

  “And…” Max said.

  “What if Haris shot at the person who was with him? Even if he didn’t commit suicide, maybe he shot first. There’s a possibility he got a shot off, maybe even hit someone.”

  “Brilliant. What do the cops think? Have you told them your theory?” Max asked.

  “You’re FBI, do you like being told by a civilian how to investigate your cases?” It was a rhetorical question.

  “It’s not exactly as if you’re a civilian,” Max said.

  “As far as the world knows, I am.”

  “Who’s investigating?” He hesitated in asking.

  “I called Nick instead of calling 911. I wanted to be sure I could stay in the loop. Or at the very least, you could.” I raised my perfectly groomed brows.

  “I’m staying out of this.”

  “What?” Ernie snapped. He put his cigar in the ashtray.

  “Dad, this is exactly why. I’m not getting involved in family business. You work with Charles. I’ll help if I’m needed to get information you can’t get to.” Max looked at me, knowing there wasn’t anything I couldn’t get. Almost anything.

  “So what did Haris do for a living?” I asked Ernie.

  “He had a wine distribution business. He traded in top quality wines. His family was supposedly wealthy and sent him to the United States to keep him safe from some political corruption.”

  “Where was his business located?” I asked.

  “He sold the brick and mortar business. That’s how he got into the vintage business. He also sold his house in southern California last year. He said he was traveling too much. With the profits from the house, he moved up here, and then traveled to purchase vintage wines.”

  “Do you think someone else may have been questioning the wines he was selling?” Probably a stupid question.

  “I’d heard through the grapevine someone in New York had pulled several lots right before an auction. I’d have to look at my inventory list and the auction websites to see which one it was. I could probably tell you which label was pulled. At the time I couldn’t understand why someone would pull them the night before the auction. But rumors were starting to filter through.”

  “Would you kill someone if you’d purchased a counterfeit case of vintage wine? Wouldn’t that be humiliating?” I’d be livid.

  “I’d be insured. And I purchase my wine anonymously. I don’t want the world to know I have millions of dollars of wine in my cellar. I do have excellent security, but why brag?”

  “All the same, let’s say you were outed, and the world knew you’d been fooled. Would you be mad enough to kill?”

  I didn’t know Ernie’s temper. I knew mine. It also depends on whether a person had killed before. It’s like virginity, once you lose it, having sex isn’t a big deal. Once you kill someone, you know you can do it, so the next one isn’t as difficult. At least there isn’t that hesitation. Not that I’d know.

  “Not sure I’ve ever been that mad.” I noticed Ernie didn’t look at Max when he said this.

  “The things people do for money. It’s scary.”

  Max said, “Isn’t it?”

  Ernie was strangely quiet.

  “I have Mimi at Vin Rouge talking to Adrianna. Haris apparently had a thing for her. Maybe she’ll have some insight. Do you think Aden knew him well?” I didn’t want to get in the middle of any family feuds, so onward.

  “Aden worked with Haris at several auctions. They were thick as thieves.” Ernie’s tone had a hint of conspiracy to it.

  “I’ll let Mimi know to chat with Aden, too.” I picked up my phone. But before I dialed, I admitted, “I saw his operation.”

  Ernie leaned forward, eager. “Was it amazing?”

  “It was in a small room in his house. In a bedroom, to be exact. He had it quite organized with the recipes for each vintage wine handwritten…”

  “Did you get pictures of the recipes? I’d be interested to see them.” He had nearly teetered out of his seat.

  I lied, “No, I didn’t see any reason. The police will do that with their investigation.”

  He slammed back against the chair, and I heard him say, “Shit.”

  I wondered what he wanted with the counterfeit recipes. Was he going to make the fraudulent wines himself? Sometimes people want to be knee deep in something to look like they aren’t guilty. I knew Ernie wasn’t perfect. No one who is as rich as the people he ran with was squeaky clean, even if they didn’t do the dirty work themselves. And as rich as they were, they always wanted more.

  “Is there anything you can think of that could help me find out who would want to kill Haris?”

  Ernie crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Or narrow it down?”

  Ernie looked at the ceiling.

  I resisted the urge to look up, too.

  “What about Bruno?” Max asked.

  Ernie dragged his attention from the ceiling. “Bruno is in France. How’s he going to kill Haris from there?”

  Max said, “You’d be surprised, but that’s not what I meant. Maybe Bruno would have some insight for Charles about the counterfeiting. It was his wine. He might know what prompted Haris to choose his label and that particular year.”

  “Let me call Bruno. And I’ll give him your number. If he thinks he can help, or he wants to talk to you, he can call you.” He looked at his watch. “It’s late there, so I’ll call him in the morning.”

  For a man who wanted me to help, he acted a bit surly. I didn’t try to figure out why. I didn’t care that much. He was the one worried about the man’s welfare.

 

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