Wine's Up?

by Wendy Meadows

  “What’s all this noise?” Rose asked, coming out of the back room after Hillary. “Oh, Chief, it’s you. Back so soon?” She looked from Preston to Hillary, sure that the night must have been a success if he was here again.

  Preston sighed. He noticed Rose’s glances and wasn’t in the mood to be set up today. It had gone well last night, but right now he had other things on his mind.

  “It’s business today, Rose,” Preston said. He turned his attention to Hillary. “I can’t find Lauren Peters at all. For that matter, I can’t find Doris Tanner, either. Neither of them is answering their phone.”

  “Doris?” Hillary asked. “Isn’t that the Danvers’s housekeeper?” When Preston nodded, she thought for a moment. “What do those two have in common?”

  “I need to speak with them both, that’s all.” He didn’t want to say what it was about. If it was just Hillary, that would be a different story, but Rose was there, ears wide open. Rose was like a town crier. When she knew, everyone knew. “I have a few things on my to-do list for the day and thought I could tick them both off early, but now it looks like I was overeager.” He tried not to sound as irritated as he felt.

  “Well, if you ask me,” Rose chipped in, “Doris is probably consoling herself with a poker tournament somewhere, hiding in the shadows of a ratty gambling ring. Reginald was always offering her advice about where to invest her money, so I guess she’s won some. He knew everything about good and bad deals, bragged about how he dodged a bullet just before he died.” Rose prattled on, telling everyone in the shop how Reginald was good at investing and how he knew about Doris’s addiction. “He wanted to help her, the poor man.”

  Hillary rolled her eyes. She didn’t enjoy gossip. She couldn’t help hearing what the people around her spoke about, but she hated to hear someone speak ill of another.

  “Okay, enough about Doris and her gambling,” Hillary said, glaring at the older woman. They were getting very off topic. “I can’t help you with Doris, Chief, but I know where Lauren is. She moved into a friend’s apartment. Her condo sold the day it went on the market, leaving her with no place to live. She didn’t expect it to sell that fast.”

  “Wow, that hardly happens,” Preston said. “Do you know where the friend’s apartment is? I’d like to talk to Lauren as soon as possible. I’m worried she will leave town before we question her, and I would be grateful if you could point me in the right direction.”

  “Why would Lauren want to leave town?” Rose asked.

  “You know she’s leaving, Rose,” Hillary said. “I think Preston might just have a few questions for her. Isn’t that right?”

  Preston nodded. “That’s right. We are trying to get some leads and there are a few people we can talk to. That’s all.” He appreciated that Hillary was helping him out, warding off Rose’s nosy questions. Hillary was as curious as Rose, but she didn’t feel the need to tell everyone. Rose was a wonderful woman to have as a friend and to help around the shop, and Hillary was grateful for everything she’d done at Something Special, but everyone had their flaws.

  Rose nodded, but she wasn’t convinced that was all it was. She was determined to find out what was going on, if only to appease her curious nature, and she kept her eyes and ears open. In the meantime, Preston had come to Hillary for advice, and that was something to note. Perhaps her little setup with the dinner the night before had worked better than she’d thought.

  “Hillary, why don’t you take Preston to Humphrey’s apartment?” Rose suggested, still set on getting the two of them together. Annabelle was still in the back room and not around to stop the two from spending more time with each other.

  “That would be very helpful,” Preston said to Hillary. “My time seems to be running out.”

  Hillary agreed, and the two of them set off, leaving Rose and Annabelle to run the shop.

  “Hurry back,” Spot croaked as they left the shop.

  Hillary got into the police cruiser with Preston and directed him to Lauren’s friend Humphrey’s apartment. It was located in a complex on the edge of town in a neighborhood that needed a little love and restoration.

  “There,” Hillary said, pointing. “Her car is that green Nova.”

