I tried to seem as inconspicuous as possible as I quickly traversed the grid, hoping for a glimpse of the Man in Black. The heat coming up from the dark pavement in unrelieved waves was just starting to melt my eyeliner, when I caught sight of a cowboy hat disappearing inside the unit marked J26.

  With a totally unnecessary look over both shoulders, I stepped closer, hoping to at least get a peek inside the unit. I kept close to the buildings, painfully aware that there was nowhere to hide—the buildings were laid out in long rows on flat pavement. Nothing to duck behind, no corners to hide around. I took a couple of steps closer, feeling way too exposed.

  Then the Man in Black stepped out of J26.

  My heart leapt up into my throat as I pivoted on my sandals and walked the other direction as quickly as possible, hoping he didn't notice me. Or would think I was just another customer there to store some of grandma's treasures.

  My breath came in audible pants as I heard him close and lock the rolling door behind me, his footsteps echoing as loudly as mine as they followed my same path. I swear I felt his eyes boring a hole into my back. But I just kept walking, quickly following the same route I'd taken to get there. I was almost to the gate before I dared turn and look behind me.

  No sign of Man in Black.

  I let out a deep sigh, power walking the rest of the way back to my car. Sweat had collected at the back of my neck by the time I closed myself in the safety of my Jeep and powered on the AC. I quickly pulled away from the curb, wanting to put as much distance between myself and the Man in Black as possible.

  I was dying to know what was in the storage unit. Sure, it could just be a couple of innocent old Harleys. But Man in Black had been at the same auction house where Heather had gotten the bulk of her inventory. And he'd gone straight from there to the storage unit. Had he been storing something for the auction house? Did he work for them? But then why had he crashed our Wine and Chocolate event, and what had he been arguing with Heather about? If, in fact, he had been?

  My thoughts were interrupted by my cell ringing through my car speakers via Bluetooth. I hit the button to accept the call.

  "Hello?" I answered.

  "Hello, my lovely Ems," came the familiar voice of David Allen. "It's me."

  I wasn't sure how I felt about David thinking we were on an "it's me" basis, but I let it go.

  "What's up?" I asked, still trying to get my heart rate back to something akin to normal.

  "I thought you might be interested to know about a little snafu here at the club."

  "Snafu?" That sounded promising. "What happened?"

  "Apparently, security had to come remove a certain young lady from your Cole Jackson."

  "Remove her?" I asked. "Like, she was throwing punches at him?"

  "Quite," he said. "Like a featherweight champ. I daresay she got a couple of good ones in to the face too."

  Ouch. I would imagine Cole's distress at any damage to his charming moneymaker.

  "Who was she?"

  "Well, that's where it gets good, babe," he said, clearly enjoying drawing this out.

  "Tell me."

  He paused. "Okay, but you owe me a favor now, wine lady."

  Against my better judgment, I sighed out, "Fine. Who hit Cole?"

  "Caroline Danvers."

  "Get out!" I shouted in the interior of my car.

  David chuckled on the other end. "I thought you'd like that."

  "What was the fight about?"

  "Beats me," he said. Then laughed again at his own pun. "You'd have to ask poor Cole that one."

  "Is he still there?" I asked, changing lanes at the light and turning toward the Links.

  "That he is. Nursing a black eye and a bruised ego with a strong whiskey."

  "I'll be right there."

  * * *

  Thankfully, David had added my name to the guest list, and fifteen minutes later I found Cole Jackson laid out on a lounger that overlooked the 18th hole, alone. He had a cushion behind his head, an ice pack over his left eye, and a glass of amber liquid in his right hand.

  I approached, standing over him. "I heard you had a little disagreement, Cole."

  He lifted the ice pack and narrowed his eyes to glare at me. Quite a feat when one of those eyes was already starting to swell shut.

  "You again," he mumbled.

  "Ouch. That looks painful," I commented, though I didn't have it in me to lace it with any real sympathy.

  He sighed, turning his attention back to the green and placing the ice pack back over his eye.

  "What happened?" I asked, perching on the edge of the lounger beside him. "Lovers' spat?"

