Murder By the Glass

by Michele Scott

  “Over the top,” Derek said.

  “Something tells me we haven’t seen anything yet,” she replied.

  He laughed, nodded his head and threaded his arm through hers.

  It was a costume party of haute couture as the women had donned their Gallianos, Guccis, Pradas, and Armanis. The men wore the gamut from expensive suits to tuxes. Nikki glanced at Derek walking beside her.

  “What?” he asked, obviously feeling her gaze.

  “I’m just wondering what you might look like in a tux.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I don’t do monkey suits, sweetheart.”

  “Oh, a rough and tough macho type. I see now. I’m figuring you all out, Derek Malveaux.”

  “Good. When you have me all figured out, could you fill me in? I’m not Mr. Machismo. I don’t like the idea of a tux; hell, I fought with myself over putting on this suit.”

  “It’s true, your usual attire are those jeans you love and a T-shirt, but I have to say that you don’t look half bad in that suit. I kind of like this new look for you.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” he teased.

  They continued to walk up the brick pathway toward the Waltman Mansion, replete with turrets, steeple tops, and built from the ground up with a dark-grey brick. There was something almost frightening about the place. No one could deny its beauty, but Nikki wasn’t sure she’d want to live here. Some of the rumors she’d heard around town maintained that the place had a resident ghost. By the looks of it, she wouldn’t doubt it.

  “Do you believe the story about Old Man Waltman?” Nikki referred to Kristof Waltman’s great, great grandfather and the original owner of the Waltman Estate and vineyard. He’d built the empire. The Waltmans were five-generation Sonoma farmers, although it was doubtful that Kristof did any farming at any point. Maybe his dad Marty took a turn among the vines now and then, but from what she knew of Kristof he was too busy with extracurricular activities to be working in the trenches.

  “The ghost story? That he roams the castle at night? That’s a tale. A fun one, but no, I don’t believe it.”

  “You don’t believe the story? Or you don’t believe in ghosts?”

  “I’ll never say never, but until I see one, I have my doubts.”

  They walked up the front steps, and the back of Nikki’s dress caught on her heel. She started to fall, but Derek grabbed her before she hit the ground.

  “Are you okay?” He held her in his arms.

  “I, uh. Yeah. Jeez, I feel like a total klutz.” She faced him.

  “Let’s get inside and make sure you’re alright.”

  “It’s no big deal. I’ll be fine. I’m glad I didn’t tear the dress.” She laughed it off, but for what the dress cost her, she meant it.

  They started to walk again and she realized she needed to be concerned with more than a twist to her ankle. She’d broken the damn strap on her sandal.

  The mansion inside had mahogany hardwood floors, wrought-iron spiral staircases, and walls painted a golden color, illuminated by candlelight. Nikki suggested to Derek she take a minute to go upstairs to the restroom. Most of the people were already milling toward the outside to get their seats. Susan obviously liked purple because it abounded throughout in all shades. The flowers of choice—Sterling Silver roses with their soft lavender color and deep floral smell permeated throughout. Magenta-colored lilies tucked in between the roses snaked through the banisters. The lilies had also been placed in tall crystal vases. The candles lighting the castle were a deep, dark, almost black purple.

  Nikki walked on her aching foot, trying not to limp up the stairs. At the top she found a massive hallway going to the right and another to the left. Not seeing any directions, she went to the right. Walking down the hall she saw the groom’s dressing room. A little ways farther was the bride’s room.

  There stood Susan Jennings outside the room, all Vera Wanged out in silk and tulle in a dress that had a vintage thirties feel to it—beaded down to the ground, thin straps on the shoulder leading into a plunging neckline, and cut on the bias. Her golden hair waved into what could only remind someone of a Marlene Dietrich look, from the era of black and white movies. Susan gave the word stunning a new meaning with the kind of glamour of days gone by. Another woman stood with her, hands on hips, wearing a low-cut black-sequined number and a smirk on her face.

  Nikki overheard her saying to Susan, “It’s only right that you should ask your only sister to be in the wedding. I can’t believe that you didn’t ask me. Am I that much of an embarrassment to you?”

  “Jennifer, I don’t have time for this. Go and take your seat, please. I’ve done plenty for you. Beyond what any other sister would do. How fast you forget what I have done for you. I can change that, too, if you want to keep up the moaning and groaning.” Susan heard Nikki’s footsteps and looked over at her. “What do you need?” she asked curtly.

  “Actually, the bathroom.”

  “You were supposed to go down the other hall. Didn’t you see the signs?”

  “There weren’t any.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding? I told the help to put out signs for people. I swear, if you want something done right, apparently you have to do it yourself. Fine.” She let out an aggrieved sigh. “There’s another one a few feet down that way.” Susan pointed behind her.

  Endless halls, dozens of bathrooms and bedrooms, a person could get downright lost for a couple of years in this place.

  “Hey, wait,” Susan called out after her. “Aren’t you Isabel’s friend? Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen?”

  “I’m a guest. I’m here with Derek Malveaux.”

