"Why do you have to be so mean?" Gabby spat back.
"You know what? I don't. I don't have to take any of this!" I heard leaves rustling then footsteps on the pathway.
"Alec, wait!" Gabby called, her voice moving farther away from me and quickly accompanied by the distinct sound of heels click-clacking on the uneven stones.
I waited a full minute before moving, just to be sure they were both far away enough that I wouldn't be seen. Then I slowly stood, stomping some life back into my cramped legs as I made my way back to the path as well.
I had no idea what I'd just heard. Possibly a simple lover's spat. Possibly something much more sinister. Had they been discussing Tyler's death? Alec had sounded like he was accusing Gabby of something—possibly killing her costar? I tried to think of any way to delicately approach either party to pry into their argument as I followed the pathway toward the kitchen.
I never quite got there, as a loud commotion at the RV still parked behind the building caught my attention.
The crime scene tape had yet to be removed from the door, but the seal had been broken, and two guys with official looking CSI jackets were coming in and out of the trailer, Ziploc baggies in hand. At the base of the steps stood Grant, hands on his hips as he stared down at the instigator of the commotion—Bradley Wu.
The portly reporter was dressed in a dapper plaid vest today, looking much like the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland as a gold pocket watch dangled from a chain on one side of it. His white shirt was buttoned all the way to the top beneath it, and as I approached the pair, I heard him lobbing quick questions at Grant.
"I hear the wine steward is the prime suspect in your investigation," Bradley said, goading Grant.
I involuntarily held my breath as I listened for the answer.
"The Sheriff's Office has no comment at this time."
I said a silent thank you.
"But you have been questioning him?"
"No comment."
"And searching his home?"
"No. Comment," Grant ground out, enunciating clearly.
"Maybe I could just take a teeny tiny peek at what your team is gathering from the trailer…"
Bradley made a motion to sidestep Grant, but the detective's hand shot to the gun at his hip.
"This is an active crime scene," he told Bradley hotly. "If you take a single step more, I'll arrest you for tampering with evidence."
Bradley's eyes went wide, and I stifled a laugh. While I would have loved to see the reporter hauled off in handcuffs, I wasn't sure what it would do to the mood of the few remaining festivalgoers.
"Everything okay here, boys?" I asked, stepping into the mix.
Two pairs of eyes swiveled my way, both holding a hint of relief in them.
"Emmy, my dahling, just the person I wanted to see," Bradley said, his features shifting from terror to glee in seconds flat.
"Bradley," I said, nodding his way. I glanced up at Grant. "Any problems here?"
"No problem," he said. "As long as everyone steps back and lets me do my job."
I wasn't sure if he was talking just to Bradley or a little to me as well, but I complied, backing up a few steps with my hands up in a surrender motion.
Bradley followed me, leaning in with a mock whisper. "He's tightly wound, huh?"
"If you only knew."
Bradley sent a questioning eyebrow my way, but I didn't take the bait. "Interesting article you published this morning," I told him.
"Thank you." He beamed.
"That was not a compliment."
The smile faltered a bit. "Now, Emmy, you know how the saying goes—all publicity is good publicity!"
"'Deadliest little winery'?" I quoted. I shook my head at him. "And here I thought we were friends, Bradley."
"Hey, a reporter's gotta do what a reporter's gotta do to keep readers. You know how few people still read newspapers these days? I have a better chance of catching the plague than a new subscriber."
"Aww." I gave him a sarcastic pout and pretended to play a violin in sympathy.
"Oh." Bradley scoffed and waved me off. "You make fun, but you know you need me just as much as I need you."
I hated how right he was. "Okay, fine," I said. "What about this? You leave Jean Luc alone in your column—"
He moved to protest, but I rode right over it.
"—letting the police decide if he's a suspect. And when the festival is over, I'll give you an exclusive interview detailing how I found the body." Which was the last thing I ever wanted to think about, let alone retell. But if it kept Wu off my back for 24 hours, it just might be worth it.
He paused, mulling that offer over. "You promise this is exclusive? No leaking similar stories to Sonoma Magazine?"
