A Flair for Chardonnay

by Deborah Garner

  “Exactly what I thought,” Amber said. “But not the most important detail this morning. For one thing, we’ve had several hang-up calls already, which is freaking me out. For another, as much as I’m eager for you to fill me in, Matteo is waiting for you in your back office.”

  “Oh, that’s a relief,” Sadie said. “I thought I’d have to track him down.”

  “Besides, you need chocolate,” Amber added.

  “Yes, that, too.”

  “And if you can calm him down, maybe he’ll open his shop.” Amber leaned forward slightly to emphasize the importance of this point.

  “You’re right,” Sadie agreed, imagining standing in front of an assortment of treats, possibly that very afternoon. “I’ll talk to him.”

  Of course, it wasn’t just about the chocolate, as much fun as it was to joke about. Matteo was either in serious trouble, or needed to prove he wasn’t. Even after all the years she’d known him, she had to stay objective. Everyone is a potential suspect, she reminded herself. Don’t rule anyone out.” And if the most he was planning to do was hide behind Flair’s counter or in Sadie’s office, she had her work cut out for her.

  Sadie found Matteo sitting in an armchair that she kept in the corner of her office. It was a favorite piece of furniture, as comfortable as it was ugly. Though she did most of her work at a sturdy, Mission style desk, there were times when a sleuth just needed a place to take a cat nap. The chair filled that purpose.

  As soon as Sadie walked in, Matteo stood up and began to talk and pace before she had a chance to sit down. This didn’t surprise her. She had plenty of questions to ask him, but took advantage of his frantic energy to hear a stream-of-consciousness version of what he had to say. She placed her tote bag on the floor, reached in and lifted Coco out. Obediently, the Yorkie ran to the front of the store, where Amber would get her settled into her usual spot, a velvet cushion on the sales counter.

  “This is crazy,” Matteo burst out as Sadie sat behind her desk. “I only went to the winery to meet the guy. How was I to know I’d walk in to find him dead? You know I’m going to be accused of this. My fingerprints will be on the doorknob and my footprints are probably all over the place. I was set up, don’t you see? Someone else wanted him dead and set up the meeting to make it look like I did it.”

  “Maybe,” Sadie said.

  “Maybe?” Matteo repeated. “How can you say maybe? I think it’s obvious!”

  Sadie shook her head, the new clusters of glass grapes swinging from her ears as she did. “Nothing is obvious in a murder case, Matteo. If something looks obvious, it’s too simple. Maybe Mr. Flanagan wasn’t even the intended victim. He could have just been there at the wrong time.”

  “Well, obviously he was there at the wrong time,” Matteo said. “But if he wasn’t the intended victim, then who…oh, no! Don’t even go there!”

  “I’m just saying it’s necessary to look at every possibility.”

  “Well, count me out as a possibility, please!” Matteo’s face blanched. “I didn’t have any enemies.”

  “You don’t know that for sure,” Sadie pointed out. “For one thing, there’s a lot of animosity toward you in your family.”

  “No, that’s absurd,” Matteo shouted, causing Amber to poke her head inside the office and whisper, “Customers!”

  “For what it’s worth, Matteo, I agree with you,” Sadie said. “Disapproving of your career choice is a far cry from wanting you dead. Whoever did this was after someone else, whether Mr. Flanagan or not. And speaking of your career choice…” Sadie was interrupted by an incoming call on her desk phone.

  “Hello.” She held a finger in front of her lips to signal Matteo to be quiet. “Yes, I made it back just fine.” She paused and listened. “I’m surprised they did that.” Another pause followed, during which Sadie raised her eyebrows and looked at Matteo. “Indeed, how strange.” She watched Matteo, who frowned with frustration, unable to hear the other side of the conversation. After several more sentences, she excused herself, saying she was needed in the front of the store, but would be in touch. Little white lies only weighed lightly on her conscience.

  “Well?” Matteo ran both hands through his black hair, making him look more desperate than ever.

  Sadie leaned forward and tapped an orange highlighter against the surface of her desk. “That was Tina.”

