Dying on the Vine Page 3

  He gestured toward his cruiser. “I’m going to need you to come down to the station so we can get your statement.”

  Before I could answer, a loud screech came from over my shoulder. I instinctively ducked, thinking someone’s pet monkey was on the loose, or perhaps an out-of-control velociraptor.

  I wasn’t far off. It was Stefan Pierce.

  “What are you doing here?” He was practically yelling, his eyes darting wildly from me to the policeman and back to me again. Was he talking to me, or to the cops? I couldn’t blame him for panicking. Seeing me in front of his office talking to a policeman must have tipped him off that something was seriously wrong.

  “Stefan, I’m so sorry!” I blurted, not sure what to say. I was still processing the news myself.

  “What’s happened? Where’s Babs?” His voice became more shrill with each passing question.

  “Sir,” said the cop, “I need you to calm down. Are you a friend of Ms. Norton’s?”

  “Friend? I’m her partner,” he said, indignant that the cop didn’t know who he was. He was inflating his credentials quite a bit, but I didn’t dare correct him. Stefan put his hands on his hips. “Now tell me what’s going on right now!”

  The cop eyeballed Stefan for a second and said, “Are you just now arriving at the office, Mr…?”

  “It’s Pierce. Stefan Pierce, and I was with a client. What is this? Was there a robbery?”

  “Something terrible has happened,” I blurted. “It’s Babs!”

  The cop looked irritated at me. Was I not supposed to say anything? The police officer pulled a notepad and pen from his shirt pocket. “We’re going to need to know the name and contact info of Ms. Norton’s next of kin.”

  “What happened?” Stefan’s eyes darted back and forth between the officer and me. “Tell me right now!”

  I laid what was meant to be a reassuring hand on Stefan’s arm. “Stefan, if you can just calm down for one—”

  “Don’t you tell me to calm down!” He practically shrieked the words at me as he yanked his arm away.

  The older cop gestured to the younger one, who came trotting over to join us. “Ms. McKenna, I’m going to ask you to go with Inspector Ryan here.”

  “My pleasure,” I said, but what I meant was “Abso-freakin-lutely!” I don’t know why I’d felt the need to get in the middle of things—always the helper—but I was clearly making it worse.

  “Right this way,” Inspector Ryan said, taking me by the elbow and leading me toward his squad car.

  “Why is she here?” Stefan yelled toward our backs. “Is she under arrest?”

  “Miss McKenna isn’t under arrest,” Inspector Ryan called out over his shoulder.

  The detective opened the car door for me, his expression inscrutable. I climbed in and buckled up—this was certainly no time to be a scofflaw—sinking down into the seat as Ryan circled around to the driver’s side.

  “So … Babs,” I began, as we pulled away from the curb. “What happened to her?”

  The detective gave me a sideways look and tightened his lips in a grim smile. “That’s what we need to find out.”

  CHAPTER 4

  “Tell me again what you were doing in Ms. Norton’s office.”

  “I was there to get some files for a new client.”

  “But who let you in?”

  “Nobody. The door was open.”

  “What about the front door? According to the building manager it stays locked at all times. Did someone buzz you up?”

  “No, I tried calling, but she didn’t answer, and—”

  “And you let yourself in?” I’m no detective, but I could tell there was a hint of judgment in Detective Ryan’s question.

  “Someone came through the door, so I came on in.” Ryan gave me a long hard look as if he was trying to decide whether to believe me. “What?” I said. “It was cold outside.”

  For someone who wasn’t under arrest, I sure felt like I was getting the third degree. I’d been sitting in the tiny room for over an hour, patiently answering the detective’s questions and wishing like crazy I hadn’t skipped breakfast in anticipation of eating one of the scones that were probably being bagged as evidence. My stomach was grumbling angrily at my deferred maintenance, and my phone had gotten so many text alerts I had to turn it off.

  But that was nothing compared to the sober realization of why I was sitting here. Babs was dead. It just didn’t make any sense. I wanted so badly for it not to be true. But there was no denying it, especially while I was in the presence of Detective Ryan.