I held up three fingers. "Scout's honor."
He cocked his head to the side. "Why do I get the feeling you were never a Girl Scout?"
"Do we have a deal or not?" I pressed, sticking my hand out his way to shake.
Finally he must have realized it was the best deal he was going to get—and a lot better than Grant's offer to haul him off to jail—as he put his pudgy palm in mine.
"Deal. But as soon as the Food and Wine Festival is over, I'll be knocking on your door, Emmy."
"Looking forward to it," I lied through gritted teeth.
* * *
I left Bradley Wu waddling toward the stuffed mushrooms booth and went to check in on Jean Luc. With the police and press hovering in equally terrifying numbers, I could only imagine how my sommelier's mood was. But as I entered the tasting room, I noted that if he was feeling any foreboding, he was excellent at hiding it. He stood behind the bar, pouring with his usual flourish for the few scattered customers partaking of our samples. Though I noted most of them were not our ticket holders but press. I prayed that Hector's rosy outlook on the onslaught was true—reporters bought wine too, right?
As I approached Jean Luc, I noticed he was refilling a glass for one of the few members of the press I was happy to see still here—Ashley Daniels, the food critic for the LA Times . She was dressed today in a smart pencil skirt, two-inch pumps, a loose blouse that billowed flatteringly around her middle, and gold and silver bracelets at her wrist that tinkled together like wind chimes as she raised her glass to her lips.
"Ms. Daniels, I'm so glad to see you've stayed on for the rest of the festival," I told her, meaning it. A good review might not be enough to counter all the bad publicity the Bradley Wus of the world were dishing out, but it certainly couldn't hurt.
"Of course," she said, raising her glass my way. "I'm dying to see how this little drama all plays out." She shot me a wink.
I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Yes, well, that's why I'm here."
"Eez zere a problem?" Jean Luc asked, his mustache twitching, betraying that nerves were, indeed, hiding just below his calm surface.
I shook my head. "No, no, nothing like that. I just wanted to see how today's tasting turnout was."
His shoulders relaxed. "Ah. Good. Yes, we're busy enough," he responded, gesturing to the few patrons at the bar.
"How are you ?" I asked, wishing there were some comforting words I could give him.
He straightened his already stiff spine. "Perfectly fine, I assure you."
I couldn't help smiling at his bravado. "Good. But let me know if you need a break."
He nodded curtly. "I am fine," he repeated.
"I was just telling Jean Luc here how sorry I was," Ashley cut in, gesturing to him with her wineglass. "You know, about the misunderstanding about him being fired by Tyler."
Jean Luc's mustache twitched indignantly at the word fired , but he nodded stiffly, acknowledging the apology. "It eez nothing, Meez Daniels. All eez forgiven."
"Really, I had no idea I'd cause any trouble for you with the police," she went on. "I mean, I honestly thought it was the case. But I should have known better than to run my mouth around the police anyway. It was just that detective. He was so…unnervin
g, you know?"
I nodded. "Oh, I know."
"Anyway, thank you," Ashley said, sending the comment Jean Lu's way. "For being so understanding."
He nodded at her again, his shellacked hair not moving an inch. Someone from the other side of the bar hailed him, and he politely excused himself, looking grateful for the excuse to abandon the uncomfortable conversation.
"I noticed a few more of your vendors didn't show today," Ashley said.
"Uh, yes." I bit my lip, hoping this didn't fare badly for her article. "But Gabby is still slated to do a wonderful baking demonstration later, and we still have a variety of food being served for lunch."
"And the Zinfandel is delightful," Ashley said, shooting me a smile as she sipped again.
I felt a small wave of relief.
"Join me for a glass?" she asked.
I hesitated a moment—I didn't usually drink while on duty, so to speak.
"Please," Ashley said with a smile. "No one likes to drink alone."
Well, she was from the LA Times …
I stepped behind the bar and poured myself a glass from the open bottle. "Please let me know if you'd like to try any of our other varietals," I told her. "We have some lovely whites too."
"Thank you. I may take you up on that. I have to say, this place is a little hidden gem here."
