A Killer Margarita (Nikki Sands'/Wine Lover's Mystery Series)

by Michele Scott

  “Another fun and very readable mystery by Michele Scott… Her protagonist is someone whom most women readers can identify—a modern woman with flaws and limitations just like all of us.”

  -Suite101.com

  Murder Uncorked

  “All the sparkle, complexity, and romance of a fine champagne. This mystery is one you’ll want to read right through with a good bottle of wine and some of the author’s tasty canapés at your side. I loved it and look forward to more installments.” ‑Nancy Fairbanks

  “A superb amateur-sleuth tale starring an upbeat heroine and a fabulous primes suspect.” ‑Midwest Book Review

  “Edgy and suspenseful… Sleek, smart characters add realism to a mystery made more colorful by the fabulous Napa Valley setting.” ‑Romantic Times

  Titles by Michele Scott

  The Wine Lover’s Mysteries

  Murder Uncorked

  Murder by the Glass

  Silenced by Syrah

  A Vintage Murder

  Corked by Cabernet

  A Toast to Murder

  Dog Gone Dog

  A Perfectly Purloined Pinto

  A Killer Margarita

  The Michaela Bancroft Series

  Saddled with Trouble

  Death Reins In

  Tacked to Death

  The Dead Celebs

  The Grey Tier

  Non-Series

  Happy Hour

  Young Adult

  The Clover Siblings and Zamora’s Ultimate Challenge

  Silent Harmony

  Dark Harmony

  Books by A.K. Alexander

  Daddy’s Home

  Mommy, May I?

  The Cartel

  Covert Reich

  Blood and Roses

  Hear no Evil (with J.R Rain)

  A Killer Margarita

  Michele Scott

  All rights reserved.

  This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of the copyright owner and/or the publisher of this book, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Dedication:

  For all of the readers who wanted more of Nikki

  Chapter One

  A light snowfall dusted the vineyard as Christmas lights galore twinkled brightly on the front porch of the Malveaux farmhouse.

  Nikki Sands Malveaux smiled as she lit candles on the mantel while waiting for their guests to arrive for the Christmas Eve celebration. She took a step back and sighed. Family. She had a family. Their family room was the epitome of festive with more lights, Santa Claus and angel figurines, and stockings for everyone, including their dog Ollie. His stocking held a ball, doggie treats and a squeak toy that was sure to be shredded within hours. There was a nine-foot noble fir decorated with brightly colored ornaments and lights that faced a large bay window inside the family room.

  She could hear her husband Derek singing “Jingle Bells” at the top of his lungs—badly, but still rather sweet. She never would have guessed that one day she would own and run a winery with the man she planned to spend the rest of her life with in the glorious land of Napa Valley.

  The oven timer went off and she walked back into the kitchen to take out one of the easiest and most delicious recipes she liked to put together for special occasions. As soon as she opened the oven and took out her famous stuffed mushrooms, Ollie the Ridgeback lifted his head off the mat by the kitchen door and wrinkled his nose.

  “Not for you,” Nikki said. “I do have a special treat for you though. It’s in your stocking and you can have it when everyone else gets theirs.”

  As if the large dog understood, he set his head back down and closed his eyes. Ollie’s idea of living the good life consisted of sleeping and eating. Nikki did make him get up daily to go for their run, but he wasn’t as eager as he used to be. Nikki didn’t want to admit it, but the Ridgeback had begun to show his age. She sighed. Maybe it was time to get him a younger companion. It might help increase his energy if he had a playmate.

  Mushrooms plated, cocktail plates and napkins set out, champagne on ice. The rest of the meal coming together—yep, they were about ready.

  Good thing, because only a minute later the doorbell rang.

  Nikki opened the door to find her brother-in-law Simon, his partner Marco, and their three-year-old daughter Violet.