  "Hardly," he shot back.

  "Really? Because I heard that Caroline was a bit upset with you."

  "A bit upset?" he spat out, lifting the ice pack from his eye again. "I think this is a lot more than a bit upset."

  Good point. "What did you say to her?"

  "Nothing!" he protested. "She just attacked me! In front of my eyes she morphed into a psychopath. The woman's crazy." He glanced down at his glass, swishing the contents before taking a sip.

  "Cole, Caroline told me everything," I said, hoping to get him to open up.

  He glanced at me with his one good eye, assessing my face, as if trying to figure out what "everything" consisted of.

  "I know about your little racket here," I told him.

  He worked his jaw back and forth before responding, and I wondered if Caroline had landed a punch there too. "Yeah, well, like I said. Caroline's crazy. You can't believe half of what she says."

  "I believe she's been sleeping with you. And that you told her you loved her," I added.

  Cole let out a laugh on a short breath of air. "She said that? What a psycho bi—" He paused, his good sense catching up to his instincts just in time. "I never said I loved her," he said emphatically. "That's the truth."

  "Okay," I said, shifting my weight on the lounger. "Lay some more truth on me. What set Caroline off today?"

  He glanced over his shoulder, as if making sure we were alone. "Look, Caroline and I had…an arrangement."

  "Go on," I prompted.

  "She was lonely. Her husband's out of the country a lot. I…comforted her."

  Ick. "Gloss over the details, lover boy," I told him.

  He scowled at me. "Fine. Let's just say, Caroline took our arrangement too far."

  "How so?"

  "She was talking crazy about leaving her husband."

  "Which you didn't want her to do?"

  "Hel—" He paused, catching himself again. "Heck no. Her husband is loaded, and she's one of my biggest clients. Why would I want that cash flow to stop?"

  I tried really hard not to let my distaste for the man show on my face. "Caroline told me she doesn't pay you anymore."

  His eyes shot up to mine. "She told you that?"

  I nodded. "Like it was the proof that you loved her."

  "Geeze, that woman's nuts."

  "So she was paying you?"

  "Look, her husband left for London one time and forgot to transfer some money to her spending accounts or something. She didn't have the cash, so I let her have a few sessions on credit."

  "How generous."

  He looked up at me and scowled again. Clearly I hadn't been able to keep the disdain at bay that time.

  "You said Caroline was one of your biggest clients," I said, digging as much as I could before I lost him. "Was Heather another?"

  He gave me a well duh look. "You figure that all out on your own?"

  "Humor me," I prompted. "What was your arrangement with Heather?"

  He shrugged. "Same as any other woman here."

  "But she was here a lot."

  He grinned. "I'm very good at what I do. The things I can do to keep a rich cougar satisfied would make your toes curl." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  "That would be a hard pass," I told him.

  He shrugged. "Your loss." He gave me an up and down. "I'd even give you a discount."

  I wasn't sure if he was intentionally trying to squick me out or if it was just second nature to him.

  "What was Caroline and Heather's relationship like?" I asked.

  He leaned his head back on the lounger again, sipping from his whiskey glass. "About what you'd expect. All air kisses and backstabbing." He let out that short bark of a laugh again. "Sorry. Poor choice of words, huh?"

  His sympathy was overwhelming. But it was an interesting choice of words. Perhaps a Freudian slip? "Did Caroline harbor some animosity toward Heather?"

  He nodded. "She was crazy jealous."

  "Of Heather's time with you?"

  "Of everything. Look, Heather was younger, prettier, and smarter than half the women here. Caroline didn't like it. She especially didn't like it when Heather was with me. Caroline would show up on the green when we were having a lesson, pop up in the lounge when we were having a drink. It was like she was stalking us."

  "You don't think she'd go from stalking to actual violence, do you?"

  Cole took the ice off his swelling eye, staring up at me with a well duh look in his one good one again.

  * * *

  I left Cole nursing his wounds and was just pulling back up to the winery when I got a text from Leah saying she was just closing the bakery and would be over in twenty minutes.

