Read Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery Online

Authors: Elaine Flinn

Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery (16 page)

BOOK: Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery
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Randall pulled out a cigar from his case. He took his time indulging in the aficionado routine, clipped off the end, then lit it with a match from Molly’s antique match striker. Molly’s gaze bounced between the two men. “Randall!” she finally blurted.
Randall blew out a stream of smoke, tapped his cigar in the ashtray, then gave Molly a grim smile. “Why? Because those reporters want a story. They will mention an undisclosed source close to the investigation. They will manufacture a phony leak that will be pure bullshit and impossible to verify. And then, Reynolds will have to go along with it and haul both of us back in for questioning. If he doesn’t, he’ll have egg on his face. That’s why.”
“Molly,” Lucero began, “this is the way a lot of reporters get space, okay? I’m not saying they’re all like this, but if they can add some spice to a story, they’ll do it. It’s called insurance for a follow-up. Next thing you know, there will be another leak from the sheriff’s office when Reynolds calls you two in, and the photographers and TV news media will be there to cover it. Careers will be enhanced, the networks and cable news will call their local stringers, and then—depending on how long the investigation takes and if it gets juicy enough—it could be ‘New York, here I come’ for someone.”
“Providing, of course, the local stringer doesn’t flub his lines or get too carried away with false tips or innuendos, in which case we might have grounds to sue the twerp,” Randall said.
“I’m not going through that again,” Molly said. “I’ll leave here if I have to.” She looked at both of them. “I mean that.”
“Calm down. Besides, if you do become part of the investigation, and I think Reynolds will make sure you do, you can’t leave without permission,” Randall said.
“I won’t let it get that far,” Lucero said. “You seem to forget that jackass has to come to me with some of this. He can’t make demands on either of you over gossip or a minor altercation.” He looked at Randall. “You know that, so why the hell are you scaring Molly?”
“I just want her to be prepared, that’s all,” Randall replied.
“Gee, thanks,” Molly said. “But what are we going to do if—”
Randall waved her off. “There’s no if about it. We answer his questions. End of story.”
Lucero added, “Reynolds will have plenty of people to question before long. Hell, Jessop got into a lot of faces besides your two. Sullivan and Horne should jump the queue. I hear they both had shouting matches with Jessop for months over Bello Lago. And then there’s Carla. The spouse is always high on the list. And let’s not forget her father. Everyone in the wine biz knows Mattucci couldn’t stand the sight of Jessop.”
Molly looked at Randall. “I’m worried about Carla. Others must have seen that welt on the cheek he gave her the night she came in to go over the portfolio.”
“What welt?” Lucero said.
Molly told Lucero what had happened. “I don’t know why she put up with him after that. And she said it wasn’t the first time either.”
“Why the hell didn’t you cuff him?” Lucero asked Randall.
“Carla wouldn’t cop to it. She insisted she’d run into a door.”
Lucero thought that over. “She’d look good as a prime suspect then. Wives have had husbands killed for less. And she’s got the dough for a top-notch hire.”
Molly gasped. “That’s crazy! Carla couldn’t—”
“Hold up,” Randall said. “Don’t be going there, okay? Forget that you like her. Killers come in all shapes and sizes. Take your pick. If it were my case, I’d be looking at her pretty damn hard.”
Lucero reached for two cookies, bit into one, and said, “Well, whoever the shooter is, he’s damn good. If you’re still thinking about trees, the closest one had to be at least five hundred yards away.” He finished the first cookie, then added, “Come to think of it, that’s nothing for some hunters.”
“A tree?” Molly asked. “Those pine trees are ten stories high. Why not the roof?”
Randall laughed. “They’re not that tall. The roof is out. Too much time to get off and he could be seen. The shooter needed a quick getaway or a blind where he could wait and then leave without being seen. I’m guessing he was up there before the party even started. He waited for Jessop to get into position so the bullet would end up in the ocean.”