  Preston parked the car, and they got out. Hillary led him into the apartment building and up to Humphrey’s door. It was wide open. Preston knocked on the open door and stepped into the apartment. When Hillary waited outside, Preston nodded for her to follow him. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be a part of the investigation, but she wanted to know what kind of questions Preston had for Lauren. She vowed she would keep out from underneath Preston’s feet.

  “Hello?” he called. “This is Police Chief Preston Davis. Miss Peters?”

  Lauren came out of the bedroom, surprised.

  “Oh, hello, Chief. And Hillary.” She looked a little confused. “What can I do for you?”

  “I want to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind,” Preston said.

  “You came with Hillary to question me?” It made little sense, Hillary was aware. Lauren gave a quick shake of her head as if the thought didn’t matter. “Now isn’t a good time for me. I’m busy, unfortunately.”

  Preston stepped forward, peering into the part of the bedroom visible from where he stood. A suitcase was open and half-packed on the bed. He headed toward the bedroom, and Lauren rushed ahead of him. Hillary stayed in the living room, watching the two. Lauren got to the suitcase first and pushed something down the side before spinning around. It didn’t look like Preston noticed. Hillary wanted to know what it was. And why had Lauren run ahead to hide it from Preston? It had to be something she didn’t want him to see. That made Hillary think that Preston needed to see it.

  “Are you going somewhere, Miss Peters?” Preston asked.

  “I’m leaving soon, a job offer in Ohio. I thought it was common news around town. You know how people talk.”

  Preston nodded. “I know. But you’ll be surprised how many secrets there are around here, too. I know you’re busy, but I need to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

  Lauren opened her mouth to protest, but Preston held up a hand to stop her, and she could hardly refuse a man of the law. He walked back out to the living room and Lauren sighed, joining Hillary. The three of them sat down, Lauren’s back to the bedroom.

  “Can I use your bathroom?” Hillary asked just before Preston started. It was not her place to be involved, and she thought Lauren might say more in her absence.

  “Down the hall, to your left,” Lauren said.

  Hillary thanked her and walked away, leaving the two to talk. She overhead Preston asking about Lauren’s candles, how she made them and how her delivery systems worked. Hillary was only half listening. She didn’t need to go to the bathroom. She wanted to know what Lauren was hiding.

  Hillary glanced over her shoulder and when she was sure the two in the living room wouldn’t see her, she walked into the bedroom and pushed her hand down the side of the suitcase. She retrieved a strip of photos—the kind from a photo booth—showing Reginald Danvers and Lauren. They were laughing together in the first photo, pulling funny faces in the second and third, and kissing in the fourth.

  Hillary wondered what to do. Lauren would be livid if she showed these photos to Preston. But she didn’t see she had a choice. Preston said he was short on leads. This looked like a good lead to her.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” Hillary said, taking the photo strip to the living room. She handed it to Preston.

  “What were you doing in my room?” Lauren cried out. “Surely that violates my privacy?” she asked Preston. He held the photo strip in his hand, looking at the images.

  “Did you and Mr. Danvers have an affair?” he asked Lauren.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “That was just…” She had nothing she could say. There was no way to paint it differently than it was; a picture spoke a thousand words, and there were four. She let out a breath in a shudder
.

  This was a different story. Preston hadn’t known that Lauren Peters and Reginald Danvers had been involved. It changed everything about the case, and he needed to bump her up to priority.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Peters. I have to ask you to come to the station with me for further questioning.”

  “What? Why?” Lauren exclaimed. “I did nothing wrong. You can’t do this, why now?”

  “Because Reginald Danvers was murdered a few days ago, and if you were romantically involved, that makes you a suspect, especially since he was married.”

  Lauren paled, and Preston felt a little bad for being so blunt, but being nice about it wouldn’t change the truth. They were groping in the dark right now with very little to go by and any solid lead was like finding gold.

  “I’m sorry,” Hillary said to Lauren. She’d thought she was doing the right thing by showing Preston what Lauren had tried to hide. But she hadn’t meant for Lauren to become a suspect in a murder case.

