Authors: Rebecca Cantrell
Sofia had missed her.
Brandi stayed in the zone until the helicopter landed and the pilot turned off the engine. The silence after the roar of the engines was so deep Sofia thought she might fall into it.
Brandi’s eyes snapped open. “Are we there yet?”
She scooped up the last milkshake, tidied all her fast food trash back into the cooler, and jumped out. One hand snaked in to retrieve Buddha from his perch.
“Thank you, Captain Tricia,” said Sofia. She climbed out of the helicopter and sprinted across the tarmac after Brandi.
“Does Madeline know we were going to land here?” Brandi looked around at the empty pavement. Ahead of them was a hangar, behind the helicopter, and off to the right a few airport buildings, but the place was mostly empty.
“Probably,” Sofia said. “She chartered the helicopter from here.”
Brandi scowled.
“Tell me what the tape said before you go and face her.” They both knew that Brandi might not get a chance once Madeline showed up.
Wind whipped Sofia’s hair around, and she caught it in one hand and tucked it into the back of her T-shirt.
“The guy on the tape was complaining that the woman on the other end of the phone was having a ‘dalliance of the heart’.” Brandi laughed. “Apparently that’s very different from a ‘dalliance of the vagina’ in their relationship.”
Maybe Annabelle’s relationship with Rick Pankhurst had Marcel worried. They had seemed close.
“Anything else?” Sofia asked.
“Bourgeois drama. I got the feeling that she was threatening him. Something about a ‘dalliance of the wallet,’ wine, and
ortolan
, which I think might be a kind of bird.”
“You don’t even want to know,” Sofia said. “It’ll make you a vegetarian again.”
“Then don’t tell me.” Brandi swiped her hand across the mouth, catching a mustard drop. “In the end the man stomped off swearing about getting water for someone named Percy.”
“Percy is their horse.”
A voice made for radio bellowed across the tarmac to where they were standing. “You will have to return the Buddha.”
Brandi’s hand went guiltily to the pocket where she’d stowed the statue.
“I’m not involved in this,” Sofia said. “But thanks for the info.”
“Thanks for the ride.” Brandi turned to face an attractive brunette in her mid-forties. Oddly enough, the woman wore a black silk pantsuit with a lavender shirt that exactly matched the tunics from the Zen retreat.
“Hi, Madeline!” Sofia barreled straight past her without slowing.
“Miss Salgado.” Madeline’s voice would make anyone stop in their tracks and, against her will, Sofia stopped. It was like Madeline was a Jedi.
“Yes?” Sofia slowly turned to face her.
“I’ll call tomorrow so we can catch up.”
That meant an interrogation.
“I’ll look forward to it!” Sofia lied brightly.
CHAPTER 31
S
ofia was back in the office printing out her report. She liked writing reports. It gave the cases a narrative structure and it made her feel as if she were accomplishing things. Brendan always insisted that they print out their reports, even though Aidan said they were all stored online anyway and they shouldn’t kill the trees. Sofia saw his point, but she liked seeing the paper on her desk. She’d even bought herself an Out box at an office supply place.
She plucked the pages off the printer and deposited them in her Out box. A day’s work, done and documented.
“You look like a secretary from the 1950s,” said Aidan.
She ran through a quick list of Don Draper’s secretaries on
Mad Men
in her head. “You’re way better at making coffee. Maybe you ought to try out for that job.”
“I don’t have the legs for it.”
“Did you just compliment my legs?” She was sure there was a catch.
“By accident,” he said. “Honest.”
Brendan walked through the front door with John Stark at his side. John Stark was Brendan’s lawyer friend, and he threw a lot of business their way. Narek had probably hired him, which was definitely a smart move. If she ever needed a defense attorney, she’d have hired him, too. A man who could endure Melissa Fairbroad, a particularly annoying client charged with murdering her husband, well, a man like that was someone she wanted on her side. Plus, he had great gray hair.
“You all remember John?” Brendan asked. “I’ve brought him up to date on our latest case as of this morning.”
“Glad to be working with you again.” Sofia shook his hand, which seemed to remind Aidan of his manners because he stood up and shook hands, too. It wasn’t easy to pry Aidan out from behind his terminal.
Brendan glanced over at Sofia’s Out box and said, “Let’s meet in my office and go over what you’ve learned.”
