River Road

  “What if he doesn’t want to talk?”

  “That’s your problem.” Mason started down the stairs. “I’m sure you’ll think of something. If all else fails, try a bribe.”

  “Hey, you’re on the stairs now, aren’t you?” Aaron said. He sounded pleased with himself, as if he had just solved a puzzle. “I can hear your footsteps. You and Lucy were upstairs in your old bedroom when I called. It was the bed I heard creaking a couple minutes ago.”

  “Go find the accountant.”

  Mason ended the connection and went swiftly down the stairs. By the time he reached the hall, Lucy had the door open. Deke and Joe came up the front steps. Joe immediately headed for the kitchen to check his food and water dishes.

  Deke gave Lucy an appraising look. Mason gave her a quick glance, too, and realized that her hair was different. It had been in a casual twist before the lovemaking. Now it was down around her shoulders.

  Deke raised his brows. A knowing smile edged his mouth. But he had the good sense not to comment on the change of hairstyle. Instead, he closed the door and looked at Mason.

  “The bad news is that it wasn’t Quinn’s black SUV that clipped you yesterday,” he said. “His car was sitting in the private parking lot behind the winery. Not a scratch on it.”

  “Is there any good news?” Mason asked.

  “Depends how you look at it. There is a small fleet of black SUVs at the winery—company vehicles. Quinn could have grabbed one of them rather than use his own car. No way to know if one of the winery vehicles is missing.”

  “I think it’s time to have a talk with the CEO,” Mason said.

  Lucy grabbed her tote off the table. “I’ll come with you.”

  Mason followed his first instinct.

  “No,” he said.

  She glared at him. “Has it occurred to you that you’re inclined to say no to everything on general principle?”

  “In my experience, no is usually the safest answer in any given situation.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Think about this. Cecil Dillon wants something from me—namely, those Colfax shares. If he’s getting desperate, as we suspect, he’s more likely to blab if I’m in the room. People start talking fast when they want something.”

  “The way you’re talking right now?” Mason asked.

  Lucy raised her eyes to the ceiling in silent supplication.

  Deke looked amused. “She’s got a point. Besides, you’ll both be safe as long as you stick together.”

  “Exactly,” Lucy said, triumphant.

  “Given that I don’t think Dillon is the one who ran me off the road yesterday, I guess it won’t matter if you come with me.”

  “I love it when you surrender graciously,” Lucy said.

  She swept out the door ahead of him.

  Joe appeared in the hall, once again hopeful.

  “What the hell, you might as well come, too,” Mason said.

  Joe made for the door.

  Mason looked at Deke. “Aaron called a few minutes ago. He’s got a lead on an accountant who was fired from Colfax Inc. There may have been an attempt to cover up some financial trouble at about the same time that the merger offer was made.”

  “That would explain why several members of the family want to sell and get out while the getting is good.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think anyone has informed Warner Colfax that his company might be in danger of imploding.”

  “Why would they?” Deke said. “I doubt that he would be willing to bail under any circumstances. My take on him is that he’d fight like hell to try to save the company. He’s planning to hand it over to his second son.”

  “What second son?”

  Deke’s mouth twisted. “I do believe that’s where the second Mrs. Colfax comes in. Warner is severely disappointed in his current heir. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s planning on a replacement for Quinn.”

  “Lucy came up with the same thought. I wonder if Quinn has figured it out.”

  “He may be drinking too much these days, but no one ever said that Quinn was stupid.”

  43

  Mason studied the small Mediterranean villa that served as guest quarters for Colfax’s visitors. The curtains were pulled across the windows. A black SUV was parked in front. His intuition and his pulse both kicked up. Should have started looking at Cecil Dillon back at the start, he thought.

  There were three more mini-villas scattered around the outskirts of the estate, but the driveways in front of the other guesthouses were empty.

  “Don’t you think that it’s a little weird that the draperies are closed?” Lucy said. “Maybe he’s asleep.”

  “At four in the afternoon?” Mason unbuckled his seat belt. “It’s possible Dillon is taking a nap, but I think it’s more likely that he wants privacy for whatever he’s doing at the moment.”

  “This could get really awkward if he’s in bed with the second Mrs. Colfax.”

  “We aren’t here to discuss his sleeping arrangements. All we care about is what’s going on inside Colfax Inc.,” Mason said. He paused, thinking. “But that doesn’t mean that the second Mrs. Colfax won’t be one of the subjects of conversation. Got a hunch she’s been in on the financial cover-up from the start.”

  Lucy unfastened her seat belt and climbed out of the passenger seat. Joe whined.

  Mason opened the rear door. “You can come, too, but behave yourself. No peeing on the front steps, at least not until we’re finished with Dillon.”

  Joe bounded out of the car, ears pricked. He stood patiently while Mason snapped a lead on his harness.

  “I doubt if Dillon will want Joe inside the house,” Lucy said.

  “Joe can wait outside.”

  They went up the front steps. Mason punched the doorbell. There was no immediate response. He knocked a few times.

  Joe growled softly and fixed his gaze on the door.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Lucy whispered.

