Murder & Mayhem

by T Wells Brown

  The sound of the water fountain was soothing and added an element of calmness to the brick courtyard.

  Four three-story high square white columns graced each entry of the four buildings. Huge old cathedral double doors with black iron fittings, each slightly different than the other, graced each doorway. The winery, the event hall, Raquel and Antonio’s home, and the tasting rooms faced the brick courtyard. The courtyard wasn’t just pretty but functional with cast iron bistro tables and chairs placed around the fountain. The buildings and their carefully preserved architecture were amazing; and the site of many weddings, as well as other formal and causal events.

  There really wasn’t anything like it at any of the other eighty plus wineries in the region. Most of the Lodi Wine Appellation wineries had gone with the natural stone and stucco look so prevalent with the Mediterranean style, or the modern updated minimalist look, but not my aunt and uncle.

  No.

  They maintained the look of the region when the vines had first been planted over one hundred and fifty years ago. This much I knew from all the long walks with my uncle Antonio. The buildings, just like the vineyard, had been creatively updated with all the newest technology and conveniences that they could afford, without disturbing the old bones and architectural features, those were lovingly kept intact.

  This made the Bellini Estate and Winery unique to the region.

  Come to think of it, now that I was back here at this beautifully rustic, yet majestic winery estate, a lot of what my uncle had taught me was starting to come back.

  My aunt Raquel’s house was a clinker brick home, the biggest home I’d ever been in, with six bedrooms, seven bathrooms and the entire third floor that was the master suite. Both her home and the event hall had gleaming efficient commercial kitchens with white cabinets and stainless-steel counters. My aunt Raquel loved to cook more than almost anything. She cooked for all the events at the winery, and every holiday she would put on an amazing feast in her event hall where everyone was invited.

  With a heavy heart, the realization hit me, I would never sit at one of her beautiful tables or enjoy one of her fantastic meals again. I’d never get to make up for the time I’d missed with them. I had chosen to appease my momma, rather than spend time with the two people who probably loved me most in the world. There was a huge ball of guilt sitting square in the center of my chest, and it was settling in to stay a while. I deserved to feel every miserable moment of it. I should have been a better niece to them both. I should have put them first and my momma’s manipulative ways second .

  It turned out Sydney was staying with me at Bellini for a while; she flew in the day before. She was having some weird silent argument or fight, or something with the other man who came to the airport. His name was Roman and he was hot – like super-hot – like HOT! Hot! Here in wine country, all the men must be drinking the hot guy water, and it was working!

  Hot guy Cabe and his super hunky side kick Roman took my bags up to one of the guest rooms on the second floor. I followed the ladies into the kitchen to help with lunch preparations.

  Before I could figure out what I needed to do to help, Sidney pulled me aside and announced to the room that we were going to take a few moments to talk business.

  My aunt Raquel’s friend Jenna said, “Are you sure now is the time?”

  “She needs to know where she stands and the plans we’ve made so far before someone else tells her and gets it wrong or freaks her out.” Sydney replied.

  Well shoot.

  “Now I am freaking out. Let’s have this talk so we can come back here and eat with them, ok?” I said.

  “Come on Bella,” Sydney replied softly, taking my hand and leading me to the library just off the dining room. My aunt used to call me Bella when I was younger but had stopped the last time I visited with my momma, because momma used the affectionate nickname to mock me .

  Sydney who had been out of the country these last six years, wouldn’t know that, or at least wouldn’t know it was a painful reminder, or so I thought.

  “My aunt stopped calling me Bella when I was fifteen,” I told her.

  “I know she did; she told me. I think its bullshit and I think the reason why was bullshit, so I am going to keep her endearment alive and continue to use it.” She stopped walking and turned to me, “Unless of course, it hurts you,” she finished softly.

  With tears in my eyes I replied quietly, “I like it.” And gently squeezed her forearm.

  Settling into my aunts cozy overstuffed chairs in her library, Sydney wasted no time getting straight to the point and laid it all out for me.

  “Bella, Raquel and Antonio were very careful how they formed their estate and wishes. You are their heir and they left the bulk of their estate to you; however, they left provisions and requirements for others too.”

  “Okay. What does that mean exactly?” I asked, not following.

  “Well, first off; they retained me to be executor of the estate for this first year, with the idea that you would be settled in fully, but they also left provisions for me to extend for a second year in case you needed me. This would be decided by you. I don’t have a say after this first year. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes. I really appreciate your help, Sydney, and I know how much my aunt and uncle trust you.” We both went still at my comment, realizing I was talking as if they were still alive.

  I felt a single tear roll down my cheek. “I’m sorry,” I hiccupped.

  Sydney watched me closely for a few minutes, letting me calm myself, and then said, “The reading of the will is the day after the funeral here at the house. There are a few charities and loyal employees they have made provisions for, and some other people named in the will, and they will all be here as well. But you should know beforehand, it would be a good idea to start securing certain things so we don’t lose footing. Things are a little rocky on the homestead.”

  “What things? What do you mean rocky?” I asked.

