Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery (15 page)

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Authors: Elaine Flinn

BOOK: Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery
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“What kind of bullshit is this?” Reggie asked. “Who the hell gave that nutcase a badge?”
“Pull up a chair and calm down,” Randall said.
Horne saw the empty wine bottle on the table. “Wait for me. I’ll get us another bottle.” He winked at Molly. “Maybe two.”
Reggie sat down with a thud. “I can’t believe this crap. We’ve been shoved into a corner, our wives are pissed off, and everybody is either thirsty or starving. Those jerks were told to get more than a brief statement. They were told to get full interviews. Hell, guests that were at the other end of the terrace who didn’t even see what happened were treated like suspects.”
Dino set two bottles on the table. “You have to do something about this, Randall.”
Randall said, “It’s not my call. This is Monterey County jurisdiction. I haven’t got a leg to stand on here. Reynolds is running the show. Besides, we’re not buddies, know what I mean?”
“Yeah? Well, his boss, the sheriff, is going to get an earful about these high-handed attitudes. If the sheriff wants to get elected again, he’d better think about making some personnel changes.”
Reggie’s hand was shaking slightly as he filled everyone’s glass. “I’m not going to be a hypocrite and say what a tragedy this is, and I’ve got to tell you, watching that bastard fall didn’t faze me at all.” He looked at his hands, and laughed nervously. “On the other hand, it’s the first time I’ve been around someone who was murdered.”
No one spoke. It was as if the word “murdered” was a foul sound. It was obvious that Jessop hadn’t keeled over from a heart attack, but still, no one had uttered the word until now.
“Could have been an accident,” Dino said. “You know, some kid fooling around with his father’s gun.”
Reggie snorted. “Where was he then, goofing off on Jessop’s roof shooting at sea otters?”
“Damn, I don’t know. I just never considered it wasn’t an accident,” Horne replied. He looked at Randall and Lucero. “You guys are the pros here. What’s your take on this?”
Lucero said, “We can’t talk about it even if we wanted to.”
“But we’re all friends here,” Reggie said.
“This is a homicide investigation. Friendship takes a back seat. End of story,” Randall said.
“Okay, how about you, Molly?” Reggie pressed. “What do you think?”
Molly sipped her wine, then paused. “I think I want to go home. That’s what I think.”
“Duck out the back way,” Sullivan said. “The front of the house is blocked by media vans and satellite trucks.” He looked at Horne. “This isn’t the kind of advertising we want, but hell, Jessop got his wish. He wanted to be big-time. Now, he’ll be front-page news for a few days.”
Molly looked at Randall. “I don’t think I can handle this again.”
Randall shrugged. “Put your sweater over your head when you leave. Not much else you can do.”
“I’m always good for a photo op. I’ll draw them away,” Lucero said.
“How am I going to get my van? The valet kids parked it.”
Lucero reached in his pocket and took out his keys. He tossed them to Molly. “Take my car. It’s just outside the iron gates. I told them to park it there in case I had to leave.”
 