  I pulled some fresh shrimp from the refrigerator, deciding on a simple, savory Shrimp Scampi with Angel Hair Pasta for our girls' night. Light, luscious, and fast, since I'd bought the shrimp already shelled and deveined. I got the water boiling for the angel hair while I melted together butter, garlic, wine, and spices in to a fragrant sauté. The shrimp took just a quick bath in it, turning a lovely pink as the angel hair cooked up to a perfect al dente.

  I was just adding the finishing touches of lemon juice and a sprinkle of parsley on top when I heard Leah's car pull up. I set down the platter and went outside to greet her.

  "Hey," I said, giving her a big hug, which she returned, if slightly less heartily. I glanced behind her at her empty backseat. "Where's Spence?"

  She sighed. "He wanted to go to his dad's again tonight."

  "Oh." I paused. "You okay?"

  "Yeah, yeah, I guess so." She shook her head, negating the actual words. "Spencer's worried about his dad being lonely without Heather." She laughed, though it was more sadness than joy. "I guess I should be happy he's such a compassionate kid."

  "Very," I agreed. "He's got a big heart. That's a good thing."

  She nodded, attempting to smile again. "Give me a glass of wine, and maybe I'll see the bright side in all of this."

  I laughed, leading her inside and doing just that, pouring her a Pinot Blanc that I knew would pair well with the garlic in the scampi dish.

  Ava arrived shortly after, and we took our plates out to the terrace, enjoying the cool breeze as the sun began its descent that bathed the landscape in beautiful hues of pink, orange, and purple. It was like a painting and a million miles away from thoughts of smarmy gigolos, catty socialites, and murder.

  "You'll never believe who came into the shop today," Ava said, twirling pasta on her fork.

  "Who?" I asked, taking the bait.

  "Byron!"

  I chewed, trying to place the name.

  "Our friendly neighborhood country club concierge," she supplied.

  Oh. That Byron.

  "He works the front counter at the Links," Ava said, turning to Leah to fill her in.

  "Ah" was all Leah said, eyes going back to her food.

  "Anyway, he asked me out for Friday night."

  "What did you say?" I asked.

  She shrugged. "I said sure. I mean, why not? He's kinda cute."

  I rolled my eyes. In Ava's world, just about every guy was "kinda cute."

  "Did you just roll your eyes at me?" Ava said.

  "Maybe," I told her playfully.

  "Tell me you didn't dig those biceps on him," Ava teased back. "And those big hands. I can only imagine what he could do for a girl with those hands…"

  "Ugh," Leah cut in. "I thought we agreed—no romance tonight." There was a smile on her face, but I could tell she was only half kidding.

  "Well, I had an eventful day," I said, changing the subject.

  "Oh, do tell?" Ava prompted, stabbing a prawn with her fork.

  "I met the Man in Black."

  "Shut the front door!" Ava said, her fork clattering to her plate.

  "Who's the Man in Black?" Leah asked, her gaze going from Ava to me.

  "The Johnny Cash look-alike from the Wine and Chocolate Tasting," I explained, jogging her memory.

  "That photo you showed me?" she asked.

  I nodded. "That's him." I filled her and Ava in on finding him at the auction house and following him to the storage unit.

  "So, what was in it?" Ava asked when I'd finished.

  I shrugged. "I didn't get a chance to look inside."

  Ava let out a dramatic sigh and draped her body over her chair. "You're killing me, Emmy."

  "Sorry! He saw me, and I panicked."

  "That sounds dangerous," Leah said, frowning at me.

  "It was broad daylight," I assured her. "I was fine." Though, in all honestly, I'd been freaking out at the time.

  "That is the problem," Ava said, stabbing her fork in the air as she chewed.

  "What?"

  "The broad daylight. We need to go back when it's dark."

  "That sounds like a bad idea," Leah hedged.

  "Very bad," I agreed. "Especially the we part."

  "Well, how else are we going to find out what he's hiding in there?" Ava asked.

  "We don't know that he's hiding anything," Leah reasoned.

