Murder in the Lighthouse (Beachcomber Mystery #4)

13

T he next day, the group of unlikely allies found themselves sitting in the courtyard of the same coffee shop, putting the last-minute details together while treating themselves to cappuccinos and freshly baked pastries. If everything went according to plan, the sugar level might keep them from getting too tipsy before noon.

“I might have come up with an angle,” Birk explained before heading to the vineyard. “What if Jade were to set up a meeting with the winery under the guise of doing a feature on their sustainable farming practices? The idea is to pass ourselves off as bloggers interested in wineries that protect the environment with the goal of bettering the life of farmers and communities.”

“Sounds deep,” Lucien joked. “But that’s not a bad angle.”

Jade nodded in agreement. “That should give us plenty of cover to snoop around and maybe find evidence linking Keith to Bethany’s disappearance.”

“And while you do that, we can work on creating a few distractions to keep the focus off you. Maybe come up with an embarrassing tipsy moment in the tasting room where the manager has to get involved,” Brogan offered. “Obviously, we’d spit the wine out and pretend to get drunk.”

“That’s right. You’ve done this sort of thing before,” Trish teased. “Just don’t go too far and get thrown out or barred. We might need a second visit before we nail these guys.”

“I may look like a novice at undercover work, but I assure you I’m fully capable of acting the part,” Brogan cracked. “Believe it or not, I know how to work the tasting room.”

“You wouldn’t know it to look at her, but she’s rather skilled at spitting the excess into a spittoon,” Lucien confirmed with a grin. “We’ll take note of the people in attendance. Most should be wine merchants, chefs, or sommeliers.”

“Over the years, we’ve found the wine stewards can be the snobbiest bunch of all,” Brogan provided.

Lucien polished off his cinnamon roll. “We’ll work the room because there might be other ex-cops around. Chat them up. If that’s the case, there’s cause to wonder how many were in on the cover-up with Kenneth and Davito.”

“Just be careful while snooping around,” Brogan reminded Jade. “If Keith is as dangerous as we suspect, we don’t want anyone in a disastrous situation.”

Jade’s expression turned serious. “I’ll make sure we keep our wits about us. With everyone’s help, we can pull this off. When exactly did Kenneth Shepherd retire from the force?”

“Eight years ago,” Trish said, squaring her shoulders, determination shining in her eyes. “Davito followed suit about three months later. I had no idea they went into business together. They certainly kept that detail lowkey.”

“Good to know,” Birk muttered before angling toward Jade. “But it’s time to call the winery. You know the spiel.”

Jade nodded and picked up her cell phone to dial the number listed on the vineyard’s website. Under the pretense of discussing ecological growing practices, she hooked the assistant manager into extending the tour to three hours. “I don’t suppose the owner would have time to speak to us in person, would he?”

“I’ll see what I can do about that,” the woman promised. “The price is the same, though— seventy-five dollars per person.”

“But your website indicates there’s a group discount for four people or more,” Jade countered.

“That only applies to the tour and not the wine-tasting experience. Shall I put you down for the wine tasting, or would you rather stick to a tour of the grounds?”

“We’ll do both,” Jade said, wriggling her eyebrows toward Birk and giving him a thumbs-up. “We want to see everything the vineyard offers. Our wine blog has more than a quarter million subscribers.”

“She’s laying it on thick,” Birk whispered to the others. “But three hours should give us plenty of time to see the layout. I’ll recheck the employee list for ex-cops to be sure we know who’s on the premises.”

As they finished their drinks and prepared to head to the vineyard, Trish slipped a small tracking device into Jade’s pocket. “Just in case,” she whispered. “We wouldn’t want to lose sight of you guys during the tour.”

“So, are we in agreement that you guys can pull this off without tipping your hand?” Lucien asked.

Birk rolled his eyes. “I may not be French, but I can act as snobby as their best wine connoisseur. Consider Alan Rickman’s performance in that movie about wine.”

