Murder By the Glass

by Michele Scott

  Funny thing was that at that moment neither Kristof nor Deirdre looked too unhappy to be in each other’s company. Nikki walked into the Church Mouse Thrift Shop and continued to watch from behind the front window while feigning interest in a pair of candleholders. The two looked to be talking animatedly, and from what Nikki could see from her vantage point, with even a laugh or two here and there.

  Then, a real poignant moment when Deirdre leaned across the table and wiped what Nikki presumed was a tear from Kristof ’s face. Okay, maybe he was really in mourning and she was being a pal and getting him out of the house. Hard to swallow, but maybe. Could their lunch simply be an old friend comforting another? Or, could it mean something more? Nikki had to find out.

  She went back to her car and looked up Deirdre’s cell phone number in her Day-Timer. They’d met at a winemaking event about a month earlier and found they had some things in common. Since then, Nikki had met Deirdre a couple of times for coffee, so calling her might not seem totally out of the blue. Then again, it might, but she had to do it.

  Deirdre picked up after a few rings. “Hey, Deirdre. It’s me, Nikki Sands, over at Malveaux.”

  “Oh, hello.”

  Was that a bit of strain Nikki heard in the other woman’s voice? “Listen, I’ve been talking to Derek about doing some diversifying with his wine and he’s considering buying some of the grapes over there in your neck of the woods. I tasted some of your wines while at the wedding the other night and don’t say anything to my boss, but I really found your pinot superior to the pinots we’re making.” Nikki had learned that a bit of lying was required while snooping into the lives of others. She didn’t consider it lying exactly, because it was really a means to an end, and wasn’t the end about getting to the truth? “I know I should probably be calling Marty or Kristof, but it’s such a difficult time for them, I’m sure. Plus, I want your opinion and ideas about how I should talk to Derek about it. And we keep talking about getting together. Why don’t we have dinner tonight? My treat.”

  “Um, yeah, okay.”

  “Great. I’ll meet you at the square at six.”

  Nikki hung up the phone with a sense of purpose and started the car. Halfway back to Napa, her cell phone rang. “Hello.”

  “Nikki, it’s me Derek. I’m in Houston right now, getting ready to board my plane. We still on for tonight?”

  Crap! How could she have forgotten her dinner with Mr. Luscious? In all the hubbub with Isabel’s arrest and disappointing arraignment, and then seeing Kristof with Deirdre she’d lost it and forgotten her dinner plans for the evening. Nikki coughed and first thought maybe she should tell him that she didn’t feel good. No. Lying to Derek wasn’t an option.

  “Derek, I’m so sorry, but I can’t. Something else has come up that can’t wait. I hope you understand. Can we do it later this week? Mr. Lareby can join us,” she said, referring to the accountant who was supposed to have been meeting with them over dinner. “How about Friday? Can we do dinner at my place?”

  He didn’t answer for a few seconds and she figured she’d totally blown any chance she might ever have had with him.

  But then he finally said, “Friday sounds good. Better actually, because it’ll be the weekend and we can wind down. We can meet with Mr. Lareby another time. We won’t have to worry about getting up early for work, so we can make it casual. I’ll bring a movie with me. Sound good?”

  “Yeah. It sounds great.” They agreed on a time and Nikki flipped shut her phone and then let out a yelp of glee. Dinner at her house on a Friday night, and a movie to boot. Now that sounded like a date.

  Chapter 9

  Nikki arrived at the Sonoma Plaza a tad early. She wanted to request a table off in the corner somewhere, hoping that she could get Deirdre to loosen her lips about the comings and goings at the Waltman Castle. She didn’t want her to be shy for fear of prying ears. They’d decided to meet at Della Santina’s, a little trattoria-type place boasting Tuscan flavor, replete with candlelight and romantic Italian music playing in the background. Too bad the dinner had to be with Deirdre.

  The hostess seated Nikki out on the brick-covered patio surrounded by flowers that popped with brilliant color next to the black and white decor of the tables and linens. A waiter placed a basket of fresh crusty bread in front of her. She checked her watch and regretted that she was supposed to be at that very moment sitting across from Derek at Hurley’s Restaurant in Yountville. Not that she didn’t love Della Santina’s. It truly was a wonderful place, but it was the company she wasn’t totally looking forward to. Nikki liked Deirdre fine. She was a nice woman and okay company in a pinch. But Deirdre Dupree certainly wasn’t Derek Malveaux.

  However, this dinner could prove to be important, and maybe somehow, during conversation, something would slip from Deirdre’s mouth that could lead to Susan’s killer. Once again, Nikki found herself caught up in a mystery where she knew she shouldn’t be, but she really couldn’t help herself. She actually found some weird pleasure in solving murder mysteries. She figured it had to do with the fact that Aunt Cara had been a homicide detective for the LAPD during the years she’d raised Nikki. During those years Nikki had gone over every police procedural book her aunt stored in the bookshelves in their apartment off of La Brea, fascinated by their contents.