  Mason glanced down at Joe. “Damned if I know.”

  Rapid footsteps sounded inside the house. A man, Mason thought, heading toward the back of the house.

  “Looks like we did indeed interrupt the CEO in the middle of a briefing,” he said.

  He loped back down the steps, taking Joe with him. Lucy followed, running to keep up.

  They rounded the corner of the villa. Mason paused briefly to open a gate. The rear door of the house slammed open just as the three of them rushed into a small, elegantly landscaped garden.

  Cecil Dillon stumbled out onto the back porch. When he saw Lucy, Mason and Joe, he stopped short. He stared at them, stricken.

  “You don’t understand,” he said. “I didn’t do it. It’s a setup.”

  “Joe.” Mason unfastened the leash and gestured toward Cecil. “Guard.”

  Joe paced forward and took up a position in front of Cecil. Cecil stared at him, horrified and furious.

  “Call off the damn dog,” he said.

  “You’re safe as long as you stand still,” Mason said. “Are you carrying?”

  “No gun, I swear it. The one inside isn’t mine.”

  “Hands behind your back.”

  Cecil obeyed. Mason took out the plastic cuffs that he carried in his back pocket. He snapped them around Cecil’s wrists and then performed a quick pat-down.

  “Sit on the ground,” he ordered.

  Cecil got down on the ground. Joe’s attention never wavered. Mason looked at Lucy.

  “Call nine-one-one and come with me,” he said to Lucy. “Stay within eyesight. I don’t want you out here with him. If Dillon moves, Joe will handle him.”

  “Understood,” Lucy said. She took her phone out of her tote.

  Mason realized that she appeared strange
ly fascinated by the transformation that had come over Joe.

  “Retired war dog,” Mason said.

  “I see.” Lucy keyed in 911.

  “You’ve got to listen to me,” Cecil said. “It wasn’t me. The bastard set me up.”

  “Who is inside the house?” Mason asked.

  “Ashley Colfax,” Cecil said. “He must have followed her here and shot her. I just got home a few minutes ago and found her in the living room. The gun is still in there. I didn’t touch it. He set me up, I tell you.”

  “Who set you up?” Mason asked.

  “Warner Colfax. He obviously discovered that Ashley and I were sleeping together. The stupid bitch probably let it slip.”

  Mason went into the villa. Lucy followed.

  It didn’t take long to find Ashley. She was sprawled, facedown, on the floor of the front room. Blood was still seeping steadily from the wound in her back.

  Mason turned her over gently. The exit wound was a lot messier. He yanked off his shirt and pressed it tightly over the injury.

  “She’s still alive,” he said. “Tell the operator that we need an ambulance.”

  44

  The police are talking to Warner Colfax,” Mason said. “He admits the gun is his, but he swears he did not shoot Ashley.”

  “What about Ashley?” Lucy asked.

  “She made it through surgery okay. Lost a lot of blood, but the doctor says she will probably survive. According to Whitaker, she doesn’t know who shot her. The bullet caught her from behind. She never saw the shooter. She believes that it was Warner Colfax. But Whitaker says they are also looking hard at Cecil Dillon.”

  “Everyone knows that when a woman gets killed the police always put the husband or the significant other at the top of the suspect list,” Lucy said.

  Mason and Deke looked at her.

  “I watch a lot of police procedural shows,” she explained.

  “Well, in this case Whitaker has both a husband and a significant other on the suspect list,” Deke said.

  They were gathered once again on the front porch of Deke’s cabin. Lucy and Mason were on the swing. Deke leaned against the railing. Joe was sprawled at the top of the steps, off duty once again.

  “For what it’s worth,” Lucy said, “I’m inclined to believe Cecil.”

  Mason and Deke looked at her again, this time as if she had said something remarkably dumb.

  “Because he said he didn’t do it?” Mason asked. “Here’s a little inside tip: Suspects in a murder always claim to be innocent.”

  “I know that,” she said. “But think about it. He has an excellent reason to keep Ashley alive, at least until the merger is finalized. Also, I think he’s way too smart to kill her inside his own house.”

  “A lovers’ quarrel?” Deke suggested.

  “I don’t think Cecil Dillon is the kind of man who would let his emotions get in the way of closing a billion-dollar merger deal,” Lucy said.

  “I’m inclined to agree with you,” Mason said. “I don’t see him as the careless type, either. Shooting your mistress in the house you happen to be living in at the time is beyond careless. It’s flat-out dumb. Unless . . .”

  “Unless what?” Lucy asked.

  “Unless you wanted to make it look like a setup that will ultimately point the finger at Warner Colfax,” Mason said.

  His phone rang. He unclipped it, glanced at the screen and took the call.

  “Fletcher.”

  There was a short silence while Mason listened to the speaker on the other end of the connection.

  “Thanks, Chief,” he said. “I appreciate being kept in the loop. Yes, it does change a lot of assumptions.”

  Mason ended the call and looked at Lucy and Deke. “That was Chief Whitaker. He got the results of the autopsy on Nolan Kelly.”

