Twenty-four

NIKKI showered, dressed, and then dropped off the applications with Hayden before heading out to do the grocery shopping for the evening affair.

“Did you find out anything?” Hayden asked.

“No. Everything looks kosher to me.”

Hayden sighed. “Good. I’m glad I could help.”

Nikki didn’t want Hayden to know what she’d learned about Kurt. If Hayden wanted to, she could read the applications herself and make her own determinations, but there was no need to rile the woman up. She’d been decent enough to let Nikki have them.

She’d tried to call Derek on her way to the store but he didn’t answer. Was he ignoring her? He wouldn’t do that. She didn’t like that in almost three days they’d hardly spoken. Was he angry with her? And what about this Sophia? Argh, Nikki was driving herself nuts with thoughts like that. It was totally ridiculous. Derek was simply busy making his deal with Vicente Salvatore and she knew that couldn’t be easy. If it were her deal, she’d have given up on the old man a while ago.

After putting the groceries away, she made herself a sandwich, allowed Ollie to eat half of it, and then tried Derek again. This time the call went straight to voicemail. Huh! Okay, then. She knew she should go down and see what was going on with the S.E.E. group and touch base with the boys. Ollie whined at her.

“You’re right. I’ve been ignoring you. Want to go for a run?”

Ollie stood up and made the sound he always did before they went on a run-it sounded kind of like a dying seal. She was never sure exactly what that meant. Either he dreaded getting up, but did it to please her. Or it was the sound of sheer joy at the prospect of stretching his long legs. It didn’t matter. She’d been planning on running with him that morning and then she’d blown it off. Now they were heading out. She’d go check out the meditation program afterward for an hour, see if she could learn anything new, then get back home and start fixing the meal.

Once on the trail, hearing her feet pound the earth beneath her as she weaved in and out of rows of grapevines, making it a game for Ollie, Nikki let go of thoughts of murder, notions of beautiful Italian women trying to scam her lover, and philosophies from New Age, old age, or whenever. It was her, the ground, and the dog-all moving together.

At one point she sprinted up the hill on the shadiest section of the vineyard. That was the best place for Chardonnay grapes. In the newest vines taking hold, small buds illuminated the ends as the sun cast down a soft, light yellow, like a baby chick’s new fuzz. As she went farther up the hill, Ollie at her feet still, the vines matured and twisted into fruitful plants with grapes filling with their sweet juices. The ends of these plants now glowed a soft green that she was certain no artist had ever captured. This scene was God’s painting.

When the pair reached the top of the hill, Nikki looked out over the Malveaux vineyards-awe-inspiring rolling hills of grapevines in all shades of greens and purples, intermixed with dark chocolate soil and almost an earthen red soil in other areas. Ollie sat down next to her, panting, also taking it in. She scratched his head. “What do you say we get some water?”

He wagged his tail and they were off again down the hill this time. As they rounded the back side of the hotel, the Dumpster that Housekeeping used glared at her. The sun beat down on the green metal. Nikki stopped in front of it. The note that Juan wrote to Iwao had never been found. It could be in the Dumpster. How hard could this be? She could just rummage around a bit. Right? Ooh, yuck! Ollie sat down and looked up at her.

“I’ll just see what’s at the top. You stay.” She opened up the lid and luckily found that all the trash bags were tied up the way Housekeeping had been asked to do. It kept down on the flies in the area. She pulled out the bags and that was when things got messy.

There was something so wrong about going through others’ trash-and so disgusting. Ollie sat there looking as grossed out as she was. She riffled through items that made her want to barf, but she kept on going. And into the fifth bag, she hit pay dirt. A crumpled-up, handwritten note on legal paper. She unfolded it. Keep the party for yourself this time. I’m done dealing with you. This had to be the note, didn’t it? Juan was right. The note had not been signed, yet this had to be his just by the tone of it. Who else could have written it? Ruben? Maybe. Anyone else? Nikki didn’t have a clue but knew she needed to get this to Robinson and she desperately needed to wash her hands. At least twice. With antibacterial soap.

She shoved the note into the waistband of her running pants and started off toward the café to get herself and Ollie some water and wash her hands. She’d take a shower as soon as she got home.

They kept a water bowl in the kitchen of the café for Ollie. When she got there, Nikki scrubbed her arms and hands a few times with soap and water and then got herself a bottle of water. Setting the bottle down, she spotted someone sitting alone in the corner of the café. The way the sun shone over the open-air café made it difficult to see the person’s face. Honeysuckle and ivy cascaded throughout the café from overhead and up the side of the walls, casting shadows on the ground and in the corners.

The kitchen faced the café, like a trattoria-very wine country chic. Nikki squinted. Who was that?

Ollie followed her out of the kitchen and she walked over to the person. It was a woman. She looked up as Nikki and Ollie came toward her. It was Sierra Sansi. Her face was tearstained and she looked miserable.

“Sierra? You okay?”

“Sure, I am. I’m perfect, just like the rest of my family.”

Now what was the comeback to that?

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