Murder Before Moscato_A Vineyard Winery Culinary Cozy Mystery

by Christie Waters

  Call me before someone else gets hurt

  998-522-6721

  “Should we call it?” Shelly asked.

  “Probably not.” I answered.

  “Okay.” Shelly said.

  “Okay.”

  “You dial.” She handed me the phone.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘RING RING’

  ‘RING RING’

  I held a finger across my lips as the phone line answered. My eyes grew wide as I looked to Shelly. But there was no voice coming from the other end, only the sound of silence. I listened for anything, any sign of background noise or heavy breathing but I heard nothing.

  “What’s going on?” Shelly whispered.

  “Shhh…” I mouthed, still listening for anything.

  I knew from the note that whoever was on the end of the line was likely dangerous and it wasn’t in my best interest to surprise a dangerous stranger, was it? Whoever was listening to me was waiting for me to make a move, though, as far as I knew they had no idea who I was. I guess, come to think of it, they might think I was the woman from the wine club.

  I listened for a few more minutes until finally deciding there was no point in continuing the phone call. But just as I pulled the phone away from my face I finally heard something…

  “I heard a train.” I said to Shelly.

  “Train tracks?” She asked.

  “No.” I said. “A whistle. But it was definitely a train.”

  “There are a million trains…” Shelly replied.

  “Yes.” I answered. “But not here.”

  There was only one train within miles of me, well… at least one functioning one. The California gold rush created and then left behind a few other tracks. But, like the towns they led to, they were abandoned. There were ghost towns scattered all around my new home, remnants of a time most of the world had forgotten.

  As far as I knew there was only one still functioning train around. A beautifully restored passenger line that led its guests through the lush countryside of wine country. The train was especially popular around the holidays, adding a few more runs to its daily lineup.

  “It’s the passenger train.” I said. “It only goes past one neighborhood. Whoever was on the line must have been in one of those houses.”

  “Okay…” Shelly raised an eyebrow.

  “We need to go there.” I said. “We need to find them.”

  “That sounds dangerous.” She said.

  “As dangerous as doing nothing? This person might be responsible for the murder of two different men, our neighbors.”

  “I don’t know…” She said.

  “What if this is the same person that broke into my home. I need to find them. I need to figure out what’s going on. I can’t just sit here and wait...”

  “It makes sense if you want it to, I guess. But it still sounds crazy. We’re not police officers, we’re not private investigators. I mean, honestly… we’re barely winemakers yet. I just think running around looking for murders is something you and I aren’t the two best equipped people in the world at doing.”

  “You’re one-hundred percent right, Shelly. But I still have to do what I have to do. I have to check it out.” I said.

  “Well then.” She responded. “So be it. What’s the worst that could happen, right?”

  “I’d prefer not to think about that right now.” I smiled.

  Ten minutes and one black hoodie later is all it took to send me on my way. I knew my best friend was right, I knew this was a bad idea. Honestly, it was probably one of the worst ideas I’d ever had. But sometimes even logic can’t fight emotion. Pulling the strings of my hoodie tighter around my neck I grabbed the door handle and gave it a quick turn.

  “Daniel!” I said, opening the door. “What are you…”

  Daniel Haddish was one of the last people I’d have expected to see in that moment, especially given the way our last conversation had gone. But there he was, standing in my doorway with a worried look on his face.

  “I need you to come with me.” He said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I need to show you something.” He said.

  “I’m busy.” I answered.

  “Trust me… you’re gonna want to see this.”

  “I’ll see it tomorrow.” I said. “I’m sure whatever it is can wait.”

  “It might be too late tomorrow.” He said. “Trust me, you need to see this now!”

  I could hear worry and urgency in his voice. Whatever he wanted to show me was certainly important to him, but I couldn’t get the sound of that train out of my head. All I wanted to do was figure out what was happening and prove to the world that my vineyard wasn’t distributing poison wine.

  “Just get in the car with me.” He said. “You need to see this. And I need answers.”

  “Answers?” I asked. “Answers to what?”

  “Please don’t make me keep saying it, Zara.” He said. “Just get into the car with me.”

  A few minutes later Daniel and I were speeding down the hilly roads of Mendocino County. The night air was cold and brisk as it washed over me from the seat of Daniels black convertible. I’d never thought of myself as the convertible kind of girl, but I had to admit the rush of California air did seem to help calm my shattered nerves.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, as we rounded a sharp curve. “This isn’t the way to your vineyard.”

  “To my house.” He said.

  “I thought your house was in your vineyard…”

  “That’s my family’s house, yes.” He replied. “I moved out a while ago. Once living with Molly became too problematic.”

  “Oh...” I said.

  I wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something in his voice that made me stop short of asking any more questions about his house or his sister. Even though he’d been the one to show up unannounced at my house at such a late hour I still felt like I should be respectful of his personal space. He did, after all, seem to be pretty worried.