  "Or that it has anything to do with Heather's death," I added.

  Ava looked from me to Leah, shaking her head. "You two are no fun." She stabbed another prawn as if it were his fault I wouldn't agree to breaking and entering with her. At least not a second time.

  "I'd rather be safe than fun," I told her. Even though she was right on one point—it was kind of killing me too that we didn't know what was inside the storage unit.

  I was contemplating that though, imagining all manner of salacious items, when a pair of headlights cut through the falling dusk.

  We all followed their trail up the winding oak-lined drive toward us.

  "Expecting company?" Ava asked, eyes cutting to me.

  I shook my head.

  We didn't need to wait long to find out who it was, as a few minutes later the sound of a car door slamming was followed by footsteps on the gravel drive, coming around to the side of the property where we sat.

  I was halfway holding my breath when a tall, broad frame rounded the corner, his face shadowed by the twinkling fairy lights hung from the roofline.

  Detective Christopher Grant.

  "Grant," I said, trying to cover my surprise.

  "Hi, Emmy," he returned. "Sorry to interrupt like this." He nodded toward the table where we were just finishing the meal.

  "Uh, no, it's fine," I told him, pushing my chair out and standing. "Would you like a plate?"

  He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I'm afraid I can't stay."

  A small niggle of anxiety started to grow in my belly. "Oh?" I asked. I took a few steps toward him. "Well, what can I help you with?"

  But he looked past me to the table. "I'm actually here for Leah."

  Leah set her wineglass down on the table. "Me?" she squeaked out.

  He nodded slowly.

  "Why?" I pressed. "What's going on?"

  Grant's eyes went to mine, and I could clearly read regret in his hazel flecks. There was also a generous amount of sympathy, though whether it was directed at me or the scared woman at the table behind me, I couldn't tell. But I could tell what he was going to say almost before the words left his mouth, the anxiety in my stomach ratcheting up a notch.

  "Leah Holcomb, I have a warrant for your arrest."

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I watched in horror as Grant stepped toward Leah, reading her the Miranda rights. Leah's eyes shot from me to Ava, filling with fearful tears. Ava jumped up from the table, throwing a few choice words toward Grant—none of which could be repeated in polite company.

  "Wait, you can't arrest Leah," I protested, finding my voice as the initial shock wore off.

  Grant paused in his list of ways Leah could incriminate herself. "I'm sorry, Emmy, but—"

  "But nothing!" I interrupted. "You have no evidence she did this."

  "Actually, I do."

  That froze the argument on my lips.

  "What evidence?" Ava demanded. She placed herself just between Grant and Leah in a protective gesture.

  Grant's gaze went from me to Ava. "I'm sorry, I'm not at liberty to share that."

  "Bull!" Ava spat back at him.

  "Ava," I said, putting a hand on her arm to restrain her. The last thing I needed was two of my friends in handcuffs this evening.

  I turned to Grant instead. "Please," I told him, "maybe there's a logical explanation for it." In fact, I knew there was. Because Leah did not do this.

  Grant did that slow breathing thing again, which I knew was as close to displaying emotion as he got. "Alright," he said, cracking his neck from side to side, as if I somehow gave him stress. Go figure. "The CSU found something at the crime scene that belongs to Ms. Holcomb."

  "What did they find?" I asked.

  "A gemstone. It's small and yellow."

  "Citrine," Ava said automatically.

  I turned to her, our eyes locking. The good luck necklaces she'd given Leah and me before the party.

  "How do you know it belongs to Leah?" I asked.

  "During a search of her home, we found the piece of jewelry it came from. A necklace."

  I turned to Leah.

  Her hand went to her bare neck, as if feeling the absence of it right now. "I-I realized that the stone fell out. I didn't notice until after the party." She looked to Ava. "I was going to tell you later and see if you could fix it, but then Heather…" She trailed off. Clearly after the body had been found, the gemstone had been forgotten.

  Until now, that is.

  "So what," Ava said, countering Grant's so-called evidence. "So she lost a gemstone in her own bakery. That's not a crime."