Page 61 of Murder in the Lighthouse

“Whatever the reason, on a Wednesday afternoon last February, she took a side trip that went horribly wrong. She stopped at Noir Hills Estates. She thought she hit the jackpot when she discovered she had the tasting room all to herself. But after two hours, she claimed every variety tasted the same, like wet cardboard. That is not a comment Keith would appreciate. After an argument ensued with him, Jocelyn supposedly spit the wine in his face, slapped him for verbally accosting her, and the woman never made it back to her car.”

“Jeez, talk about volatile,” Lucien muttered. “I take it Ken didn’t try to whitewash his version.”

“So far, he’s laid everything on the line. Crossing Keith like this means they won’t serve time in the same prison.”

“Wow. Who else had the misfortune of butting heads with Keith Shepherd? We read online that he killed several employees and buried them in the fields under the grapes. Is that true?”

“Pretty much accurate. He killed four right after he began working there in the span of a year,” Theo said.

“Four that we know about so far,” Trish corrected. “We still have the names of several who we haven’t been able to account for yet. Ken and Keith told various stories about the people who disappeared. Some were let go. Some quit. And some didn’t show up for work. The authorities never questioned either brother beyond that. Upstanding members of the community and all.”

“How sad for the families,” Brogan uttered. “How did all this go on for such a long time without anyone doing anything about Keith?”

Trish sucked in a ragged breath. “The authorities basically looked the other way. They didn’t do a deep dive into any of the missing person reports. Not one. They accepted whatever story the Shepherd brothers fed them, wrote up the standard report about their encounter, and went home afterward. Which is why I’m happy you two got involved. I already told Lucien and Birk how much I appreciated everything they did after all this came to a head. But I wanted to tell you, too, face to face.” She laid a hand over Brogan’s. “You two make an incredible team. It still amazes me why you do what you do. But whatever the reason, I’m grateful.”

“That’s so nice to hear,” Brogan said, cutting her eyes toward Theo. “It’s nice to be appreciated for our skillset and professionalism.”

“I can take a hint,” Theo mused. “But most people in law enforcement will tell you the same thing. Private investigators are usually a pain in the butt.”

“Websleuths,” Brogan insisted. “Lucien and I are websleuths.”

“Whatever you call yourselves,” Theo began, “you’re damned good at what you do.”

They took thecompliment from law enforcement to heart, knowing that their unorthodox methods had led them to a successful conclusion.

But when Brent stopped by later that day, he reinforced his disdain for partnering with private investigators.

Brogan ignored the dig as she served him iced tea and raspberry pinwheels in the solarium surrounded by plants and dappled sunlight. “How did you enjoy your time away from Pelican Pointe?” she asked. “Tell us everything about New Mexico we should see if we ever get time to go there.”

“The boys enjoyed the spectacular rock formations and exploring Carlsbad Caverns,” Brent said, biting into his cookie. “These are delicious.”

“Butter cookies with jam,” Lucien added, scooping up one for himself before taking a seat in the nearby chair.

“I just think that ninety-nine percent of the time, private investigators are a waste of space,” Brent continued. “They take people’s money without doing anything of value.”

“I see vacation time didn’t mellow you in the least,” Brogan remarked, a smile curving at the corners of her mouth as she sat across from him. “Believe me, we know how you feel. You’ve told us enough times that it’s no surprise. I would agree that sixty percent of the PIs out there may rip people off. But there are documented cases of them uncovering new evidence, locating new witnesses that weren’t in the original police reports, going through hours and hours of CCTV that law enforcement didn’t bother asking about, and ultimately, their hard work results in providing answers to families that law enforcement couldn’t. Sometimes, they even manage to solve a cold case or a disappearance.”

“I didn’t mean to belittle what you did with the Shepherd case. I knew Keith back in the day and always considered him a bad cop.”

Lucien grabbed another cookie. “But no one in authority did anything about it until he’d murdered three women.”

“Point taken,” Brent agreed, taking a slug of his iced tea.

“We heard rumors that you’d like to hire Trish Vosberg away from her current role at the sheriff’s department,” Lucien prompted, forcing the conversation to the real reason Brent had stopped by.

“Well, she would be an asset to us. We’ve always been short-handed. As the town grows, I don’t like the idea of becoming more dependent on the county in an emergency. And we are growing. Just ask Murphy. Or Nick. Or Logan Donnelly.”

“Or all the new residents,” Brogan said. “Someone even bought Tazzie Crossland’s former home while you were out of town. Is Trish interested in leaving her old job?”

“From what I hear, yes,” Brent replied.

“We could offer the same benefits package we used to get Theo here,” Lucien extended. “The salary is up to you.”

“Well, Trish has twelve years on the job. Theo had twenty.”

“The salary package is up to you,” Brogan repeated.

“So you guys are good with this?” Brent asked.

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