Jade sputtered with laughter as she glanced around the table. “We watched the movie Bottle Shock last night. The only problem is Alan Rickman’s character was Paris-based but not French.”

“Exactly,” Birk concluded. “I’ve always been better at pulling off a British accent anyway.”

Brogan traded dubious looks with Lucien. “This hare-brained idea has to work; otherwise, we look like a Saturday Night Live skit.”

“You’re worried about that?” Lucien cautioned. “I’m more worried that the manager will ask to see their fake win blog and those quarter million followers. ”

Under the guise of snobby wine enthusiasts, Brogan and Lucien arrived first, parking in the designated guest slots outside the gates of Noir Hills Estates.

Nestled among rolling hills, the sprawling estate stretched like a patchwork quilt of neatly trellised vines as far as the eye could see. The leaves shimmered in emerald and moss green shades, while clumps of purple grapes hung like jewels, plump and ripe for the picking.

As they stepped out of Brogan’s Range Rover, the sun glinted off the hillside, and the air was heavy with the scent of fermenting wine.

Lucien whistled through his teeth. “This is a nice setup. The photo gallery online doesn’t do it justice. How in the world could a cop afford this kind of vineyard? I’m surprised Birk hasn’t already uncovered that bit of information.”

Brogan chuckled as they stood at the entrance. “Once he gets a look at this place, I picture him later tonight, hunched over his laptop, poring through Ken’s financial statements, line by line.”

She nudged Lucien as other people began to show up. In no time, the parking lot became congested with foot traffic. By the time Jade and Birk squeezed into the last parking spot, everyone had gone through the gates ahead of them. “Ready or not, we’re doing this. We should make it look like we’re meeting for the first time.”

But Birk and Jade were already into their characters, pretending not to notice them as they walked by in a hurry and headed through the front gates.

Brogan and Lucien watched as a sleekly dressed woman met them with her hand held out, her smile too broad to be genuine. “Welcome to Noir Hills Estates. I’m Maryann, the assistant manager. I believe I spoke with you earlier. I’ve been instructed to give you the grand tour personally.”

“That’s wonderful, but we had hoped to chat with the owner while we’re here and pass along a personal recommendation to our subscribers,” Birk replied.

“Oh, the owner’s here. He’ll be in his office for the rest of the day. I’ll see if he can spare you five minutes before you leave. Are you familiar with our wine? At Noir Hills Estates, we pride ourselves on creating the best California Pinot Noir. We think it’s the best on the market at forty-five dollars a bottle.”

They eavesdropped over the next few minutes as Maryann took the cash from Jade before handing them the standard brochure and giving the couple a top-of-the-line sales pitch. When they started tagging along behind them, Maryann abruptly turned to face Lucien. “Where are you going?”

“We’re here for the tour and the wine tasting,” Lucien replied.

“Did you sign up in advance? Because we don’t take walk-in tastings.”

Brogan cleared her throat. “We didn’t call and make reservations but signed up on your website. We filled out the form you provided.”

“Ah. That’s for the wine tasting only, then. They’ll collect your money at the gift shop.”

“And where is the gift shop?” Lucien asked.

“It’s in the main building. Follow the pathway as it curves to the right. You can’t miss the villa.”

Summarily dismissed, Brogan watched Maryann turn and continue walking until she was joined by another member of the staff, who welcomed Birk and Jade like royalty, leading them on a tour of the grounds first and explaining their eco-friendly initiatives.

“They’re not exactly a welcoming lot, are they?” Lucien cracked as he watched Birk and Jade disappear around the bend. “So much for getting to know cold, snobby wine enthusiasts.”

“And we thought German winemaking and their Rieslings were difficult to describe,” Brogan wisecracked.