  “Good heavens,” Lucy said. “With so much going on, I forgot about Nolan. Was there anything that we didn’t already know?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact,” Mason said. “Turns out Kelly was shot before the fire was ignited.”

  “My goodness,” Lucy said. She tried to process the news. “That changes everything, doesn’t it?”

  “Certainly puts a new light on the situation,” Mason said.

  “What in the world is going on here?” Lucy asked.

  “I don’t know, but I keep coming back to the drug connection. It makes me think that at least part of the puzzle has its roots in the past.”

  “Maybe it would help if we went back to basics and built a family tree,” Lucy said.

  Deke snorted. “Which family are we talking about? The Colfaxes? Your family? Our family?”

  “None of the above,” Lucy said. “The clan that interests me is the one that Brinker gathered around him that summer thirteen years ago.”

  “How the hell do we do that?” Mason asked.

  “Leave it to me,” Lucy said. “Building family trees is what I do for a living, remember?”

  45

  Thank you for agreeing to help me, Teresa.” Lucy put a blank sheet of paper on the table and picked up a pen. “There are software programs that can be used to build family trees, but this tree is a little different.”

  “I’m happy to help,” Teresa said. “It sounds like an interesting project.”

  They were sitting together at a table in the tree-shaded town square. Two plastic glasses of iced tea from a nearby coffee shop were on the table.

  “Why do you want to make a diagram showing all the people who were involved in Brinker’s little cult that summer?” Teresa asked.

  “Because I think it will help the police figure out who killed Aunt Sara and Mary. It might also point to the person who shot Nolan Kelly and torched Sara’s house.”

  Teresa took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “This thing just keeps getting more and more weird. I could wrap my brain around the possibility that Nolan might have wanted to burn down the house in order to destroy any evidence linking him to Brinker and drug dealing in the past. But I can’t fathom why anyone would shoot him.”

  “Mason says that when drugs are involved, there is always someone around who is happy to shoot someone else. It’s just part of the business.”

  “But that implies that Kelly was still dealing.” Teresa grimaced. “That’s what I can’t quite visualize. I mean, he seemed so normal. He was a member of the Chamber of Commerce, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Let’s start with Brinker and Kelly,” Lucy said. “Everyone seems to agree that Kelly was supplying the drugs that Brinker used to spike those so-called energy drinks that Brinker made available to the kids who hung around him. That means Kelly was close to Brinker.”

  She drew a box in the center of the page and put Brinker’s name inside it. Then she drew a short line to another box. She wrote Kelly in the second box.

  Teresa watched intently. “I think your chart is going to look a little like Dante’s nine circles of hell by the time we’re done. It sounds like Brinker hurt everyone he touched.”

  “And savored every scrap of the pain he caused.”

  “Total psycho.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  They worked steadily for an hour. Between the two of them, they managed to remember the names of most of the people who had belonged to Brinker’s inner circle thirteen years ago. A couple of times Teresa took out her phone and checked the local listings to refresh her memory. Several of the people who had moved in Brinker’s orbit had left town. One had died.

  When they finished with the names of those who had constituted the inner circle, they worked steadily outward. At one point Lucy put her own name into a box and then linked it to Jillian and Sara and Mary.

  “This gets complicated, doesn’t it?” Teresa said after a while. “It’s starting to look
like everyone in town was linked to someone who was close to Brinker.”

  “You know the old saying about everyone on the planet being only six degrees of separation away from everyone else?” Lucy said. “But I think we’ve gone far enough out on the tree. Let’s start chopping off a few of the limbs and see what we’ve got left.”

  “How are we going to decide who gets the ax?”

  “Let’s focus on the drugs. Kelly was getting those designer pharmaceuticals from someone. It’s not like he was brewing them in his own basement.”

  “No, Kelly wasn’t much good at chemistry,” Teresa said. “He was a broker. He scored those drugs from someone else. Probably a dealer in San Francisco.”

  “If that’s true, then he may have maintained his business relationship with the connection he used thirteen years ago.”

  Teresa looked up, frowning. “Why do you say that?”

  Lucy hesitated. Mason had been adamant when he said he did not want her to reveal that he had been drugged.

  “Because I’m convinced that someone used a hallucinogenic drug to murder Aunt Sara and Mary,” she said.

  Teresa looked first startled and then sympathetic. “Lucy, accidents do happen.”

  “I know, but bodies don’t show up in the victims’ fireplaces very often. Trust me. Hallucinogens are a connection here, I’m sure of it.”

  “Okay, I’m not going to argue with you about it. Keep going. Let’s see where the drug connection takes us.”

  “Nowhere,” Teresa announced later. “The drug connection starts and ends with Kelly, and he’s dead. Now what will you do?”

  Lucy studied her diagram. Her forensic genealogist’s intuition was aroused. The answer was somewhere in the family tree she had constructed around Brinker. It had to be there.

  “I have no clue what to do next,” she admitted. She got to her feet and gathered up the papers she had spread out on the table. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. I’m a genealogist, not a detective. I hope Mason can look at this tree and see some link that I’m missing.”