  A few minutes later we came to a long driveway and turned in. It was late and dark, but I could still make out most of the house. It was small, a modern two story white thing with a blue shingle roof and blue shutters. It looked more like something you’d see along the East coast rather than in Mendocino County.

  “This is nice…” I said, stepping out of the car.

  “I like it.” He smiled at me. “It’s where I come to hide from the world. My own fortress of solitude.”

  “I’m sure you get plenty of company…”

  “Nope.” He smiled. “Not here. Most people think I live at the vineyard and I like to keep it that way.”

  “That’s either really sweet or really creepy.” I said. “I’ll let you know once I decide.”

  “I’ll hold my breath…” He turned the door handle.

  The door opened into a quite lovely and well-appointed living room with white walls and bright hardwood floors. Blue throw pillows sat stacked on an overstuffed white cotton couch in the middle of the room. Both the décor and the cozy feel of the house made it seem like the kind of place I could see myself in and I wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but something smelled absolutely amazing.

  “Would you like something to drink?” He asked, handing me a glass of white wine.

  “No.” I snapped. “You said you had something you needed to show me. So do it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Can we just take a minute?” Daniel asked.

  “Take a minute?” I said. “I thought whatever you brought me here to see was super important. So much so that I had to come with you right away…”

  “It is.” He said. “But I still feel like we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot or something. You’ve been here for almost three years and until two weeks ago we hadn’t spoken.”

  “Yeah?” I replied.

  “It shouldn’t be that way.” He sat on a large white chair. “We’re in the same business, we could help one another
. Or at the very least we could have a common ground, one that doesn’t double as a mine field…”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “High school…” He said.

  “High school?”

  The truth was I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. I remembered high school, sure. Who didn’t, right? But I failed to see what, if anything, it could possibly have to do with him.

  “We went to the same school.” He said.

  “Yes… I know.”

  “I just wanted to apologize for snapping at you the other day… when I came to your house.”

  “What?” I asked. “What does that have to do with high school, and what does either one have to do with anything else?”

  You know that feeling you get when you walk into a room and think everyone is already talking about something private, that no matter who you speak to you’ll be interrupting something that doesn’t involve you? Well… that’s the way I felt I that moment. It was like I’d only heard pieces of conversations that had nothing to do with me. Only…. I was the only other person in the room.

  “I had a crush on you.” He said flatly. “And not a small one either… but it seemed no matter what I did I couldn’t get you to notice me.”

  “What?” I asked, taking a seat across from him.

  “When I heard you were moving back to town and that you were single I’d hoped you might notice me. But the longer it went on, the more upset I became.”

  “Daniel…” I said. “This is all news to me. I barely even remember you in high school. You were older than me.”

  “I know.” He said. “But once I found out you requested the competition be held at Chateau de Midnight all of those old feelings came back. It was an overreaction and I just wanted to apologize now.”

  “Fine.” I said. “You’re forgiven.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.” I replied. “But why do you keep saying I requested the competition be held in my vineyard? I did no such thing…”

  “What?” He wrinkled his forehead. “Then why was it moved?”

  “I don’t know.” I said. “I just received a letter in the mail telling me that the club selected my vineyard as the location, and that all I had to do was accept. So, I agreed.”

  “No.” He said. “That doesn’t make sense. The competition was originally to be held at Glass Rose. The club contacted me, saying it was to be moved due to your persistence.”

  “What?” I asked. “That’s crazy… Why would I insist the competition be held in my vineyard?”

  “I don’t know.” He said. “I assumed you wanted the publicity. I mean, that’s why I agreed to host it.”

  “Yeah…” I said. “The publicity would be nice, but honestly I don’t know that I’m ready for that yet.”

  “Well then I don’t know.” He said.

  “Why did you bring me here?” I asked. “Was it just for this, or did you actually have something to show me?”

  “No.” He replied. “I actually have something to show you. Follow me.”

  We walked through the small house, past the kitchen and formal dining area until finally reaching a door near the back wall. He placed his hand on the door handle then turned and looked at me. There was something in his eyes, a mix of trepidation and nerves that I hadn’t seen in him before. In the little time we’d spent together he’d always been confident and sure of himself. Tonight however, I’d seen another side of him, a softer and more vulnerable side.

  With a deep breath he opened the door. On the other side was an office with deep blue walls and a large cherry-wood desk in the middle. The entire room was trimmed in gold and bronze, with awards for Glass Rose Vineyards taking residence on most of the shelves and table tops. It was a beautiful room, but that wasn’t why he brought me there.

  Scattered across almost every inch of the room were what looked like surveillance photos. It took me a second to take it all in, but once I had I realized that at least half of the photos were of me. The rest were a mix of Conner Ford and Charlie Roberts, the two men that were poisoned over the last few days.