They walked past rows of grapevines heavy with plump fruit. “Why are the grapes still on the vine? Look at all the ripe grapes. Isn’t that strange? You have to admit, though, this place is gorgeous. ”

“So was Hitler’s Bavarian retreat,” Lucien quipped, noting every detail about the buildings as they veered off the path from the main house and went in search of the warehouse where the barrels were stored. “More workers will be around that area where they bottle than elsewhere on the grounds except for maybe tending the vines. Somehow, I don’t see Shepherd sending his older brother out to labor in the fields.”

“Someone needs to.”

They passed the science lab, a sterile offshoot where wine was tested and analyzed. “This is a first-rate outfit,” Lucien murmured before Brogan elbowed him in the ribs. He bobbed his head toward two men moving barrels from storage toward the bottling line.

“Keith Shepherd, a.k.a. Felix Ward,” Brogan whooshed out. “I recognize the photo Birk gave us.”

Their prime suspect stood supervising the other workers. Something about his demeanor set off alarm bells. For one, he looked much older than his fifty-nine years. When he moved, he walked with an exaggerated limp. To prove it was fake, Brogan refused to budge from her spot. She kept watching until his limp became noticeable on the opposite leg. She nudged Lucien. “I told you that limp wasn’t real,” she cautioned.

Lucien put his finger up to his lips. “Shhh. There’s someone coming.”

The footsteps on the pavement grew closer until they realized it was Kenneth. Using his brother’s alias, he waved “Felix” over to where he stood.

They watched as the two men discussed a shipment of wine heading overseas. The brothers acted jovial, even cheerful toward each other, laughing and talking about an upcoming larger shipment to Russia.

Lucien nudged Brogan behind the testing lab, a more discreet location, where she took out her phone and started snapping photos.

While their counterparts surveilled Keith, Birk and Jade were held captive by one of the wine experts droning on about their commitment to greening the wine industry. The winery’s contribution to the environment consisted of reusing stormwater collected in ponds for irrigation, utilizing solar panels to reduce their dependence on the electrical grid, and installing more efficient equipment to reduce their demand during peak times.

Growing bored with the lecture, Birk glanced around surreptitiously, noting the locations of security cameras and potential blind spots. The more he observed, the more convinced he became that something sinister lurked beneath the surface of this picturesque vineyard.

After what felt like an eternity, the tour finally concluded, and Maryann reappeared. Birk and Jade were ushered toward the main building for the wine tasting. Hoping to bump into Lucien and Brogan, they noticed Maryann leading them toward a majestic Tuscan villa, its stucco walls covered in ivy and loaded with rustic charm. Their hostess bypassed the gift shop, opening the double doors to a hospitality center, a brightly lit space with lofty ceilings, a skylight, and a curved bar with seating for twelve.

Birk and Jade were handed glasses of the deep red Pinot Noir. They sipped slowly, beginning to feel out of place among the clientele who nibbled fancy cheese from a charcuterie board while others sipped their wine from velvet couches.

“I think I recognize that guy over there as our state senator,” Jade quipped. “And I’m pretty sure one of those women he’s with is not his wife.”

“Are you ready to get out of here?” Birk whispered. “Let’s make a break for it.”

“Not until we hear from Brogan and Lucien. And we haven’t even met Kenneth Shepherd yet.”

“Then let’s find his office ourselves,” Birk suggested, urging Jade to walk toward the exit.

Halfway to the door, several text messages appeared on his phone, one after the other. He studied the images of the Shepherd brothers and showed them to Jade.

“Now we can leave,” Jade said, bumping into Maryann. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“I was just looking for you two. I’m sorry that the owner got tied up in a meeting. He won’t be able to work you in for another hour or possibly two.”

“That’s okay,” Birk replied. “We love the wine, and we ordered a couple of cases for our Christmas list.”

“Wonderful,” Maryann cooed. “That’s what we love to hear.”

As their hostess walked away, Birk and Jade quickly headed out of the hospitality center, eager to find Brogan and Lucien. They scanned the surroundings, trying to spot their friends amidst the refined crowd. Spotting a familiar figure near the edges of the vineyard, they hurried over to find Brogan and Lucien crouched behind a row of grapevines, heads close together as they whispered to each other.

