Independence Day Murder Page 5

  "I think it would be better if I just showed you," he finally said. "Follow me."

  Greg lead me down the hallway and into an office marked SECURITY. Inside was a high-tech security system all run by a computer. He sat down in the office chair and used the mouse to click here and there before a video filled the screen.

  "This is the video from the other night," Greg said. "Let me just preface it by saying we were getting ready for Mandy's wedding. We've been so nervous and in a bit of a tizzy about it. We've been here late many, many nights just puttering around to try and make sure everything will be perfect."

  Greg stared at me until I nodded. Mandy said she had basically bullied them into hosting this wedding. Derek and Greg had figured that one day the winery would host weddings, but not for a few years down the line. They had refused a few times, saying they just wouldn't be prepared. Once Mandy had talked them into hosting, there were a lot of things they had to figure out on the fly.

  After a mouse click, the video started to play. There was no sound, but I didn't need any to figure out what was happening. Derek and Greg were moving around the tasting room and they seemed to have set it all up like they would for a wedding. All of the tables were covered in white tablecloths and as I watched, the two men kept pushing tables around and stopping to argue about their arrangement. Every once in a while, they would stop to drink some wine from a glass. I watched them empty and fill their glasses several times. Not that I was judging, but I couldn't help but wonder if that drinking was going to contribute to whatever it was they were trying to hide.

  So far, there was nothing too damning besides the fact that they were getting a little drunk and I wondered why Derek would want to hide this tape. Everyone argues with their significant other sometimes. Most people get a little tipsy sometimes. There must be something else there. Greg noticed my confused expression and clicked the mouse to pause the video.

  "It hasn't happened yet," he explained. "I just wanted to show you some background on what we were doing. We've been doing this every night after the tasting room closes. Usually we weren't drinking like fish, but it was the Fourth of July and we figured just this one time we could have some wine as we moved things around. We want to make sure we know exactly where tables should go and since Mandy's is the biggest and only wedding we will probably do for a while, it's been a good test of arrangements. But then this happened."

  He turned back to the computer and fast forwarded for a while. I watched the two men scurry in triple time on the video as they finished arranging the tables and started to strip the linens off. All of the fancy tablecloths were being thrown in a pile on the floor and I cringed a little as I wondered how dirty the white cloths were becoming.

  "Don't worry, we have them laundered every time we do this," Greg said, noticing my chagrin. "But keep on watching."

  After all of the tables had been stripped, the two men stood close together. They appeared to be discussing something important as both of their faces were serious. Then, the Greg in the video slapped his forehead and strode off screen, staggering a bit as he went.

  "Derek had asked if I had remembered to move a barrel of red wine we needed to bring up to the tasting room," Greg said. "It was just one of those small barrels. I hadn't, of course, so I went to get it."

  Derek continued to walk around and fix things here and there until Greg appeared on screen again, this time with a miniature barrel in his arms. As Greg walked in, he did a few stutter steps as all of the wine he had been drinking appeared to be catching up to him at once.

  Suddenly, Greg tripped over something and the barrel of wine flew out of his hands. It seemed to go in slow motion and both men tried to rush over and catch it. It smashed down onto the ground, the wood going to pieces and red wine splashing everywhere, but mostly onto the white tablecloths.

  Both men's faces were set in a look of complete horror and both men were frozen in shock, just staring as the red wine soaked every single white tablecloth in the pile. Once they were able to move again, they picked up a few tablecloths from the pile to assess the damage, but every single one they opened up was streaked with red wine.

  Greg hit the mouse and the video closed. He spun around in the office chair to face me. His face had a sheepish expression as he waited for me to give my opinion on it. He nervously twiddled his fingers and picked at his pants as I thought about what to say.

  "That sucks," I said, letting the words slip out instead of waiting for something a bit more dignified to come out instead. "I mean, that must have been really terrible to deal with."

  "I don't think you understand," Greg said. "Those tablecloths are only available via special order. Not only that, but every single one was ruined. We were suddenly in desperate need of 100 new tablecloths for a wedding that was supposed to happen in less than a week. But actually we were first hoping to find a way to salvage them."

  "Is that why Derek was so grumpy on the Fourth of July?" I asked.

  "Partially, yes," Greg said. "He was searching through the crowd for Drew, the guy who runs the laundromat. We knew that wine set fast and we were hoping that we could convince him monetarily to take care of the tablecloths that night. Otherwise we would have to order more, but they definitely wouldn't have arrived before the wedding."

  "Why couldn't you just buy different tablecloths?" I asked.

  "Looking back, that seems so obvious," Greg said. "But we were panicking. It felt like our only option. Anyway, after Greg found Drew he said there was no way he would be doing any laundry on a holiday but he gave us a few options of things to try. So we spent the rest of the night here trying to hand wash and scrub red wine out of the tablecloths. And yes, we have time-stamped, video proof of all of our attempts. But if we let that out, word will spread that we are incompetent drunks and all of our business might dry up. We have sunk all of our money into this place. We can't let everything be spoiled just because of my clumsiness."

