The crowds began to thin. I spied Scott nearby in what appeared to be earnest conversation with a short man in tan slacks and a black jacket. The woman accompanying him wore an intricately embroidered denim shirt. Flowers swirled over the shoulder and down the right side of the garment. Her black leggings ended above sandals sprinkled with gold stars. A strand of diamonds hung from each of her ears, long enough to almost touch her shoulders.
Not wanting to interrupt, I texted Scott goodbye and let him know how much fun I’d had talking to him and that I’d be at the center in the morning. The barn area and parking lot were well lit. As I left the light behind and headed to the darkened area where I’d parked, I pulled my flashlight from my purse and switched it on. Walking to the Jeep, the events of the day caught up with me and I dragged myself up into the driver’s seat and wearily closed the door. I put the flashlight back in the glove box. Sleep wouldn’t be a problem tonight.
* * * *
The next morning, I went out the back door with Phil’s breakfast. Julie and Rex were strolling in the gravel parking lot.
I stopped next to Julie. “Hi! Did you get a good night’s sleep?”
A shadow passed over her face. “Pretty good. I think it will be a while before the kidnapping is behind me.”
I could only imagine.
“I didn’t thank you yesterday for taking care of Rex,” Julie said. “Sorry. I really appreciate what you did for him.”
“No problem. I was happy to help. You had a lot on your mind yesterday.” I tilted my head to the side and smiled. “Are you going foraging this morning?”
She laughed. “No more of that for me. Ever. Sebastian said he’d go out and hunt for the wild edibles we need for the chili.”
“Are you planning to listen to the presentations at the community center?”
She shook her head. “I’m going to rest, check out some more of your fantastic cookbooks in my room, and then get my ingredients and equipment together so I’m ready to start right after the other chefs leave.”
“I’m looking forward to sampling what you two create.”
Julie smiled. “Thanks, Kelly.” She turned and started toward the inn. “See you later.”
I climbed the steps to Phil’s room. Just as I was about to set the basket down outside, the door opened.
“Good morning, Kelly.” A clean-shaven Phil wore black slacks, a crisp white shirt, and one of his embroidered wine vests. A good sign. “Can you come in for a few minutes?”
“Sure. Your breakfast is my last delivery.” I followed him in and set the basket on the table in the dining area.
Phil gazed at me seriously. “I want to thank you and the others for believing in me. It helps a lot. Please convey my message to the Sentinels.” He picked up a mug of coffee from the counter in the kitchen area and took a sip. “I’ve decided to continue my work as usual…or at least as best I can. I’ll need a different vehicle for wine deliveries, but today I only have consultation appointments, so the car will be fine. Tomorrow I’ll be doing the two wine tasting classes for Michael’s event.”
I knew he’d visited a number of his customers to distribute the missing people photos. “Did anyone say anything to you about the thefts when you were passing out fliers?”
He shook his head. “A few whispers here and there and a furtive look or two.”
“Have you heard anything from the private investigators?”
“They’ll be able to inspect the van later today. They’ve made as detailed an analysis of what the thief looks like as they can, given the poor quality of the video.”
“Hopefully they’ll find evidence the car was tampered with in some way to make it start.” I paused. “On another note, I talked to Joe at the marina. He knew Eric and said he went and visited his mother. It seemed to help her. Would you be willing to go see her?”
“Of course,” he replied. “I know his mother and should have thought of that sooner myself.”
“Well, you’ve been having a challenging time.”
“True, so true.” He sat at one of the chairs next to the table. “Eric lived at home, and I met him there a few times. On one occasion, I had dinner with them. I’ll call her and set up a time.”
“Another issue you were dealing with was the question as to whether your tasting is off in some way. Have you found out anything about that?”
“I double-checked my medications and didn’t find any evidence they’d have a negative interaction with my taste buds. I couldn’t think of any food or drink I received as a gift. I made a doctor’s appointment for next week when I get home. I’ll see what he has to say.”
“It sounds like you’ve done everything you can for now. I’m glad you’ve decided to get back on track with your business,” I said.
“Me, too.” He looked at his watch. “On that note, I’d better get going.”
“What about your breakfast?”
Phil reached into the basket. “I’ll take it with me and eat between stops.”
“Take the basket. I can get it from you later.”
“Okay.” He picked it up.
I trotted down the steps, happy about Phil feeling comfortable enough to go back to work. Right then, a deputy sheriff’s car pulled in and parked next to my Jeep. Stanton got out. Maybe I’d gotten upbeat a little too soon. I frowned as I approached.
He waited next to the back porch for me. As I got near him, he said, “No need for the suspicious look. I’m not here with any bad news. Just stopping by for a cup of coffee and a chance to talk to Tommy about his new assignment.”
My brow cleared. I’d better not plan on playing poker any time soon with my face so easy to read.
