Drip Dead (29 page)

I laughed and told Wade I’d meet him at Mom’s house to pick up the van, then hung up.

For the first time in several days I had a few hours free, and I was determined to make the most of them. I dragged out my notes and my copy of the Uniform Plumbing Code and set to work. After all, I still had a test to take.

Before I left for Mom’s, I let the dogs out one last time, and fed them an early dinner. I didn’t expect to be long, but I had no way to be sure and hungry dogs were more likely to get into trouble.

Why take chances?

Which was precisely what I was doing meeting someone I didn’t know in an empty house that belonged to a dead man, to talk about wine that might have been a motive for murder.

I wore my coveralls and ball cap to Gregory’s, more out of superstition than necessity, but I let Wade drive the van.

I debated carrying the toolbox. Having Wade along probably negated any camouflage value, but I didn’t see any reason to change my routine.

I headed for the bedroom, but Wade stopped in the entry and gave a long, low whistle. I’d forgotten how impressive the house was the first time I saw it, and I had to stop and wait for Wade to recover from his first view of the soaring entry and the glass-walled great room overlooking the manicured backyard.

“You said it was impressive, but I didn’t realize just how impressive.”

“Yeah. Wait till you see the rest of it.”

Wade followed me on a quick tour. I showed him the chilled cabinet I’d found in the kitchen on my first visit.

“This isn’t the wine cellar?” he said, walking into the small room. “Seems pretty large to me.”

“That’s what I thought the first time I saw it, too. But then I started counting the bottles and I realized there were only about a hundred bottles in here. Remember, we figured he had at least a couple hundred
cases
of Veritas wine.”

I could see Wade going through the mental calculations. His eyes widened and he looked around the cooler again. “You’re right, this is only about a hundred bottles.” He looked at me and shook his head. “A couple hundred cases is a
lot
of wine.”

“You can’t imagine how much,” I said.

I led him back through the great room and into the bedroom wing on the far side of the house. This time I didn’t hesitate when I came to the door of the master bedroom. I’d already faced that particular demon and it had turned out to be pretty innocuous.

Once inside the room I made a beeline for Gregory’s closet. I pointed out the release latches to Wade, and let him do the honors. Much easier on my wrist that way.

With the chest out of the way, I showed him the release for the upper portion of the closet. He triggered the release and swung the upper portion away, marveling at the ingenuity of the construction.

“Well,” he said, admiring the work, “I can see why it cost so much to build this. It’s pretty amazing.”

“Want to see what’s inside?” I dangled the key in front of him, then slid it into the lock and opened the door.

I had only been in the room once, and I was nearly as overwhelmed then as Wade was now when we looked inside. The carefully labeled racks covered the walls. There were occasional gaps in the rows, but not many. Each rack was nearly full.

Wade’s brain instantly clicked into accountant mode, and I could practically hear the adding machine in his head clicking off the number of racks, rows, and bottles.

I waited while he calculated the total and turned back to look at me. “There are well over two thousand bottles in this room.” He looked around, noticing the table and the notebooks for the first time.

He walked over and picked up a notebook labeled “Burgundy” and flipped it open. He understood the organization instantly without explanation.

“It’s all cataloged here,” he said. “That should make the inventory a lot easier.”

“Inventory?”

“Of course. You need to know what’s in here, and where it all came from. It’s fortunate Gregory keeps such meticulous records.” He wandered along the racks, glancing from the book to the shelf and back. “He’s always been like that. His tax records are organized and sorted and he files every receipt.”

He stopped and looked over at me. “Is that just nerdy of me, that I appreciate how neat and organized he keeps his tax records?”

I shook my head. “I’m sure it made your job a lot easier.”

“It does—
did
.” He corrected himself, a shadow passing over his face. “I still haven’t gotten used to the fact that he’s gone.”

We had given ourselves an hour, but it quickly became clear that the job of verifying and valuing the collection in Gregory’s wine cellar would take several days, at least.

We were about ready to close up and wait for our mystery guest when we heard a voice calling from the entry.

Too late, I realized I hadn’t locked the door behind me.

Whispering to Wade to close up the cellar and put everything back in place, I hurried toward the front of the house, in hopes of stalling our visitor until Wade had time to disguise the cellar entrance.

I had considered many possibilities for the position of Wineexpert, but I expected one person, not two.

And I certainly didn’t expect either of the two men that confronted me in the dining room.

William Robinson, who had professed no knowledge of Veritas.

And Harry Hamilton, my mother’s nosy neighbor.

And they didn’t look happy to see me.

“You’re Wineexpert?” I asked, looking at Harry Hamilton.

“Oh, please!” William Robinson shook his head. “You think this chump knows anything about
real
wine? I told you before,
I’m
the wine expert.”

I stood in the doorway between the dining room and the bedroom wing, trying to block the door without calling attention to the fact.

“Of course,” I said to William. “It had to be you—you’re certainly knowledgeable enough. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before now.”

Robinson advanced toward the doorway until his belly was nearly touching my padded middle. “What’s back there that you don’t want us to see?” he asked.

