Cereal killer, p.1
Cereal Killer, page 1
Cereal Killer
A Maternal Instincts Mystery
Diana Orgain
Other Titles by Diana Orgain
Maternal Instincts Mystery Series
Bundle of Trouble - FREE The only thing tougher than solving a murder…giving birth!
Motherhood is Murder Kate joins a new mom group where mischief and murder run rampant.
Formula for Murder A hit and run crash catapults Kate into a mystery at the French Consulate.
Nursing a Grudge Kate’s budding PI business is threatened when a new PI poaches her client.
Pampered to Death Spa day has never been so deadly!
Killer Cravings Can Kate juggle being a PI, pregnant and those cravings all at the same time?
A Deathly Rattle Who shot rival PI, Vicente Domingo?
Rockabye Murder Dancing can be murder—literally.
Prams & Poison Are there too many skeletons in the Victorian closet Paula’s is renovating?
Love or Money Mystery Series
A First Date with Death Reality TV meets murder!
A Second Chance at Murder Georgia’s new boyfriend disappears in the Pyrenees Mountains.
Third Time’s a Crime If only love were as simple as murder…
Roundup Crew Mystery Series
Yappy Hour Things take a ruff turn at the Wine & Bark when Maggie Patterson takes charge
Trigger Yappy Salmonella poisoning strikes at the Wine & Bark.
iWitch Mystery Series
A Witch Called Wanda Can a witch solve a murder mystery?
I Wanda put a spell on you When Wanda is kidnapped, Maeve might need a little magic.
Brewing up Murder A witch, a murder, a dog...no, wait...a man..no...two men, three witches and a cat?
Cooking Up Murder Mystery Series
Murder as Sticky as Jam Mona and Vicki are ready for the grand opening of Jammin' Honey until…their store goes up in smoke…
Murder as Sweet as Honey Will the sweet taste of honey turn bitter with a killer town?
Murder as Savory as Biscuits Can some savory biscuits uncover the truth behind a murder?
Cereal
Killer
A Maternal Instincts Mystery
* * *
by
Diana Orgain
* * *
Copyright © 2021 by Diana Orgain
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Preview of Dying For Gold
Preview of Dying for Gold
Preview of Dying for Gold
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Other Titles by Diana Orgain
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About the Author
Chapter 1
“But what do you mean there’s no cell service?” I wailed, staring at my phone. Zero bars.
From the driver’s seat, Vicente Domingo flashed his trademark smirk. Most women in most situations found his roguish, tall-dark-and-handsome shtick charming. In the best of times, I found it only mildly obnoxious.
This was not the best of times.
“No worries,” he crooned in his lilting Spanish accent. “I’m sure we won’t be stuck on the side of the road too long.”
“It’s four thousand degrees outside!” I sputtered.
“You’re exaggerating by exactly 3900 degrees.”
The temperature gauge flicked from 100 to 101. I pointed to it. “Make that three thousand eight hundred and ninety-nine.”
“Really—don’t worry, quierda. I’ll pop the hood and see if it’s an easy fix.” He opened the car door, letting in a whoosh of heat.
“I’m not your love,” I muttered as he closed the door behind him. I traced the BMW’s black leather seat. Shouldn’t a car like this be too expensive to break down on us?
When Vicente Domingo—a rival PI—had invited me out to the town of Golden to solve a mystery, I’d been excited . . . and a little confused. But I definitely hadn’t planned to end up stranded twenty-seven minutes from our destination, in ten-thousand-degree heat, while more than seven months pregnant with twins!
How busy was this road, exactly?
After passing Sacramento, we took highway 49 toward Golden, but a traffic jam a few miles earlier had sent us onto a back road through the middle of nowhere. I tried to remember how many cars we’d passed in the last few minutes. I hadn’t been paying close attention, but I only remembered one other car.
Surely someone would happen upon us soon and we wouldn’t roast out here like a pair of Thanksgiving turkeys.
Mmm, Thanksgiving turkey sounds good. My mouth watered at the thought. Darn pregnancy hormones.
A minute later, Vicente popped back in the car, a wave of heat following him.
“Don’t let out all the air conditioning,” I whined.
He closed the door with a little shrug. “We’re about twenty-five minutes from my cousin’s house. I’m sure someone will give us a lift. Luz is well known in town, and I’ve visited enough that someone will recognize me. I spent whole summers here as a boy, when my grandparents owned the winery.”
I stared out the window. No trees lined this road, but there was a small grove in the distance. If we ran out of gas and couldn’t blast the air conditioning, we’d have to walk to those trees to find shade. I eyed Vicente’s biceps.