  “Oh my booty, can it get any colder?” Simon bustled inside with Violet in his arms. He bent down and unbuttoned her coat. The toddler wore a red velvet dress trimmed in white lace that looked like it cost a fortune. Her fine, dark hair was done up in pigtails, with perfectly tied red bows. Nikki’s heart swelled at the cuteness factor.

  “What do you think?” Simon shrugged off his dark grey pea coat and twirled around.

  “I think Violet looks fabulous!” Nikki said.

  “Of course she does. What about me? I mean, us?” Simon put his arm around Marco.

  Simon wore a green cashmere sweater and a gold scarf, Marco an ice blue cashmere sweater and silver scarf.

  “You both look great.”

  “Don’t we? We are the colors of Christmas.”

  “Yes you are,” Nikki replied. “Champagne?”

  “Thought you’d never ask.” Simon sashayed his way into the kitchen.

  Marco leaned into her as they headed in the same direction. “You know this was his idea,” he said in his crisp Italian accent.

  “Pretty sure I picked up on that.”

  Ah, the boys of summer, as she had coined Simon and Marco her first summer at the vineyard. She’d never at that time imagined them as being a part of her family. In fact, back then she had imagined them as murderers. How things had changed with time. Now, she loved them both dearly: Simon, all blonde, blue eyed and filled with drama to the brim. Marco, the grounded one, all dark, all Italian and for the most part filled with logic and pragmatism to counteract his partner’s…um, creative side and flamboyance. They were a perfect match.

  “What, did Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer barf in here?” Simon asked, gesturing around the interior of Nikki’s kitchen.

  “Maybe I went a bit overboard,” she said. She’d been big into the Christmas spirit this year and had made her usually simple Spanish kitchen into an homage for Santa’s reindeers that included reindeer candle holders, two large reindeer wooden sculptures, and even a dozen or so reindeer magnets on the fridge that Violet was busying herself with at the moment.

  “You think?” Simon laughed. “I love it. You are Christmas on crack.”

  “Simon,” Marco said. “Mind yourself.”

  “I always do.” Simon held up his champagne flute, smiled and winked at them.

  “Did I hear that my niece is here?” Derek walked into the room and Nikki’s heart beat a little faster. After almost a year of marriage, that had not changed. Her husband could still take her breath away, stir butterflies in her stomach, and make her blush—and that was a very good thing.

  Derek picked Violet up and twirled her around. She giggled. Ollie removed himself from the kitchen and came over to lick the child’s face once her uncle set her down. Nikki looked away for a moment and swallowed back the twinge of emotion that had risen to her throat. There was one
area in her life that wasn’t exactly perfect—she had not been able to conceive, and both of them wanted children. It was not due to lack of trying on their part, but so far she had not gotten pregnant.

  As she poured champagne, the rest of their crew showed up: their dear friend Alyssa and her fiancé, Detective Jonah Robinson, along with Alyssa’s little boy Petie. Nikki had introduced Jonah and Alyssa in a roundabout way. Alyssa was another person she’d once suspected of murder—crazy how that happened more often than not with Nikki. It’s how she’d met some of her closest friends in Napa. She wasn’t exactly proud of the fact that she’d been dubbed the Nancy Drew of Napa Valley. Well, maybe she was a tad proud of it.

  Jonah had once been her nemesis, but they’d worked through some things with regard to what her role might be if she were to come across another dead body in the land of grapes. They’d reached a mutual agreement. Not only had Jonah become her friend, but many of the people she’d suspected of being a killer at one time (her husband included) had become family and friends. Some, however, had been killers, and she’d helped put some of them behind bars.

  “It smells delicious,” Alyssa said. “What’s for dinner?”

  “A tri-tip roast in a red wine and mushroom sauce; sweet potatoes with walnuts, chipotle, and Stilton cheese; brown sugar and bacon tossed Brussels sprouts; and caramelized onions and rosemary biscuits,” Nikki replied.

  “Glad we came. I’m starving.” Jonah rubbed his stomach.