The implied threat in his voice made the hair at the back of my neck stand up. It was a primal fear response, and I trust my instincts.

Robinson was a definite threat.

I stood my ground, blocking the doorway, hoping to give Wade enough time to close up the cellar.

But Robinson wasn’t waiting.

He shoved me roughly aside and moved down the hall toward the open bedroom door. He moved pretty fast for a big man, and he was inside the room before I could catch up.

I heard Harry Hamilton scurrying along behind me, but my attention was focused on William. He was clearly the more dangerous of the two, and he was headed directly for the hidden wine cellar.

And Wade.

Robinson followed the sounds coming from Gregory’s closet and disappeared inside, with me close behind and Harry Hamilton bringing up the rear.

I reached the door of the closet and stopped. The scene in front of me froze me in place.

Robinson held Wade’s right arm twisted high up his back. The pain was obvious on Wade’s face as Robinson yanked open the unlocked door of the wine cellar and shoved him inside.

I looked around for a weapon of some kind, but Hamilton shoved me from behind and threw me off balance.

“Get in there,” he said, his voice cracking like a twelve-year-old boy.

I regained my footing but in the cramped quarters of the closet I couldn’t get turned around to fight back.

Hamilton shoved me again and I stumbled through the door into the wine cellar. Hamilton followed me in.

The cellar, which had seemed spacious before, felt cramped with four people in it, especially when one of the four was William Robinson.

Robinson pushed Wade against the table and released his grip. Wade caught himself before hitting the floor, supporting himself with his uninjured left arm.

We made a great pair with only two good arms between us.

Hamilton stood next to Robinson, the way a toady sticks close to a schoolyard bully for protection. He was quite brave as long as he had Robinson to back him up.

Things fell into place: Hamilton watching the house, Robinson’s contempt for Gregory’s investments, and his haughty denials about Veritas.

What I had dismissed as arrogance and self-importance was really a guilty conscience.

“You’ve been a part of Veritas all along, haven’t you?”

Robinson glared. “Mr. Hamilton was a member of the Veritas Partnership, not me. I refused to be a party to this so-called investment scheme.”

I didn’t believe him for a second.

Robinson looked around the room, taking in the racks of wine. His eyes glowed with the intensity of a man beholding a religious shrine.

Clearly, William Robinson worshipped wine.

“Don’t move,” he snarled at Wade. “You, either.” He looked at me.

Robinson moved along the racks, keeping one eye on me and Wade as he pulled occasional bottles from the rack and inspected the labels.

I gauged the distance between me and Robinson. I knew I could put up a good fight if I got a clear shot, and I hadn’t seen either man display a weapon.

I shifted my weight and Robinson whirled to confront me. “I said
don’t move
.” He looked back at Wade. “Can you talk some sense into your girlfriend here? Because if you can’t someone is going to get hurt.”

Robinson looked back at me. “Move over there next to the Councilman, and stay there.” He waited a fraction of a second, then bellowed, “Move! Now!”

I sidled across the floor until I was next to Wade.

Wade reached his right arm out to me and squeezed my hand. There was returning strength in his grip, and I felt the first fluttering of hope.

Between us we might be able to overpower William.

If we did, Hamilton would turn tail and run like the toady he was.

Wade slowly pushed himself away from the table, until he was standing firmly on his own two feet. He tensed. Robinson had caught him off guard and pushed him around, but it wasn’t over yet.

Robinson caught the slight movement and turned on Wade. “I told you not to move or somebody was going to get hurt.” His voice was high and tight, close to panic.

I took a step forward and felt bony fingers close over the bandage hidden under the sleeve of my coveralls.

Hot needles shot through my wrist. I gasped in pain.

Wade shot a glance my direction and saw Hamilton’s hand wrapped tightly around my damaged wrist. His face burned with anger and he moved toward Hamilton.

“I said not to move,” Robinson roared. He raised the bottle he had been inspecting and brought it down on Wade’s head.

Wade’s eyes rolled back and for an instant I saw only the whites. The world seemed to slow down, and I watched as Wade closed his eyes and sank to the floor.

Robinson turned his blazing eyes to me. “Look what you two made me do! I can’t stay here now. It’s all your fault!”

He looked past me to Hamilton. “Hold on to her,” he commanded as he turned back to the racks and yanked out several bottles.

Robinson stuffed the bottles into a carrier from under the table and moved toward the door.

Hamilton gripped my wrist harder. The pain increased and my knees buckled.

I fought to stay on my feet, but I knew it was only a matter of time before I lost the battle.

Robinson slid past Harry Hamilton and stood in the doorway of the wine cellar.

“Sorry, Harry,” he said.

Before Hamilton could react, William was out of the cellar and had slammed the door behind him.

Hamilton pounded on the door in frustration, unable to believe his partner and protector would desert him.

On the other side of the door we could hear the sounds of the closet pieces being slid back into place.

I was locked in a hidden room with an injured man and a useless toady.

And nobody knew we were here.