We entered the inn together. Tommy sat in his usual place at the counter, eating his breakfast. Fred sprawled nearby. Helen poured coffee into a mug and handed it to the deputy. She knew from previous visits he liked it black.
“Hi, Deputy Stanton,” Tommy said.
Fred thumped the floor with his tail but didn’t bother to get up.
Stanton put his mug on the counter. “Do you have any special plans for your three-day weekend, Tommy?”
“Mom and I are going to shop for supplies for my school project,” he replied.
Helen smiled. “We’ll go up to Fort Peter and then have lunch at the Creamery.”
“Their sundaes are so good.” Tommy slid off his stool. “I’ll go get the directions for my assignment.”
Helen looked questioningly at Stanton. “Are you sure you don’t have time for breakfast?”
“No. Like I said in my text, I can only stay a short while. Lots of meetings.” He looked at me. “I imagine you and the seniors have your usual charts up.”
“We do. Would you like to see them?”
“Yes. You sometimes unearth things I don’t know about.”
We walked to the meeting room. Someone had taped a card over the door with the words “War Room” written in bold, black block lettering. I suspected it was Ivan’s writing.
Stanton raised his eyebrows and looked at me.
“We decided to declare war on the kidnappers and the poachers. I think Gertie, in particular, likes the name. I swear I saw a glimmer in her eye when I said it the other day.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me. She was the toughest fifth grade teacher at the school, and I know that on a firsthand basis. You didn’t mess around in her class.”
Gertie had been Bill Stanton’s teacher and was the only one allowed to address him as William. We entered the room and Stanton walked around reading the charts. The message board noted that Rupert didn’t have any photos of the handler. However, the Succulent Saviors weren’t aware there was a Caucasian involved and the others would review their photos to see if they had a picture of him.
“I would like to get one of Winslow with the poachers to clinch the connection,” Stanton said.
“Do you have credit card information from the motel?”
Stanton shook his head. “Nope. He paid in cash.”
“What about the car rental companies?”
Another shake of the deputy’s head. “We traced the vans to the agencies by using their license plate numbers. He used fake identification.”
“Have you thought about—”
Stanton interrupted me. “You’d make a terrific detective, Kelly. You’re coming up with all the things we’ve looked into. If you ever get tired of managing this place, let’s talk about a position in law enforcement.”
It wasn’t just a tinge of heat on my face I felt, it was burning so I knew it was red-hot blush. “Sorry.”
Stanton laughed. “I was giving you a bad time. I know you’re trying to help.”
“I’ll be sure to let you know as soon as possible if someone finds a photo.”
Stanton nodded. “In case you were wondering, we know Michael can vouch for the handler’s connection to the poachers, but a photo would help.”
We walked back to the kitchen area, where Tommy had put out the description of his next project. He enthusiastically launched into an explanation. I went to my quarters to get ready for the day. The dress was casual, with tomorrow being the costume day. I’d be doing some wine pickups this afternoon for the Saturday event. With that in mind, I decided on sturdy walking shoes and a light blue blouse to go with my jeans and navy company fleece.
As I was about to start my Jeep, I thought of Joe and his new camera. I wondered if he had photos of the handler. I found the number of his bait shop and called.
“Hello, this is Joe,” he answered.
I explained about the handler, a Caucasian man, not being caught, and asked if he thought he had any photos of him.
“As a matter of fact, I do. Mornin’ before the raid, when all the activity began to increase, he was here a couple of times. Got pictures of him helpin’ with the sacks. Then, when he got in his car, I used my nifty close-up button, and got a photo of him and his license plate number.”
“Wow, Joe. You were on it. That’s fabulous news.”
“A warden is comin’ by this afternoon to get my notes in case they’re helpful. I was goin’ to ask him if they needed the photos I have. Now I know they do, I’ll send them to Warden Rodriguez.”
“Please send them to me as well. I’ll pass them on to Stanton and the Sentinels.”
“Will do.”
I gave him my email address and ended the call.
The regular lot at the center was almost full, so I parked over by the main building like I’d done the previous evening. I checked my emails and saw one from Joe with two photos attached. I forwarded them to Stanton and the group.
The fog hadn’t burned off yet, and its gray blanket obscured the trees, moistened the air, and dampened the sound of people conversing as they headed for the meeting. I entered the barn. A table with beverages held a wide assortment of tempting pastries. Michael, Scott, the Sentinels, and several other people were seated on the left side of the building. In front of them was a podium with a microphone.
At the designated start time, Michael picked up the mic. “Welcome once again, everyone. I’m excited you will have an opportunity to hear what the Redwood Cove Community Center has brought to a wide variety of people. I hope when you’ve heard their stories, you’ll want to replicate this model.”
He introduced the Silver Sentinels, not mentioning their crime-solving role. Gertie talked about several of her elderly friends who had become increasingly reclusive. The classes and the gatherings at the center had brought them out, and they were now regular attendees.
