Silenced By Syrah
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Author ’s Note
RECIPE INDEX
Praise for 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 bottle of good 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 prime suspect.”—Midwest Book Review
“A perfect blend of murder and page-turning fiction!”
—Holly Jacobs
“The first in a series that has great potential . . . The Napa Valley is a lush setting, and foodies will drink in the wine lore and will savor the recipes for tasty tidbits.”
—The Mystery Reader
The Wine Lover’s Mysteries by Michele Scott
MURDER UNCORKED
MURDER BY THE GLASS
SILENCED BY SYRAH
The Horse Lover’s Mysteries by Michele Scott
SADDLED WITH TROUBLE
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.
SILENCED BY SYRAH
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / March 2007
Copyright © 2007 by Michele Scott.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
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eISBN : 978-0-425-21452-7
BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME
Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
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http://us.penguingroup.com
To my mother-in-law, Sue Vosseller,
who has read every manuscript many times over
and has always been there to encourage my dreams.
Chapter 1
Nikki Sands was going to die. She squirmed, knowing that her eyes were dark with fear. Her stomach tightened into a knot, making her feel like she was about to heave, as a barely audible sound escaped from her lips—like a faint cry for help. She did the only thing a woman in her position could. She smiled. The two men she had feelings for walked toward her: Derek Malveaux, her boss, and her maybe, kind of, boyfriend, Andrés Fernandez.
She snapped her attention back to the group of people in front of her, pouring another taste of wine for each of them and recommending a recipe for an appetizer that would match the wine. This time the wine was the Malveaux Estate Syrah, also known as Shiraz. “The nice thing about the Syrah grape,” she said to some of the many people she’d spoken to that day, “is that it pairs well with just about every kind of food.” She received nods and praises from the folks tasting the wines. “The chef has paired the Syrah with what is called a Pissaladiere, which is a French style white pizza. Feel free to take a copy of the recipe.”
Nikki pointed to a pile of cards with various recipes created for the day’s event by the vineyard’s chef, Georges Debussey. She tried hard not to look at Derek or Andrés, who had now joined the small audience. Hopefully the damn tremor in her voice was unnoticeable.
With voiced approval from the group, she finished up. “I’m sorry to say, ladies and gentlemen, that’s all I have. If you would like to order any of the wines you’ve tasted here today, please go into the gift shop, where you’ll find a table with the discount prices. We appreciate your coming out to Malveaux and hope you will enjoy the wines. If you’d like to go back and retaste any of today’s wines, feel free; and don’t forget, the spa and hotel are offering half-price packages this weekend for accommodations and services.”
“And,” Derek Malveaux added as he and Andrés neared the table, “remember that tonight is the opening of Georges on the Vineyard. We’ll look forward to having you.” He flashed his brilliant smile at them, his blue eyes lighting up his face.
The group walked through the courtyard of the new Malveaux Inn and Spa, set on the back forty of the Malveaux Estate and Winery where Derek, the owner of the vineyard, had been convinced by his brother Simon to build the mission-style boutique hotel and spa. They had been in operation for a little over a month now, but the opening of the restaurant had been behind schedule due to interior decorating conflicts.
Derek faced Nikki. “It looks to be going well,” he said. “I ran into Andrés here and told him that I knew where you were.” He gave Andrés a friendly, guy kind of pat on the shoulder.
Nikki smiled, knowing the quiver at the corner of her lips had to be giving her away. They’re just men, not anything out of th
e norm here. But talk about opposites. And, because she was either weird, demented, or probably a combination, and truth be told it had been quite some time since she’d shared her bed with anyone—not that just anyone would do—she craved both of them. What the hell was wrong with her? Derek was as blond and golden as if he had leaped straight from a Tommy Bahama ad, and about the most down-to-earth man she’d ever met. Andrés, well, “luscious” would fit nicely. Passionate, artistic, sensually dark all the way to the brown, almost black eyes that the Spaniard, at that moment, had turned her way. Not good. How to weigh charming and grounded against luscious and creative? “Great. So you decided to stop by, then?” Nikki asked.
“I did. I want to be certain we were still planning on dinner esta noche. I couldn’t reach you by cell, and I have to go take care of some business in the city for a couple of hours,” Andrés said. “So, when I saw Derek finishing up a tour of the hotel, I asked him to help me find you.”
