12
T heir party arrived at one-fifteen, a good forty-five minutes early, at The Muse on 5th Street, a tiny, vintage coffee shop in the oldest part of Santa Cruz, two doors down from the performing arts theater. The lighting was almost non-existent as if the owner expected his clientele to seek out a discreet place to hide from the world in the middle of the day for privacy’s sake.
Small round tables were placed in clusters around the modest-sized room, with only two cane chairs at each table. The stingy seating might be why most people ordered their coffee to go or sat outside in the limited but more appealing courtyard. No afternoon rush hustled in and out. It wasn’t bustling with customers.
Considering the jazz tunes playing in the background, there was no hipster vibe here. It lent itself to a relaxed timelessness found only on the streets of Paris or the quaint coffeehouses in Tuscany.
The menu offerings were wide and varied. From scones, cheesecake bites, French toast, or cinnamon rolls, there were treats that paired well with most hot and cold drinks. Whether you went with a flat white or a chai latte, you could add a freshly baked cookie or a mini cake to your order.
Lucien scanned the area, trying to pick the best place to sit, while Birk tried to assess the best vantage point.
Brogan elbowed Jade in the ribs. “I don’t know how the meeting will go, but I’m definitely splurging on one of those delectable mini cheesecakes while I’m here.”
“I’m trying that French toast,” Jade said before handing off a photo of Trish Vosberg she’d pulled off the internet. “Take a look at the person we’re here to meet.”
Brogan studied the picture of a thirty-something cop in full uniform. Her hat was pulled down near her eyes to indicate a serious pose. “She looks like her sister Jill, only older.”
“Definitely a family resemblance.”
Birk tugged Jade toward a darker part of the room, an out-of-the-way corner by the restrooms. “We need to set up before she gets here.”
Brogan pointed discreetly toward the entrance and whispered, “Better hurry. Sergeant Vosberg is doing a little early reconnaissance of her own. She just walked in.”
Lucien saw an attractive woman dressed in civvies with chestnut brown hair scanning the room, her gaze settling on him as Brogan picked a table. With a purposeful stride, Trish made her way over to them, her expression unreadable.
“Lucien Sutter, the rock star’s son turned private investigator, I presume?” Trish said, her voice calm and professional.
Lucien reached out to shake her hand. Just as cagey, he stated, “Truthseeker22, I presume? We prefer websleuths to the private investigator tag. This is Brogan Cole. My wife.”
Sergeant Vosberg angled toward Brogan. “And the daughter of a murdered rock legend, Rory Rossum Cole. Interesting pairing, to say the least.”
“A case which Lucien and I helped solve,” Brogan pointed out.
“So I’ve heard.” Trish’s eyes flickered briefly towards Birk and Jade before returning to Lucien. “Who are your friends over in the corner?”
“They’re here for support,” Brogan said, watching Trish carefully for any signs of deceitfulness.
Trish nodded, seemingly unfazed by their presence. “Shall we get down to business then? You claimed to have information about my sister’s killer. Now’s the time to put up or shut up.”
“Keith Shepherd, the same guy who murdered Connie Upland and Cynthia Zepp. He’s our prime suspect.”
That one sentence had Trish pulling up a chair from another table and joining them. “What makes you think he’s the guy?”
“Because when Connie Upland was murdered, she was having an affair with a cop,” Brogan provided. “Her sister believes that cop was Shepherd. Is it a coincidence that your sister trained under Shepherd and ended up two months later murdered the same way as Connie? We don’t think so. We have yet to establish his connection to Cynthia Zepp. But we’re working on it. After all, Shepherd could have easily crossed paths with Cynthia at the convenience store where she worked anytime during his shift.”
“Keith Shepherd was a womanizing sleazebag,” Trish supplied. “I might’ve been Connie’s little sister, but even then, I knew Jill had trouble with one of her superior officers. It was Shepherd. He refused to leave her alone. He’d show up at her apartment at all hours and force himself inside. I’m sure you know by now that Shepherd’s younger brother worked on Connie’s case with another detective, Pete Davito. That’s a major conflict of interest.”
Trish eyed the couple with wary eyes. “It looked bad for the department. If you don’t mind me asking, what got you two involved in this sordid mess?”
Lucien shifted his weight on the uncomfortable cane chair. “We were originally hired to find out what happened to Sam Heywood. Sam was murdered at the Pelican Pointe Lighthouse. But his sister, Bethany, is still missing. We’re now working for the Heywood family. Were you aware that Bethany had become interested in the Connie Upland case? According to her family, she was obsessed with it. She works for the same guys you work for but in the records department. You can look up her job title and duties. We think she discovered the identity of Connie’s killer.”