Sofia snagged her papers and fell in behind them. Thanks to Brandi’s translation, she actually had something to contribute. But she’d have to be careful not to mention a few things.
Aidan brought in cold bottles of water for everyone, and Sofia drank hers gratefully. Her helicopter rescue must have dehydrated her. She took the uncomfortable chair, Stark the comfortable couch, and Aidan chose to stand instead of sitting next to him on the couch.
“I’ll go first,” Brendan said. “The police have been thorough, as usual, and checked out everyone’s alibi. According to her mother, Milena went straight to her house and didn’t leave until the police arrived the next morning with news of Marcel’s death. She doesn’t have any other witnesses though.”
“She only needs one.” Stark adjusted his pale blue cuffs so that they stuck out exactly a quarter inch beyond his jacket.
A mother as an alibi witness wasn’t exactly air tight. Sofia was pretty sure that her own mother would lie to protect her from being charged with murder. And Milena was definitely a jilted lover. She might have gone back and whacked Marcel on the head, so Sofia wasn’t counting her out yet.
“Annabelle’s alibi is even more solid.” Brendan took a quick sip of water. He was too excited to drink more. He loved this part of cases—putting together all the pieces. “She left the party with Rick Pankhurst and went to the Seaview Inn. Neither one left the room until the next morning. Employees at the front desk who saw her check in, and surveillance cameras in the hall and the lobby verify her story. She was miles away when Marcel Befort died.”
That was a rock solid alibi. If she were ever suspected of murder, Sofia would want one like that.
“Additionally, surveillance footage at the Befort’s property verifies that everyone eventually left the party while Befort was still alive. The last one out was a buxom blonde wearing only a sweatshirt that said Nirvana Cove.”
“I guess Bambi never found her real clothes,” Sofia said.
“Why didn’t the surveillance cameras pick up the murder? I saw a camera looking right down on that horse trough,” Aidan said.
Sofia kicked herself because she hadn’t even thought to look for one. She still had a lot to learn.
“That camera was broken,” said Brendan. “Annabelle said it burned out a week ago, and that Marcel hadn’t gotten around to having it replaced.”
“Lucky for the killer,” Aidan said.
Lucky, or clever. Who else might have known about the broken camera?
“Maybe he’s not too lucky.” Stark’s smooth voice sounded pleased. “The police located a drone in the trees near the horse trough. It was damaged, but they’re working on getting the data off it. Maybe it’ll show exactly what happened, and Narek can return to his life.”
Or it would hang him. Sofia knew Stark always believed, or acted like he believed, that his clients were innocent. Hopefully he was right this time.
“A drone?” Aidan’s face was stony. A little too stony. He needed to work on that, because Brendan looked at him sharply, and he sure didn’t want Brendan or Stark knowing about the true owner of that drone.
Trying to deflect attention from Aidan, Sofia said the first thing that popped into her head. “Where will Marcel’s money go?”
“Mostly to his wife, Annabelle, plus a few small bequests to family members in France. But I’m not sure she’ll get much.” Aidan smiled gratefully at Sofia as he made his report. “His business was a mess. He was mortgaged for way more than the value of the winery and the house. When all’s said and done, I think Annabelle might end up with nothing at all.”
That explained the dalliance of the wallet that Brandi had mentioned. Marcel had spent himself right into the hole. Hopefully Annabelle would be able to keep Percy. But horses were expensive, and so was keeping them. Maybe she could stable him in Rick’s barn.
“Sofia?” Brendan looked at her. “What have you found out?”
“Marcel and Annabelle had a big fight the night he died, after the party, on the phone.” She couldn’t say how she knew that without revealing that Aidan had left a bug there. Neither Brendan nor Stark would be excited about that. Choosing her words carefully, she explained what Brandi had found out.
“The wife would look good for it.” Stark tugged at his cuffs again. He did it whenever he started to talk. “But her alibi is too solid. There are cell phone records showing that she called him twice that night. Both times her phone was in the hotel. The first call was long, and it might have been a fight, but it doesn’t help us. The second shorter, and the police think she might have reached him right before he was killed. He might even have hung up to confront the murderer.”
That left Annabelle out. Sofia hoped that Annabelle and Marcel hadn’t fought on that last call—it’d make things much worse for Annabelle if they had. She’d run the call by Brandi again and see if there was anything else there.