  “Raquel and I talked almost daily and sometimes several times a day. She was my best friend…” Sydney stopped talking and looked down at her hands resting in her lap. Taking a deep breath, she continued, “but Raquel and Antonio were also my clients, and they were having issues with, well primarily, two of the larger wineries. We are heading into harvest and crush, this year the old vine fruit was sold to a different winemaker than previous years. I negotiated the deal for the benefit of Bellini Estate. The negotiations alone caused quite a commotion with the two wineries that had been receiving the fruit, and under paying your uncle.” She went on, “Three years ago, I encouraged and subsequently strong armed your uncle into having his old vines DNA tested at UC Davis. See, your uncle has the three old vine vi neyards, which surround the estate. You already know those are Zinfandel. He also has the ‘younger’ vines he planted when he bought up the land adjacent to the estate, and across the street. Now they are well over twenty years old, but they are not considered old vine yet. Anyway, the two old zin vineyards are doing well, nothing changed with those. However, the DNA results came back and the seventy-five acres of old vines we originally thought were Black Malvoisie, turned out to be what we believe to be the world’s oldest surviving Cinsault Vineyard.”

  She stopped talking and looked to me expectantly, as if I had understood one thing she’d said.

  “I don’t understand any of what you just said Sydney. You’re gonna have to break it down for me.”

  “Okay. In a nut shell, Raquel and Antonio, have been battling two of the region’s largest wineries for the Cinsault fruit. They have been very aggressive in their pursuits and the winery has even experienced some small bits of vandalism since the DNA discovery. Your uncle was working with Cabe to secure the old vines and set up monitoring in the vineyards before they died. Since I negotiated this last deal for the Bellini Estate with the new buyer, things began to escalate.” She stopped talking and with her forehead furrowed she said, “The deal is done, but I had just gotten it done,
and since I wasn’t handling things here but from France no one knew who the buyer was or if the deal was signed.” saying under her breath to herself, “I need to let Cabe know this. ”

  “So, what you’re telling me is that Antonio had decided to sell his oldest grapes to a new buyer for more money and the old buyers got pissed?”

  Sydney looked at me with a small smile, “Yes, that is correct.”

  “Well, if the deal was already done what can the old buyers do about it?” I asked.

  “Nothing, but they don’t know that because they didn’t know the deal was finished. Also, one of the wineries had award winning wines based on Antonio’s crop.”

  “So, they might think they still have a hand to play? And they’re desperate?” I asked.

  “Yes, and my concern is they might approach you after the reading of the will to try and negotiate the fruit.”

  “The fruit?”

  “Yes, that’s what they call the grapes.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Grapes were fruit, so that made sense.

  “The vineyards all of them, the estate, the equipment and everything Raquel and Antonio hold dearest are mostly yours now. Like I said before, they made provisions for a few charities and loyal employees, which was very generous of them. But you are left with the bulk of the estate and enough operating capital, after your inheritance taxes, to get you through at least five harvests if you operated at a no gain status. That’s not what we want to see happen, but your aunt and uncle were extremely smart business people and knew God and Mother Nature had too big of a say in their industry not to have a backup plan. Antonio being Antonio, of course, had a back up to his back up. No one knows this, and not very many businesses operate this way, but your uncle comes from an old established wine making family in Italy and his ancestors had been through so much throughout the numerous generations, he brought their preparedness with him when he came here and he has extended you with this too.”

  “So, if I can’t make the winery any money in the next five years I will be in trouble?” I asked.

  “Well, you have the estate and the catering business your aunt ran. That was very successful as well, so you could technically support yourself and the estate with that, but you would not be able to support the wine making at a loss and everything else unless you made some changes to the catering model Raquel had in place.”

  “Like what changes?” I asked.

  “Raquel only catered events here at the winery. That was plenty for her; she kept busy all year. But let’s say, if you were to hire a bakery chef and made pastries and specialty cakes to be used here and sold elsewhere, could be another revenue stream and one Raquel was talking to me about because she has the two commercial kitchens, and she wasn’t keeping them both busy. Also, you could cater events not held here at the winery. Raquel wasn’t interested in this, but you could view it as a ‘worst-case scenario’ type of revenue stream we might be able to tap into. ”

  She continued on, “you might also might consider keeping the wine tasting rooms open longer and schedule musicians to help draw people here. You could set up the main house as a B&B. Steve and Allistor won’t be happy, but if you’re doing that, things have really taken a turn and I’m sure we could work something out.”

  Steve and Allistor were the only male members of the Women of Wine Country tribe; neither of them drank a lick of alcohol. Steve, due to him being a recovered alcoholic and diabetic. Allistor was so devoted to his Baptist upbringing, and was unbelievably innocent in all things altering his state of being. This meant they made perfect designated drivers.

  They were a husband/husband team that worked diligently at the animal rescue my aunt’s Women of Wine Country tribe supported. The couple owned an old Victorian down the road from my aunt and uncle’s estate and had lovingly restored it to its original grandeur, all the while updating the amenities. They’d turned it into a B&B that offered continental breakfasts and winery tours in their huge suburban with their B&B logo on the doors.