Trish’s eyes widened at the mention of Bethany. “That’s news to me.” She leaned back in her chair, deep in thought. “Sam Heywood’s murder and Bethany’s disappearance—there’s been no scuttlebutt within the department about the cases being connected. In fact, there’s a rumor to the contrary, pushing the stale old line that Bethany walked away from her life because she was unhappy at work.”
“That’s a crock, pure and simple,” Lucien insisted. “We talked to the family. Bethany seemed entrenched in the Upland case. Someone was harassing her before she disappeared that Sunday morning.”
Brogan put her hands on the table and leaned forward. “We believe Keith Shepherd is involved in Bethany’s disappearance. We think he killed Sam. Maybe Bethany confided in her brother about what she’d discovered at work. And that’s what got Sam killed as well. The problem is that we can’t find Shepherd anywhere. It’s like he’s disappeared off the grid.”
Trish hesitated before responding, choosing her words carefully. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “That’s because he has. Don’t you think I’ve tried every resource I have at my disposal to locate him by now? Discreetly, of course—I’ve tried everything, only to hit a dead end after dead end—he’s vanished without a trace. My suspicion is that his brother Kenneth knows where he is. But he’s certainly not talking, least of all, to me.”
Lucien interjected, “So Shepherd was always on your radar?”
“Not always. But I knew Jill’s history with him. When I joined the department, I started investigating on my own, and it always came back to him. Always. There wasn’t anyone else. In my mind, Shepherd became the most logical suspect. Jill’s murder wasn’t random.”
“We need your help, Sergeant Vosberg,” Brogan said.
“Call me Trish.”
“Okay, Trish. You know Shepherd better than anyone. With your knowledge and resources, we might finally be able to get justice for all the victims involved.”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” Trish snapped. “I’ve exhausted all my resources trying to find him. He’s either living out of the country under another name, or he’s dead.”
Brogan wasn’t having that. “If he’s dead, then who killed Sam? And what has he done with Bethany? Someone took her. Law enforcement hasn’t even located her car. It seems your coworkers aren’t having much luck finding her because they aren’t even looking. They decided she left on her own. How convenient is that?”
“Unless Keith’s dead and Kenneth Shepherd is involved,” Trish offered. “You know those two are half-brothers, same dad, different mother. But they grew up in the same house under an authoritarian father. They’re both alike, mean-spirited, dodgy as hell, and into all kinds of underhanded projects on the side. They’re the same in other ways. They show very little respect to women.”
“That’s not surprising, considering we think one is a serial killer,” Lucien stated as he waved over Birk and Jade. “Meet our associates. They were instrumental in figuring out Truthseeker22’s identity. Birk is a tech whiz with a talent for uncovering information no one else can. And Jade’s intuition has led us down paths we never would have considered.”
Birk and Jade approached the table, their presence adding an air of intensity to the conversation. Trish studied them, eyeing the newcomers with a mix of caution and curiosity. “It seems you’ve assembled quite the team here. I’m impressed. And I’m never impressed. But even with all the skills and resources in the world, finding Keith Shepherd will be no easy task.”
Brogan leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s say they have a knack. If anyone can uncover Shepherd’s whereabouts, it’s this team. And if we can connect Keith or Kenneth to Bethany’s disappearance, you can take the glory.”
Trish nodded thoughtfully, acknowledging the expertise Birk and Jade could offer. She extended her hand to the couple. “All right. But I’m not in this for the glory. I’m not even a detective and certainly not qualified in homicide. But I’m a cop. My sister was murdered. I’ve been looking for justice since 1999. No one seemed to care back then or now. Throw in the other two murders, and it’s been twenty-five years of frustration and wondering what happened. Fast forward to now with another murder, a disappearance to boot, and somebody needs to pay for it. If that leads us to the Shepherd brothers, I’ll finally dance in the streets.”
Brogan’s gaze was unwavering. “Now you’re talking.”
A flicker of determination crossed Trish’s face. “Then let’s put this team to work. If necessary, I’ll take a leave of absence to track down Keith Shepherd and get the goods on his brother on my own time.”
Birk and Jade exchanged glances, silently communicating their readiness to dive into the investigation. Birk reached for his laptop, fingers flying across the keys as he delved into the digital realm to unearth any trace of Keith Shepherd’s whereabouts. “I brought this in case the meeting went well. I might be able to track down if he ever left the country.”
Trish’s eyes widened. “Who are you guys?”
“We’re the ones who plan on solving this case and finding Bethany Heywood,” Brogan claimed.