He’d recovered impressively from a gunshot wound a few months back, but still I doubted he could haul my pregnant rump if my knees gave out.
And also…wasn’t this rattlesnake country?
What on earth am I doing here?
A few yards ahead of the car, a huge pile of rocks sat just off the road. I stared at the rock pile, startled. For a second, one of the rocks had looked just like one of those sun-bleached ox skulls they used to set the mood in grim Wild West movies. I blinked a few times, reassuring myself that it was just a white rock and not an omen of impending doom.
“Worst case scenario,” Vicente continued, “it’s supposed to pour rain sometime this afternoon. That’ll cool us off.”
I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. Time to focus on something I could control. I rubbed my temples.
The case. Might as well take the opportunity to talk more about the case. “So, why exactly did your cousin want two PIs to come investigate this vineyard thing?” I asked.
It was the question that had been nagging at me ever since Vicente had explained the situation—someone was trying to sabotage his cousin’s vineyard. First, there had been a few threatening notes. Then an attempted break-in in the middle of the night. Then a ransomware attack on the vineyard’s computer system.
The ransomware attack had been the last straw. It hadn’t worked—Luz kept careful backups and had replaced her computer rather than pay off the hackers—but she’d called Vicente for help.
After a long pause, he said, “I asked her if I could bring a PI friend with me. Her friends and neighbors know that her cousin is a PI, so people will know something is up if I’m asking too many questions. I figured we could tag-team and keep it quiet that we’re investigating anything.”
“So we don’t tip off the saboteur? Won’t they expect Luz to bring someone in to look into it?”
“Well . . . that’s part of it.”
I stared at him for a second. “Why don’t we want anyone to know we’re investigating?”
He grimaced. “Luz . . . made a mistake with the winery.”
Suspicion bloomed in my chest. Crossing my arms, I asked, “What kind of mistake? What have you dragged me into, Vicente?”
He clasped his hands together. “Nothing too terrible. Nothing illegal. This sort of thing really happens all the time, I’m told. Where to start . . .”
“You could always try the beginning,” I deadpanned.
“The winery is very profitable. My grandparents bought the vineyard in the 1970s from a winemaker who was struggling to get by, and they turned it into something great. Luz chose to carry on the family business. Turns out she’s spectacular at it—she’s won several wine-of-the-year awards, that sort of thing. Plus, she’s tripled the size of the operation since she took it over. But she lost ninety percent of the harvest this year and opted to buy another vineyard’s grapes and make the season’s wine anyway—labeled as if it really came from her vineyard.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh . . .”
“It was a rolling blackout. She has a generator, of course, but every vineyard in the region was scrambling for fuel to run the generators, and she couldn’t get enough gas in time. So, most of the grapes spoiled.”
“How awful,” I murmured.
“As I said, the vineyard is profitable, but that much expansion means there is a lot of debt, too. They couldn’t afford to lose a whole year. I wish she’d come to me before she made the decision. I would have told her that her name was big enough to ride out the storm—to just raise the prices on the wines that are coming of age, and to bottle what little wine they could eke out of this year ’s harvest . . . when that’s ready to sell, market it as a super-rare special edition for thousands of dollars a bottle. But I guess she . . . was not so confident, or didn’t think about that option. Companies order from her years in advance, you see. I can only imagine she was worried about backing out of contracts.”
“Mmm,” I said softly. “That doesn’t make it right, of course, but she was in a hard position.”
“Yes, she was.” He slumped back against the leather seat. “In one of our conversations about the blackouts, she said to me, ‘Vicente, what if it happens again next year?’ She decided she needed to add solar panels and batteries to go with them . . . not enough to run the whole vineyard all the time, but enough to keep processing wine in an emergency.”
“And that’s a huge expense.”
“Exactly. So I think she must have been worried about how to pay for it. Would the bank extend her credit if they thought her business was in trouble from a lost harvest? Would they call her existing debts due? I don’t know.”
“What a mess.”
He let out a sigh. “So, that’s some background of why we don’t want people to know we’re investigating. I told you that she received some threatening notes?”
I nodded.
“We’ll look at them when we get to her house, but she told me that, whoever this person is, they know she bought someone else’s grapes. She thinks that may be the reason they’re harassing her.”
“A rival vineyard?”
He let out a sigh and turned up the air conditioning. “Maybe. Or maybe an ex-boyfriend. Thomas.” His lips curled into a sneer. “I always hated him. Smug idiot. He runs a local wine bar, and he recently expanded his business—bought the building next door to his bar and fixed it up as an all-inclusive wedding venue. Luz’s vineyard is beautiful, and people rent it out for events, especially weddings. Thomas is still in love with her and is trying to win her back, but he’s also trying to undermine her business and poach her catering and event contracts. It’s like he’s obsessed with her. The weasel.”