  It could also be that although Nikki’s short-lived cop show series, which she’d done back in L.A., had bombed badly, she’d liked the idea of being a detective, even if only an imaginary one. Acting hadn’t paid off like she’d hoped it would, but it had lent itself in helping her figure out the winemaker’s murder. Maybe it would do the same in guiding her to Susan’s real killer.

  Deirdre Dupree walked into Della Santina’s looking her almost too Sex and the City self, decked out in a plunging neckline pant suit; all black from head to toe. But she still captured enough girl-next-door that she didn’t look sleazy. With a clear complexion, bright blue eyes, her hair worn in the latest Jennifer Aniston style, a dash of freckles across her nose, and a Kate Spade purse hanging from her shoulders, Deirdre Dupree had apparently learned her fashion sense from In Style Magazine. And she had gotten pretty good at it. At thirty-three, Deirdre didn’t look a day over twenty-five. And that outfit—pretty amazing. Sonoma was a casual, quaint town that didn’t sport any women wearing designer duds unless it involved the latest charity event, and so it was sort of odd that she was decked out. Did Deirdre have after dinner plans? Maybe. With her former beau?

  “Hey, sorry I’m late,” she said as she sat down across from Nikki.

  “You’re not. I was a bit early.”

  “I had a hellishly long day, I need a glass of wine. Should I make it a bottle?”

  “Why not?” Nikki reflected on her day and wondered how it measured up in comparison to her dinner companion’s.

  They decided on a bottle of an Italian style wine, but one produced in Sonoma. Nikki decided to get the formalities over with and wait for the wine to be poured. Wine usually loosened lips, and for where Nikki wanted to direct this conversation, she’d need to have Miss Dupree somewhat relaxed. She brought up her phony story about wanting to buy grapes from the Waltman Vineyard.

  “We all know that the pinot grapes grow better over here because you’re closer to the coast and the grapes like the somewhat cooler climate.”

  “I have to agree. We grow some spectacular pinot grapes on the Waltman land. I’m partial, though. You know how us Sonomans feel about our grapes versus you Napalites.”

  They both laughed at the comment as the waiter opened the bottle of Nebbiolo and Nikki nodded her head towards Deirdre to allow her to take the taste test. It held true that the wine country communities had differing opinions about each other’s wines, and that each one thought they lived and grew their vines in the better part of the region. They all enjoyed taunting each other in a sarcastic manner over their differences.

  They talked a few more minutes about the possibilities of either a straight purchase of pinot gra
pes from Malveaux or the possibility of doing an exchange.

  “I think we have some excellent chardonnay grapes you would find could do wonders for the white wines you’re offering.”

  “It’s a thought. I’ll run it by Marty when everything settles down at the castle.”

  Perfect timing to bring it all up, except the waiter showed up at that very moment to take their dinner orders. Nikki settled on the cannelloni. Not too low on the no-carb plan, but damn tasty. Deirdre went the less caloric route and had the roasted turkey breast. Both dishes went well with what they were drinking and since both women were already on their second glass, Deirdre took it upon herself to order another bottle. Nikki didn’t protest, but knew in the back of her mind that she’d have to start thinking about alternatives for getting home that evening.

  “I take it things are pretty rough around the castle? I can’t even imagine,” Nikki said.

  “You’re right about that. Marty is beside himself and trying to comfort the ex-beauty queen.”

  “Pamela? I thought she was a model.”

  “Yeah, whatever. You’d think he’d be doing his best to make sure Kristof is all right, but he’s been doting on the doe-eyed brunette all this time. She’s pretty broken up. I mean she was Susan’s best friend. But what about Kristof? Doesn’t he count, since he was the woman’s new husband?”

  “I’m sure you’ve been a good friend to Kristof, though?”

  “I’m trying, but it’s so hard. He’s really down.”

  “It must be difficult, considering the two of you were once together.” Nikki picked up her glass of wine and swirled the contents in the glass, noticing the legs of the wine that dribbled down the crystal. It was something she loved about wine and she’d learned that the thicker the legs, for the most part, the fuller bodied the wine. If the legs, or tears as the French say, are thin, then the wine is usually light bodied.

  “Part of the reason my day was so hellish was I spent it listening to Kristof grieve and carry on about Susan. I’m not heartless. The woman is dead.” Deirdre finished another glass of wine as the waiter promptly appeared with the second bottle and dinner plates. After he’d served the food and poured the wine, Deirdre glanced around the room, as if to see if anyone was listening. “I hate to say this, but I really feel this way.” She lowered her voice to a near whisper. “I’m sad for Kristof because he’s obviously hurting, but that woman was bad news, and trust me, he’s better off without her. You know what? I’m just glad it was Isabel Fernandez who offed Susan and not me, because trust me, it did cross my mind a time or two. Poor Isabel must’ve snapped. I saw the news this afternoon saying that she can’t even post bail. Too bad, because she seemed like a nice woman, but, God, you never know about people and what might make them do things, like commit murder. She must have some real problems.”