  “So when you got up to Ms. Norton’s office, was the door open?”

  My cheeks flushed. “No. When I said it was open, I meant that it was unlocked.”

  “So you just let yourself in?” Again. Judgment.

  Once more, I explained what would have been completely insignificant had I been visiting a professional peer and not stumbling into a crime scene.

  Had I moved the body? How did I know Babs? Who might have wanted to hurt her? The questions went on and on. Funny how things take on heightened significance when you’re in an interview room.

  Ryan excused himself, leaving me alone in the interrogation room. I scanned the ceiling for cameras, wondering if I was being filmed. Probably. A minute later, he returned. “Okay, just one more question. Did you touch anything at the crime scene?” Ryan asked.

  The crime scene. I hated thinking of Babs’ office that way. “The door. The phone. I guess I touched her couch when I stood up.”

  “What about the floor?” he prompted. “Did you pick anything up off it?”

  I scanned my memory and shook my head. “Just the pastries.”

  “You didn’t see anything behind the couch?”

  What was he getting at? The murder weapon? Must be. What else would have been behind the couch that I could have picked up that would have mattered? Nothing I could think of. I shook my head. “No, as soon as I saw Babs, I called 911, and then I came downstairs until you arrived.”

  Finally, the detective flipped his notebook closed. “Okay, Ms. McKenna. That’s all for now.”

  Walking out into the midday sun, I gallantly resisted the urge to throw up on the sidewalk. Actually, maybe it was for the best that I hadn’t had breakfast.

  I hailed a passing cab, hopped in, and shut the door behind me.

  “Where to?” The cabby peered at me suspiciously in his rearview mirror. Maybe it was my imagination; a lot of cabbies have that look.

  For a moment, I just stared back at him, the mirror acting as our go-between. I wasn’t sure what to do next. The competing needs of eating something, returning to the office, collecting my car, and going straight home and crawling under the covers were duking it out inside my overtaxed brain. Finally, the prospect of adding a parking ticket to my day’s tally won out, and I directed him to the intersection near Babs’ office where I’d parked.

  We rode in silence until he turned onto Babs’ street. “Whoa,” he said as he spotted the police cars and TV crews outside of her building. “Wonder what happened there?”

  Knowing it was a rhetorical question, I kept my mouth shut. I scanned the crowd that had gathered to see if I could spot Stefan, but it seemed to be nothing but gawkers and the officers keeping them at bay. Stefan was probably at the police station like I had just been.

  “You can let me out at the corner,” I said, fishing through my wallet for the correct change. I passed the money up to him with a quick thanks, jumped out, and darted over to my car. If Stefan was still around, I didn’t want to see him without a police escort.

  I dialed Brody from the car, and he picked up immediately.

  “Kelsey! What happened? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay.” I took a breath. “But Babs isn’t.”

  “Oh my God, so it’s true. It’s all over the news, but nobody knows anything yet. What happened?”

  Still in a daze, I told him everything I knew—which, granted, wasn’t much.
“There was blood on the floor. I don’t know what happened.”

  “They said something on the news about blunt force trauma. Could she have hit her head or something? Like maybe she fainted?”

  “I don’t know. She fell onto a carpeted area behind a couch, and there was nothing for her to have hit her head on.”

  The other end of the line was silent for a moment as Brody considered my words. “So you think maybe…?”

  “It wasn’t an accident? Based on my conversation with the police, I don’t think so.”

  After I filled him in on everything that had happened at the police station, we agreed that an accident seemed unlikely, but then again, someone wanting to hurt Babs didn’t make any more sense.

  As I pulled up to the office, we made plans to talk later. I briefly considered taking the rest of the day off, but I had too much work to do. Besides, I really wanted to check on Laurel.

  “Laurel?” I called out as I climbed the stairs. “You here?”

  “Hey,” she yelled from the general direction of her office. She came bouncing out of the room right about the time I reached the landing. “Where’ve you been? I tried calling you a bunch of times.”