  Lauren sneered at Hillary. “Sorry doesn’t change that I’m being taken to the station.”

  Hillary closed her eyes. Lauren was right. There was nothing she could do now.

  “Shall I make my way back to the shop?” Hillary asked Preston. He nodded, already heading for the door with Lauren.

  “Thank you for your directions, Hillary,” he said.

  Hillary walked back to Something Special. The weather was perfect, and the shop wasn’t too far, but Hillary felt a little glum after getting Lauren in trouble. Still, if Preston hadn’t known Lauren and Reginald had had an affair, Lauren might have left town without Preston knowing all the details. The more he knew, the easier it would be to solve the case, and that was the point.

  So, it wasn’t too bad, was it?

  4

  When Hillary returned to the shop, Annabelle stood behind the counter looking sour.

  “Did you have a good time?” she asked.

  “If you mean that showing a police officer the address of an apartment can be fun, then yes, thank you.” Hillary knew why Annabelle was upset. The dinner the previous night had gone well, and she understood that Annabelle felt that Hillary was forgetting about Matthew, but being mad about her doing a civil duty was ridiculous.

  “I’m placing the order for more baskets,” Annabelle said.

  Hillary walked to the counter and leaned on it with her elbows. “Listen. You know your father meant everything to me. If I could have it my way, he would never have gotten sick and we would still be with him, living our lives in Miami.”

  Annabelle looked up at Hillary. She missed her life in Miami, the family they used to be. She hated that things had changed. But she knew that even if her father had still been alive, Annabelle would have moved out and created a life and, eventually, a family of her own, and things would still have changed.

  “I don’t want the memory of him to be tainted,” Annabelle said.

  “And it won’t be. No matter how many dates I go on, or how many men I meet, your father will always be my first love, the man I spent almost thirty years of my life with. But I deserve another shot at being happy. I’m not in any hurry to fall in love again, but if it happens, it happens.”

  Annabelle nodded. Deep down she knew her mom deserved to be happy again—the last five years with Matthew had been rough on her. But it was hard to let go and move forward. It felt wrong to leave her father behind like he hadn’t been such a big part of their lives for as long as she could remember.

  “Oh, you’re back already,” Rose said, coming out of the back room with a catalog. “I was wondering what the two of you would get up to.”

  Annabelle glared at Rose. The older woman was kind and generous toward them and Annabelle was amused by her quirks, but sometimes she despised the woman for getting involved with everyone’s business.

  “How about you and I go out tonight?” Rose asked Hillary.

  “Tonight?” Hillary asked.

  “Yes, why not? It's tiring being cooped up every night, I want to go out for a glass of wine. Why don’t you come with me? You’ve been so busy with the shop.”

  Hillary thought about it. She knew what Rose was after. She wanted to know what had happened when Hillary had gone with Preston. She was dying of curiosity, and Hillary knew full well that the invitation to have a glass of wine wasn’t just to let her wind down after a hard day at the shop.

  “Why don’t you join us?” Rose asked Annabelle. “We’ll make a girls’ night of it.”

  Annabelle smiled and shook her head. “I don’t like wine, Rose. Thank you. You two go ahead, enjoy yourselves.”

  Rose smiled. She’d invited Annabelle to be polite. Annabelle was much younger than Rose and Hillary and spending time with them outside of work just wouldn’t be her cup of tea—or glass of wine—and it relieved Rose that she declined. She wanted to know what was going on between Hillary and Preston. It was strange that Preston asked Hillary’s advice when he couldn’t find Lauren. She knew she bordered on being a meddling old woman, but she couldn’t help herself.

  Wine’s Up was the local bar in town, and everyone went there if they wanted to let loose a little. It was busy for a Tuesday night, but the bar had started a drink special on Tuesdays and no one in Rosemary Harbor said no to a discount. The bar was decorated with rich brown furniture and dim lighting around the walls, with music floating from invisible speakers. A flat-screen television hung on the far wall for sports fans and two pinball tables and an old-school jukebox lined the other. It was a strange combination of retro and modern and everyone loved it.