When Sheriffs Deputy Lieutenant Reynolds finally arrived at their table, he jerked his head to Sullivan and Horne. “Time to find another spot, gentlemen. I’ve got some statements to take here.” He waited until they left, then pulled out a small notebook and said to Molly, “Let’s start with you.”
After establishing her identity for the record, Reynolds said, “I understand you and the deceased were involved in a dispute. I’d like you to tell me what prompted him to seek you out today.”
“I have no idea,” Molly said. “And I don’t know that he was seeking me out specifically. His father-in-law was next to me. Maybe that’s who he’d intended to talk to.”
Reynolds looked at her. “That’s not what I was told by several witnesses. Jessop, they all concurred, was going to you. Why were you here if there was tension between you and the deceased?”
“Because I was invited?”
“Don’t get smart-ass with me.”
“I wouldn’t think of it. I’m not in the habit of crashing private parties. I was invited by Garla Jessop and her father. But, excuse me, I thought you were taking a witness statement. This is beginning to sound like an interrogation.”
“It’s not important what you think. I can ask any questions I see fit.”
“Okay, then take this down. I was invited to the party, I was standing at the wall with Chief Randall and District Attorney Lucero when I saw Mr. Jessop approach me with his arm raised and poised in a manner I considered aggressive. I moved away. He made it to the wall, and after he turned to face me, he clutched his chest and fell. I have nothing more to add.”
Molly ignored her shaking knees, rose, and pulled her sweater closer. “You have my statement. I’d be happy to sign it if that’s required. In any case, I’m leaving.”
Reynolds looked up from his notes. “You’re not leaving. I’m not through with you.”
Molly looked down into his face. “Oh yes, you are. I happen to know my rights. If you have further questions, then I’ll want my lawyer present.” Molly nodded to Randall. “I’ll have coffee on if you and Dan want to stop by.”
Reynolds leaned back in his chair and laughed. “I guess that was a hint to remind me you have high-ranking friends.”
Molly gave him a withering look. “I’ll pretend you’re not harassing me, okay? And please don’t bother to remind me not to leave town. I know the drill. But if you need to speak to me again, you’d better have a good reason. And I’ll have my attorney with me.”
Chapter 14
 