“What’s going on?” Jade asked in a hushed tone as they approached.

“We’ve uncovered something big,” Brogan said, her eyes alight with excitement. “The Shepherd brothers are definitely up to no good. We caught them discussing details about a large shipment of wine to Scotland. We snapped some incriminating photos of them changing labels on the bottles, passing someone else’s wine off to their overseas customers.”

Jade’s eyes widened. “We didn’t count on that. Did you find where they might be holding Bethany?”

“No,” Lucien snapped. “If this operation is as big as I think, they’d do anything to keep it hush-hush. If that’s what they’re involved in now, imagine what they’d do if they found out Bethany had been snooping into Connie’s murder.”

“One or both brothers would’ve set up a meeting with her. Wilder Ranch is only fifteen minutes from here,” Brogan pointed out. “It’s where she went missing. If those two were desperate enough, they would have gotten rid of Bethany that day and then turned their attention to Sam when he came looking for her. I doubt Bethany is still alive.”

Jade hung her head. “How sad.”

Brogan nodded in agreement. “We need to get out of here and regroup, talk to Trish about what we found. We think this vineyard is a front for someone else. We don’t think Ken is the one in charge.”

“If that’s true, Noir Hills Estates has a very high-end clientele,” Birk noted as he steered Jade toward the parking lot. “We saw several politicians hobnobbing with local celebrities.”

“Figures,” Lucien stated, hurrying toward their Range Rover. “We should’ve been out of here like twenty minutes ago.”

Three cars had pulled off the roadway into a clearing half a mile from the winery. They met with Trish after she’d been observing from a hilltop. She wasn’t happy about the turn of events. “Swindling customers in the wine trade is hardly equal to murder.”

“It’s still fraud,” Birk stated.

“You said it might take two visits to find dirt,” Lucien persisted. “It took one visit to know they’re up to no good. Maybe it takes us going back there tonight to look around for any freshly dug ground.”

Trish rubbed her forehead. “That’s a morbid thought. If you get caught, I’ll disavow any knowledge about why you’re there. I’d have to. For now, go home. I need to think about our next step. If there is one.”

“I’m not giving up,” Lucien insisted.

“We’re not,” Brogan tossed out, her voice firm. “This is too important. We need to find out who killed Sam and what happened to Bethany.”

“We’re finding that out without law enforcement’s input,” Birk added. “We’re used to circumventing the cops.”

“What if I contact the person in charge of Sam’s murder investigation?” Trish offered. “Get him in on this op.”

Lucien tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “That would be Theo Woodsong. And he’s less interested than you are.”

“Don’t use that crap on me,” Trish fumed. “I want these guys. But it’s looking less likely that we can get Keith for my sister’s murder or Connie’s or Cynthia’s.”

“That might be true,” Brogan began, leaning toward Lucien in the driver’s seat so she could be heard. “But we can try to get Keith for Sam’s murder and Bethany’s.”

“Maybe we’re barking up the wrong tree,” Trish said.

Brogan shook her head. “No, we’re not. Who had the most to lose if Bethany uncovered something in Connie’s case file that led to her killer? Whoever he or she was, Connie’s killer had the most to lose. But who was she having an affair with before she died? A cop called Keith. Maybe you should dig out Connie’s file from the dustbin instead of fighting with us and learn what Bethany discovered.”

“Maybe you could get your hands on Bethany’s phone records,” Lucien prompted. “That would be a major help.”

From his truck, Birk offered, “If we had those, I could tap into Keith’s or Felix’s cell phone records and see if the two phones crossed paths that Sunday morning.”

“Fine. But that’s why I’m asking for time. Give me twenty-four hours to see what I can put together before you return to the winery.”

“Twenty-four hours,” Lucien repeated. “And then, we’re going back to Noir Hills Estates.”