  And as if that weren’t unnerving enough, there were at least fifty bottles of wine, some of them uncorked scattered around the room. I recognized them immediately as the bottles that had been stolen from my house. My own private collection.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  “I don’t know…” He said. “I came home to find it like this. That’s when I came to get you.”

  “Why didn’t you show me as soon as I got here?” I asked. “What was all of that talk?”

  “I didn’t know how you would react. I needed you to see me, to get to know me, even for a minute or two. I wanted you to know that this wasn’t my doing. I’m not the one who took these photo’s…”

  “Are you the one that stole the wine?” I asked.

  “No.” He replied.

  “Someone robbed my cellar. These bottles are from my private collection.”

  “I’m so confused…” He ran a hand through his thick dark hair.

  “You’re not the only one.” I said. “Why didn’t you call the police?”

  “Because…” He said. “I can’t.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Like I told you. Living with my sister hasn’t been the easiest of situations lately. We have a large deal in the works now, one that if it goes through will change my life forever. If Glass Rose gets any bad press whatsoever we could lose that deal. I can’t let that happen.”

  “What?” What kind of deal? And how does that make living with your sister harder?”

  “Glass Rose is for sale.” Daniel sighed. “When our parents died my father left me fifty one percent of the company. I hold the majority share, so I choose if we sell… Molly is against it, she’ll use anything she can to stop the purchase. Police presence at my house and a link to poisoned wine would be just the ammunition she needs.”

  “Why do you want to sell?” I asked.

  “It’s hard to explain. I just feel like I’ve been here long enough. That’s why I was so upset when you didn’t know the layout of the competition. It would be a small victory, but it would look good for me. Especially now.”

  “Where do you want to go?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I just want to look somewhere else. I mean, look at you… You went to New York, you chased your dreams and lived this whole adventure. I want that experience before its too late.”

  “I still ended up back here.” I said.

  “That may be true.” He smiled. “But you still did it. You still dreamt a dream, then woke up and chased it. No one will ever be able to take that away from you. And if later you look back at it as a mistake, then at least it’s your mistake. One you made on your own.”

  “I figured you loved being a vintner.” I said.

  “Why…” He sighed. “Because my family does… because I was born into it?”

  “Maybe…” I replied.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The truth was I knew exactly where he was coming from. I’d felt exactly the same way he had, only my feelings began bubbling up much sooner. I felt for him, I really did. It’s hard growing up in a business like winemaking if you don’t love it, and sometimes even if you do. I’m sure it was similar to any family business in a lot of ways, but a winery was a beast all its own.

  So much care, so much time and personal energy was required if you planned on producing anything, especially if you cared about quality. Winemaking was such that if you let it, it would take over your life completely. Soaking its way into every aspect of your day, tinting your thoughts and decisions with the juices of your vines.

  “It’s not that I dislike the business.” He said. “It’s just that… those grapes, those vines… the wine. None of it is mine, really. Everything in that vineyard was planted by my father, or my grandfather. I can’t help but sometimes feel like I’m doing nothing but babysitting a business I didn’t b
uild. If that even makes sense…”

  “No.” I said. “I get it. I really do. But we need to call the police. Just look at this…”

  I could still barely believe what I was seeing. There were pictures of me everywhere, some from far away, others so close I wondered how I hadn’t noticed them being taken. And from the looks of it whoever had been following me had been doing it for a while. Almost every picture was from a different day, some even from different seasons.

  “No.” He said again. “We can’t. I can’t have this kind of press. Not now… I get if you don’t understand.”

  “Don’t understand?” I snapped, his words sending a wave of anger through me. “I understand perfectly. How do you think I feel? I was already stressed out enough having to host this thing, then someone dies in my vineyard. Now they’re saying it was my wine that did it.”

  “I just have a lot riding on this now.”

  “And I don’t?” I snapped again. “I may have left, sure. But I came back. This is my business now. Those vines are growing because I make sure they’re cared for, the barrels, the grapes, the bottles… all of it. It’s all in my hands now and that means something to me. So don’t imply my situation is somehow less important than yours, Daniel. We serve the same clientele, we run in the same circles and produce the same product.”

  “Why are you making this so difficult?” He asked.

  “Making this difficult?” I repeated. “Are you serious with this?”

  “Yes.” He said. “I’m asking for a simple favor…”

  “You’re asking me to withhold evidence from the police in an ongoing investigation. Not to mention the pictures of me covering the room. My private wine collection scattered everywhere…”

  “Where were you going?” He asked.

  “What?”

  “When I came and picked you up… you had a black hoodie tied around your head and you were in a big rush. Where were you headed?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” I asked.

  “I answered your questions didn’t I?”

  “Out.” I snapped. “I was headed out.”