“I had it turned off, my cell, because I’m working. I can’t take calls when I’m doing a tasting.” Did she sound like a dope or what? Confidence. Exude confidence. “Yes, yes. We are on for tonight. You betcha. I know it’ll be wonderful. Georges Debussey is a master. I’ve eaten at his place in San Francisco, and the food is divine. And the cookbook he’s been working on with Derek is going to be great.” She looked at Derek. “I took notes on the wine information for the book. Georges is a little nutty.” She shrugged. Right now she got the distinct feeling that she was looking a little cuckoo herself, rattling on and on, but she couldn’t stop. She had to fill the air with something. “And the poor designer. I caught her walking to the car last week in tears because he wanted something different for the drapes and she just let it all go on me. Telling me she didn’t think she could do it, and that her kid had been sick with the flu, and that she’d have to work overtime to get it all done. I thought she was going to kill him.” Take a breath. “In fact, I have a meeting with Georges at the restaurant here in a little while, because I got a message that he wanted me to come into the kitchen and talk about the wines and what they would work with tonight. I just hope he doesn’t yell at me. With that temper of his . . .” Shut up. Shut up. For God’s sakes quit rambling. She realized both men were watching her as if she’d landed from another planet. She couldn’t help wondering about it herself.
The band that Derek hired for the event started playing and saved Nikki. Ah yes, the fluted sounds of Peruvian music filled the air. She reminded herself to breathe again, and this time did so. “Pretty music.”
“It is,” Derek said and looked almost as uncomfortable as she felt. “Well, it’s nice to have seen you, Andrés. It looks like you’ll be here tonight, so I’m sure I’ll get a chance to visit later on. Right now I need to see how things are running over at the spa.”
Andrés shook Derek’s hand. “Yes. Thank you for leading me to this beautiful woman.”
Derek nodded at the two of them. “Nice work, Nikki. Thanks.”
She watched him walk away. If that wasn’t weird . . . Sure he was only her boss, but he’d also been her friend over the last couple of years since she’d come to work as the Malveaux Estate Winery manager, and his assistant. Then there were those moments when their eyes lingered a little too long on each other, or a joke told between them insinuated something. Something ever so slight, but it was there. Wasn’t it? Could it all be a matter of hallucination on her part? Maybe Derek Malveaux simply enjoyed the art of flirting. She’d given him plenty of opportunities, and he hadn’t grabbed one. But when she’d reached out to Andrés, he’d not only taken it, he’d run with it!
Andrés cleared his throat. “This looks to be going nicely. Are you having a good time?”
She shrugged. “It’s work, you know.”
“Uh-huh. And, Derek? He’s only your boss?”
“What does that mean? Of course, he’s only my boss.”
She tossed back her hair, which lately she’d allowed to grow long and started coloring a medium brown. She’d done it at first for fun, but then had received a lot of compliments and also found that the old adage about blondes and brunettes was true. Blondes may have more fun, but she’d found in her case that as a brunette people seemed to take her more seriously, and she liked that. Blonde had also been the look she’d clung to when she lived in L.A., pursuing an acting career that flowed about as smoothly as a roller coaster ride, until she’d finally decided to get off and get a real job. Crossing her arms over her fitted striped blouse, she took a step back from Andrés. Now the job was stable, but the relationship stuff—another trip altogether.
“I’m sorry. He looks at you as if there is more there, and maybe I’m jealous.”
She reached out and touched his shoulder. Strong shoulders and arms, the kind she liked wrapped around her—a man who worked the vineyard. Andrés was a winemaker down the road at Spaniard’s Crest. “There is nothing between me and Derek. Nada. Nothing.” There wasn’t. A wink, a smile, typical flirtation, right? But nothing in terms of it meaning anything. “Okay?”
“Fine.” He made an attempt at laughing. “It’s my nature to be, uh, maybe protective, or as you might say in English I have a bit of that green-eyed monster lying within.”
“Tell the monster to relax.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “So, you’re going into the city? Why?”
He looked down and then away from her. “Some business.”