"Do you get up to wine country often?" I asked, taking my glass to the empty barstool beside her.
She shrugged, sipping. "Not really. Now and again for business. You do have a reputation up here for fine dining."
I nodded, feeling a small opening. "Speaking of dining, I was at Tyler's Place last night."
She laughed, the cackle ringing in my ears. "That is not the definition of fine, is it?"
I grinned, shaking my head. "No, not really." I paused, watching her. "I did chat with Mark Black though."
"Oh?" she said, sipping her glass.
"Do you know him well?" I asked, hoping I sounded like I was just making casual conversation.
She shrugged. "Of course. We're old friends…you know, from when Tyler and I were married." She paused, a small frown forming between her eyebrows. "Why?"
I shook my head. "Just curious. Do you know how long Mark and Tyler have known each other?"
She pursed her lips, eyes going to a spot on the wall as if trying to picture the meeting in her mind's eyes. "Gosh, ages. Fifteen years, maybe? They met when Tyler was trying to open his first restaurant here in Sonoma."
"The first Tyler's Place?"
She nodded. "But it was called something else back then. Wine Country Inn or some other generic term." She laughed. "Tyler never was one for much creativity."
"So I've heard," I mumbled.
She raised an eyebrow my way. "Oh, have you?"
I hesitated to talk about Alec's lawsuit, but with Tyler dead, it didn't seem like there was much point in keeping quiet. "Well, the lawsuit you said Alec filed against him…"
"Yes?" Ashley asked. "What about it?"
"It alleged that Tyler was using Alec's recipes as his own."
Ashley threw her head back, a torrent of hearty laughter erupting from her throat. "Oh, that is rich."
"You mean you don't think it's true?"
"Oh no." She shook her head. "No, I'm sure it's true. I just mean, it was pretty brazen even for Tyler. But what do you expect from a man with an ego three times the size of his brain?" She shook her head as the laughter subsided, sipping from her glass again.
"Were you and Tyler together when Alec worked with him?" I asked.
Ashley shook her head as she swallowed her sip. "Only briefly. To be honest, Alec was really just a kid then, and I didn't pay much attention to what was going on in the restaurant. I already had one foot out the door, so to speak."
"So you don't know how the two got along?"
"I imagine not well, if Alec was suing him." She paused, that small frown going between her eyebrow again. "Why? You think Alec killed Tyler over this lawsuit?"
"Do you think he's capable of it?" I asked, trying to be as delicate as possible.
But she didn't seem phased by the question, quickly shaking her head. "I don't see why he would. I mean, if Alec thought he was going to win the lawsuit, it kind of defeats the purpose to kill Tyler before he can pay restitution, right?"
She had a good point. However, that assumed Alec thought he would win the lawsuit. Even if the fraud was true, it didn't mean Alec would win. Or, if he did win, he'd be awarded what he was asking for.
"What about Gabby?" I asked, switching gears as I thought of the argument I'd overheard.
"Gabby?" Ashley laughed again. "Kill Tyler? No way. Not a chance."
"You seem pretty certain."
Ashley leaned forward. "Why would she kill the man she was sleeping with?"
I blinked at her, the implications of that question sinking in. "Wait—Gabby and Tyler?"
Ashley nodded, still grinning at me. "You didn't know?"
I shook my head. "But what about Alec?"
Ashley laughed again. "Honey, Gabby would not be the first woman to cheat on a man."
"Who told you this?" I asked, still trying to process this new information.
"No one had to tell me. Look, I know the signs when Tyler is sleeping with a woman, okay? I spent years trying to deny them. All you had to do was watch them on the show, and it was obvious."
"You sure they weren't acting?" I asked, thinking of the way Gabby had displayed nothing but disdain for Tyler whenever we'd spoken.
Ashley nodded. "Positive. Sure, some of the cutesy banter was put on for the audience, but the way he looked at her, the way he'd touch her leg, the wolfish gleam in his eyes when her neckline was especially low? I know those all too well." Ashley jiggled her empty glass at me, signaling the need for a refill.