  “What? Why didn’t you let me talk to her?”

  “Because I didn’t want her to know you were here, Matteo,” Sadie said. “But that’s neither here nor there. What’s important is that there’s new information. The police picked Tina up again this morning for more questioning. The fingerprint analysis came back and showed hers were on the doorknob, which was to be expected.

  “And?”

  “And nothing.”

  “Nothing? What do you mean nothing? You’re saying my fingerprints didn’t show up?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Tina’s were the only ones they found.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Matteo said, clearly torn between relief and confusion. “Mine should have been on there, too.”

  “Yes, I would think so,” Sadie agreed. “In fact, there should have been others on there, as well. People go in and out of that building all the time, it seems.”

  “That’s true,” Matteo agreed. “But what about Tina? Are they holding her?”

  Sadie shook her head. “No, they let her go. The medical examiner’s report shows the time of death around ten o’clock the night before. The bed and breakfast was full that night. She has at least a dozen potential witnesses who could confirm she was at the inn at that time. I happen to be one of them. She was baking muffins for the following morning. She didn’t go out.”

  “I’m glad she’s in the clear. But that still doesn’t explain why my fingerprints didn’t show up.”

  “I can only think of one reason,” Sadie said. “Someone must have wiped the door handle clean sometime after you left and before Tina arrived in the morning.”

  “Who? And why?” Matteo stopped pacing and sat down.

  Sadie shook her head. “I don’t know the answer to either of those questions. But when we find out, I think we’ll have our killer.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Sadie leaned back in her favorite overstuffed chair, plopping one furry red slipper up on the matching ottoman, then the other. Silver metallic pompoms bobbed back and forth on each slipper, causing the footwear to pick up a shimmer from the overhead track lighting. She pulled the lower folds of her matching chenille robe over her knees and picked up a goblet of wine from a side table. She’d specifically detoured from Tremiato wine, instead pulling a bottle of French Burgundy from a small collection in her dining room. A little distance from the animated Italian family might do her some good, or at least allow her some objectivity.

  Looking out over the scenic San Francisco skyline, Sadie took advantage of the quiet to run recent events through her mind. On the one hand, each Tremiato family member she’d met seemed crazy enough to be involved with a murder, though Matteo and Tina both struck her as slightly more sane than the rest. On the other hand, not one person seemed to have a motive for killing a man connected to a business that had dropped its involvement with the winery. Except…well, she hated to even think of it…but someone being pressured might be motivated to get rid of the pressure. Was Matteo capable of that? She doubted it. He seemed far too stressed to have pulled off something like that.

  Stefano, however, aside from his concern over Tina, seemed far calmer. How genuine was that concern? That was a tough question.

  Sadie set the wine down and watched Coco tear across the floor with a stuffed velvet lobster in her mouth, a souvenir from a case she’d solved in New England. The red fabric toy matched her bathrobe almost perfectly.

  Luisa was too hard to read. Clearly loyal to her mother, she obviously resented the inferior position her brothers put her in as far as business matters were concerned. But there wasn
’t any direct connection between Luisa and Mr. Flanagan or the Serrano-Flanagan acquisition deal that Sadie could see. Angelo and Matteo seemed to have handled most of that. The friction between Luisa and her brothers seemed like normal sibling rivalry, though with a sexist slant. The male members of the family felt they were better equipped to run the winery.

  Tina didn’t seem to be subjected to the same condescending viewpoint, but she was running an entirely different type of business, one that the men folk probably thought appropriate for a woman. Plus, she wasn’t a Tremiato by birth, only by marriage. That had to play a part, too.

  Who else was there? Elena? Sadie thought back to the family matriarch’s statement the morning the body was discovered. “I told him he’d be sorry if he didn’t stay away.” No, in spite of that comment, Elena had been far too upset that morning. Either she was an Oscar-caliber actress, or she had nothing to do with the murder. And Angelo just didn’t seem like a strong enough personality to have anything to do with the whole mess. But Sadie didn’t know him any better than she knew Luisa. Perhaps he had hidden depths of rage.