  I thought about everything for a moment. There was video proof that Derek had been here the whole time and while it was unfortunate that they had panicked, that tended to happen to some people during emergencies. I needed to figure out a way to help clear Derek's name without letting people see this video.

  We walked back out to the tasting room and sat back down at the table when I realized I had one more question for Greg. He had said something in the security office that had piqued my interest.

  "You said that the tablecloth incident was only part of why Derek was upset that night," I said. "So what was the other part?"

  "The other part is that Murray was no better than a common pickpocket," Greg said. He stared at me, his expression begging me to believe him. "And he had picked Derek's pocket that morning."

  Chapter Ten

  "That can't be right," I said. "Murray was a big-time doctor making big bucks. I was just at his mansion yesterday. No way could he be stealing petty cash while raking in the dough from the hospital."

  Greg sighed exasperatedly. He took another drink of water and ran a hand through his hair, making his perfectly styled hairdo look a little less perfect and a little more normal.

  "We knew no one would believe us," Greg said. "That's why we didn't turn him in. The police would have laughed at us. Sure Murray was a jerk but if he was so rich, why would he be stealing wallets? But he did."

  Greg launched into another story, this one taking place on the morning of the Fourth of July. The winery had been open for just a few hours over lunchtime and Murray had come in over that time. He had sidled up to Derek and made some snide remarks about the Save the Beach Club and how they would never win. At the end, he had put his hand on Derek's shoulder and pulled him in close, whispering in his ear.

  "Good luck with everything," he had said. "But we both know I'll be the only winner."

  Then he had disappeared out the front doors and apparently back to his house. But Derek had noticed his wallet was missing immediately. There was a video that showed Derek and Murray having
their conversation, but it was from a camera that was set very far away from them and no matter how many times they had watched it, they couldn't actually see Murray taking the wallet.

  "We had no proof," Greg said. "But we both knew it was him."

  "But wouldn't that just give more motive to Derek?" I asked. "Not only was he vying with Murray over the public beach, but now it was personal because of the wallet."

  "That's part of the trouble," Greg said. "The other part is that Murray was still carrying Derek's wallet when he died."

  It was almost like an alarm bell was going off in my head. That was the physical evidence that they had on Derek. His wallet was found at the scene of the crime. I can imagine how unlikely it would sound if he tried to claim that Murray had pickpocketed him earlier in the day. Things were all falling into place and unfortunately, they all pointed erroneously to Derek being the killer.

  I sipped my water a little more and mulled over everything. Greg and I both sat in silence for a few minutes, neither of us knowing where to go from here. This was not going to be an easy case to solve if everything had to be kept so hush-hush. But for the sake of Derek and Greg and for Mandy's wedding, I would see what I could do without turning in the security tape and potentially ruining the winery's business.

  "I'm going to help," I finally said. "I am going to get Derek out of there. But you have to do one thing for me."

  "You aren't going to use the tape, right?" Greg said, his eyes growing wide.

  "No, I won't," I said. "I will find some other way. I'm not sure what that will be yet, but I promise I will. Now you have to call Mandy and tell her that the wedding is back on. I will help you set it all up if it comes to that."

  Greg nodded, swallowing back tears. He seemed a bit lighter now that someone else was in on the secret. I stood up and Greg walked me slowly to the door. I said a goodbye and started walking out to my car, but Greg pulled me back in and squeezed me into a tight hug.

  "Thank you," he said.

  I mumbled a "You're welcome" into his shirt as I breathed in a wonderful aroma of men's cologne. Then I stumbled out of the hug and into the hot, hazy July morning. The station wagon was sweltering when I climbed in and I was glad that I had remembered to cover my seat with a blanket so that it wasn't so hot on my bare legs when I got in.

  The vents blasted hot air as soon as I turned the car on. The air conditioning didn't really work in the station wagon, so I shut it off and opened all of the windows. My drive wasn't too far back to the B&B where I could relax inside in some cold air for a while.

  The AM radio clicked on and the local station was hosting their daily Party Line show. It might seem odd, but this is one of my favorite things to listen to. It is just a call-in show hosted by WARG that has been going on for decades. People call in announcing garage sales, missing pets, events around town, or sometimes even just their opinions on things. Every once in a while, someone will call in and be too political and then the host has to politely cut them off to get on to the next call.

  Today, Ronald was in the studio on Party Line doing damage control when I started the station wagon. He seemed to be waxing poetic about the public beach and what an asset it was to Shady Lake and how they would find a way to revitalize it. But then he launched into a diatribe about how they couldn't bring more sand in because it would be bad for the lake. I almost slapped my own forehead. Ronald was not doing anything to help himself.

  As he talked, Ronald sounded like he wasn't really convinced that what he was saying was true. His voice was shaking and he sounded very unsure of himself. I knew it was Ronald's fault that he was mixed up in all of this, but I couldn't help but feel bad for Mayor Panda. He loved Shady Lake almost more than he loved his wife and I knew his intentions were always good. He had just dug his heels in too much and now he was sunk in too deep.

