The Name of the Rosé

by Christine E. Blum

  I felt a Rain Man moment coming on.

  “Sally’s last number is one.”

  I looked at her and she grinned.

  “Just sayin’.”

  See what I mean?

  * * *

  When I got home, I put Bardot on a leash and grabbed a bottle of cold Elyssia Pinot Noir Brut Cava from the fridge and headed down the street to Sally’s house. It was now midafternoon and, as I had guessed, she was reading under a bright red sun umbrella in her backyard.

  “I have Bardot and wine. Which do you want first?” I asked Sally after letting myself in through the back gate.

  “Oh lord, that’s almost as difficult as choosing between red and white.”

  “Good news then: you can have them both.”

  I let Bardot run free, and naturally, the pool was her first stop.

  “I’ll get a couple of glasses and be right back.” Sally extracted her long, elegant body from the chaise lounge and gracefully loped into the kitchen.

  When she and Joe built the second story, they also expanded the house back to create a library and an outside patio, they shortened their pool, which left them with mostly a ten-foot-deep watering hole. Bardot’s favorite depth, and she didn’t waste any time diving in.

  “I was just reading about the out-of-control, rising cost of drugs set by the pharmaceutical companies in my medical newsletter. Something has to be done about this. It’s gotten crazier than a soup sandwich.” Sally set down the glasses and I poured. “I mean, how do these people sleep at night?”

  “On very expensive sheets, I suspect. It’s interesting you brought this up because I have some news for you, but you can’t tell anyone else.”

  “Uh-oh. Now what have you been up to? I’m in enough hot water as it is.”

  “This is going to give you a clean slate and we can focus on getting Jimmy off the hook for Jonas’s murder.”

  I proceeded to tell her about our trip to Watts and Jeb’s misguided charity work.

  “We’ve got to let this play out between him and Mary Ann. The last thing we want is Augie catching wind of it and making a federal case against Jeb. By the way, whatever came from Augie executing that search warrant for your house?”

  “He left with an evidence bag full of goodies, all of which I can account for as being used for valid medical administration. Thank goodness, he didn’t bother to extensively look around in the garage, where I stash the real stuff. I think he was put off by Joe’s massive book collection lining the walls.”

  I spat a mouthful of wine back into my glass. I wasn’t going to waste it.

  “What kind of real stuff?”

  “I call it my doomsday kit. This being earthquake country, you just never know if we’ll suddenly be cut off from hospitals and in urgent need of medical care. I’ve been building up the supply for the last fifteen years.”

  “That makes sense, and it’s smart to hide it in a simple, one-story structure. Even in a worst-case scenario, you should be able to get to it. I assume you keep your good wines in there too,” I said.

  “Damn, I will now!”

  We drank in silence for a minute, but I knew Sally knew what I was thinking.

  “Okay,” she finally said.

  “Okay what?” I asked.

  “You want me to check to see if anything is missing from my doomsday kit.”

  “I didn’t say—”

  “You didn’t have to, my friend.”

  As we rounded the pool to get to the garage, I noticed Bardot had chosen to enjoy the afternoon sun by lounging over the water on the diving board. If you look up hedonism in the dictionary, you’ll see a photo of Bardot, along with the definition.

  “Try not to breath in the dust. I haven’t been back here in years. Careful climbing over Joe’s National Geographic collection.”

  The floor-to-ceiling, simple shelves sagged under the weight of books arranged by some intricate subject system. You’d pass a section with every paperback Ian Fleming James Bond novel, flanked by a foray into rare and extinct beetles of the insect world. Historical religions led into theories of evolution, and then we-are-not-alone and Area 51 reference books and periodicals. I’ve always admired Joe’s intricate mind, and this offered me a broad tour of some of its wings.

  I heard Sally let out a deep gasp.

  “What is it?” I asked, rushing back to her.

  She was looking into a metal and black case on wheels. The top was open, as were four slide-out drawers, each containing vials, first aid supplies, syringes and pill bottles. Her hand was on the third drawer from the bottom, beside a clearly empty compartment.

