Kendall shook her head. “Don’t need to. I know it’s not her. I heard her here a few times, talking to other staff people before Roger died. I know who she is, and it wasn’t her.”
Relief lifted a weight from his chest. He was going to need Gretchen’s skill and knowledge in the next several months.
He dipped his chin. “Thanks. If you want to come down, feel free. We can tell her you’re my niece or sister.”
A look flashed in her eyes, but she shook her head. “Thanks, I’m almost done with this module. I hate the subject so want to get it over with.”
He grinned at her tone, one of the few times he’d heard her sound like the tweenager she was. “What module?”
“Coding,” she replied, making a face. “It’s stuff I could do when I was six! It’s so boring,” she said, drawing out the “so.”
“And you can’t whiz through it?”
“It’s timed!” she said in outrage. “They give you a prompt, then give you ten minutes to do it, but you can’t go any faster if you finish early. Can you believe that shit?”
He arched a brow. He’d told her he didn’t care too much about the swearing, but the words should be well-timed and -placed rather than gratuitous.
She rolled her eyes and reached for her headphones. “I’ll come down when I’m done. Maybe we can search the house. See if we can find any clue as to who poisoned Roger. Or if his murder is connected to Flannery’s or Fisher’s.”
There was something dreadfully wrong with dragging a twelve-year-old into a murder investigation, but once again, he opted to let it slide. If it kept her mind off the fact that her mother hadn’t yet returned, he’d call it a win. A dubious one, but a win.
Jogging down the stairs, he found Gretchen where he’d left her, Dulcie and Helia gone. “Any chance you have a copy of Kelly’s contract?” he asked.
She gestured to a file on the desk, not lifting her eyes from her screen. “I’m checking inventory, shipments, supplies, that sort of thing. Alessio’s been monitoring this season’s wine both remotely and in person. The stuff that’s already been set aside to age won’t be an issue, but he’s racking a few varietals. He’ll be wrapping that up by the end of January and will need supplies and people.”
“Helia pointed Miguel out to me the other day at Guichos,” he said, opening the file. “I assume his crew can help?”
Gretchen nodded. “They can. I’ll get the supplies ordered, though. I also reconciled the books to date and paid a few bills. You can terminate that contract for convenience at any time,” she added, looking up and nodding to the papers in his hands. “I’ve changed the login and password. Password is dingdongthewitchisdead.” He snorted a laugh. She smiled, then rattled off the new login.
“Want me to call Kelly?” she offered.
“I get the feeling you’d like that,” he replied, chuckling.
“Possibly,” Gretchen said, holding her hand out for the file.
“Anything you need me to do?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Everything can wait until after the holidays. You probably want some time to figure out what to do with it all anyway.”
“I’ll admit, I haven’t given it much thought. There have been other things occupying my mind.”
“Like the murders and how they seem to be circling around Helia?” He blinked. “Very little goes on in this stretch of the world that I don’t know or can’t find out about.”
“Handy skill.”
She bobbed her head. “Mostly. Sometimes it’s annoying.”
“Do you have any idea why it’s circling around Helia?”
She sat back in her chair. “I’m not so sure it’s Helia. She isn’t the only thing they have in common.”
Before he could ask, his phone rang. Glancing at the screen, he rose. “Go ahead and call Kelly. I need to get this, but I’ll be back in a few and you can tell me your thoughts.”
She nodded as he connected the call, then walked out of her office. “Leo? What’d you find?”
“It’s not good, and I think you need to sit down.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