“How long ago did they break up?”
“About a year. And good riddance,” he muttered.
A white Prius appeared, driving the opposite direction. I clumsily leaped out of the car and waved frantically, but I was too slow; the car passed us by.
With a sigh, I sank back into my seat and closed the door.
“We could always walk,” he said.
I pointed to my pregnant belly.
“Then again, maybe not,” he conceded.
A horn beeped, and I turned around to see the white Prius pulling in behind us. A heavyset blonde with a chin-length bob climbed out and marched toward Vicente’s door.
We’re saved!
Sweet relief flooded me.
Vicente rolled down the window. “Hello, quierda,” he drawled. “Thanks so much for stopping. We stalled out—”
The woman stared at us in unconcealed contempt. “Serves you right driving around that fancy gas-guzzler.”
I furrowed my brow, and Vicente glanced at me in utter confusion.
“Gas-guzzler?” he practically sputtered. “This Beamer gets thirty-four miles to the gallon on the highway.”
Her eyes bulged. “And do you think that’s going to save us from climate change? Did you pay any attention to last year’s fire season? To the hurricanes in the South? Why, you—”
“I’m on your side,” I interjected, shooting her a winning smile. “Why, this whole trip I’ve done nothing but try to persuade Vicente to get a more fuel-efficient car. Something like your Prius.”
Vicente glared at me, but I ignored him. This woman might be crazy, but so far she was our only ticket out of this mess. If Vicente wouldn’t charm some help out of her, I most assuredly would.
I rested a hand on my baby bump. “After all, I’m pregnant with twins! You know what I told this idiot here?” I jerked my elbow toward Vicente. “I said, What kind of world are we going to leave for our children if we don’t all pitch in and do our part?”
The woman visibly softened.
I continued. “And it’s just killing me that we’re sitting here and running the engine for the air conditioning—so many useless emissions! But I’ve had a complicated pregnancy, and my doctor has told me I absolutely can’t overheat. Is there any way you might be able to give us a lift into Golden? To Castillo’s Vineyard?”
She stared at us for a few seconds, her eyes flashing between annoyance and something kinder. Then she said, “I’m late for a Go-Green meeting in Sacramento, but I’ll have cell service in a couple miles, so I’ll call a tow truck for you.”
Good enough! “Thank you!” I exclaimed. “As soon as we broke down, I sent a plea out into the universe for a good person like you to help us out!”
She tried to hide a grin. “Sure, anytime!” Then she looked at Vicente, and her smile turned to a glower. “And get a car with better gas mileage!”
She stalked back to her Prius, and as soon as Vicente rolled up the window, I burst out laughing.
“What was that?” he demanded.
“That,” I retorted, “was creatively getting us a tow truck. You should know. You pull those sorts of tricks all the time—you just do it by flirting and calling everyone dear in that accent of yours.”
“You threw me under the bus!”
“Under a solar-powered bus, maybe.” I grinned. “You’re just perplexed that your charm got you absolutely nowhere with her.”
“How do you know she’ll even call a tow truck? Maybe she’ll get madder and madder about my so-called gas-guzzler and change her mind.”
“She’ll call,” I said, hitting the button to recline my seat. “Just you wait.”
Sure enough, a half hour later, Vicente swore under his breath. “Well, I’ll be.”
I sat up. A big white tow truck was rumbling our way.
“Thank goodness!” I sang.
The tow truck parked in front of us, and we both climbed out of the car. Heat waves practically sizzled up from the ground, and I immediately broke out into a sweat.
You could probably fry an egg on this road.
Vicente strode toward the truck, meeting the driver halfway. “Vicente Domingo,” he said. “Thanks so much for coming!”
“Fred,” replied the driver, reaching out to shake Vicente’s hand. He was tall, with sandy-colored hair and a kind demeanor. “Got a call that you folks needed some help.”
Vicente looked mournful. “The car broke down. I’m going to my cousin’s place—Castillo’s Vineyard.”
“Oh, you’re Luz’s cousin,” replied Fred, his smile broadening. “It’s so nice to meet you!”
“That’s right,” said Vicente. “And this lovely woman is Kate, my fiancée!”
Fiancée? That’s his cover story? I blanched and instinctively reached to touch my wedding ring . . . but I’d taken it off two days ago when the swelling in my hands and ankles had finally reached a breaking point.
Oh, I could kill him.
Chapter 2
In the tow truck, Fred turned the key in the ignition. “Why don’t I drop you folks off at Luz’s place, and then I’ll take the car into the mechanic for you. I’ll call when I have an update.”