“One of them went from living on frozen dinners she’d purchase by the case to having her own plot of land here where she raises all of her vegetables. You’ll have an opportunity to see that area this afternoon.”
Mary, Ivan, Rudy, and the Professor each had stories to share about community changes and the impact on people and groups they knew.
The veterans spoke about having their lives turned around. Many of them had been homeless. They all were learning skills to lead them back to productive lives. Several gave examples. One announced there’d be a PTSD service dog training exhibition later in the day.
Jim Patterson, the farm manager, talked about the classes being offered. There would be mini sessions in the afternoon so guests could experience them firsthand.
He added, “I have a special treat for you right now so you can get a glimpse of the participants in one of your options.”
Bruce Kincaid, the goat herder, entered through the back doors with the flock of miniature baby goats and his two working dogs. A space had been left clear of chairs. The goats bleated, milled around, then stopped and stared at the people. The dogs backed off, giving them more room but keeping them controlled. The goats began to buck and spin similar to what Sparky had done.
Speaking of Sparky, he was conspicuously absent. I wondered what mischief he was getting into.
“We have recently implemented goat yoga,” Jim said. “These little ones will be part of the class today. I think you’ll find them highly entertaining.”
I overheard one woman say to the person next to her, “I participated in a goat yoga class once. I never laughed so hard. I’ll definitely do that this afternoon.”
The herder whistled to his dogs and the miniature creatures trotted their way out.
The morning continued in the same vein. Michael talked about how he went about putting the center together, including having a committee made up of local residents and an outreach person for the veterans. Scott talked about his role as overall manager.
Michael stepped back to the microphone. “The people here have shared with you what the creation of this center has meant to them. I found it fulfilling for me in a special way. I’ve helped many groups with donations. What’s different about this is I’ve gotten to know these people firsthand. I’ve not just heard of the shift in their lives, I’ve seen it, and know I’m part of those changes.”
He paused and people clapped.
“I encourage you to talk to today’s speakers. They have much more they can tell you than their short presentations would allow. Lunch will be available in a few minutes.”
Guests applauded again and rose from their chairs. The people who had spoken began to mingle with the crowd. The energetic nods and smiles from the philanthropists boded well for Michael’s plan.
Scott joined me. “How do you feel it went?”
“Splendid. Look at all the enthusiasm around us.”
Scott nodded. “It would certainly be wonderful if this became the start of this model growing across the country.”
“I agree.”
“What are you up to this afternoon?” Scott asked.
“I’m picking up wine for tomorrow. I hope to get back in time to participate in some of the activities,” I replied.
“Are you staying for lunch?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ll grab something to take with me.”
Scott grinned. “Thanks for the s’mores lesson last night.”
“You’re welcome. Certainly a switch for me to be teaching you.”
Memories of his flour-dusted kitchen during my apple pie lesson and images of lumpy macaroni and cheese flooded into my mind.
Trays of sandwiches were brought in, along with bowls of fruit and platters of salads. I told Scott I’d catch up with him later, put several sandwich quarters on a napkin, and left. I picked up cases from two wineries and then went on to my third and last stop, which was the Sagatinis’ place. They didn’t have a huge parking lot, so I parked on a far side, to leave room for guests.
I walked along a gently curving paved path toward the tasting area. Lush flowers grew along the right side of it. I stopped for a moment to gaze at a black and orange butterfly fluttering among purple and gold blossoms. The perfumed air was a far cry from what I’d experienced at the marina.
I approached a young woman at the outdoor tasting bar. “Hello. I’m Kelly Jackson, and I’m here to pick up wine for Michael Corrigan.”
“I’m Jess. I’ll let them know you’re here.”
She texted someone on her phone.
I noticed a black lab soaking up some sun on the deck and occasionally shaking his head.
Jess reached under the counter and came up with a tube of ointment. “Flies can be a problem for the dogs. This does a good job of repelling them. I’ll put some on him.”
A tourist van, with Vineyard and Wine Tours written on the side, pulled in, and people began to pour out of it and head to the tasting area.
“You’re going to be very busy in a moment,” I said. “I can apply that for you. I’ve done it with my horses and dogs at home.”
“Thanks so much.” Jess handed me the ointment. “His name is Duke.”
She reached under the counter and pulled a box out and put it down. I could see the name Hercules Disposable Gloves on the side, with some clear gloves sticking out the top.
“I haven’t seen any gloves like these before. I’ve used opaque or colored ones,” I said.
“They’re special order. We use them when doing certain wine classes. We didn’t want to use ones that would make people think of physicians or dentists.”
I put the tight-fitting plastic gloves on. They were basically invisible.
I froze.
Gloves like these could be the reason no fingerprints were found in Phil’s van other than his.
Someone could’ve been wearing gloves like these.
With the poor quality of the video, they would be impossible to see.
Did someone from the Sagatini Winery steal the wine? Did Carlo or his son Lorenzo do it?
If so, why?