Wine's Up?

by Wendy Meadows

  “Where do you order your supplies from?” he asked. Annabelle wished the man would just leave. She forced a smile—the customer was always right.

  “From various places. Most of it we order from Rodney Bay.”

  Rodney Bay was only a short distance away, a tourist town bigger than Rosemary Harbor with a large industrial area behind it. They supplied many things, and it was the general go-to whenever there was a shortage at Rosemary Harbor. Preston should have known this, Annabelle thought. He was just being polite, making conversation to include her instead of talking only to her mother.

  If Preston wasn’t taking her mom out on a date she shouldn’t have agreed to, Annabelle would even have been impressed with Preston’s ability to make everyone feel so at ease and included.

  “Do you get all the candles in Rodney Bay too? Where from?”

  “Why so many questions about the supplies?” Hillary asked. “Everything we use is good quality.”

  Police Chief Davis nodded. “Oh. I knew that. Well, I want to find out more about the baskets and…the contents…” He trailed off.

  When the three women blinked at him, Preston took a deep breath and hesitated, as if trying to decide. Finally, he spoke.

  “Well, I came to your shop for a reason. Not just for my mother’s gift. We’re investigating a crime and I’m just trying to find some leads. That’s all,” he said.

  “It’s about poor Reggie, isn’t it?” Rose said. “Jessica bought a basket for him before he died. That’s what it’s about. I know it.” Rose’s interest was piqued. If there was a story, she wanted to know about it.

  “It’s nothing I’m at liberty to talk about,” Preston said. “It’s early in the investigation. We’re still trying to find direction.”

  Hillary’s eyes widened in alarm. “Wait. This crime involved our gift baskets?” she asked. When Preston asked about the date baskets, she’d entertained he might want to try one out with her, but if this was about a crime it could mean bad business for them. “Has someone said something? Surely you can’t kill someone with a gift basket?” The last statement was meant to be a joke, but it came out a little frantic, and when Preston looked uncomfortable, a feeling of dread made Hillary’s stomach tighten.

  Rose was quiet, waiting for Preston to tell them. She ached with curiosity. Annabelle was quiet, too.

  “We know little of anything,” Preston said, hedging. He might have said too much already. In a place like Rosemary Harbor, gossip ran like wildfire and it was so important to keep a lid on things until it was the right time. Mentioning the crime now might not have been the right time, with Rose in the room. He loved Rose—she was involved in a lot of community events and fund-raisers and did a lot of good for the town—but boy, the woman could talk.

  “I wish you would tell me what’s going on,” Hillary said. She was growing more and more nervous.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Preston told her. “I’ll let you know the moment there’s something to tell. For now, I’m just sniffing around. Really, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  “Something smells fishy to me,” Spot squawked, and Hillary agreed.

  Preston shuffled from one foot to the other. “Ladies, I must be off. Hillary, I’ll pick you up just before seven tonight. Thank you for all your help.”

  Preston left the shop in a hurry and the three women were left behind with a lot to speculate about.

  2

  At ten to seven that evening, Preston picked Hillary up. She opened the door wearing a dress she used to wear out on dates with Matthew. It felt good to wear it again. The dress was a spring green, and everyone always told her it brought out her emerald eyes. It was why she’d chosen it.

  Hillary was nervous. She hadn’t been on a date in a long time.

  “You look great,” Preston said when he saw her. He was wearing a pair of new jeans he’d hardly worn, a flannel shirt he’d tucked in, and a windbreaker.

  They walked to his police cruiser and Preston opened the door for Hillary. As he closed the door behind her and walked around the car, Hillary watched him tug at his pants. Preston was uncomfortable in his clothes, not used to being in anything other than a uniform.

  When he got into the driver’s side, they rode the short distance to Oregano in awkward silence. Preston fiddled the whole time and Hillary kept her eyes trained on the town sliding past until they parked. When they walked into the restaurant and sat down, Hillary cleared her throat.

  “I think we need to clear something out of the way,” she said. “This feels a little awkward so I think we should talk about it. Communication is a big deal, right?”

  Preston nodded, not knowing what to expect.

  “Rose kind of caught me off guard when she set us up. I know this looks a lot like a date, we’re all dressed up and nervous. But I don’t think I’m ready for romance yet. My husband just died a few years ago, as you know, and I haven’t dated at all since then. I want to be friends, though.”

  Preston nodded slowly. “I see,” he said. This was a date, in his mind, and he had been planning to show Hillary a good time. She was still new to Rosemary Harbor, and he wanted her to see a different side of him, the side that didn’t fight crime and have the best interests of every citizen at heart.

  “Just friends,” Hillary confirmed. Then she added, “At least for now.” It was too soon after Matthew. It had upset Annabelle, and, while Hillary was determined to do what she wanted despite her daughter’s view on things, she didn’t want to jump into something serious.

  Preston looked around the restaurant, thinking about what Hillary said. Now that she had laid down the law, he wanted to break it. He wanted to flirt with her, pursue her. It was ironic that Preston wanted to do the opposite of what he was told, considering who and what he was in this town, but there it was. He had a streak in him that made him want to go against what he was told. He wanted to convince Hillary to take a chance, to live a little. Preston had never backed down from a challenge—it was what made him such a good cop. He was good at following a hunch, at finding the truth no matter how hard it was. And he felt like he was up to this latest challenge—getting Hillary interested in him as more than just a friend.

