Corked by Cabernet (9 page)

“I better find out. I may have to get an interpreter here.”

Nikki nodded. “What do you plan to do with all of these people?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“I’m sure after this, they’ll all want to go home,” Nikki said.

“No.” Alan Sansi had come up behind her. “No one is going home. This, this situation . . . Iwao’s death is something we need to deal with as a group. We all signed up for this journey and I think we need to see it through.”

“Mr. Sansi, I assume?” Robinson asked.

“Yes.”

“You do realize that one of your followers—”

Alan interrupted him. “I don’t have followers. They are members seeking a path of enlightenment.”

“Right. One of your members may have killed one of their own tonight. It could have been someone on staff on the train or a passenger not associated with the group. We’ll be checking all angles. The way Mr. Yamimoto was murdered was violent and malicious. I think you may want to reconsider continuing on with your week. There may be a killer amongst you.”

Alan didn’t respond for several seconds. His happy-go-lucky demeanor had changed since earlier that day. He was subdued and even strained. “I agree with that. But as I said, this is what we all signed up for. Is there a problem if we do continue with the program?”

Nikki found his choice of words strange. She knew she certainly hadn’t signed up for murder on the Napa Express.

“The police department should not have a problem with it, but I think regarding the program for the week, well, that would be something for Ms. Sands and Mr. Malveaux to decide,” Robinson said.

Oh no. Derek. Robinson had to remind her that her partner in love was currently radio silent—on a plane to New York City. How was he going to take this? She knew the answer to that. She glanced at Simon, who was seated next to Marco. They were both watching them.

“Derek is on his way to New York.”

“I guess it’s up to you then. I would suggest if you’re going to continue, then you should hire extra security. I can place a uniformed officer at the hotel but, I have to tell you, with the cuts the department has recently taken, I can’t afford any of my men to play rent-a-cop.”

“All right. I’ll see what I can do,” Nikki replied. “If you really think we should and can continue, then I’ll do my part, Alan.”

With a nod of his head, Alan quipped, “Yes. I do.”

“I’d like to speak further with you, Mr. Sansi. Ms. Sands, if you’ll excuse us and maybe help calm nerves. I know murder doesn’t get under your skin the way it does others.” Robinson smiled slightly. “Right over there, Mr. Sansi. I’ll be with you in a moment.” He turned back to Nikki. “I’m probably going to regret this, especially since it’s not exactly by the book, and I’ve already adamantly warned you away, but right now I could use your eyes and ears. You’re actually above suspicion this time, I think.”

“What are you asking me for, Robinson?” She placed a hand on her hip and tossed back her dark hair.

He sighed. “I’m short on staff like I said, and you did solve Georges Debussey’s murder. You’ve got good instincts. I don’t want you snooping per se, but I could use you to listen to your gut on this and tell me anything you might think or feel, even if it sounds whacked out. I think this group is probably pretty kooky.” He spun a finger in circles around his right ear.

She smiled. “Let me get this straight. You’re asking for my help?”

He studied her. “Kind of. But don’t let it go to your head.” He sighed. “I’m sure that I’m going to regret this. Don’t cross the line, though. You know what I’m talking about. None of that breaking and entering you’ve done in the past, or following people in cars. None of that. All I want from you is information. You hear someone tell someone else something that don’t sound right, you call me. You see something strikes you as odd, you call me. Your gut screams at you about something, you call me.”

“All right, I got it. I’ll call you.”

“Good. You really okay with these folks staying at your place?”

“I’ve got a big dog, remember?”

“Oh yeah. The ridgeback.” He laughed. “Good. Keep him close by. I’ll be by your place tomorrow. I think you and I are through tonight. Like I said, play hostess for now. And keep your ears and eyes open. I’m going to talk to the rest of these people.”

“Hey, Robinson, I forgot to mention to you that I saw a heated conversation between Sansi and the deceased earlier today at the hotel.”