“What kind of business?” There was something he wasn’t telling her. She could see it. She’d known him long enough to know that Andrés didn’t lie well or hide things for that matter. In fact, his straightforwardness was one of the things she liked about him. They’d been friends before they’d ever decided to venture further into this new territory of dating. And, one day he’d laid it on the line for her, telling her that he had feelings for her and wanted to be with her. As much as there had been chemistry and flirtation with Derek, there had been honesty with Andrés. She’d decided to take a chance. And, so far so good.
“Nikki, yoo-hoo.” Nikki glanced over to see Derek’s brother Simon waving at her from the corner of the courtyard. She waved back.
“He would drive me loco,” Andrés said.
“He’s sweet and harmless.”
“If you say so, but he would still drive me loco,” he repeated.
She stuck her index finger into his chest and gave it a slight jab. “He’s my friend. You be nice.”
Andrés shook his head. “I have to go anyway. I’ll see you tonight.”
“You’re keeping something from me, aren’t you? Your business in the city, what’s it about?”
He kissed her on the cheek. “We speak tonight. Go and see your friend. He appears as if he is about to wet his pants.” He laughed.
Nikki glanced back over at Simon, who was doing some kind of little dance. She figured it was to the Peruvian beat. For a gay man, Simon had zero rhythm. He waved her over and before she could stop Andrés from leaving and question him further, he headed out of the courtyard. She made her way over to Simon.
“Hi, Goldilocks. I saw you over there talking to your Spaniard. He is so divine.” He puckered his lips and kissed the air.
Nikki smacked him on the arm. Andrés did have a point about Simon being annoying. The one thing about Derek’s brother was, even though she loved him and he’d become one of her best friends in the last year, he really could be as irritating as nails on a chalkboard at times. “Do you like my new do? I think it’s kind of Stingish. He’s so sexy. I bought his new album the other day. You should get it. It’ll put you in the mood.”
Nikki rolled her eyes at him.
“Oh, oh, oh. Wait a minute. What is this? News flash! No!” He ran his hand through his newly platinum spiked locks and made a face. “You and the Spaniard haven’t been playing nasty, have you? What in God’s name is wrong with you? I would have had him swinging on a chandelier by now. My God, you’ve been seeing him for what, two months, at least? Goldilocks. I guess I can
’t call you that anymore. Hmmm, maybe Snow White. Oh God, why did you change your hair? It’s totally ruined my nickname for you. Anyway, you need to get busy, girl. I hate to say it, but you aren’t getting any younger and some other Miss Thing is gonna come along and get with it.”
Yep. Just like nails down a chalkboard. “My sex life is none of your concern.”
“Hmmm. I think it is. You need some lessons in love, Goldilocks. I’m still gonna call you that. Even with the dark hair thing going on, which I have to tell you is working. Really it is. So, vamp the rest of it up and let’s get that love life in full swing. All you need is a pep talk and there are no two people better than me and my Marco to give you the facts of life on what men want and need.” He shook a finger at her. “Oh yeah, baby. I know you have that innocent thing going for you with those green eyes, your flawless complexion—what do you use on that skin of yours anyway? And your knit sweater sets that add to the girl-next-door image have got to go, because I know lurking behind all of that fluff is a woman, a W.O.M.A.N.”
“Don’t you have to go and give someone a spa treatment or something?”
“Oh God, no. I run the place. I don’t do treatments. I do host the nine a.m. and four p.m. meditations, though. You should come. We can do a visualization thingy. The Guru Sansibaba says that anger is only pent-up sexual anxiety. Once you get in touch with that inner Goddess you’ll be free. Free to fly like the wind, my friend,” he sang out.
“I need a glass of wine. I told you I don’t want to hear that Guru Sansibaba crap,” Nikki replied. The Guru Sansibaba was a New Age kook that Simon and Marco found while on hiatus in Sedona, Arizona. They’d gone in as two materialistic, pompous gay men and had come out as two materialistic, pompous gay men who now believed they could balance people’s chakras and spout New Age wisdom courtesy of their famous guru. Man, if she could ever get her hands around that freakazoid’s neck . . . However, their return from Sedona prompted them to get more involved at the winery and vineyard, and they’d even come up with the idea of opening the hotel and spa on an area of land where the grapes didn’t grow too well.