  Dean Martin’s voice interrupted Sadie’s thoughts, startling her. She’d forgotten she’d changed her ring tone to “That’s Amore” upon her return to San Francisco. She set the wine goblet down as gently as possible and grabbed her phone, to see Tina’s now-recognizable phone number.

  “Sadie,” Tina blurted out before Sadie could even say hello. “The police have picked me up again! I’m being set up, I’m sure of it now.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sadie watched the red lobster disappear under the sofa. This didn’t surprise her at all. Coco had never been fond of Dean Martin.

  “They showed up this evening with a warrant, asking to search the inn a third time. How ridiculous is that? Said they’d gotten an anonymous tip and had to follow through.”

  Probably looking for more bruschetta, Sadie thought.

  “But why did they pick you up? Sadie asked. “They couldn’t have found anything they didn’t find the first two times.”

  “But they did!” Tina cried. “And that’s what doesn’t make sense. You know they searched thoroughly before and didn’t find anything. But now, suddenly, they found a cork in the kitchen cabinet.” Tina’s voice fell away as she sobbed. A full minute passed before she regained her composure. “You see why I’m saying I’m being set up? They would have found that before if it had been there. Someone planted it. That’s the only thing that could have happened.”

  “Well…” Sadie paused, uncertain what to say next. Tina was understandably distraught, but Sadie’s best approach would be to stay impartial — or at least rational. Someone needed to be, and it certainly wasn’t going to be Tina, not at this point. Sadie searched for a soothing response, but Tina spoke before Sadie could come up with anything.

  “I’m sure it was Stefano,” Tina said, still choking back sobs. “I told you he can’t be trusted. And you know he was there after the second time they searched the inn. You sat at the table with us. You saw him go to the cupboard to get sugar — that same cupboard where they found the cork. Don’t you see, Sadie? He planted it there, all the while coming by during the workday to supposedly see how I was doing. Why won’t people believe me?” Again, Tina dissolved into sobs, and Sadie heard an official-sounding voice telling her it was time to hang up. With a muddled goodbye, the line went dead.

  Sadie pressed a few buttons, put the phone down and picked up her wine as Coco peeked out from under the couch. “It’s safe to come out, Coco,” she said. “I’ve changed the ringtone to Santana, just for you.”

  Tina had a point. Stefano had arrived quite unexpectedly just after the detectives left the second time. And he had gone to the cupboard for sugar. He could have easily slid the cork in there as he removed the sugar. It was convenient timing, for sure. But it was also too obvious. Stefano didn’t seem like someone who’d set up a trap that could lead back to him so easily. If the cork was planted, it had to be by someone more obscure. For example, the kind of someone who walks into an inn using a cane and walks out without needing it.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Sadie arrived at Flair the next morning to find Amber enjoying a dark chocolate truffle, one of a dozen or so that filled a small tray on the store’s front counter.

  “Matteo opened his shop today, I take it.” Sadie leaned forward, looking over the selection. She chose one that promised coconut inside and popped it unto her mouth.

  Amber wrapped her hands around a coffee mug and took a sip, eyeing Sadie carefully.

  “You don’t look as excited as I thought you’d be, Sadie. You were practically in withdrawal when you returned from your weekend.” Pushing the chocolate aside, she took Sadie’s tote bag from her and lifted Coco out, setting her down in her usual spot.

  “I have mixed feelings,” Sadie admitted. Amber raised an eyebrow. Sadie was never ambivalent toward chocolate. “Not about the chocolate, of course. And I’m glad to see the shop open,” she continued. “I’m sure Matteo lost business the last few days. But I’m not sure opening was a wise decision.”

  “You think he’s in danger?”

  “I’m not sure,” Sadie admitted. “But I think it’s possible. I wish he had an assistant who could run the shop while this whole thing gets resolved.”

  “He’s never wanted anyone to help him,” Amber said. “I’ve had so many friends who wanted to work there, but he never hires anyone.”