“Know what it was about?”

“No clue. But it looked like Iwao Yamimoto was trying to hand something to Sansi, like a DVD or maybe a small case of some sort. I don’t know, but he told Iwao to mind his own business.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. Little gems like that.” He pointed a finger at her.

She saluted him and he shook his head walking—sauntering—over to Alan Sansi. It was strange, she knew it was—a man had just been murdered and she felt rotten about that, but she couldn’t help feeling a rush of adrenaline when Robinson asked for her help. Who would have ever thunk it? Things had certainly changed. Then again, things always change. Nothing ever stays the same. Jeez, now she could probably sell that to a ton of people and make millions just like Alan Sansi, who was now standing in the corner of the train being questioned by one intense detective.

BY the time Nikki and the S.E.E. members made it back to the hotel, she was exhausted but still running on adrenaline. Her mind raced, trying hard to recall her entire day, everyone she’d checked in, all the interesting nuances she’d learned, and the initial impressions she’d gleaned.

Alan asked for everyone to join him briefly in the room Nikki had allocated as a conference room. There were moans and groans from some, especially Rose Pearlman.

“I think this is insane to stay here, Ruben. There’s a killer on the loose and I don’t see the sense in staying.”

“Rose, we’re fine. We aren’t hurt and I don’t know if you heard that Detective Robinson say that no one is allowed to leave the county. Without notifying him, anyway. We aren’t going anywhere.”

Robinson had asked everyone to stay in town until he’d had a chance to go over their statements. Nikki was okay with it because she couldn’t see herself in any danger. She also didn’t believe that anyone else was in any real danger. Her aunt Cara, who had raised her, and was now a retired LAPD homicide detective, had taught her quite a bit about the criminal mind and various psychoses that killers hid so well. Her sense was that someone had planned Iwao Yamimoto’s murder. The violent manner that he was killed in, from what she could tell, almost looked professional. Iwao had to have either been lured or planned to meet someone in that wine storage car; it wasn’t as if people went looking for it. As far as slitting someone’s throat? That tended to follow one of two trains of thought—no pun intended.

The first was that a true professional had done it. Even someone with links to organized crime. It was that type of brutality that organized criminals enjoyed inflicting. It made a statement to anyone who might have an idea as to why Iwao had been murdered—basically, keep your mouth shut. If Iwao was into sketchy activities or business dealings, and he had a partner or partners, and this was an organized crime hit, well . . . any associates would know to shut the hell up and back away quickly.

Thinking of shutting the hell up made Nikki glance around the room for Mrs. Yamimoto. She wasn’t there. What did that mean exactly? Sure, Nikki had not expected the wife to join the group. How were the cops handling her? Should she move her from their bedroom? Robinson didn’t say, only that he needed to get into the room in the morning. She wished she’d had more of an opportunity to speak to Robinson about her. Nikki knew that if Iwao Yamimoto’s death had been an organized killing, then there was someone or several people who knew why he’d been killed and what for. That first theory bothered her; could Mrs. Yamimoto be in any danger?

The mafia theory felt a bit off, but it was still a consideration. Granted she hadn’t learned much about Iwao Yamimoto in the short time she knew him, but he was a publisher, not a drug dealer or arms supplier. Or maybe he was? What was the saying? You couldn’t judge a book by its cover. Not only that, Iwao had turned from the goofy dogooder who thought highly of the Sansi system to a naysayer as soon as Alan turned his back. He’d quickly become a greedy money monger. She had to speak with Mrs. Yamimoto.

There were other angles to consider—maybe a vendetta. But why? Possible lust, murder for money, power . . . Oh, the options were plenty when it came to taking another person’s life.

And there was a third theory tucked way back in her mind. It was one that could mean there was more trouble brewing at Malveaux Estate, and that theory meant whoever had killed Iwao was completely deranged, and didn’t have much of a reason to kill other than for pleasure. Now, that type of person could have been anyone on the train. This wasn’t someone who was just a tad crazy, but a total nut case. And that type of person was never easy to weed out. Unfortunately, psychos didn’t hold up signs announcing their mental imbalance.