  “I hate to ask; do you know what’s missing?”

  She dragged her index finger along the underside of her nose, trying to suppress tears, and nodded.

  “I had two vials of hyoscine in this space.”

  It didn’t immediately register with me, so I continued looking at her and waiting for further elucidation.

  “Hyoscine is another name for scopolamine, the drug that killed Jonas.”

  Coincidence wasn’t the first thought that popped into my mind.

  CHAPTER 12

  Sally assured me that she would talk to her husband, Joe, about the missing vials and figure out a way to meet with Jimmy in jail to ask him without the cops listening in. She promised to call me later with what she’d learned. I kept thinking back to how dusty the rear of the garage had been, hinting that the medical case hadn’t been opened in a long time—certainly before Jonas was killed. But then again, I was looking at the books and didn’t actually see Sally open the case. I just assumed it had the same coat of undisturbed grime on it.

  I didn’t know what to think, and at this point, all I wanted to do was crawl into bed with Bardot and a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and watch Fixer Upper reruns. Which is exactly what I did. When my cell phone rang, I was so engrossed in watching Chip Gaines tear out old kitchen counters that I didn’t notice the sun had gone down and my bedroom was dark except for the light coming from the TV.

  “Hi Sally,” I said, groping for the lamp switch on my side table.

  “Guess again,” I heard a male voice say back to me.

  “Jack?”

  “The one and only, and your thinking-about-almost-betrothed.”

  I sighed and then quickly explained to Jack that it had nothing to do with what he had just said. I told him about my afternoon.

  “So, you’re waiting for Sally to call to confirm that Jimmy had nothing to do with those missing vials? What are you doing right now?”

  The moment of truth. Do I confess to my fried, bright red, salty snack indulgence?

  “I’m doing some work on the Coast Guard’s site, trying to keep my mind off things.”

  What? It’s a white lie, and a little one at that.

  “Okay, I’ll let you get back to it, but I wanted you to know I’m conducting a seminar in San Diego tomorrow for CARA, and they’ve agreed to let me take one of their planes. I remember you saying you needed to talk to some people at Montgomery Airport. That’s where I’ll be flying.”

  I sat up in bed, spilling Cheetos in the process. Bardot dove in and snarfed one before I could stop her. I watched her eyes grow wide open and then turn watery as her taste buds registered the chili-spiced-encrusted lumpy log of goodness.

  “Jack, that’s fantastic and exactly the lead I need. Do you have room for me to bring Peggy and Sally along?”

  “Yes, but no more than that. I remember the last time I was fooled into taking the entire Rose Avenue Wine Club for a midnight flight.”

  “Just the three of us, I swear.”

  “Okay, babe, I’ll have a couple of dogs with me, so let’s meet at the airport observation deck at nine-thirty tomorrow morning.”

  “Perfect! Love you, my almost betrothed.”

  “Love you back. Don’t work too much longer. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

  “I won’t, I promise.”

  What? I said I won’t
, and that’s not lying.

  * * *

  After I called Peggy and left a message for Sally, I dropped off into a deep sleep. I’m sure a bag of Cheetos and a glass of wine were a contributing factor, as I vaguely remember dreaming I’d witnessed a murder, but every time I tried to tell someone, I couldn’t get the words to come out. I would scream the killer’s name in my head, but on the outside, all I could do was smile. I awoke in a cold sweat that didn’t dissipate when I saw there were no messages or texts from Sally.

  It was nine already and I had to hustle. Watching Bardot munch her kibble, it dawned on me that I’d be gone all day, which presented the issue of what to do with her. If I asked Marisol to hang out with her and take her for a walk, she’d no doubt worm out of me the plans for the day. And Jack was adamant about the number of people he would let on the plane. Then again, if Sally wasn’t coming . . .

  In the end, I decided bringing Bardot along was the best choice all the way around. I dressed quickly and grabbed my makeup bag, figuring I could do that when we were in the air. I saw Peggy waiting by my car, but there was no sign of Sally.

  “Where are you going with Bardie?” I heard a voice ask from across the lawn.