  Susan raised her eyebrows into a comical arch. “You’re working your way up the ladder. Impressive. A girl after my own heart.”

  “That’s for sure,” said Jennifer, the woman whom Nikki presumed to be Susan’s sister. Susan gave her a dirty look.

  Nikki found the restroom. However, curiosity—one of her traits that usually got her into trouble—got the best of her as she whipped around, once inside the bathroom, and cracked the door to see if she could hear anything further between the two squabbling siblings. She couldn’t hear them very well, but she could see that they were both heated up. She leaned closer into the crack of the door. What she saw next surprised her. Susan Jennings opened her small beaded purse and handed Jennifer what looked to be a check. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around on wedding days? The bride and groom receiving monies and gifts?

  Jennifer looked down at the check. “I thought it would be more.”

  “God, leave me alone and get the hell out of my way. I’m going to get married now. Go sit down, Jennifer, and stop being so damn greedy.”

  Susan went back into her dressing room, slamming the door behind her. “You’ll pay more. I doubt you want Kristof knowing all your dirty little secrets,” Jennifer said to the door, and then in a huff walked toward the stairs.

  Nikki did a quick fix on her high-heeled sandals, knowing that if anyone attending the wedding saw them they’d be aghast at the spectacle her right foot was now strapped into, but there wasn’t much else she could do.

  On her pained foot, she found herself behind Susan’s entourage of bridesmaids and a flower girl, with Pamela Leiland holding up Susan’s lengthy train. They, too, had that long ago-era look going for them, but all in the various shades of purple, with the flower girl wearing the lightest of lavenders on up to Pamela, whose beaded number was the darkest of the dresses in that almost purply black. None of them took note of Nikki, who knew she better find Derek quickly.

  Once down the steps, the bridal party went out the side door and as Nikki turned to go the other way toward where the guests were seated, someone tapped her on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” a young man in a courier uniform said. “Do you know Sara Waltman?”

  “I know who she is,” Nikki replied.

  “Good. Can you see that she gets this?” He handed her a large letter size envelope.

  “
Sure.” She took it and felt a bit awkward for doing so, but she understood the man’s need. He had a job to do, and she was all he could find inside the castle at that moment. Nikki signed for the letter. It had Sara’s name on it and she would have to remember once the nuptials were over to find Kristof ’s great aunt to make sure she got the envelope. As she went inside to set the envelope down on the foyer table behind a vase of flowers, she couldn’t help noticing the return address. It read “Lawson & Rennert,” and then, “San Francisco Premier Investigative Services.” Kind of interesting. Sara must be having someone investigated. Well, this winery and vineyard she was vested in was a multi-million dollar company, and she wasn’t getting any younger. It probably had something to do with her will. It really wasn’t any of Nikki’s business, so she set the envelope behind the vase and made a mental note to tell Sara when she saw her.

  It took several more minutes before Nikki found Derek. He’d waited for her over by a gazebo draped in purple velvet and flowers. “I was getting worried,” he told her.

  “I’m fine.” She pulled up the side of her dress to show him the sandal.

  “Nice legs.”

  “My sandal, silly. I had to try and fix my shoe so it’ll work for now.”

  “I knew that. Let’s take our seat. The music is starting.”

  Nikki soon became distracted as the groom and his groomsmen came onto the scene looking dapper in their tuxes. Kristof Waltman was the kind of man you’d take a second look at, with light blue eyes and medium brown hair that he wore slightly longish and wavy. Today he’d slicked it back. He had a baby face look about him and was almost too pretty-looking to be a man. She understood the attraction Isabel had toward him, even though he wasn’t Nikki’s type at all.

  She and Derek were seated toward the front and she couldn’t help wondering who the parents of the bride were, because no one looked old enough to be the parents. On Kristof ’s side were his dad, and Great Aunt Sara, along with several other family members. But no Mom Waltman. Rumors abounded that Mom had left a very young Kristof and Dad behind years ago, for someone with even more money and a desire to spend it, rather than save it like Marty Waltman was known to do. But if he was the one footing the bill for this shindig, he’d spared nothing at all.

  Nikki did see Jennifer seated in Susan’s family section. Next to her sat a tall, dark man with a Guido-the-pimp look going on. He also appeared kind of pissed off, with his lips down-turned and his eyes reflecting a glint of what Nikki thought might be hatred. She had to wonder what was the source of his anger. Or maybe that was the way he always looked.

  Before long the wedding march played and the guests stood for the bride’s procession down the aisle. Once up there with her groom, the nuptials didn’t take long. Apparently these folks wanted to get to the party, which, lucky for them, and for Nikki’s ankle, was only a few feet away.

  As soon as the newlyweds walked back down the aisle as Mr. and Mrs. Kristof Waltman, the guests rose to their feet, and within minutes the party began with music echoing off the hills, and the wine flowing freely, along with the appetizers coming by on trays and being passed out to those wanting to have a taste.

  Nikki and Derek found their table before getting any wine. She set down her purse and turned to go with him to the bar.