“Should we find a less public place?” Lucien suggested.
“This isn’t a cop hangout,” Trish pointed out. “You must’ve known that when you proposed using it as a meeting place.”
Jade grinned. “We knew that. We knew that cops have a habit of shunning this place because of its ‘so-called’ weird theater clientele. We figured you wouldn’t want anyone seeing you meeting us here.”
“You were right about that,” Trish said, getting to her feet. “But that’s in the past. Now I’m taking orders all around. What are you guys drinking?”
An hour ticked by as Birk sifted through layers of digital information, following a trail that seemed to grow colder with each passing second. The tension around the tiny table was tangible as everyone waited for a breakthrough or a miracle.
And then, Birk’s fingers stilled on the keyboard, his gaze narrowing at something on the screen. He leaned back slightly, a triumphant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I think I found something,” he announced, his voice filled with quiet enthusiasm.
Trish leaned in even closer, her heart pounding in her chest. “You’re kidding?”
Birk turned the laptop around so she could see the screen, revealing a map with a blinking red dot. “Keith Shepherd never left the country. In fact, he’s been hiding in plain sight not far from here.”
Trish tried to absorb the revelation. “Is this a joke?”
“No joke.” Birk pointed to a location on the map displayed on his screen. “That is wine country. Or what passes for wine country outside Santa Cruz. Kenneth Shepherd owns this vineyard called Noir Hills Estates. Keith’s been working there for his brother under the name Felix Ward. Looks like he thought no one would think of looking for him there.”
“How did you do that?” Trish asked. “Who are you guys?”
Birk traded amused looks with Lucien. “Haven’t you heard? I’m a wizard at finding people.”
“No, really?” Trish said. “How did you do that? I’ve had a team of private investigators looking for him since he fell off the radar. You’re the first person who’s actually located him.”
“I don’t want to give away all my trade secrets, but there’s a system in place when you leave the country and re-enter the US, or sometimes you don’t. I checked that database first. Next, I ran his photo through my own little version of facial recognition. Lastly, I did a background check on his brother, Kenneth. When I discovered he’d bought a vineyard, I checked all his employees. Good ol’ Keith showed up in that sweep as one Felix Ward.”
“I’ll be damned,” Trish stated. “How long has Kenneth owned the vineyard?”
“Ten years. About the same length of time that it took Keith to disappear off the radar. He bought it with his partner Pete Davito but bought Pete out a few years back.”
“I told you Birk was good,” Lucien boasted. “Now all we need is evidence. Maybe one of us should pay the vineyard a visit incognito.”
“How about I schedule a group tour that includes a wine tasting?” Jade prompted. “The winery encourages groups of four or more to call ahead.”
“I can’t go for obvious reasons,” Trish pointed out. “But you guys could.”
“Good thing we love wine,” Brogan touted. “Well, Jade and I do. Lucien will drink it. Birk, not so much.”
Birk shrugged. “To catch a killer, I’ll force myself to pretend to enjoy a mediocre Pinot Noir. That’s what Kenneth bottles. Dry, medium-bodied with complex flavors of forest floor and mushroom. Sounds delish.”
Trish made a face. “Better you than me. That sounds absolutely horrific.”
Jade giggled. “Birk left out the best parts—vanilla and fruity flavors and a blend of cherry and raspberry.”
This time, Brogan made a face. “Both of those are tart as hell and scream acidity.”
“Bingo,” Birk muttered. “Kenneth calls it lively acidity with smooth tannins.”
“I think they say the same thing about Two Buck Chuck,” Lucien decided. “This should be interesting. Have we ever gone on a wine tour with a killer?”
Brogan stifled a laugh. “Not unless you count that time in Tuscany we accidentally booked a tour with an infamous mob boss who ran a counterfeit wine operation out of his villa.”
Trish raised an eyebrow. “You guys have really lived very colorful lives.”
“Unfortunately, the colors are usually bright blood red,” Brogan quipped.
Jade chuckled before chiming in, “I can set up a tour tomorrow if it’s not too soon. It could allow us to subtly investigate the premises and gather information without raising suspicion.”
Trish nodded in agreement. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll use one of my vacation days tomorrow and keep an eye out from a distance in case things go south. Who knows? We might even discover this is where they’ve been holding Bethany.”
A little knot of hope tugged at Brogan’s heartstrings. “Could she still be alive?”
“Without a body, there’s always hope.”
That sense of optimism hung over the group as they finalized their strategy over the last dregs of their caffeinated drinks. If they were lucky, tomorrow meant taking one step closer to a killer. And hopefully bringing him to justice.