  Busted.

  “Nowhere good. You’d hate it,” I said to Marisol, who was leaning on her broom in her driveway, trying to make the pretense of being a meticulous homeowner.

  “How do you know I wouldn’t like it when you haven’t asked me?”

  “I just know.” I loaded Bardot into the back and Peggy got in the passenger seat. When I went around to the driver’s side, Marisol stood in front of the door, blocking my entry.

  I must remember to get a DNA sample from her to send to SETI for testing, because she’s certainly extraterrestrial and I may even have to concede the intelligence part.

  “You need to move,” I said to her.

  “I hope I’m not late,” Sally said, loping up the sidewalk. “I didn’t get your message until this morning. Of course I want to fly to San Diego with you and Peggy and Jack and go to that restaurant!”

  Sally hopped into the backseat and Marisol was distracted just long enough for me to get behind the wheel. I’ve never been more thankful for automatic locks. We pulled out under a fire-breathing stare from Marisol.

  “Nowhere good, my bony butt,” she yelled at me.

  As we got onto Rose Avenue, I rolled down my window. “I’ll bring you back a turkey burger.”

  “I want my fish back,” she replied.

  * * *

  Taking off from the Santa Monica airport just never gets old. You lift off heading west, and in about a minute, you’re flying over the ocean. Depending on your flight plan, you head north or south from there. We’d been having some Santa Ana winds, the ones that blow from the desert to the shore and can cause fires and wreck all sorts of havoc on anything in its way. But today, they were gone, and we had a bright blue, cloudless sky. When we had leveled off, I pulled out my makeup. Having lived in New York City, where everyone is always rushing everywhere, I’d gotten very adept at knowing exactly where my eyelashes were and how to wield that magic black wand on them even in the bumpiest of cab rides.

  I’d sat in the copilot’s seat for takeoff. I could feel Jack staring at me.

  “What? You act like you’ve never seen me put on makeup before.”

  “It’s a show I never tire of, but the orange—is that a new thing? Some spring fashion trend?”

  I had no idea what he was talking about until I looked in to my small hand mirror to apply the mascara. Indeed, the fingertips of both my hands were glowing with a slightly muted vermilion color. It looked like I’d been thumb wrestling with E. T. all night. I wasn’t about to tell Jack that I had in fact been feasting on a bacchanalian buffet of Cheetos.

  “This? No. Marisol is thinking of painting her house and we were looking at colors.”

  “She’s leaning toward that? What’s next? Farm animals?”

  I laughed. “I set her straight. I’m going back to talk to Sally. She never called me last night.”

  “Okay. We’ve got about twenty-five more minutes in the air before I start my descent.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  “There she is,” Sally said when I joined them. “I was just telling Peggy about the missing vials. I didn’t call you last night because Joe advised me not to ask Jimmy about it over the jailhouse phone, and it was too late for me to go there to ask him in person. Joe said he never even knew I had a stocked medical bag in the garage.”

  “It would sure be odd for Jimmy to just come upon it,” Peggy chimed in. “I’ve seen that place and its contents. It doesn’t exactly invite you to spend some time and browse.”

  “That’s for sure,” I agreed. “Sally, not that I think this, but is there any way Jimmy could have overheard you talking to someone about the bag? I’m just trying to cover all the bases and stay ahead of the cops.”

  “Trust me, I was up most of the night wondering the same thing. This whole situation makes me sick to my stomach. But I can’t think of anyone or anytime I may have talked about the supply while Jimmy was in earshot. I know how bad this looks.”

  “It’s only circumstantial, and we need to sit on it for as long as we can.” Peggy put a fine point on it. “And when you do get in to see Jimmy and it’s safe to talk, ask him as well about an argument with Jonas that some of the guys claim to have overheard.”

  “That’s the other thing: Jimmy hates confrontation. That’s why his ex-wife ran circles around him. I’ve never seen him pick a fight with anyone, let alone a fellow he’d just met.”

  “Duly noted, Sally.”

  “You ladies strap in now. We’re about seven minutes out,” Jack said over the intercom.