  “No. Take a seat. I can tell your foot hurts.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re ornery. Now take a seat, I’ll get us a couple of glasses of wine and some goodies.”

  She sighed as he walked away. An older gentleman who stuck out his hand soon joined her at the table. “Blake Sorgensen.”

  She took it and shook, introducing herself. “Nikki Sands.”

  “Quite an event. It doesn’t surprise me though. Marty spares no expense when it comes to Kristof. I’ve known them for years and Marty is terrible about spoiling that boy, but I can’t blame him after his mother left them both the way she did. I would’ve spoiled a kid, too, if I ever had any children, but I’m a confirmed bachelor.”

  “Oh. What do you do?” Nikki didn’t know enough about Kristof ’s past to be prying. She decided it best to turn the conversation toward Blake Sorgensen himself. She was sure he’d have no problem with that.

  He took out a cigar and lit it, puffing on it till a plume of acrid smoke rose up past his silvered hair. He might’ve been a handsome man once, but his reddened cheeks and bleary eyes gave her every indication that Blake was a drinker and had been for years. He waved his hand in the smoke trying to get it to blow away from her. Awfully thoughtful.

  “A little of this, a little of that. I dabble in all sorts of businesses.”

  Alrighty then, and that meant what exactly? She was relieved to see Marty Waltman walk up about that time. He slapped Blake on the back. Pamela Leiland was at Marty’s side. “Hey there, old man, are you picking on this pretty lady?”

  “No. I’m hitting on her and who are you calling old?”

  This guy was getting sleazier by the minute. She found it difficult to believe that he and Marty were friends. Marty looked like the kind of man she’d always envisioned she’d want for her dad—calm, clean-cut, usually with a smile on his face. He wore glasses, which gave him a look of intelligence. It must’ve been good to be Kristof growing up, but then again he hadn’t had a mom, and she could relate to that feeling. Sort of. Or at least she knew the feeling of being abandoned by her mother. Besides, she understood better than most that one couldn’t judge a book by the cover.

  After another minute of small talk, Pamela tugged on Marty’s sleeve and they walked away just as Derek returned with the wine and a variety of appetizers. Sitting down, he handed Nikki a glass of chardonnay. They clinked their glasses together in a silent toast and took a sip. He winked at her and she thought she might just melt right on down into the white wine with its smooth melon taste and honey notes.

  “Don’t you two make a nice couple?” Blake said. “You really do, and for the record, I was only kidding about hitting on you. I’ve learned my lesson with you younger women. You either love and leave us rich old bastards after spending a bunch of our money, or you wind up wanting a house full of kids. I’m too old for any damn kids. You two are the right age for each other. Marty better watch it with that young thing he’s got hanging on him. He’ll either wind up burnt or having to remodel his gaming room into a nursery.” He nodded in the direction of Marty and Pamela.

  Neither Nikki nor Derek knew what to say. She did find it interesting to see Pamela Leiland so tight with the father of the groom. How did Susan feel about that, and more so, what did Kristof think? Pamela was a good thirty years younger than the senior Waltman.

  “Will you two excuse me? I hate to take off early from this shindig, but I’ve got a plane to catch. I bought a yacht down in Cabo recently and I’m headed there for a few days of some R and R,” Blake Sorgensen said.

  “No problem,” Derek replied.

  Nikki stifled her laughter as they watched Blake rush over to the bride who was making her rounds through a throng of people. He reached her, drawing her away from the group surrounding her and pulled her close, hugging her quite intimately.

  “I thought he was Marty Waltman’s friend,” Derek commented. “Looks pretty close to the bride, too.”

  “I think he’s fairly toasted already. Too bad he has to go. Nothing like having an obnoxious drunk at the table to keep you entertained.” She took a sip from her wine. “I hope he has a driver.”

  “It’s good he’s leaving for Cabo.” Derek emphasized Cabo in a haughty tone, feigning to be the pompous Blake Sorgensen. “Anyway, I doubt we would have needed him to entertain us, Nikki.”

  Ooh, trumped and stumped. No reply for that one. Lucky for Nikki, she didn’t need one, as the bride started a bit of commotion.

  “Your name is Louis Faulker?” Susan laughed out loud. The crowd around her laughed some, too. A few people walked away. “Like fucker, only Faulker? You poor thing. You really should take
that nametag off, Louis. I’m so sorry for you.”

  A young man in his early twenties blushed, his head down. He wore a tux and was one of the staff Isabel had hired for the evening. He’d been passing out appetizers when Susan had apparently decided it would be fun to tease the poor man. Nikki remembered talking to him briefly earlier at the restaurant while loading the trays. He was slight, already balding at a young age, had bad skin, and wore thick glasses.

  “Who hired you?” Susan continued.

  Isabel rushed to Louis’ side. She whispered something in his ear and he left, going toward the kitchen. Isabel handed Susan a glass of champagne. Nikki noticed Kristof wink at Isabel. She started to stand, wanting to give both King and Queen Slimeball a piece of her mind.