A Vintage Murder

by Michele Scott

  He chuckled. “The thing is, love, I am usually pretty darn routine. I have to be with what I do, but you know, I’m in a new place. The building housing the animals is new, and I do suppose that with the wine and being tired and all I could have put the suit on another peg.”

  Andy had been so certain, and it seemed odd to her how his story had changed.

  “You have the suit and peg situation figured out, but you still don’t know who let Charlie out of the terrarium?” she asked. Derek squeezed her knee, and she knew right then and there that she should shut up.

  “That is still a bit of a mystery,” Von Doussa said.

  “Dinner is ready,” Grace announced. Everyone stood and Nikki felt more than frustrated that no one was giving her any straight answers.

  They all walked into the dining room. Grace called out for Hannah to come down.

  They all sat. Hannah took her time making an appearance, then sat across from Andy. Nikki noticed the two of them eyeing each other, almost as if they had a secret between them. Let it go, she told herself.

  The food smelled delicious. Grace had fixed a gingered pork roast and Liam opened a bottle of Grenache.

  “To try and further answer your question about Charlie and how he got out,” Andy said, “we don’t know. We really don’t. I am cautious, but snakes have been known to escape in the past, and Charlie is a curious sort.”

  “But you can’t say then that someone did not take the snake out and put it in Lucy’s trailer? You’re assuming he escaped.”

  Hannah gasped. “Of course he escaped. Andy just told you, woman. Come on. That didn’t happen, what you’re thinking—that someone took him out to kill Lucy. Who would do that? How stupid—”

  “Hannah, I forbid you to speak to our guest that way!” Grace said.

  Liam glared at his daughter, who apologized and sat back in her seat.

  “We do not think that is what happened,” Detective Von Doussa said. “It’s far-fetched, Miss Sands. It might make good Hollywood, but it didn’t happen. As vigilant as Andy is with his animals, we believe it possible that he may not have gotten the lock on as securely as he thought. Brown snakes are wily and if Charlie could find an escape route, he would have.”

  Oh my gosh, who were these people kidding? They were all staring at her as if she were a lunatic. So they all really believed that the snake got out of the terrarium, found his way into Lucy’s RV and into her bed no less, and bit her, and there it was. Sure. She had to pinch herself to make sure she was not in an episode of the old Twilight Zone. Nope. She was still in Barossa Valley at the dinner table of the vineyard owner who had written the script of a movie she was now starring in, because the former star actress had been killed by a snake that they all believed had gotten into her trailer on its own. Yikes. She glanced at Derek, who chewed on a mouthful of pork, and shook her head. Was he buying this shit, too?

  The dinner wore on, with Andy Burrow the center of attention, making everyone laugh and fielding questions about his training methods. Even surly Hannah seemed amused. Nikki was not, though. She’d grown quiet listening to Andy carry on, thinking how gullible the group was. She didn’t buy it at all. None of it. And as she watched Andy work the room, she was reminded by something her aunt Cara once told her about sociopaths—they were typically charming people with a dark side they hid well. Nikki wondered if Andy Burrow wasn’t simply hiding his dark side.

  Gingered Pork Roast with Two Hands Yesterday Grenache

  Nikki was grateful for the scrumptious dinner and good wine, but she couldn’t help thinking everyone around the table had had too much wine if they were buying into this. She did her best to keep mum, she really did, but it was too much to handle. It didn’t stop her from enjoying the meal, though.

  Of course she also enjoyed the wine. The Grenache is a soft red similiar to a Pinot Noir full of berry and floral flavors.

  5 lbs center cut boneless pork loin

  2 tbsp fresh crushed and minced ginger root

  2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

  2 tbsp ground ginger

  2 tbsp sea salt

  honey

  With a paring knife, form pockets on top of roast. Push fresh ginger into pockets.

