Page 42 of Murder in the Lighthouse

Jade nodded in agreement. “That should give us plenty of cover to snoop around and maybe find evidence linking Keith to Bethany’s disappearance.”

“And while you do that, we can work on creating a few distractions to keep the focus off you. Maybe come up with an embarrassing tipsy moment in the tasting room where the manager has to get involved,” Brogan offered. “Obviously, we’d spit the wine out and pretend to get drunk.”

“That’s right. You’ve done this sort of thing before,” Trish teased. “Just don’t go too far and get thrown out or barred. We might need a second visit before we nail these guys.”

“I may look like a novice at undercover work, but I assure you I’m fully capable of acting the part,” Brogan cracked. “Believe it or not, I know how to work the tasting room.”

“You wouldn’t know it to look at her, but she’s rather skilled at spitting the excess into a spittoon,” Lucien confirmed with a grin. “We’ll take note of the people in attendance.Most should be wine merchants, chefs, or sommeliers.”

“Over the years, we’ve found the wine stewards can be the snobbiest bunch of all,” Brogan provided.

Lucien polished off his cinnamon roll.“We’ll work the room because there might be other ex-cops around. Chat them up. If that’s the case, there’s cause to wonder how many were in on the cover-up with Kenneth and Davito.”

“Just be careful while snooping around,” Brogan reminded Jade. “If Keith is as dangerous as we suspect, we don’t want anyone in a disastrous situation.”

Jade’s expression turned serious. “I’ll make sure we keep our wits about us. With everyone’s help, we can pull this off. When exactly did Kenneth Shepherd retire from the force?”

“Eight years ago,” Trish said, squaring her shoulders, determination shining in her eyes. “Davito followed suit aboutthree months later. I had no idea they went into business together. They certainly kept that detail lowkey.”

“Good to know,” Birk muttered before angling toward Jade. “But it’s time to call the winery. You know the spiel.”

Jade nodded and picked up her cell phone to dial the number listed on the vineyard’s website. Under the pretense of discussing ecological growing practices, she hooked the assistant manager into extending the tour to three hours. “I don’t suppose the owner would have time to speak to us in person, would he?”

“I’ll see what I can do about that,” the woman promised. “The price is the same, though— seventy-five dollars per person.”

“But your website indicates there’s a group discount for four people or more,” Jade countered.

“That only applies to the tour and not the wine-tasting experience. Shall I put you down for the wine tasting, or would you rather stick to a tour of the grounds?”

“We’ll do both,” Jade said, wriggling her eyebrows toward Birk and giving him a thumbs-up. “We want to see everything the vineyard offers. Our wine blog has more than a quarter million subscribers.”

“She’s laying it on thick,” Birk whispered to the others. “But three hours should give us plenty of time to see the layout. I’ll recheck the employee list for ex-cops to be sure we know who’s on the premises.”

As they finished their drinks and prepared to head to the vineyard, Trish slipped a small tracking device into Jade’s pocket. “Just in case,” she whispered. “We wouldn’t want to lose sight of you guys during the tour.”

“So, are we in agreement that you guys can pull this off without tipping your hand?” Lucien asked.

Birk rolled his eyes. “I may not be French, but I can act as snobby as their best wine connoisseur. Consider Alan Rickman’s performance in that movie about wine.”

Jade sputtered with laughter as she glanced around the table. “We watched the movieBottle Shocklast night. The only problem is Alan Rickman’s character was Paris-based but not French.”

“Exactly,” Birk concluded. “I’ve always been better at pulling off a British accent anyway.”

Brogan traded dubious looks with Lucien. “This hare-brained idea has to work; otherwise, we look like a Saturday Night Live skit.”

“You’re worried about that?” Lucien cautioned. “I’m more worried that the manager will ask to see their fake win blog and those quarter million followers. ”

Under the guiseof snobby wine enthusiasts, Brogan and Lucien arrived first, parking in the designated guest slots outside the gates of Noir Hills Estates.

Nestled among rolling hills, the sprawling estate stretched like a patchwork quilt of neatly trellised vines as far as the eye could see. The leaves shimmered in emerald and moss green shades, while clumps of purple grapes hung like jewels, plump and ripe for the picking.

As they stepped out of Brogan’s Range Rover, the sun glinted off the hillside, and the air was heavy with the scent of fermenting wine.

Lucien whistled through his teeth. “This is a nice setup. The photo gallery online doesn’t do it justice. How in the world could a cop afford this kind of vineyard? I’m surprised Birk hasn’t already uncovered that bit of information.”

Brogan chuckled as they stood at the entrance. “Once he gets a look at this place, I picture him later tonight, hunched over his laptop, poring through Ken’s financial statements, line by line.”

She nudged Lucien as other people began to show up. In no time, the parking lot became congested with foot traffic. By the time Jade and Birk squeezed into the last parking spot, everyone had gone through the gates ahead of them. “Ready or not, we’re doing this. We should make it look like we’re meeting for the first time.”

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