  But everything went from bad to worse when the show took a phone call from a member of the Save the Beach club. She started out polite, airing her grievances about allowing Murray to make his private beach. Ronald kept stuttering out half thought through explanations but the woman kept shutting him down as she went, her accusations getting more and more harsh. Finally, she ended her phone call with one final jab.

  "I think it all comes down to the fact that we are disappointed with you, Mayor Ronald," the woman said slowly and calmly. "We trust you to keep what's best for Shady Lake in mind, which absolutely did not happen in this case. And for that, we are extremely disappointed in you."

  The phone clicked as the woman hung up and for a moment there was dead air on the radio. The announcer started to jump in to say they were going to take an ad break, but Ronald interrupted him.

  "I just have one more thing to say before I go," Ronald said. "It isn't something I'm proud of, but I'm going to tell you exactly why this happened. Our Fourth of July fund was struggling this year. We were having trouble raising the money we needed for our fireworks display and I was desperate to make the show as big and great as it normally is. When Murray came around asking for his private beach and offering to pay a very hefty administration fee for us to approve it, I thought that would solve our problems. I earmarked that donation to go straight to the fireworks fund and they paid for that spectacular show that was put on just a few nights ago. I only meant to do what was right for Shady Lake, but I realize that all this has done is cause more problems and for that, I'm truly sorry."

  There were a few clunks as Ronald apparently dropped his headphones and pushed his chair back. In the background there was the sound of a slamming door as Ronald exited the studio. I could only hope that Melinda was waiting just outside of the door Ronald had slammed. He would need someone to comfort him. The radio host was silent for a moment before launching into some more phone calls about garage sales.

  This town was going crazy about this beach. From what I could tell, almost all of the citizens supported revitalizing the beach with a new load of sand and the only people pushing back were the city council members and Mayor Ronald who realized that they had made a huge mistake. Things were going to come to a head soon and I just hoped that everyone would come out the other side unscathed because it seemed that Murray was already a casualty of the fight.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next thing I really wanted to do was look at Murray's boat. It had been the scene of the crime and I wondered how long he had been floating around in it after he had been shot. Was he shot in the boat in the middle of the lake? Did someone shoot him and push his boat out of the lift? There were so many questions that I wasn't sure I could get answered because Max was pretty good about keeping his lip zipped during these investigations. But I knew one other person that might have heard some things around their workplace.

  Trevor worked as an emergency dispatcher and he was friends with a lot of the police officers and firefighters in Shady Lake because of that. Sometimes he would hear bits and pieces from some of them about investigations since they considered him to be a first responder. Many of them were also not so tight-lipped, much to Max's chagrin.

  I decided that I needed to ask Trevor about it. Mandy had mentioned that Trevor had the day off and when I asked what he was up to, he said he was just lounging at home. I told him to stay put and I would bring lunch. A pizza from Nick's Pizza could solve a lot of problems in this world and hopefully it would help this situation too.

  The old station wagon I drove was sitting in the driveway of the bed and breakfast soaking up the sun, so when I slid back in to start it up, it was absolutely stifling inside. I hurriedly cranked down the hand crank window to let in the small breeze and then put my key in to start the car.

  CLUNK

  That wasn't right. I sat back for a moment before I tried starting it again. I pushed down the gas pedal to give it a little gas. My dad had told me to do that in the winter when I started it, but I had no idea if it would help me in this situation.

  CLUNK

  The ole girl didn't want to even turn over for me. Usually
I would just borrow a car from one of my parents, but I knew they were both busy with errands to run today and that my teenage-like request to borrow the car so I could go get a pizza and hang out with my friend would not be looked upon kindly.

  The only other option was the tandem bike. I sat in the stifling car for another minute, contemplating if I actually wanted to take the bike. The answer was no, that I really didn't want to. But if I wanted to solve this murder and plan this wedding, I had to get to Trevor.

  I strapped my helmet under my chin and hopped on the front half of the bike, trying not to think too far ahead about how I would get the pizza there while riding. Riding a tandem bike by myself was a bit more difficult, but once I got the hang of it, I was okay.

  The one downside was that it wasn't often that people see a tandem bike being ridden by one person, so I got a lot of funny stares and one person even shouted out their car window to make sure I knew I had lost my co-pilot. I tried to ignore all of this as I pressed on to downtown.

  Mandy and Trevor lived in downtown Shady Lake in a great, minimalist style loft over the Donut Hut. When Mandy took over the cafe from her parents, she had moved in upstairs instead of renting it out like her parents always had. It had great views of downtown and the lake and honestly, I was a little jealous of it.

  I made the split second decision that we were just going to order a pizza for delivery or maybe walk over to Nick's together because after all of the stares and comments, I did not have the wherewithal to deal with juggling a pizza while riding a bicycle right now. I parked my bike in the alley behind the Donut Hut and opened the door next to the back door of the bakery.

  A narrow staircase decorated almost floor to ceiling with pictures and posters advertising donuts was on the other side of the door, leading up to a tiny hallway with one door. I knocked and the door immediately whipped open.

  "I saw you ride up from the window," Trevor said with a big, cheesy grin. "I can tell you really like the bike."