  Uh, uh, uh. Woman was cruising for a bitch slap. It disgusted Nikki to hear Deirdre talk about Isabel as if she were a nutcase, but knew keeping it together would benefit Isabel far more than winding up in a cell next to her. Deirdre was obviously unaware of the close friendship she had with Isabel, which wasn’t a surprise, for as far as Nikki was concerned Deirdre wasn’t much more than an acquaintance. All the same, Nikki took a bite of her dinner to prevent herself from mouthing off, and hoped that Deirdre would continue with her diatribe. Thankfully, she did.

  “That wedding that took place really should’ve been his and mine, you know. But Susan Jennings got her hooks into Kristof and we were all over with.”

  Nikki swallowed hard, and nearly choked on her cannelloni. “Susan was the reason you broke up with Kristof?”

  “Oh, you’ve apparently heard the watered-down version of the story. Well, girlfriend, I’m going to tell you exactly how it goes. First off, I didn’t break up with Kristof. He broke up with me. I know the gossip that’s traveled. Some ridiculous story about how I went to the city one night and had a kick-ass time with some guy I met at a club and then I came back from my weekend romp—where I was visiting friends—and broke it off with the love of my life. Who, they say, turned around and conveniently found Susan Jennings waiting in the wings to rescue him from his broken heart.”

  “That was sort of what I heard. I also heard you wanted to leave the winery after the breakup.”

  “Right. Figures. It was that version of the story that got me so wound up in the first place that I almost left Waltman.” Deirdre sipped her wine and then ate a few bites of her dinner before continuing. “The real deal goes like this. I went into the city to hang with some old friends that I’d gone to high school with. My old boyfriend, Hugh, showed up. We got to talking. He made a move, and I shot him down. I came back to the vineyard the next day and I told Kristof everything. He turned it around on me and said that maybe we should have some space to see other people, since I still obviously had open opportunities surrounding me.”

  “Harsh.”

  “I know, because that wasn’t the case at all. The next thing I know Susan is parading around the castle on the weekends and at every event with Kristof. Then she started bringing Pamela around for Marty. I can’t help feeling like it was all contrived. Kristof and I dated for over a year and within two weeks of ending our relationship, he had that woman staying at the castle with him.”

  “Do you think they were carrying on before you two broke up and he used your visit to the city against you, just so he wouldn’t look like the bad guy when he did bring Susan around?” Or, maybe, the blackmail idea was a real possibility, thus the pressure to dump Deirdre like a hot potato. But if Susan was blackmailing Kristof, why take a chance and hang out with Isabel on the side?

  “Think? I don’t have to think it. I know it. Susan basically insinuated it and plenty more to me over the past several months. Wouldn’t have put up with her crap, if the money and perks Marty offered me hadn’t been so good, because that woman was downright abusive to me.”

  Nikki felt the wine going to her head and she could tell by Deirdre’s slight slur and open-book attitude that it was doing the same to her. There was no love lost between Deirdre and Susan. That much was for sure.

  “What else did she do or say to you?” Nikki asked.

  “Well, I may have started it one day. I’d tasted some wine with a customer and hadn’t spit. Then she came sauntering in when I was finished.”

  “Uh oh.”

  “Exactly. I told her she was all wrong for Kristof. Kristof is a softy deep down and I know he wants a family soon. Growing up without his mom left some emptiness there and we used to talk about kids and how much joy they can bring. Something about Susan, I don’t know maybe her haute couture clothing, or her continual need to drop a grand a week at the spa doesn’t strike me as someone who’d make a great mother. I told her that.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I did.”

  “What did she say to that?” The gossip was getting juicer with each glass of wine.

  “Plenty. She actually told me not to worry about the little Waltmans who would be running around the castle in the near future, because that’s what nannies were for, and since I seemed so concerned about it, that if I was lucky she’d consider me for the position after she and Kristof were pregnant, because she had no desire to raise and be occupied with children. She added her opinion on kids, saying they were as much a pain in the ass as I was, and that it would be a fitting position for me around the castle.”

  “She said that?”

  “Yep. Exact words.”

  “You’re sure nice to be helping Kristof through this time after all Susan put you through.”

  “What can I do? I love him. Still. I can’t help myself.” Tears sprang to Deirdre’s eyes. “Will you excuse me?” Deirdre went to the restroom, while Nikki found herself picking up the tab. Yikes. Not cheap with those two bottles of wine thrown in. Sleuthing was an expensive hobby.

  With Deirdre in the restroom she had a chance to think about the hatred and jealousy between the two women at the Waltman C
astle. It was hard to believe that Deirdre Dupree could possibly be a murderer. However, Deirdre’s resentment toward Susan was as obvious as the headache Nikki was sure to wake up with in the morning after all the wine they’d drunk.

  There was a lot to get straight about Susan’s murder. Impossible at that moment. Gossip and alcohol were swimming in her brain. What Nikki could get straight was that Deirdre would need a cab ride home, and she couldn’t drive herself back over the pass to the Malveaux Estate. She’d have to bite the bullet and pay an exorbitant amount in cab fare to get back to Napa. How stupid to have drunk so much wine. She knew better than that, and it kind of worried her that she’d been so reckless and irresponsible. She’d gotten carried away with Deirdre and her story and she’d have to make a note to herself not to allow that to happen again.