  “Good. Let’s eat.”

  As the evening went on they shared food, drink, listened to Sinatra sing holiday tunes, then put on some contemporary Christmas music that included Fiona Apple singing her smoky voice out to “Frosty the Snowman,” while they took turns adding a few more ornaments to the tree.

  Violet and Petie sang and jumped around, excited to anticipate what Santa was going to bring them.

  After the angel was placed on top of the tree they all stood back to admire their work.

  “Beautiful,” Simon said. “Lovely.”

  Everyone murmured in agreement.

  “Oh wait,” Derek said. “I have one more ornament that I forgot. I just bought it today.”

  Nikki looked at her husband. He handed her a box. “Open it and put it on the tree.”

  “What?”

  “Just do it, Bellissima,” Marco said. “I want to know what it is.”

  Nikki opened it but didn’t understand: it was an ornament of a sombrero. “What is this?”

  “Guess where we’re going for New Years?” He wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear. She turned around to face him. All eyes were on them.

  “Where? Where are we going?”

  “We, my beautiful wife, are leaving in two days for Puerto Vallarta, Mexico!”

  “Puerto Vallarta? Oh my gosh! Really?”

  “Yes. Remember the other night when we had dinner at Costa Azul and we were talking about how delicious the food is and the margaritas and how nice it would be to just to get away and sit in the sun somewhere?”

  “I do.” She smiled.

  “So I took it to heart and got on the phone the next day and started making arrangements.”

  “You are the best husband ever.” She wrapped her arms tightly around him and looked up into his eyes. He planted his lips down on hers.

  “Yoo hoo. Okay makey-out session time is up,” Simon said. It’s time to get all rated G again, people. Little folks on the premises. Puerto Vallarta, now that sounds absolutely delightful.” He looked at Marco. “Doesn’t it? Sun, fun, drink on. So, when we going? What time does our flight leave? Oh boy, what will we do with the tiny tot?”

  “We are not going,” Derek said. “We,” he pointed at Nikki and then himself, “are going on a vacation. We are going to celebrate New Year’s—alone.”

  Simon’s lower lip fell into an immediate pout. “Wait a minute. You’re going away for the New Year?” He shook his head. “What will we do?”

  Nikki looked at Derek imploringly.

  “Oh no. No. No,” he snapped. “I know that look. This is about you and me. Going away. Some sunshine. Fun. Fiesta time. Siesta time.”

  “I know,” she said.

  “You can still have all that,” Simon stated.

  Marco laid a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “Let them go. We have the baby anyway.”

  “We can take care of her,” Alyssa, who’d had a few glasses of buttered rum, chimed in. “Petie would love having someone to play with.”

  “See that? See?” Simon said. “We have backup and we need a vacation, honey. We haven’t had any alone time since Violet came along and I think we could use some too.”

  “Great.” Derek rubbed his hands together. “Then you two can go to the South of France, or Cancun, or Russia for some alone time.”

  “Russia?” Simon said, nearly spitting out the pinot noir he’d been sipping.

  “Just saying. That your alone time can be separate from ours—”

  “It is Christmas, honey, and I don’t know, it would be fun,” Nikki interrupted. “And we can still have alone time. I like being with Simon and Marco—they’re my boys of summer.”

  Marco put an arm around Derek. “It is true. We are fun. And Bellissima there gets herself in trouble sometimes—”

  “What are you saying?” Derek asked. “It’s not as if your guy there doesn’t join the trouble. Or even instigate it.” He pointed at Simon.

  “I know, but we can keep them grounded. It will be nice, and I can speak some Spanish. It is very similar to Italian, since it is also a romance language.”

  “Ooh, I like that. Romance language,” Simon said.

  “I know I’m a detective, Derek, but looks like you are outnumbered,” Jonah chimed in.

  Derek shrugged. “I think I’m being ganged up on. Fine. We’ll all go.”