“Maybe the drone footage will shed some light on events,” Stark said. “We should hear soon.”
Aidan fidgeted with the top of his water bottle.
“Does Rick Pankhurst have a solid alibi?” Sofia asked.
“You’re thinking maybe a crime of passion. Killing Marcel to get the woman he wanted?” Stark nodded approvingly. “It’d be a good spin, but unfortunately, the same surveillance that exists for Annabelle also exonerates Pankhurst. Too bad, because I like the love triangle option to distract attention away from the Narek/Milena/Marcel love triangle.”
“Technically,” Sofia had to point it out even though she knew Brendan would disapprove. “Marcel was sleeping with Bambi, Milena, and his own wife. If you count up everyone, that’s a love pentagon.”
“Bambi’s the top unknown right now,” Brendan said. “What do you know about her?”
Sofia was glad that they’d moved on from the drone. “She was young. Met Rick at a dating site. She didn’t seem particularly attached to him, or to Marcel. Lost her clothes. Her hair color and boobs are fake. She’s a little smaller than me, but still fit into my sweatshirt.”
Sofia knew it wasn’t much.
“Her boobs are fake?” Aidan asked.
Trust Aidan to go there first.
“Scars,” Sofia said. “I saw her naked before I loaned her my sweatshirt, and she had some scars. But she had a good surgeon because they were minimal.”
“Did you find out anything, Aidan?” Brendan asked.
“Nothing.” Aidan’s eyes tightened at the corners. It probably pained him to admit that he’d come up empty, particularly when Sofia’d had such a good day. “I’ve trolled through dating sites to see where she and Pankhurst might have intersected, but I’ve come up empty.”
“No luck in the virtual world,” Sofia said. “What if we try the real world? We could go to Emoji. That’s where she met up with Rick. Maybe she’s a regular.”
“Perfect.” Brendan smiled so hard his dimples popped up. “Sounds like you two have a date tonight.”
“I was going to see Jaxon.” It wasn’t entirely firm, but they’d exchanged a few texts while she was in the helicopter, and she was hopeful.
“And I have a date, too,” Aidan said.
“Only one?” Sofia asked. “Who?”
He spun the water bottle around. “Taylor.”
“I told you so!” she crowed.
“Doesn’t matter what you had planned,” Brendan said. “I hope that you appreciate Narek Grigoryan’s situation enough to put aside your personal plans.”
Sofia thought that sounded like ‘go out and do this or you’re fired.’
“Of course,” said Aidan. “How could I turn down a date with a former starlet?”
Sofia didn’t like the way he stressed the word ‘former.’ “No more than I can turn one down with a
former
cop.”
“Great!” said Brendan. “It’s all settled.”
CHAPTER 32
S
ofia changed into a pair of jeans that cost more than she made in a month these days, but had seemed cheap when she bought them a few years ago, a black leather blazer with two buttons, and a yellow silk camisole that wouldn’t be visible under the plunging blazer unless she dropped something. Then she applied ‘going out to a club’ makeup, fluffed her hair, slipped into some danger zone heels, took a piece of old pizza from the fridge, and headed out.
Fred dive bombed her, stopping in mid-flight to whirl away cawing.
“Didn’t recognize me, did you?” she called up to him.
Fred circled as if deciding whether to poop on her head.
“Truce!” She put the pizza on the railing, and Fred swooped down and tore off a piece of pepperoni. He’d eat the whole thing eventually, but he always started with the meat. Not a vegetarian bird.
“How do I look?” she asked.
Fred cocked his head and clacked his beak a couple of times.
“Last time I was at a club my butt was hanging out of my ducky pajamas,” she said. “I’m trying to make a good impression.”
Fred snatched another pepperoni and gulped it down.
“Everybody’s a critic.” She hefted her purse on her shoulder, locked up, set the alarm code, and left the peaceful seaside to Fred.
Aidan had agreed that she could drive, which must come with some kind of a catch, but she didn’t care as she got into her Tesla and headed south on PCH. The ocean beckoned on one side, the mountains on the other. When it applied itself, and it usually did, Malibu was gorgeous. She rolled down the windows and breathed in salty sea air, trying to ignore the tinge of exhaust fumes.