  Preston had noticed Hillary the moment she’d arrived in town with her daughter. He had wanted to ask her out but wasn’t sure when the time would be right. So when Rose offered him her reservation to use with Hillary, he jumped at it.

  The moment Hillary got her feelings off her chest, the atmosphere between them lightened and she had a good time. They ordered drinks and the pasta of the day and as they sat and talked, the restaurant filled up more and more.

  “Are you enjoying it here in Rosemary Harbor?” Preston asked.

  “Very much. Everyone here is so welcoming and kind. It’s been so easy to fit right in and I feel like I’m a part of a big family.”

  Preston nodded. There was something about Rosemary Harbor that was warm and inviting. Everyone passing through commented on it, and the few times people stayed, they never left again.

  “Have you made many friends?” Preston asked.

  Hillary shook her head. “Not really, yet. Besides Rose, I wouldn’t say I have many friends. I’ve gotten to know quite a few people with the traffic in the shop, but I don’t know everyone the way you do.”

  Preston chuckled. “I’ve been a part of the police force here for the last twenty years, fifteen as chief. It’s hard not to know everyone when the place is so small and there are no secrets.”

  Hillary laughed. “I noticed that, about not having secrets around here. I guess there’s not much excitement around here.”

  Preston thought about his current case. It wasn’t something he was too worried about, but it would classify as excitement, for sure. He would not discuss it with Hillary. Gossip traveled so fast, it would only be a matter of time before it was all out in the open, anyway. No sense in speeding it up even more.

  Hillary looked around the restaurant and her ey
es fell on a couple who seemed to be very uncomfortable.

  “Those two don’t look like they’re having a lot of fun,” she said, pointing them out to Preston. “I would say they’re fighting about something. Maybe they’ve been together for long enough to argue now, but they haven’t been together long enough to be comfortable about their differences.”

  Preston laughed. “That was fantastic, Hillary,” he said. “That’s Tanner and Marina. They’ve been together for six months, and I’m confident to say the butterflies and immediate attraction is just about over now.”

  Hillary smiled, pleased with herself. Her deduction skills impressed Preston, but maybe it was a fluke. He tested it out.

  “What about her?” he asked, pointing to a thirty-something lady reading alone in a booth. “Do you know her?”

  Hillary shook her head. There were only a few people at the restaurant she recognized.

  “I would say she needs some time away from the husband and kids, so she comes out alone just to take some time for herself. She’s overworked and feels underappreciated, and she’s willing to pay the price of a meal just to get some space.”

  Preston laughed again. It was spectacular to listen to Hillary nail it on the head. Two for two could still be luck, but he doubted it.

  “How do you read people so well?” Preston asked after he pointed to two more tables and she described them almost right each time.

  Hillary shrugged. “I’ve always had a knack for it, I guess. I practice it more now that I have customers coming in who assume I know what they want.”

  It impressed Preston. “I should give you a job on the force,” he said.

  Hillary shook her head, blushing. “You flatter me, Preston. But I’m more than happy where I am now.”

  “Pity,” Preston said. “If you worked at the station, I could see you more often, and that would brighten my day.”

  “Preston!” Hillary laughed. “You’re a shameless flirt.”

  Preston grinned, pleased with himself. He liked to think he was charming and funny. Years ago, one of his friends had told him that he could get any woman he wanted, and he’d taken that to heart. It was a compliment that Hillary was affected by his advances after she had made it clear she wanted to be just friends.

  “Tell me about your case,” Hillary said, throwing Preston off track.

  “I thought this date was to get away from work and relax a little,” Preston said. He was uncomfortable talking about cases with civilians. There were so many loose ends in the Reginald Danvers murder, and he didn’t want mass hysteria to break loose if the inhabitants of Rosemary Harbor knew the police had any leads on the killer.

  “Please,” Hillary pleaded. “I won’t tell anyone, you have my word. It’s just…you asked about my baskets, and that makes me so nervous. This shop is all I have after my husband died and I can’t stand the thought that my baskets might have had something to do with the crime.”

  It was hard to believe how a gift basket could have been a weapon in a murder. She’d turned it over in her mind all day and had come up with nothing. Which was why she needed Preston to tell her what was going on.

  Preston took a deep breath, hesitating. Hillary looked worried, and he didn’t want her to stress about it. Maybe if he told her enough to help her calm down, it would be all right. He hated seeing a woman in distress, especially if it was his fault. The murder and how it happened wasn’t his fault. But he was doing his job, and, in the process, he had caused Hillary some anxiety.

  “If you promise not to talk about it, I think I can give you something that might set you at ease,” Preston said.

  Hillary nodded. She wanted to know that she wasn’t somehow to blame for the death of a man whom everybody seemed to have loved.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard that Danvers was killed in an explosion.”

  Hillary nodded. She had heard no specific details, but she’d heard something of the sort. It was the talk of the town and difficult to avoid.