  In a bowl, mix together extra virgin olive oil, ground ginger, and salt. Place pork in shallow roasting pan and brush with olive oil mixture. Bake at 350° for 2¼ hours on a barbecue grill.

  Brush entire roast with honey and continue cooking for 15 more minutes or until internal temperature is 160°.

  Let pork roast stand 15 minutes before slicing.

  Serves 4-6.

  Chapter 19

  “You were awfully quiet during dinner, at least after you didn’t get the answers you were looking for,” Derek said as they drove back to the hotel. Simon had told them he’d catch a ride with one of the crew. A group of them were going out for drinks. Nikki couldn’t help be a bit envious that he’d made friends so fast, and so far most of the cast and crew seemed to be tiptoeing around her. If she only had an oven back at their hotel room she could bake her world famous brownies for an icebreaker.

  “What does that mean?”

  “You were hoping that someone at that dinner would buy into your theory that Lucy was murdered.”

  “Maybe I was, because I do think she was murdered.”

  “You promised me that you would not do this, that you would let it go. Please, you have to, and if the police are convinced that there was nothing devious involved, then trust them.”

  “The police aren’t always right you know, and Detective Von Doussa seems more interested in drinking good wine than solving any crime.”

  “I think Von Doussa is on top of it. I think that the best thing you could do for yourself and for us is go with that.”

  Let it go. Right. She probably should. She didn’t want to ruin things between herself and Derek.

  “I’m sorry. You’re probably right. I think I was tired and you know how I get. I know I’m inquisitive. I felt bad that no one was saying much about the fact that Lucy just died out there. It’s almost as if she’s been dismissed.”

  He took her hand. “You sure that’s all it is?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t want to get into her real thoughts with him, because she knew it would only lead to an argument.

  “How did it go today?”

  “Fine.” Again, not another topic she wanted to delve into. So she changed it. “What about you? Business with Liam moving along?”

  “We’ve actually got it all tied up. I’m thinking, since you’ll be working on this movie for a bit longer, I might take a trip to western Australia—the Margaret River—and see if there isn’t a winery there I’d like to negotiate with. They make fabulous wines in that area.”

  “Oh. When do you plan to do that?” She didn’t like the sound of this at all.

  “Tomorrow. That way I can check things out, you can focus on your movie, and then we can hopefully have some time to really enjoy ourselves.”

  She was being paranoid again. He wasn’t trying to get away from her. No. In fact, he was trying to give her time and space to do the job she was now committed to, and also get more winery business done. Grow up, she told herself. If she was going to be in a mature relationship, she knew it was time to act like a mature adult. “I wish I could go with you.” That sounded mature.

  “I wish you could, too.” He turned the corner and pulled into the hotel’s parking lot.

  “Wait a minute,” she said before they parked and got out. “This morning there were some paparazzi hanging out.”

  “I meant to ask you about that. What happened?”

  She gave him a brief overview.

  “Jeez, Nik, I think Kane might not have a bad plan with you staying out there. At least while I take this side trip.”

  “Funny thing is, I was hoping that if I had to stay there, you would stay with me. I kind of thought that Simon could have the hotel room and that we would finally have a place to ourselves.”<
br />
  “That would be nice. I’ve already made my plans for tomorrow, but I’ll be back in a couple of days. I like the way you’re thinking, though.”

  “Really?” she said.

  “Really. Believe it or not, I always wanted to take a camping trip in one of those monster RVs.”

  “Why don’t you have one then?”

  “It doesn’t seem . . . prudent.”

  “And a jet is?” She laughed.

  “Well, we don’t have to wait in lines.”

  “True. You ready?”

  “Why do you ask that with such trepidation?” Derek asked.

  “Because I don’t know who we’ll find in that hotel lobby. Hopefully the paparazzi got their photos of me this morning, have written their crap about me being heartless for taking Lucy’s place, and that will be it.”