  Steve was a retired correctional officer and was one big hunk of a man. He suffered from diabetes and had recently had an infection that cost him his left foot and lower leg. My aunt said he bounced right back and was so busy living the good life, happy just to be alive, he didn’t let it slow him down in the least .

  Allistor, however, did not fare as well, Allistor was so sensitive to his husband’s amputation they jokingly referred to it as “Al’s amputation.” Allistor found no humor in this and really didn’t appreciate being called ‘Al’.

  Steve was a big handsome white guy, with light brown hair and dark brown eyes. He’d been married once to a woman for several years who was still his friend and visited the couple often. He didn’t come out until he was in his forties and from the way he tells it, it was not a pleasant experience.

  Allistor was a beautiful half black half Greek GOD of a man, with beautiful dark skin, dark hair and brilliant light green eyes. He had never been with a woman romantically, and never had to come out because he was never in. Raised by his mom and four older sisters; he grew up in a Baptist church (a church he still attended) that seemed to uphold the idea that we are all God’s children and Allistor was perfect just the way he was. Which he was. He had recently retired from the hospitality industry, so the B&B was a perfect fit for them both.

  They were often part of the Tipsy Time facetime chats I would come to cherish over the last few years, and often they would be the only people I could understand because they would be the only ones not shouting at the phone. My aunt loved these two men and counted them as part of her family. They spent holidays together and relied on each other like family does, and were for all intents and purposes…you guessed it; family .

  “Where are Steve and Allistor?”

  “They’re housing several of the out of town people who came in for the funeral and they also had to pick Kathy up from the airport.” Kathy was Steve’s ex, who also knew my aunt and uncle from her regular stays at the B&B.

  “Another thing, as you well know, the house you and your mom live in is yours. It’s been in a trust for you since it was purchased, and based on the instructions of the trust, if you aren’t living in the home, it’s to be sold and the monies then handed over to you. However, I might suggest you consider giving or renting the home to your mother to keep her there. I don’t think it’s a good idea, with all you have to learn the next couple of years, to let her be a disruption. It’s only going to make things harder on you.”

  I sat there in shock, looking at Sydney. “What do you mean the house is in a trust for me? And that if I’m not living there it’s to be sold?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  Shaking my head, no, I said, “Tell me. Tell me right now.” The blood was pumping so hard through my head I could hear and feel the pulsation.

  “When your aunt bought the house, she told your mother as soon as you moved out, the house would be sold and you’d get the money for college or whatever you needed it for. And you are saying you didn’t know? ”

  Oh my God. I couldn’t breathe. I gripped the armrests of the chair I was sitting in and sat straight, my back ramrod and said, “are you saying the reason my mom got me kicked out of every house and apartment I ever moved to - and the reason I had to secretly finish college without her knowing - is because SHE WOULD LOSE THE HOUSE!?” I screeched.

  All this time I thought my mom was so dysfunctional and needy because of her alcoholic ways that she couldn’t stand her life without me. But it wasn’t that at all; she literally ruined anytime I tried to move forward so she could live rent free in my house. She used to say to me all the time “My house. My rules.” Now, I know that’s a typical normal parent thing to say, but it wasn’t her house and her only rules were based on her own selfish needs.

  Jumpin’ Jezebels!

  Now I was PISSED!

  “THAT GODDAMNED FUCKING BITCH!!!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, shoving to my feet, causing Sydney to jump in her seat. Right
then Cabe ran into the room, stopping just inside the door way looking around, braced and ready to battle.

  I gotta say, it completely stole the edge of my outrage. He was that hot. Running in to do battle! Even hotter.

  “What the fuck?” He kind of yelled.

  “Isabella just learned some disturbing news Cabe, and you might want to brace yourself, because there’s going to be a lot of female outbursts and crying and maybe some drunkenness happening before the week is out.” Sydney scolded him.

  “Fuck me,” he grumbled in his deep voice as he spun on his heel and walked back out the way he’d come in.

  “Cabe and Antonio were extremely close; no one else knows this winery like Cabe. Try to be patient with him, okay?” Sydney asked me, patting my hand.

  Since his presence had derailed some of my anger because he really was that handsome, I shook my head and asked Sydney, “Anything else I should know before I eat and take a shower?”

  “Two things. One: if you are going to keep this winery you are going to have to learn to drink wine, at least taste it and know what it is you are tasting.”

  “I don’t…”

  She interrupted me, “I know you don’t drink, and I know it’s because of growing up with an alcoholic mother. But this is different and you’re going to have to get your head around it. If you can’t, you might as well figure out how to sell off the winery portion of the business. You can still grow grapes, but you can’t be a boutique winery owner who doesn’t know her wines. Two: I have a letter for you. Raquel left all of the truly important people in her life letters. I am handing them out before the funeral except yours. I have yours and I want you to take it now, but honey, I think you should tuck it away somewhere safe and let all of this rest for a while, before reading it. Okay? ”