  Rose and Hillary walked to the bar and sat down. They each ordered a glass of rosé. Hillary looked around. She knew many of the people around town by now and recognized a few of the other patrons at the bar. Jessica Danvers and Doris Tanner sat at the far end of the bar, both drinking wine and, judging by the red stains on their lips, they were well past one glass. Hillary wondered if she should call Preston and tell him she found Doris, but after the fiasco with Lauren, she decided not to; at least, not yet.

  Mr. Fitzgerald sat with a friend that Hillary didn’t recognize close to the jukebox, and three college-age kids hovered around one of the pinball machines, whooping whenever one of them scored. A few more customers sat at the tables in the seating area and Hillary recognized at least half. She knew they all knew who she was. Every small-town resident always knew the newbies in town.

  Hillary waited for Rose to fish for information. The more she thought about the case, the more curious she was, too. She wanted to know Rose’s side of the gossip.

  “Tell me about your visit today,” Rose said. “Did you find Lauren?”

  Hillary nodded. “We did. Preston wanted to ask her some questions. Did you know that Lauren was involved with Reginald?”

  She said the latter a little softer, nervous that Jessica would hear. The music was too loud for Hillary’s voice to carry, and it wasn’t like Jessica Danvers herself had been faithful. Hillary knew, thanks to Rose, that Jessica had done her fair share of cheating.

  “I knew,” Rose said. “Although few people did. It’s one of those little things I keep to myself.”

  Hillary doubted Rose could keep anything to herself. If she didn’t say something first, Rose wouldn’t hesitate when she was asked. They glanced at Jessica and Doris, who both looked morose, sipping their alcohol. They were grieving together.

  “Reggie and Jess were always messing around behind each other’s backs. I would have been surprised if Lauren and Reggie didn’t have something going—he couldn’t keep his hands off any woman that was willing. There are at least six people in this bar that the two of them have conquered.”

  Hillary shifted on her stool. She didn’t like gossiping, but it seemed even worse to talk like this about the deceased. She felt for Jessica. Hillary had lost a husband, and even though she and Matthew had been always faithful to each other, her heart went out to the woman.

  “I have to admit, the affair had to be a serious one o
r I doubt Lauren would have stayed here. She has staying power, that’s for sure. I wouldn’t have stuck around this place no matter who I was in love with.”

  Hillary shook her head, sipping her wine. She didn’t doubt that Rose would have left if it came down to it. She was independent and only put down roots because she wanted to, not because someone asked.

  “Do you think that’s why she stayed?” Hillary asked. “Maybe she liked it here.”

  Rose shook her head. “She gave up every career opportunity that came her way, they say. I don’t know for sure. How many opportunities can one woman get? For making candles?”

  Hillary shrugged. She kept quiet, letting Rose do all the talking. It didn’t take much to encourage Rose to keep going.

  “I always felt for the poor woman that she gave up so many great opportunities to stick around a town that didn’t offer much for her career. It’s a great place, as you know, but it’s not the kind of place you stay in if you want to go places. I guess love is a strange thing. I wonder if he led her on, told her he was leaving Jessica. We probably will never know.”

  Rose took a sip of her wine. The glass was still almost full because she didn't stop talking.

  “Anyway, I’m glad she accepted that job in Ohio. Everyone deserves a good opportunity.”

  Hillary nodded. It was good that Lauren had made something of herself. The timing just seemed to be strange. And if Preston’s reaction had been a sign, asking her to go to the station with him, the timing was very strange.

  Hillary glanced at the two women at the end of the bar again. They looked bereaved. The poor women, both losing a man so dear to them. Doris had been the Danvers’s housekeeper for years as far as Hillary knew. No matter what your station of service was, you grew attached to people in that time.

  “Oh, look at them,” Rose said, also looking toward Jessica and Doris. “It must be so hard to deal with this, especially considering that the case is yet unsolved, and no one knows who did it.”