Paul opened his wallet and pulled out Edward Jamison’s card. He stared at it for a few minutes and then he decided to call the man. What was the worst that could happen? Jamison could tell him to fuck off. Or he could call him a fuck up. Big deal. He had fucked up. From what Paul could tell, Edward Jamison had seemed reluctant to give Stephanie Eva Raines’ cell phone number. Good God, the woman thought she was on a righteous crusade, but Paul figured Stephanie had caught a bad case of the green-eyed monster. She was suffering from jealousy, pure and simple.
Paul dialed the number. He was immediately connected to voicemail.
“Mr. Jamison, this is Paul Rupnik. I’m an associate with Smith, Lindstrom and Peck. I need to talk to you. This is important. It’s regarding Eva Raines and Stephanie Lindstrom. Please call me at home as soon as possible.” He left his number.
Paul wondered if he should drive up to
Napa
and try to intercept Eva before she showed up at the retired Mr. Harding’s home, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He felt too ashamed.
* * * *
Where in the hell was Eva? Gabe had been phoning her since
her time. He and Quincy were hiking along the shores of
Lake Michigan
and he was supposed to be enjoying himself, but all he could do was worry about Eva. She should have picked up. She should have picked up first thing this morning. Certainly, once she realized she’d missed his calls, she would have called him back. Even if she’d gone out biking or to run some errands, she would have called him. This wasn’t like her. Last he’d heard, she had the wedding on Saturday, but she’d said she’d be free all day today. Unless a job came up. Maybe that was it. He hoped it was a job because otherwise he had to assume she was lying in a ditch somewhere or she’d been mugged in the parking lot late last night, or goddamn it, who the hell knew what had happened to her. He couldn’t even call Tom and Marcus because they were camping on the
Quincy
was saying something. Gabe tried to focus on the young man.
“What’s up with you, Gabe? I’ve been talking for five minutes and you definitely haven’t heard a word I said.”
“No, sorry,” Gabe ran a hand through his hair. “What were you talking about?”
“Seriously, what’s up? You worried about your girlfriend?”
“Actually, yes, I am, a little,” replied Gabe. “She should have called back by now.”
“Yeah, well, maybe she’s out biking in a dead zone. Could be a lot of things.”
“A lot of things are what I’m concerned about. Eva’s very reliable. This isn’t like her. She wouldn’t leave me hanging like this.”
Quincy
thought for a moment. “You know what probably happened… she left her phone on all night after that wedding you told me about, and it’s out of juice but she hasn’t noticed yet. I bet as soon as she notices, she’ll charge it up and give you a call. She’s got a landline, right?”
“I suppose,” replied Gabe. “I’ve never paid much attention. I guess she does.”
“She unlisted?” asked Quincy. “Most women living alone would be unlisted.”
“How would you know?”
“My mom,” Quincy replied, his voice quiet.
Gabe winced. “Sorry. That was inconsiderate of me. I should know better.”
“Yeah, it’s okay. I’m glad you have your mom and your sister. I guess one of us should have some family.”
“Hey, you have family, Quincy. Elise and I are your family. Her two beautiful little girls are your nieces, exactly the same as they are mine, and this new baby will be your niece or nephew. My mother will be your family, if you’ll allow it. You’re not alone in this world, understand? I was twelve years old when our father walked out on my mom. He left us with nothing, just like you. Except for losing your mom, I know what you’ve been through. Honest to God, sometimes I wish I didn’t know what it’s like, but to tell you the truth, it’s made me a better person, a better man. Because I will never do to my wife and my children what our father did to us.”
“So you do plan to get married? Elise has wondered about that,” Quincy asked with a grin similar to Gabe’s.
Gabe was silent for a moment. “Until I met Eva, I wasn’t certain. I guess she’s made up my mind for me, in a hurry.”
Gabe pulled his phone out again.
“What are you doing?” Quincy asked.
“Texting her.”