I took it and moved around the bar automatically, refilling as I digested this new bit of information. If Gabby had been sleeping with Tyler, that opened up a whole new dynamic—not just between her and Tyler but between Tyler and Alec too. Maybe Alec hadn't killed Tyler over the theft of his recipes—but over the theft of his girlfriend. Had that been what the couple was arguing about in the woods? I thought back to the words I'd overheard. Alec had definitely been accusing Gabby of something, but it felt like she was hotly denying it.
Though, whether that meant it was a valid accusation or not remained to be seen.
* * *
I left the tasting room with a whole new round of questions swirling through my head and a slight buzz from Zinfandel before lunch. After a quick stop to the Aldo's Restaurant booth, where I grabbed a couple of bowls of Caprese Panzanella Salad , I stopped by Ava's Silver Girl booth to feed her and fill her in on the argument I'd witnessed and Ashley's affair hypothesis.
"So you think Alec found out that Gabby was sleeping with Tyler, and he killed him over it?" Ava asked around a bite.
I shrugged. "I guess it does sound kind of soap operaish when you put it that way."
But Ava shook her head. "No, I think it could be possible. I mean, maybe it was a heat of the moment type thing, you know? Alec confronts Tyler, Tyler goes into his smug jerk act, and Alec just loses it."
"With a gun that he just happens to have on him? That just happens to be the same type as Jean Luc's?"
"You're right. Nix the crime of passion thing." She paused, stabbing a tomato and chewing thoughtfully. "But it doesn't mean it still couldn't be Alec. I mean, yes, it would require a little planning, but maybe he did. Plan it out, I mean."
"Over Gabby?"
"Well, let's say he was no big fan of Tyler already. Tyler stole his recipes," Ava added.
"But he was suing Tyler and by all accounts seemed to have a pretty good case. Even Tyler's own attorney was nervous about it."
"He was nervous about having to pay ," Ava reminded me. "Remember Mark Black said their business was going into the red. Maybe Tyler's attorney knew he just didn't have the money to pay Alec if he lost the lawsuit."
>
"Maybe Alec found out how bad Tyler's finances were and realized that he likely wouldn't get a dime even if he did win the lawsuit," I said, following her breadcrumb trail.
"I'm sure Alec has had to pay out of pocket for his own attorney to file the lawsuit. What if he realized he wouldn't be likely to get any of that back even if he won? That he was essentially going to end up spending thousands of dollars just to get Tyler to stop presenting his recipes as his own."
"And he decided that killing Tyler was a much more economical way to stop him," I finished.
Ava nodded. "Could be finding out Tyler was also sleeping with his girlfriend was just the final straw."
I popped a stray piece of mozzarella into my mouth and munched it down. "It's a great theory, but it all hinges on one thing," I said.
"What's that?"
"How bad were Tyler's finances? Alec said he was making a hundred grand an episode. The restaurants would have to be losing a lot to eat that up too."
Ava nodded. "Unless, of course, Mark Black really was stealing from the business." She pinned me with a look, her eyes taking on that mischievous twinkle. "Gee, if only we could get a look at Tyler's Place's finances."
I paused, a bite of salad midway to my mouth. "Oh no…"
"You know they aren't open until five for dinner."
"Please don't tell me you're thinking…"
"It would be the easiest thing in the world to just slip in and get a little peek."
"Really? Breaking and entering—easiest thing in the world?"
"Come on, Emmy. You know this could be the key to knowing if we're on the right track or just going in circles."
While every fiber of my being screamed at me to deny it, I knew she was right. Whether it was the embezzling partner or the ticked-off former protégé who killed Tyler, both motives hinged on one thing—the state of Tyler's finances. I dropped the fork back onto my plate in surrender. "Fine," I said.
Her eyes lit up like a child at Christmas, and I kid you not, she actually clapped.
"But you're driving," I told her. "I've still got a Zin buzz."
Ava raised an eyebrow at me. "Drinking red before noon?"
"It's been that kind of week."
CHAPTER NINE
Victim in the Vineyard Page 9