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” all three of us replied.

  * * *

  The Montgomery-Gibbs Airport is a bit larger than our Santa Monica one but has the same local, relaxed feel. Jack taxied us to the restaurant where we had planned to meet Charlie and then went on his way. We agreed to meet back at the pilot’s lounge in a few hours.

  I wasn’t sure what sort of reception Bardot would get at the Casa Machado Restaurant, but in the worst case, we’d take turns eating and trying to get information out of the waitstaff.

  Unlike the Spitfire Grill, this restaurant is situated right on the side of the runway so that while you’re dipping a chip, you can also watch a small plane go nose and wheels up. Upon entering, we found ourselves in an environment of old-world Mexico with brick-lined archways into the various rooms, decorative murals, lots of wrought iron and ancient pottery. Homage is paid to the restaurant’s location by colorful model airplanes suspended from the ceiling. It was a little early for the lunch crowd and the long Spanish-tiled bar that would be brimming at happy hour with enthusiastic imbibers was currently empty.

  “Hi. Three for breakfast or lunch? Or is it three and a half ?” said the hostess, noticing Bardot.

  “Hi. Is there a place where we can sit with her? If not, I’ll wait outside,” I offered.

  “Technically, we don’t allow dogs, but we have a patio and this is a slow weekday, so follow me.”

  “Thanks so much. My dog, Bardot, thanks you as well.”

  Bardot immediately wagged her tail. This was the kind of welcome she expected from fine dining establishments.

  “Charlie just texted me. He’s about ten minutes away,” Peggy announced.

  “So, there will be four of us,” I said, “and a half.”

  “Great. I’m Chloe and I’ll also be your server today. Can I start you off with some guacamole and margaritas?”

  We gave one another a guilty look until, finally, Peggy made the decision for us. “I’d like an ice tea, and chips and salsa should be fine for right now.”

  “You’re no fun when you’re spying,” I said to her after Chloe left.

  “We need to stay focused. The stakes are even higher now,” Peggy said while looking at Sally, who was uncharacteristic
ally quiet. Again.

  Sally had her arms crossed tightly around her chest and her shoulders were slumped giving away her somber mood.

  “Okay, how should we play this?”

  “Let’s have Charlie broach the subject when he gets here. He has a seemingly innocent reason to ask about the delivery and the waiter that brought it to his plane. Plus, Chloe looks like the typical blond California girl, something Charlie never tires of eyeing.”

  “That scoundrel!” I replied.

  “This gentleman claims he belongs with you. I can shoo him away if that isn’t the case,” Chloe teased, bringing our drinks with Charlie in tow.

  “We can’t seem to shake him, so he might as well sit down,” Peggy said when Charlie leaned in to kiss her.

  When Chloe had placed the last glass on the table, I saw there was still one item left on her tray.

  “Don’t think I’d forget about you, darling Bardot.” Chloe pulled a cloth napkin from the waistband of her jeans and laid it on the floor, then placed a bowl of water on top of it. Bardot melted like ice cream in the Mojave and licked Chloe’s face. “I’ll give you a few minutes to look at the menu,” she said.

  “Don’t even think I’m going to order anything for you to eat,” I said to Bardot. “You had a nice breakfast and you know what Mexican food does to you. We have to fly back in a confined space.”

  “TMI,” Sally said.

  “I was saying you should be the one to ask about the origin of the delivery you made from here. Don’t mention the contents; say you’re just checking on who it came from and who it was going to. Be charming. You remember how to do that, Charlie, don’t you?”

  Wow, Peggy was on the case.

  “This old geezer still has some skip in his step, especially around the fairer sex. I’ve got this.” Charlie winked.

  He was going to enjoy this. We studied our menus for a moment. My eye caught an item described as White Fish Ensalada and figured I could use this to ask some questions of my own.

  “Has everyone decided?” Chloe had returned.

  I waited for everyone else to order first and then asked, “This white fish salad sounds yummy. Can you tell me what kind of fish it’s served with? Is it caught locally?”