  “Matteo likes to be in control. And this is his life, running that business,” Sadie added. “He doesn’t mind working every day.”

  “Except the last couple of days,” Amber pointed out. “I’ve never seen him freaked out like that. I guess it makes sense. It’s not every day you find out someone was murdered on your family’s property.”

  “No, it’s not every day,” Sadie repeated, not wanting to share the additional details surrounding Matteo’s involvement. It was complicated enough without Amber tossing in her animated two cents’ worth. Sadie often wanted to include her in the specifics of her cases, but chose to keep a line between shop business and investigative affairs.

  A bell chimed as a customer entered. The older woman headed immediately to a sale area at the back of the shop, and began flipping through a display of discounted sweaters. She lifted a purple cardigan off the rack and held it up in front of herself, before a mirror.

  “I see Mrs. Abernathy is still looking at the same sweater.” Sadie lowered her voice enough that only Amber could hear.

  “Every day,” Amber whispered.

  “Ten bucks says she buys it by the end of the week.” Sadie grinned, waiting for Amber to take the bait.

  “You’re on!”

  Sadie disappeared into the back office to set down her empty tote bag and purse. She checked her voice mail, finding only two messages, one about a delayed shipment of copper bracelets and the other a computer-generated solicitation for web services. Pulling a few dollars from her wallet, she headed next door.

  Matteo was behind the counter, inserting a tray of miniature peanut butter pumpkins in the display case, a specialty he only made each October. He looked content to be back in his normal environment, yet had the rough edges of a man who’d clearly suffered a few sleepless nights.

  “Good morning, Sadie.” Matteo’s attempt to sound like it was any ordinary day failed. He was too falsely chipper.

  “Is it a good morning?” Sadie asked. She looked around to make sure the shop was empty before continuing. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to be open.”

  Matteo took a raspberry truffle out of the case and tossed it over the counter. Sadie caught it with the finesse of a major league catcher, but didn’t fall for the diversion tactic.

  “Thanks, but you’re dodging the issue.”

  “There is no issue,” Matteo said. “You said my prints weren’t found anywhere, so there’s no reason for me to hide. Not that there is, anyway, since I’m not guilty. Besides, I’m losing bus
iness by staying closed. And I have to keep my customers happy.” He tossed another truffle at Sadie, this one pistachio cream.

  “Well, I have to admit I’m glad you’re not hiding behind counters anymore, but I wish you’d let someone run the shop for you, just for a few days, until this mess gets sorted out.” Sadie paused. “Have you heard from Tina?”

  “As a matter of fact, no,” Matteo said. “Which strikes me as odd. With all this going on, I’d think she would call to let me know she’s OK.”

  “Ah…then you don’t know.” Sadie did some quick thinking.

  “Know what?” The concern on Matteo’s face made Sadie wish she had better news.

  “I’m sorry, Matteo, but it seems the police picked her up again. She called me last night from the jail.” Sadie winced at the explosion she knew was coming.

  “What? She called you last night? And didn’t even call me? Why would she do that?”

  “Maybe she didn’t want to connect your phone number to the police station. She might have been trying to protect you.” Sadie said. “She was only allowed one call. She knew I’d come talk to you. The town is small enough for the word of her arrest to have spread to Stefano and your family lawyer without Tina needing to call either of them. I figured she would be bailed out by now and would have called you.”

  “No, I haven’t heard from her,” Matteo said. “Or from our attorney, Nick Perry. I wonder if he’s blinded by his affection for Luisa. I hear they’ve been dating since negotiations with Serrano-Flanagan ended. He’s been a bit off his game since that whole disaster. He didn’t say outright that he was in favor of our selling, and publicly appeared not to care either way, but I never thought he was objective enough.”

  “That’s an interesting opinion. How does your mother feel about Nick?”

  “She adores him, from what Tina has told me. She thinks he’s about to become her fourth son. But I find it hard to believe that Luisa has gone that soft. Still, I haven’t spoken to her directly in at least two years.”