She’d have to listen and look hard as Robinson asked her to, to see if anyone fell into this category amongst the S.E.E. members. Spotting insanity was not easy because people with pathological personalities often appeared completely normal, even charming and likable. Nikki would have to dig out some of Aunt Cara’s old books on psychopaths versus sociopaths. The boxes full of books were still in the garage. When her aunt had retired, she’d let Nikki pick through the lot of the books before she carted them off for donation. Being that Nikki was an actress starring as a detective in a cop show that was pretty much pulled from the network before airing more than a season, she’d chosen a handful of books that, ironically enough, had proven handy over the past couple of years. Far handier for her as a winery manager than an actress.

If the psycho theory that Nikki wanted to shove back into the deep recesses of her mind was possible, then it could mean more trouble ahead for the members of S.E.E., Malveaux Estate, and herself. It could mean that one of the members was a good old-fashioned serial killer.

Nikki scanned the room again where everyone was settling into chairs waiting for Alan to say something soothing or earth-shattering—anything. From what she spotted, none of them looked like serial killers. Then again, what does a serial killer look like? Typically the guy, or occasionally gal, next door. Unremarkable. A chill went through her. Not a great thought.

Simon started a fire in the fireplace and the group seemed to divide into two categories—the group that sat stunned and silent and the group that chatted quietly about what had occurred that evening. Nikki had noticed that Sierra Sansi had been taken to her room by her mother. Sierra had been the first one to find Iwao, and even in her inebriated state, it had not only sobered her up but horrified her to the point of speechlessness. That was understandable.

Alan Sansi walked up to the front of the room and everyone stopped speaking in their hushed tones, all eyes on him. He clasped his hands together and looked skyward, then down at the floor, pacing back and forth for a minute before he ever spoke.

“Tonight a horrific event occurred. We lost a fellow human, a member of this program, and someone I considered a friend. Many of us here, I’m sure, want to go home, where things may feel safe to us. It’s comfortable at home. I want you to rest assured that Iwao is
home
. He followed the principles in S.E.E. He believed the philosophies, and knew they worked.” He took a deep breath.

Little did Alan know that Iwao thought it was all “horseshit.” Or maybe he did know? Oh, great. Nikki’s mind raced in circles. Why did Robinson have to ask her to look, listen, and learn? Who was she kidding? Even if Robinson hadn’t asked her to pay attention, she’d be doing exactly what she was doing now. Allowing her mind and theories to run away with her.

“Iwao would not want us to go home. He would want us to continue this journey. He chose his path, and possibly someone in this room was the catalyst to his achieving the end of this journey here on earth in his vessel of a human body.”

Oh, no, no. He was not going to tell this group that Iwao Yamimoto had decided and wanted to die by the sword and whoever had done this to him was simply
the messenger,
now was he?

“Whether or not the person who took Iwao’s life will be revealed is going to be his or her decision along with the decision of those who are trying to find the truth. It all works in accordance to the laws of the universe. What I do know is that we are all meant to stay this week and learn from one another. There is meaning behind what happened tonight, and together we will find it. I plan to continue this journey tomorrow morning at breakfast with everyone. I believe Ms. Sands has a hike planned afterward.” He looked at Nikki.

She nodded and tried to smile for the morose group. “Yes. I’ve planned for us to set out at ten o’clock. We’ll be hiking the Ritchey Canyon Trail and Upper Ritchey Canyon Trail, which is about four point two miles and it makes for a moderate hike. It’s located in the Napa Valley State Park and there are redwood groves and all sorts of gorgeous flowers and plant life. We may even see some deer or fox. It is very nice.” It sure was hard to play touring hostess with a murder in the back of the mind.