  “I’m here with you, and I’m sure you’re right. They’re probably all too busy putting tributes together for Lucy Swanson like they did Anna Nicole Smith.” He opened the door for her. They walked hand in hand into the lobby, hoping not to be greeted with flashbulbs. Fat chance.

  A camera was shoved in Nikki’s face as someone snapped photos, but even more disconcerting was a voice off to the side. A voice Nikki felt sure she recognized. “Hello, Nikki Sands. Who would have ever thought this is where we’d meet again?”

  Nikki swallowed hard, closed her eyes, and knew that her real nightmare was about to begin.

  Chapter 20

  Derek whispered, “Who is that?”

  “Marne Pickett.”

  A petite, blonde woman whose hair was coiffed into a bun and probably white under her dye job, shoved her manicured hand into Derek’s. Her hands were the only dead giveaway that the woman was ancient. She’d been pulled, plucked, and injected so much that Nikki wondered how she ever blinked her evil brown eyes. “I’m a journalist. You must have heard of me.”

  “Marne, what a surprise,” Nikki muttered.

  “Really?” She arched her eyebrows. “Come now, Nikki. You had to have known that you starring in a film by Nathan Cooley and Kane Ferriss would have gotten me on a plane to the Down Under. I was already on the way after the events that led up to you receiving the role. I’d love for us to sit down and have an interview. Spoonfed is willing to pay you a nice fee for an exclusive.”

  “I’m sorry,” Derek said. “I’m confused.”

  Nikki turned to him. “Ms. Pickett is a gossip columnist. Her articles are syndicated to all the major newspapers across the U.S., and she’s also a reporter for the tabloid Spoonfed.”

  “Ah. It was nice to meet you, Ms. Pickett. But Ms. Sands is tired.” He pulled her toward the elevator, with Marne Pickett in tow.

  “And you are whom exactly to Ms. Sands?”

  “Marne, I’m not interested in an interview,” Nikki said.

  “I don’t have anything to say. I guarantee you won’t find anything good on me. Not a thing.”

  “I seriously doubt that,” Marne said and laughed. “Come now. Why don’t we have a nightcap and discuss the goings-on with Hollywood here in the outback.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Uh-huh, that’s what I figured. You always did think you were above the rest. I would have thought you’d learned by now. Not many actresses get second chances. Especially at your age.”

  “You are such a—!”

  The elevator doors opened and Derek dragged Nikki inside. He stared at her for a few seconds after they closed. “Well?”

  “What?”

  “Care to elaborate?” he asked.

  “Can we get to our room first?”

  He nodded. But the minute they walked in, the phone started ringing. Derek answered it then slammed it down. “Reporter.”

  “Marne?”

  “Maybe.”

  It rang a second time. He picked it up, slammed it down again, and then took it off the hook. Before long someone was knocking at the door. Derek cracked it to see a bellhop standing there. “Yes?”

  “Note for Ms. Sands.” He handed it to Derek.

  Nikki read it:

  You might as well give me the scoop, otherwise I’ll find it in other ways. I can make life very unpleasant. Remember? Marne.

  Boy, and how Nikki remembered. She handed the note back to Derek.

  “I think you better tell me what’s going on, but first I can see that this is going to be a problem. After what you told me about this morning, and now this.” He pulled her suitcase from the closet.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I think Kane is right. If you’re out there at the vineyard, you will be able to be on time and focus. Plus, the paparazzi can’t touch you.”

  “I don’t want to be there without you.”

  He crossed his arms. “I’ve already made plans for the next few days, so we’ll be apart as it is.” He blew out a breath. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m beginning to wonder if it’s all a sign.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, not liking at all what she was hearing.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for her hand. “Maybe you picked the wrong guy, Nikki. Maybe you should have gone to Spain with Andrés.”

  “What?” Oh no, no, no! He wasn’t going to do this to her.

  “Look at everything that’s happened. Maybe this is God’s way of letting you know you made the wrong choice. We haven’t even had a moment alone together.”