“And when he approaches Molly at the wall, Molly moves away, Jessop turns to face her, and bang!” Lucero said cocking his finger like a gun.
“The bullet is lost, and they’ll never find the shell casing. He would have painted it so when it hit the ground he’d spot it right away.” Randall added. “The only thing they’ll find is his spike marks in the tree.”
“What about...uh, what do they cull it, forensics? Won’t they find fibers or stuff like that?” Molly asked.
Randall shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. He probably wore camo gear so he’d blend in. Hell, they sell that stuff all over now. It would take weeks to make a match. The shooter would have paid cash anyway. No paper trail to follow.”
Lucero stared at the second cookie in his hand. “So you think this was a pro, then? No jealous lover pining after Carla, no guy with a grudge against Jessop?”
Randall set his cigar in the ashtray, and filled his cup with more coffee. “With the way people are glued to all those damn ‘CSI’ shows, who the hell knows? You can get a how-to-kill-and-get-away-with-it primer off the Net with just a click of your mouse.”
“I don’t like it when you’re not butting in,” Lucero said. “You’ve got that look on your face. What’s filtering through that brain of yours?”
“I was just thinking about what Michelle told Emma about her grandfather. Not Mr. Mattucci, her other one. Something about not seeing him very often because of some bad blood after her father died.”
“Testino Giordano? That’s ancient history,” Lucero said. “Giordano and Mattucci have been at each other’s throats for years. It goes back a couple of generations to the old country. Something about a sale of land, I think. Hell, they grew up hating each other. The only time those two families had any peace was when Carla and Tony took off to Reno and got married. After that, they had little choice but to bury the hatchet. But when Tony died in a chopper crash on a hunting trip, Giordano claimed Mattucci was behind the crash. Nah. forget about all that. Giordano is close to eighty-five. What’s the point now?”
“Settle an old score before he bites the dust?” Randall said. “If anyone should understand the
vendetta
mentality, we should, huh? Family honor means everything.”
Lucero shook his head. “Why now? And why Jessop?”
“Why anything?” Randall said. He got up from the sofa, picked up his cigar, and looked at Molly. “You look done in.” He nodded to Lucero. “What say we hit the road.”
Lucero rose, took a last sip of his coffee, then moved to Molly and kissed her on the forehead. “Lock up tight, huh?”
Molly smiled. “That’s usually Randall’s line. But I will, and thank you two for coming by. I feel a little better now. More or less.”
Molly followed them to the French doors. She almost fainted when Randall followed Lucero’s gesture and kissed her on the cheek. “If Reynolds shows up, call me. I’ll be right over.”
“If he calls you in,” Lucero said, “call me right away. I’ll get you an attorney if you really want one.”
“Will I need one? I mean, really need one?”
“Only if Reynolds decides to show off,” Randall said.
Molly looked at Lucero. “Make sure she’s a ball-breaker then.”
Chapter 15
 
MOLLY NESTLED Tiger and the kittens next to her on the bed. She felt a need for company and hoped their soft purring might help her fall asleep. She hadn’t left the lamp beside her bed on for months, but tonight was one of those nights. Snuggled deep under the blankets she said her prayers and decided it was time to talk to the Big Guy.
It’s been awhile since I’ve had to talk things over with you. I mean, you’ve always got your hands full, and we’re supposed to handle our problems on our own, but if you don’t mind my saying so, I’m a little pissed right now and scared as hell. I should be praying for Todd Jessop’s soul and begging your indulgence for his sins, but to be honest, he’s your problem. Here’s the thing—I don’t need to be a “person of interest. ”And I’d like your intervention if you have a moment. I know I suffer from a quick mouth and can’t handle too much wine, but this is getting serious. It might have been better if you’d let me pass out instead of throwing that wine in Jessop’s face. Is my being there today payback for putting those Foo Dogs in the front window? You know you’re the top guy. But a little Feng Shui when you’re busy shouldn’t be a problem, right? Look, I just don’t want to get involved in another murder investigation, that’s all. I’m sleeping well these days, and I’d like to have that continue. Give me a slow month in the shop for penance, and I promise I’ll be good. Honest.