BY THE TIME Molly got home, she was glad it was just past closing time for Treasures. The last thing she needed was a cross-examination from Bitsy. Molly had no doubt that the news of Todd Jessop’s demise had already run its course through Carmel. Pulling into the back alley, she locked Lucero’s car, then hesitated. She hadn’t noticed if the CLOSED sign was in the front window when she drove past the shop. She wouldn’t put it past Bitsy to wait for her return. She loved her dearly, but oh, the woman could talk the legs off a centipede. Molly decided to go up the back stairs from the courtyard to the apartment just in case. She could always open the door from upstairs to the shop and peek down to see if Bitsy had waited for her.
Molly took off her heels and tiptoed into the small kitchen. Making as little noise as possible, she pulled a mug from a cabinet, and then plugged in the teakettle. She stared at the cat clock on the wall and remembered Emma said it took forty wags of the cat’s tail for the wispy tendrils of steam to emerge. Forty-two, and the teakettle screamed like a banshee. Molly wasn’t taking any chances of miscounting and pulled the water cap off at thirty-nine. Quickly making her coffee, she took two sips, then inched her way to the door leading to the shop. The minute she opened the door, she could see that the night light at the foot of the stairs was at its night-time wattage.
Relieved, she made her way down and headed to her desk. A sheet of wrapping paper was on her desk with a note in large block letters from Bitsy wanting to know why Molly’s cell phone was off and telling her to call immediately. There was little doubt Bitsy had heard the news. Molly crumpled up the note and threw it in the wastebasket. She figured Bitsy would have gone over to the La Playa Hotel after closing. It was a weekend ritual she loved, and one of her major sources for local gossip. Bitsy and many of the art and antiques dealers in the village met regularly as clockwork to drink, share the latest news, boast about new acquisitions, and lie about how great business was. Molly rarely joined them. Branded with the stigma of previously being a high-end dealer in New York, which most of them aspired to be, she was politely tolerated because of Bitsy, rather then welcomed. Her past three homicide involvements with all the publicity did little to endear her to them as well. The dealers in town were quick to attribute the success of Treasures to Molly’s notoriety, rather than her fine eye for top-notch merch.
Molly’s first call was to Josie to let Charles know that Emma wouldn’t be going to school with him for a few days. Josie had said the shooting was all over the news and warned her that Bitsy had been trying to reach her for hours. Molly told Josie her cell had been off and she would call her later. The next call was to Emma’s school counselor. Molly left a brief message on her voice mail explaining that Emma would be absent and she would call tomorrow to explain. With those two calls out of the way, Molly checked her watch, wondering how long it would be before Randall and Lucero arrived. Her knees were still shaky, and small shivers continued to run through her.
In spite of the events of the day, Molly checked the day’s sales tags, more for a diversion than real interest. She couldn’t help but be impressed with the total of Bitsy’s sales slips.
Seven thousand bucks?
She quickly scanned the floor and noticed the gaps. Two small chests, a lovely inlaid side table, and a set of French side chairs were gone. Out from behind her desk, she walked down the center aisle and saw that two needlepoint pillows had been sold, and the two lamps she’d had made from the large reproduction Sèvres vases she’d found at a house sale.
Well, she thought as she climbed the stairs, at least Bitsy had a good day.
Molly already had the coffee table set with cups and a plate of cookies when Randall called to say he and Lucero were pulling into the alley behind the shop. She made a quick dash to the bathroom to look in the mirror and see if her face was as green as it felt. Besides being a nervous wreck, Molly had an upset stomach from the wine and food she should have ignored. The dash from the Jessop house while Lucero spoke to the media and the winding two-lane road from Carmel Highlands in Lucero’s car—with a stick shift she’d forgotten how to use—hadn’t helped either. The image of Todd Jessop clutching his chest wouldn’t leave her mind. She almost missed turning onto Ocean Avenue from Highway One on her way home. Being harassed by Reynolds was the last straw.
She was glad Randall and Lucero were here now. With Emma staying at Michelle’s, she had only Tiger and the kittens to hear her venting. She had thought about calling Daria on her cell but hadn’t wanted to ruin her trip to the City. Daria would hear all about it soon enough. Molly picked Tiger up off the sofa. She was stroking her back when she heard the knock on the French doors.
Molly’s anxiety grew when she saw the strained looks on Randall and Lucero’s face as they entered. “What now?”
“Problems as usual,” Randall said.
Lucero threw his sport coat on a chair, moved to the coffee table, and helped himself to coffee. “No lemon cookies?”
“I’m out,” Molly said. “They’re Pecan Sandies.” She looked at Randall, who had moved to the sofa. “What problems? Besides the obvious, I mean.”
“There were two freelance reporters at the party. One contributes on and off to the
Monterey Herald,
and the other one to wine magazines. They’re both friends of Reggie Sullivan, and apparently they’ve done some nice pieces on Bello Lago.”
Molly sat opposite Randall and handed him a cup of coffee. “And?”
Lucero snorted. “Damn reporters. They were on the terrace when Jessop took the hit, so they were part of the outside group that got herded back. They obviously made good use of the wait by cozying up to some of the guys who were at the vintner’s banquet when Randall got into Jessop’s face. And either Reggie or Dino told them about your little episode. They both hit on me and Randall when we were leaving and asked for confirmation.”
Molly slumped in the chair and blew out her breath. “Oh, great. That’s just peachy. But why the big surprise? I mean, the village is already talking. Where have they been? In a cave?”
Lucero laughed. “What happens in Carmel rarely gets to Monterey, kiddo. You should know that by now.”
“So what, pray tell, did you two say to them?”
“Come on, Molly,” Randall said. “You know us better than that.”
“Doesn’t matter, anyway,” Lucero added. “They’ll use what they heard, and there’s not a damn thing that can be done about it.”
“Got any Jack Daniel’s to put in this coffee?” Randall asked Molly.
Molly rose. “I take it there’s more to tell me?”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
Molly returned and set the bottle on the table. “Will I need much? I’ve already got a stomach ache.” She gave Lucero a look. “You should have stopped me after the first sausage.”
He leaned closer to the coffee table and poured whiskey into all three cups, then added fresh coffee. “It’s not every day your overwhelmingly elected district attorney plays waiter. This is twice now. I only do this for special people.”
Molly took a hearty sip of her coffee, and then tightened her eyes as it went down. “I’m ready.”
“One of the reporters asked Randall what he thought the odds were that you two would be considered ‘persons of interest,’ ” Lucero said.
Molly’s gaze shot to Randall. She set her cup on the table with a thud. “Besides the fact that you and I were standing right there and I don’t recall either one of us holding a smoking gun! Why would that even come up?”

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