  “Oh no. No. You’re kidding me, right? You with the what ifs and this movie thing won’t change a thing? Please. Why do you do this? Why? Every time things start to head in our direction, like we might actually succeed in a relationship together, you balk at the first sign of trouble.”

  “What are you talking about?” He dropped her hand. “I don’t do that.”

  “Since we’ve met, we’ve done this roller-coaster ride—up and down, with the same old question: Will we get together, won’t we get together? Drives me crazy. You know it and I know it.”

  “You were involved with another man—”

  “For a while, yes, I was. Because no matter what kind of signal I was sending, you weren’t exactly doing anything about it. But then you’d do something, some little thing, like make a joke that you knew only I would understand, or have me to dinner and we’d hang out and watch movies . . . but nothing. You never made a real move. I finally had a man go after me, and I liked Andrés. I did. He made me feel wanted. And, hell, who knows, maybe I could have fallen in love with him. He has it all. Charm, passion, brains, and looks. He was my friend, too, but dammit—he wasn’t you. He isn’t you, and you have this thing over me. I don’t know what it is, but I also don’t know if I have a thing over you. If you can, at the first sign of any trouble, just make stupid-assed comments like ‘maybe you picked the wrong guy.’ Maybe the question should be, are you happy you picked me?”

  He hesitated. “Of course I am.”

  “Okay then. Derek, it’s time to shit or get off the pot. Your words are words and your kisses, well, they are beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.” She choked back the emotion catching in her throat. “But either you’re in, even when we have a bumpy road—and you and I both know it hasn’t ever been exactly smooth going—or you’re out. I got on that plane to come here with you because I am so in. Then all this happened.” She waved her arms in the air. “Who knew that it would? I didn’t even know a movie was being made here, and then Lucy and all of it . . . well, it’s craziness. Total craziness, and now we’re caught up in it. But if I’ve learned anything from life at this point, it’s that everything changes. It’s all temporary and it will pass. We won’t have jackass reporters hounding us, and I won’t become the next big star, and we will get back to Napa Valley, and life will be what we’ve dreamt it will be.”

  He stared at her for a long time. “What if you’re wrong?”

  She started pulling her clothes from the closet and tossing them into her suitcase. “And what if I am? Does it matter? You were the on
e who said that nothing would change, that it wouldn’t matter, and now you’re flipping the switch on me. When you’re in love with someone, does it really matter? You might want to think about that. Oh and practice what you preach.” She didn’t wait for his answer as she closed her suitcase and slammed the hotel room door behind her.

  Tears welled in her eyes as she rode the elevator down. He wasn’t coming after her. Dammit, maybe she had made a mistake. When the doors opened there stood Marne Pickett, her photographer next to her.

  “Oh no, are you crying? Dear. Talk to Marne. Let me guess: Lover’s quarrel? It does seem to be the name of the game in this business. I’m sure you’ll find yourself a new man soon enough.” The photographer raised his camera.

  “Screw you,” Nikki said and pushed it out of her face. Thank God a taxi stood out front. She jumped in and told the driver to just drive as tears rolled down her face.

  Chapter 21

  Marne Pickett, now there was a blast from the past—not a good blast either. Nikki closed her eyes and leaned back in the cab. “Miss? Uh, hullo? Where would you like me to take you?”

  She sighed. The moon might be good for starters. She didn’t have much choice. “The Hahndorf Winery, please.”

  “Good people, them Hahndorfs. Done a lot for the community. But that daughter of theirs . . . She’s a troublemaker. Heard she wrecked her mum’s car with that crazy actress. The one who died out there. Them brown snakes, gotta watch out for ’em. Kind of cold though for them to be sneaking about. Guess he was looking for a warm place to hide. He found one all right.”

  Enough with brown snakes and Lucy and wineries and movie shoots. Enough already! That’s what she wanted to scream, but instead she nodded and did her best to tune him out.