  “Well, we believe something in the gift basket caused the explosion, judging by what the crime scene investigator had to say.”

  “What?” Hillary frowned. “Something in one of my baskets exploded? How is that possible?” Her baskets contained incense, not gunpowder, for heaven’s sake.

  “That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Nothing in the basket seems to be capable of setting off an explosion but we have to follow up on it. The crime scene investigator insists that it was from the basket and he’s serious about his reputation.”

  “This is crazy,” Hillary said.

  Preston nodded. “I agree with you. In fact, I tried setting off an explosion with some incense sticks—there was evidence they were in the basket—and even though I got a little flame going a long way with lighter fluid, nothing serious happened except a singed pinky finger.”

  Hillary laughed, and the sound was beautiful. Preston smiled, happy to have brought her a little entertainment.

  “Oh, Preston. I bet it’s your good sense of humor that got you through so many years of crime investigations. You’re still such a happy man, and now I see why.”

  Preston nodded. If he hadn’t had such a cheerful outlook on life, no doubt his job would have gotten the better of him ages ago. Rosemary Harbor wasn’t the kind of place where terrible crimes happened daily, but give any man enough bad news and he’d become at least a little depressed.

  “We always include incense in our baskets, but, until recently, we had artisan candles in there, too,” Hillary said. “Could it be that it was the candle?”

  Preston thought about it. He would have to consider it, but it seemed possible to him. Any lead was better than no lead. Then he realized what Hillary had said.

  “You said until recently? Why?” Preston asked. He was off duty, out on a date—he still considered it a date regardless of what Hillary said—and he had told himself he wouldn’t think about work at all tonight. But now that Hillary had brought it up, his investigative nature was running wild again, and he smelled a clue.

  “We contracted with a candle maker named Lauren Peters to sell her candles through the shop and it was an option in our baskets. But she stopped her business with us last week. She’s leaving town.”

  It piqued Preston’s interest.

  “Thank you, Hillary,” Preston said. He had a lead now that he hadn’t had before, and that would help him. He would go to speak to Lauren the next day. He knew her well enough for the call to be a friendly one, and that was just what he needed.

  They changed topics even though Preston now wished they could talk more about the case. It was better not to, though. He didn’t want to stir up any trouble by telling Hillary too much, and, anyway, he enjoyed her company more than he wanted to talk about work. They laughed and flirted the night away, and Preston felt that he was succeeding in his attempts to woo her.

  3

  Preston was good at his job—twenty years on the force had given him the ability to sniff out clues and follow them. He had a hunch about crime, and even though he lived in a small town, he liked to think that he had a big talent.

  And all that was deserting him right now. He hated it when things went wrong in a case, especially a case this big.

  Something Special had just opened when Preston walked in.

  “First come, first served,” the parrot squawked, and Preston wondered how he knew to say that right at opening time.

  “Hello, Annabelle,” Preston said to Hillary’s daughter, who stood behind the counter with a book.

  “Morning, Chief,” she said. “How can I help you? Another gift?”

  Annabelle still wasn’t happy about Preston taking her mother out the night before, and even though he was an officer of the law, someone she had to respect by default, she didn’t want to give the man the time of day. The only man who deserved attention from Annabelle and Hillary, in her opinion, was her father.

  “No, thank you. I want to speak to Hillary, please.” Preston was polite de
spite his mood. He could tell Annabelle didn’t like him. He didn’t know why she was hostile toward him, but the young folks in town were all so moody. Preston was sure he hadn’t been like that when he was young. Respect for your elders was drilled into kids from the start back then. Discipline just wasn’t what it used to be these days.

  “I’ll go tell her,” Annabelle said and disappeared into the back room. She would tell her mother. Eventually. First, she would make Chief Davis wait. There was no rush for him to see Hillary. Was a whole evening with her not enough?

  Preston waited as patiently as he could in the store. He checked his wristwatch. There was paperwork to take care of at the station, clues to follow up on. This was just a waste of time, but without all the pieces to this puzzle, he would never know what had happened. What was taking Hillary so long? When Preston turned around, he noticed the parrot’s perch was empty. He looked around. Where did that bird go? It was usually so loud and now it was quiet in the shop. Spot flew out of nowhere and squawked “Boo” right in Preston’s ear.

  Preston waved his hands and ducked away from the bird.

  “Spot!” Hillary yelled, finally coming out of the back room just in time to see Preston cower away from the parrot. “If you scare away my customers, I’ll leave you alone at home all day.”

  The parrot returned to his perch and hung his head.

  “I’m sorry. Forgive me, forgive me. I was born to be wild, but my cage was too small.”

  Hillary shook her head, chuckling. “That parrot. I swear he goes looking for trouble sometimes. Are you all right?”

  Preston nodded. “I’m fine. He’s got a smart mouth on him.”

  Hillary nodded, and her smile lifted his dark mood a little. Hillary’s auburn hair was pinned back in a half-up style today, and she wore a butter-yellow blouse that made her porcelain skin glow. She looked great, but then, she always looked good. Hillary was one of those women who took care of herself in a way that made her beauty look effortless.