  “Sorry. I—” I was about to tell her that I’d been at the police station, but something about her tone said she hadn’t heard yet.

  “How did it go with Babs?” she asked, her tone breezy. “Were you able to work your magic with her?”

  Oh, no. She hadn’t heard yet. “Yeah, um, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. It didn’t exactly go the way I’d hoped.” Her brow furrowed as I struggled to find the words. “In fact—well, here, maybe we should go sit down.”

  “What happened?” Her expression changed from curious to concerned as she followed me into my office and sat in the chair across from me. “Was she mad? Wow, that’s weird. I really didn’t think she’d care.”

  “I didn’t get to talk to Babs.”

  Laurel laughed a twinkly laugh. “Oh, that’s all? You had me worried there for a minute.”

  “Wait. Listen. I didn’t get to talk to her because when I got there, she was—well, there’s no easy way to say this.” I took a deep breath. “She was dead.”

  Laurel searched my eyes, not fully comprehending the words I had said. “What? I mean, how?”

  Laurel stared at me in shock as I told her everything that happened that morning.

  “Poor Babs,” she said, her eyes welling up with tears.

  “I know.” I grabbed the Kleenex box from my desk and sat down beside her, offering her a tissue. “I just hope the police catch whoever did it.”

  Laurel’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. “Did it? You think someone did it on purpose?”

  “I keep trying to come up with some scenario where it’s an accident, but the more I think about it, the less plausible that sounds.”

  “You think she was attacked?” Laurel’s voice rose in alarm. “Did you tell the police?”

  “That’s just it. They asked a lot of questions that sure didn’t sound like they thought it was an accident. Plus, when I was up in her office the 911 operator told me to wait outside in case there was an intruder.”

  “An intruder?” Laurel’s eyes flew open wide. “Kelsey, you didn’t tell me you were in danger!”

  “I wasn’t. At least, I don’t think I was.”

  “How do you know?” she demanded.

  “Well—I guess I don’t. But it doesn’t matter, because I’m here, and I’m okay.”

  “Thank God,” she said as she grabbed me and hugged me hard.

  “Thanks, Laurel,” I said, trying hard to breathe. If she didn’t stop squeezing soon, I was going to lose oxygen.

  “I don’t know what I would do if you…”

  I smiled, trying to put on a brave face. “I know. Now go get your files. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  Okay, so maybe I was deflecting, but I wasn’t ready to admit how shaken up I was. I hadn’t really allowed myself to think about it, but I had to admit: the thought that I might have been in the same room with Babs’ assailant freaked me out more than a little. And I still hadn’t fully processed the fact that Babs Norton was dead.

  I was just glad Laurel was there to help keep my mind off things.

  For the rest of the afternoon, we threw ourselves into our work. I needed the distraction, and crossing things off our to-do list proved to be very therapeutic. Plane tickets for next month’s site visit in Fiji? Booked. Call from a potential client who wanted to get married in Tuscany? Returned. Group rate with the hotel in Chicago? Negotiated.

  Done, done, and done.

  I’d almost managed to forget about the situation altogether—almost—but when I heard the front-door buzzer, my heart did a little flip-flop. It was Haley, who had called earlier to say she was going to swing by and drop off her contract.

  “Laurel?” I yelled down the hall. “Can you get that?”

  “I’m on it!” she yelled back.

  I took a deep breath to prepare myself as Laurel escorted Haley into my office.

  “Hi,” Haley said as she took off her cardigan. She dropped her handbag onto my guest chair. “Did you hear about Babs? It’s all over the news.”

  “I know,” I said. “I’m still kind of in shock.”

  She sank down into the chair and we sat in silence for a moment. “It’s so weird. I was in that very office just a couple of weeks ago. I wonder if Stefan found her?”

  I froze. As awkward as it was, I didn’t want her to find out later from someone else. I got up from my chair and walked around my desk, sitting next to Haley in the chair next to her. “Haley, listen. I have to tell you something, and I don’t want it to freak you out.”