“If she’s not receiving calls, she’s not going to receive a text either.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t give a shit. I want her to call me back. I’m going to phone Luis, see if she’s been up to the house.”
“Luis?”
“My caretaker. He lives on my property in Napa. He has kind of a father, daughter thing going on with Eva.” Gabe dialed the number and stuck the phone to his ear.
“Hola, Luis. Buenos tardes. Cómo está usted?”
“Ah, muy bien, Señor Abbott, muy bien. Y ustedes?”
“
Estamos bien, Luis
. Listen, I have to ask you, have you heard from Eva today?”
“Ah…
Señorita
Eva… She was supposed to stop by for breakfast, but I have not seen her,” Luis answered.
“Has she telephoned?”
“No,
Señor
.”
Gabe felt his insides twist just a little. “When was the last time you spoke with her?”
“She called me Friday afternoon, while she was working on the cake for the wedding. She said she would bike up here today and make biscuits. So sorry,
Señor
Abbott, I hope this is not a problem.”
“No, Luis, no, of course that’s not a problem. I just… I can’t reach her. I’ve been trying since this morning.”
“
Señor
, I waited for her, but she has not come.”
Gabe could hear the worry in Luis’ voice and his gut twisted a little tighter. “Luis, would it be too much trouble to ask you to drive by her house, see if she’s all right? If she’s there, could you ask her to call me? If she’s not there, would you please let me know if her car is gone, if her bike is there, if she left any clue as to where she might be?”
“Certainly,
Señor
Abbott. If you’ll give me the
Señorita’s
address, I’ll leave right away.”
“Thank you, Luis.
Muchos gracias
.” Gabe provided Luis with Eva’s cell phone number, her address and direction to her home. He clicked off.
“Shit,” commented Quincy.
“Something’s wrong,” said Gabe. “I can feel it. There’s something very wrong.”
Eva finally found the house. A lot of the more upscale homes in Yountville were set back off the street on heavily wooded lots and many of them didn’t have visible street numbers. Eva had driven up and down the block for fifteen minutes, searching for the correct house. She cautiously pulled into a blind driveway, hoping nobody was coming out the other direction. Since the drive appeared empty, and Eva didn’t plan to stay long, she pulled right up to the side door.
Eva climbed out of the car, grabbed the closest canvas bag containing supplies, and trotted up the steps to the door. She knocked and waited for the housekeeper to open up. There was no response. Eva knocked again and waited, and again, she didn’t hear anyone or see anyone moving about. She decided perhaps she should try the front door and ring the doorbell. Maybe the woman was napping. There was no doorbell. Great. Eva banged on the front door. No one answered her knock.
Eva wondered if the woman was out in the yard somewhere so she walked through the property. She covered the yard from one end to the other, even looking over the embankment into the creek in the back. No one.
“Shit.”
Eva pulled out the office cell and dialed Mr. Harding’s number. She was immediately connected with a computer-generated voicemail that simply told her no one was available to take her call. She left a message as she wandered back to the front porch to check the door. She wasn’t surprised to find it locked, however, she thanked her lucky stars when she discovered that the side door had been left open. She figured the woman had run an errand and wasn’t certain when Eva would be coming by. Eva stepped directly into the kitchen. She gaped, open mouthed, at the mess in front of her.
“Jesus Christ! How the hell am I supposed to set up a buffet in this…this…garbage dump?”
The kitchen looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in at least a month. There were food-encrusted dishes stacked on every counter. The sink was filled with unwashed pots and pans. Eva took a step forward, right into something sticky. She backed up hurriedly, hearing a disgusting noise as she pulled her foot away. Eva looked down. The stuff felt like honey or syrup. Eva stood still, gazing around, forlorn, wondering what on earth was going on and what she was going to do about it. She had over two thousand dollars worth of food and wine in her car and she couldn’t bring anything in until the place was presentable. More than presentable, spotless. If Mr. Harding had a housekeeper, if this Louise person actually existed, than she was one lousy housekeeper. Either that or his houseguests had let her off and they’d made this mess, but Eva didn’t think so. The food on most of the dishes was too caked on. Eva would bet good money that those dishes had been sitting there for quite a while.