  Simon hugged him. “You are so wonderful. Oh, piñatas and tacos—and New Year’s!” Simon said in a bad Mexican accent. “Darling, we should go. Santa needs to visit and Violet needs to go to bed for that to happen. And, I need to locate my poncho.”

  “Poncho?” Derek asked.

  “It’s gorgeous. It’s green and red with a little splash of yellow. Very festive.”

  “Hmm. I can’t wait to see it.”

  “You’ll love it. Ta-ta, everyone. Muchas gracías for a joyous evening. See you in the mañana! Say bye-bye to Aunt Nikki and Uncle Derek. Time to go to bed so Santa can come by, and then Daddy and Poppy are off to the land down under in a day.”

  “That’s Australia,” Jonah said.

  “Oh whatever. Call me, Alyssa, after you’ve had your caffeine in the morning and we will figure out tiny tot details.”

  “You got it. Happy to help,” she said.

  Derek looked as if he’d been sucker punched and Nikki did feel a little bit guilty, but she loved having family around her—even if it was whacky Simon and Marco.

  Violet waved and in her little voice said, “Bye-bye.”

  It wasn’t much longer before Jonah, Alyssa and her son followed, and Nikki and Derek were alone.

  Derek turned to Nikki and said, “Poncho. My brother has a poncho that he’s bringing with him.”

  She shrugged.

  “What did you just commit me to?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry, honey. I really love being around family. We will have our alone time. We will.”

  “This is my brother we’re talking about. A poncho.” He shook his head.

  “I know, but it’ll be great. You’ll see. Promise. Now let’s find a way to celebrate our own personal Christmas.”

  “Any ideas?” he asked.

  “A few. Let’s just say that they include a poncho and a little salsa dance.”

  “Oh señora, I like the way you think. Merry Christmas, Señora Malveaux.” He kissed the tip of her nose.

  “Merry Christmas back at you, señor. Just wait. It’s about to get merrier.”

  Stuffed Mushrooms and a Little Champagne

&n
bsp; Sounds like some serious fun is on the way for Nikki, Derek and the boys—a little bit of salsa, sun, and siesta. For Nikki, this sounds about as good as it can get. And, if you know Nikki at all, you know that she likes good food and wine. This little appetizer is easy and makes a great dish for a holiday get-together. Its earthiness goes well with a little bubbly. Enjoy!

  Ingredients:

  Two to three dozen whole mushrooms (figure three a person)

  Two packages of cream cheese

  1/2 cup of green onion

  6 slices of bacon

  Directions:

  Heat oven to 350°. Spray cookie sheet with cooking spray.

  Clean, dry, and remove the stems from the mushrooms

  Cook bacon until crispy and chop

  Dice green onion

  Blend cream cheese, bacon, and green onion together. Scoop spoon-size dollops of mixture into mushrooms and place on cookie sheet. Bake at 350° for thirty minutes. Plate up and serve. Delicious. Oh, and don’t forget the champagne!

  Chapter Two

  “Pass me the guacamole, sister, and someone get some more margis over here. I’m feeling a bit parched,” Simon said.

  “Parched? I’m thinking you should be feeling a bit tanked right about now,” Nikki replied as they lay by the pool at the Four Seasons in Punta de Mita, Puerto Vallarta. Derek and Marco had walked down to the ocean to go snorkeling. Nikki and Simon decided that margaritas by the pool sounded more appealing.

  Simon lazily waved a hand at her. “Pleeeses, Snow White. I am Irish you know.” Snow White was the “affectionate” name Simon and Marco had given her some time back.

  “Okay, so what does that mean? Wait a minute. You’re not Irish. Last time I checked your last name wasn’t O’Grady. Your French—Malveaux.”

  “French, Irish, It’s all the same. The Irish like whiskey. The French like wine. Whatever I am, I can soooooo hold my liquor,” he slurred. “Oh my God!” He sat up and moved his sunglasses farther down on his nose, peering over them.