But sleep was not in Molly’s immediate future. The harder she tried, the more frustrated she became. Tiger and her brood had decided the crook of her knees was better than the second pillow on her bed. Worrying about disturbing them wasn’t helping either. She tried to burrow under the comforter, but that only made her too warm. Flinging it on and off aggravated her even more.
When the old hook latch on the window facing Ocean Avenue snapped and her window flew open at a quarter past six, Molly finally gave up. Her head ached, her eyes were gritty. She suddenly felt hungry as she headed for the shower. She was downstairs and at Tosca’s by seven for a stop-worrying-about-the-diet breakfast of croissants and her personal concoction of espresso with lemon and cream. She knew Bennie would have heard about Jessop’s murder, and she was ready. Bennie, she could handle. Bitsy was the problem. She’d want to know every detail, every nuance, every blink of an eye. For that marathon, she needed at least two espressos. Daria was probably sleeping in after her trip from the City. She’d call her later. By then she would have her routine down pat.
The early morning fog made sitting inside Tosca’s an easy decision. Molly waved at Bennie as she entered. “Yes, I was there. No, I don’t want to talk about it until I’ve devoured at least two croissants.”
Bennie came from behind the counter with a tray. “Okay, I won’t give you the third degree for at least five minutes, or let you see the newspaper.” He set out the croissants and espresso, then sat down, grabbed a magazine a customer had left yesterday, and pretended to read. After a moment, he looked around the small café, and said, “Go ahead and smoke. The early regulars won’t be in for another half hour.”
“I’m stuffing my mouth at the moment, but thanks for the offer.”
“Randall called. He’s on his way. Guess you two really got a front row seat, huh?”
Molly gave Bennie a look. “My five minutes aren’t up yet. So why did he call?”
“He calls every morning around this time so I’ll have his sweet rolls warm and ready. I thought you knew that.”
Molly squeezed lemon into her espresso, then topped it with cream. “I don’t know his every routine. I was just curious. I mean, what? He can’t wait for you to warm them when he gets here?” Molly pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and then exhaled.
Bennie laughed. “Hey, he’s the chief of police. I obey the law.”
“Yeah? Then why the hell are you letting her smoke in here?” Randall said, as he entered with a cigar between his fingers.
It was Molly’s turn to laugh. “Oh, that’s rich. Look who’s talking!”
“It’s in my hand, not in my mouth. I smoked on the way over,” Randall answered.
Bennie looked at the clock on the wall above Molly’s head. “Your time is up. What’s the scoop about yesterday?”
Molly stubbed out her cigarette. “It was awful. We were all standing on the terrace ”
“We? Who’s we?”
“Jesus!” Randall said. ”You gotta know every comma? Molly’s talking about me and Lucero. We were there with her and Domenico Mattucci, okay? Got all the players now lined up in your mind?”
“Aw, come on, chief! I just want to get a picture of everything.” He grinned, then looked back at Molly. “Go on.”
“Todd Jessop fell over when he was shot. That’s all I know,” Molly said. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“Aw, come on,” Bennie said.
“What the hell more do you want?” Randall said. “How much blood was splattered? You’ve been watching too much TV Maybe if you’d been standing where Molly was, you wouldn’t be so interested.”
“I was just asking. You cops see that stuff all the time. You’re used to it.”
Randall gave Bennie a stern look. “We never get used to it.”
Bennie’s face reddened. “Point taken. Sorry.”
“Forget it,” Randall said.
Bennie rose. “I’ll get your sweet rolls and coffee.”
“That was a little mean,” Molly said. “Bennie’s a good guy, he didn’t mean to sound—”
“Yeah, I know.” Randall ran his hands over his eyes. “Occupational hazard. Let’s leave it at that. Did you by chance see the news on TV this morning?”
“No. I particularly avoided turning it on.”
BOOK: Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery
7.81Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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