  Her eyes grew big. Just my saying those words seemed to have freaked her out already. “Okay…?”

  “I went to Babs’ office this morning to pick up the files for your wedding.”

  Haley looked alarmed, and her voice rose an octave. “You were there?”

  “Yes.” I tried to keep my voice calm and steady. “I’m the one who found her.”

  “Oh my God.” There was a pregnant pause as the news sank in. “Oh my God!”

  “I know. It was awful. The police came and, well, it was awful.”

  After peppering me with questions—and who could blame her?—Haley stared at me for a moment, and I realized she was trying to decide what to make of my story. What would I think if someone told me they’d found a body? I’d be shocked. I’d be concerned. And depending on how well I knew them, I’d probably wonder if they knew more than they were telling me.

  “Holy cow,” she said at last. “The cops probably think you did it!”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Did they question you?”

  “No!” I said. “I mean yes, but as a witness, not a suspect.”

  “They probably suspect you. It’s always the person who found the body. Or the husband. Was she married?”

  “What? No. I don’t—it wasn’t me!” What kind of common criminal did she take me for?

  “No, yeah. I know that. But they don’t know that. And then with me seeing her, and then me seeing you … You have to admit it’s a weird coincidence.”

  Tell me about it. If Haley hadn’t visited Brody’s booth, I never would have gone to Babs’ office. I’d be hearing about Babs’ death like everyone else instead of thrown into the middle of it. Of course, if I hadn’t been intent on being what my dad had always called a dad-gum do-gooder, I never would have gone to Babs’ office in the first place. I would have just signed the client and maybe sent an e-mail as a professional courtesy. Or if I hadn’t found a parking space, maybe I would have waited until the next day and someone else would have found her instead of me.

  A million little things could have changed the outcome of the last twenty-four hours, but here I was.

  Me and my stupid pastries.

  CHAPTER 5

  Coordinating Haley’s wedding wasn’t going to be a
s easy as she thought. Because being a day-of coordinator involves more than just the day of. Sure, it would seem like all I had to do was just show up the day of the wedding, drink champagne, and tell people where to stand, but there’s actually a lot of preparation that goes into it. You have to be in close contact with the vendors, go over the contracts so you know what’s expected of everyone, oversee the rehearsal itself, and put together a schedule to keep everything on track. In other words, we only make it look easy.

  The next morning, Haley, Laurel, and I gathered in the conference room, ready to get to work. I was sure Babs had done a great job on the planning stage; I just needed to know what she’d planned. I grabbed a new-client questionnaire and readied myself to write. “Okay,” I said, “first things first. How many people are you expecting?”

  “Right now the RSVPs are at eighty-three,” Haley said.

  “Okay, and is Higgins Estate the venue for both the service and the reception?”

  “Yes,” she confirmed.

  “All right. Next question, what caterer are you using?”

  “Um…” She looked up and to the left. “Oh, gosh, I can’t remember their name. We went for a tasting, but it was like six months ago.”

  “Was it Tartine Catering?” I asked. “I know Babs uses them a lot.”

  “No, it was ‘Wine’ something.”

  About 70 percent of the businesses in Napa were called Wine something or another, but I noted it anyway. “That’s okay. What about the florist?”

  Haley grimaced and shook her head. “Babs basically told me what I wanted and assured me she knew ‘just the person,’” she said, using air quotes to drive home the point.

  “Okay. Hmmm. What about alcohol? I assume the wine would have to be from Higgins, right?”

  “That sounds right!” Haley said, happy to have finally had an answer.

  “Do you know if they were going to supply the other beverages?” asked Laurel.

  Haley slumped in her chair. “I don’t. I’m sorry. I guess I’m not being much help. I’ve been crazy busy with my job and I was leaving it to Babs to keep us organized.”

  “That’s okay. I mean, that’s what we’re here for, right? We’ll just have to—” Huh. I wasn’t sure. Usually brides hire a day-of coordinator because they’ve done all the planning themselves. I’d never been in a position like this one before, where someone else had done all the planning but wasn’t available to give me the answers.