Eva walked into the dining room, to see if she could possibly set up there. That room was only marginally better. Old newspapers and unopened mail sat scattered about. Some of the newspapers had turned yellow with age. Books and magazines were piled high on the dining room table, and the buffet, or sideboard, appeared to be used as a catch-all for rubber bands, paperclips, pencils and pens, thumb tacks, nails, various tools and even rocks and sea shells.
Eva was steaming. If this was someone’s idea of a joke, it wasn’t funny. She pulled out the cell phone and tried Mr. Harding’s number again. Once more, it connected to voicemail.
“Mr. Harding,” Eva began, “This is Eva Raines again. I’m inside your house in Yountville, and I’ve found that the situation to be untenable. Quite frankly, sir, the house is a mess and I absolutely cannot set up a buffet here. You haven’t paid me for cleaning and in any case, there isn’t time to get the place picked up, let alone presentable enough for what you have in mind. Unfortunately, since I’ve already purchased everything, you will forfeit your deposit. I’ll leave the food and wine in your kitchen. Feel free to return my call on this line or if you prefer, you may speak with the owners of All Things to All People when they return from their vacation on Wednesday afternoon. I’m sorry, but this will not work out.”
“What won’t work out?” came a male voice from behind her.
Eva flew around, nearly dropping the bag on her shoulder.
“Who are you?” she asked the unkempt elderly man who glared at her.
“I own this house. Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?”
“I’m… I’m… I’m the caterer, the caterer hired by…by Jerry Harding for a party…a party he’s supposed to have here today. Who are you?”
“I’m Jerry Harding, and I have no recollection of hiring a caterer. Look around you,” the man said, “Do I look like I’d hire someone to cater for me? Get the hell out of my house before I call the cops.”
“But…but Mr. Harding…you called me, or someone pretending to be you called me and hired me to…”
“You think I give a goddamn who called you? Get out.” The man raised a hand as if threatening to grab her and throw her out the door. “Get the fuck out of my house.”
Eva scooted past the man as quickly and as carefully as she could, doing her best not to touch him. She tossed the bag she carried into the passenger seat and started her car. As she backed out of his winding driveway, she felt a lump grow in her throat and tears stung her eyes. She’d just been taken for a ride. A big, long, fucked up ride. She was willing to bet anything that the credit card was either fake or it had been canceled and she’d have to eat more than twenty-five hundred dollars worth of food and wine. There was no way she’d ask Tom and Marcus to cover her expenses and there was no way she’d ruin her relationship with the winery by asking them to take the wine back and refund her money. The Iranian caviar was a total loss. The supplier had given her a discount, but it had still cost her nearly a thousand dollars. No, this was all on her. She’d messed up, badly. If she wanted to keep her job, she’d fess up and pay up. There went her savings.
As Eva approached the office, the tightness she’d begun to feel in her chest during the drive, increased. She parked, making sure to lock up her car, and she entered the office. She headed straight for Tom’s desk. She glanced down at the contract, searching for the credit card numbers. She punched the numbers into the portable credit card unit. The card was refused. Why wasn’t she surprised?
Eva sat down heavily in her boss’s chair. She rested her elbows on the desk and dropped her head into her hands. She was so screwed. Why on earth would anyone do something like this? Was this someone who had a grudge against Tom or Marcus? Maybe both of them? Or was this someone who had a grudge against her? It had to be her, because whoever it was had called her cell phone number. Her suspicion had been correct. Gabe hadn’t given out her cell phone number. Then how the hell had this guy gotten hold of it? This fake Jerry Harding guy? Eva wished she could call Gabe to talk things over, but she didn’t want to involve him. The first thing he’d do would be to offer to pay for her mistake. He’d try to cover her expenses and she wasn’t about to let him do that.