Kind of surprising to see it wasn’t set amongst the vineyard. Simon had cut and pasted on a photo of an ubermodern apartment.
“See here. It’s in Manhattan.” He pointed to a view through a window of Central Park. “And we would shop at all the best stores with our baby, right here.”
Nikki’s jaw dropped. Baby? Simon pointed to a cherubic-looking baby.
“You want a baby?” Rose asked, sounding as astonished as Nikki felt.
“Of course. What? Just because we’re gay, you don’t think we might want children?”
“I do think that a mother and a father should be involved. Not two daddies,” Rose replied, staring him down like a grizzly bear readying for the kill.
Simon’s eye back was just as evil. Oh, no. This could be trouble. “Let me tell you what children need…”
Nikki interrupted, hoping to head off a full escalation here. She stood and put a hand on Simon’s back. “Children need love, and I am sure someone as spiritually devoted as Mrs. Pearlman would agree.” Nikki flashed a huge smile.
Rose Pearlman recoiled some and looked to be pouting, but she shut her trap and that was the outcome they were all looking for.
“How about you, Kurt, is it?” Nikki looked straight at the man with the crew cut and beady ice green eyes that seemed to sear through her. She could see how Simon found him attractive because the man was edgy-almost intimidating-and Simon had a tendency to be attracted to the intense types. Lucky for him, Marco could be intense but balanced it out with his charm and good nature. He certainly didn’t have that edge this guy did. “Let’s see your dream board.” It was really strange to be asking grown men to see their dream boards. Maybe she should have called it something a bit more masculine-vision board, maybe?
Kurt hesitated, then slowly stood and picked his board up from the seat next to him. There was an audible gasp. Even Nikki caught herself.
The only word to describe Kurt’s board was “violent.”
No one spoke for a few seconds.
Once again, it was Rose Pearlman who took a stab at it. “What the hell is that?”
Kurt glared at her. “My board,” he muttered.
“I understand that. But what does it represent? I understood his,” she said, gesturing at Simon, “although I still think he and his partner, or whatever they call each other, are nuts for wanting a kid.”
Simon tensed. Nikki grabbed and squeezed his arm.
Kurt shifted his weight to one leg. “I want to be a novelist like Stephen King, man. I want to write horror books and flicks.”
Nikki studied the board. It had images of people on the board, but then next to them, Kurt had written words like, “monster,” “slaughtered,” “kill.” One of the photos was… Wait a minute… She squinted. “Excuse me, but that looks like Iwao Yamimoto,” she said.
Kurt shrugged. “Maybe it is.” He smiled.
Like ice being dropped down the inside of her shirt, Nikki’s body grew freezing-ass cold. “That’s wrong.”
“Why?” Kurt asked.
Simon and Rose Pearlman looked at each other, and this time it wasn’t with mutual dislike, but mutual fear.
“Well, because the man was just murdered last night. That’s why. And you have a photo of him and next to it you wrote ‘slaughtered.’ Don’t you think that’s wrong?” Nikki asked. She wasn’t afraid of this bully.
“How do you know that Iwao Yamimoto was not a terrorist and that a hit man from the CIA needed to take him down? Huh? Have you ever thought of that?” Kurt stared at her.
Was this guy serious? “A terrorist? He was Japanese,” Nikki replied.
“Do you know that for sure? Maybe he was Chinese.”
No one said a word. Then Kurt Kensington started cracking up. “Oh, my God, you people don’t think I’m serious, do you? I told you that my dream and goal is to be a bestselling horror or even espionage-type author. And I want to write horror movies. Freddie Kruger type. That’s all there is to it. Sorry you don’t find my humor amusing.”
“I’m afraid I don’t.” Nikki figured at this point she had nothing to lose by being straightforward. She had witnesses in case the guy went berserk or she was later found dead-not a comforting thought-but at least Simon and Rose Pearlman would know whom to point a finger at. “By the way, were you the guest who brought down Mr. Yamimoto’s suitcase to the front desk this morning?”
Kurt didn’t say anything for a second, but rather glowered at her. “Yes. So? The hotel obviously mixed our bags up.”
“Why did you wait until the morning? You must have needed something from your bag last night, I would think.”
“I had two bags. One I carry books in, like the one Mr. Yamimoto had. Last night we got in late and I didn’t exactly feel like reading. I discovered it this morning when I went to get one of my books out.”
“You actually carry an entire suitcase filled with books? And didn’t you realize you had two of them in your room?” Nikki questioned.
Everyone at the table watched the ping-pong dialogue go on between them, heads flipping from one person to the next.
“I told you, I’m working on being an author. As far as the two look-alike suitcases, I can answer that. When I checked in, I asked the bellhop to bring my things up. I wasn’t in my room when he did so, so he set them in the closet. I assume that’s your protocol.”
It was. Nikki nodded.
“Okay, then we went out for the train ride. I never changed so I never went into the closet. When we came back from the ride, I spotted the bag downstairs in the lobby set down by those palm tree plants you have, and that was where I’d set my things when I checked in. I figured the bellhop forgot the smaller bag. I picked it up and brought it into my room.”
“What, and you fell asleep with your clothes on then?” She wasn’t buying this at all.
“If you want to know, Ms. Sands, I sleep in the buff.”
She wrinkled her nose, but remained quick on her toes. “Okay, then, what about the bag itself? A bag filled with books I would think would be pretty heavy. Couldn’t you tell by the weight you had a different bag?”
“It was late. I’m strong. I work out a lot. I don’t think about a pound or two here and there. Are you finished questioning me, Detective Sands? Or would you like to come to my room and see all of my books?”
Simon looked over at her warningly. Going alone to Kurt’s room was definitely not something she desired to do. “I believe you, Mr. Kensington, and trust me, I’m no detective.” But the police might think it was odd. The first chance she had to speak with Robinson she would be sure and get this idiot on the detective’s radar.
“Call me Kurt, please.”
“Kurt, then.” She tried to smile, but it was impossible. This guy epitomized creepiness and again Nikki had to wonder how he’d become a part of the S.E.E. group. She needed to get ahold of those applications that Hayden had told her about and find out what she could dig up on Kurt Kensington because at that moment all she could hear in her mind was David Byrne of the Talking Heads belting out “Psycho Killer” and the part where he sings Run run away.
Well, that was exactly what Nikki desired to do. Get away from Kurt the psycho.
Fifteen
STILL shaken after the dream board session by Kurt Kensington, Nikki had an hour and a half to get prepared for the winemaking event she was to host. Not a lot of time and still quite a bit to do. She needed to get ahold of Derek. What time was it in New York? Almost eight. He was probably at dinner. She also really needed to speak with Mizuki and see how the woman was faring. The lady knew more than she’d been able to tell Nikki. If only there was a way to really communicate with her.
She’d try. Sooner or later she’d get ahold of Derek. It wasn’t as if he could change things here anyway, and he’d worry needlessly. He needed to work out the business between him and old man Vicente and she didn’t want to distract him. Oh boy, though, if he caught whiff of what was going on around here without her being the one to tell him, she knew there’d be hell to pay.