“She came into the barrel room early. She seemed okay but said she couldn’t sleep. I gave her some work to do. Thought it would help.”
“Thanks.”
“You okay?”
I shrugged. “I’ve been better.”
“You don’t have to talk about it. ’Course, if you want to, I’ll listen.”
I repeated the conversation with Antonia. Then he sighed. It was the guy sigh. It’s when they want to tell you what to do but know that when they try, it’s going to end poorly.
Before he could once again launch into why my involvement was a bad idea, the phone rang.
I hate to answer the phone.
I refuse to answer the phone.
I snatched it up before the end of the first ring.
“Coward,” he said.
I shrugged.
“I can’t believe Thomas and I missed everything.” Ross stopped. “That sounded terrible. I didn’t mean to sound callous. Todd was terrific. Are you okay? Todd was hit with a bottle on the back of the head. Then he was pushed into the crusher.”
Small-town gossip at work. “One thing at a time. How do you know Todd was hit and then pushed?”
“The chief was in here first thing this morning to talk to Joanne. She works part-time in the gift store.”
“I suppose Lucas wanted to ask her about Todd. See if there was anything she could add that could help to explain why this happened.”
“I heard most of the conversation. He wanted her to know that at least Todd hadn’t suffered.”
“I guess that’s something to be grateful for. I’m surprised she came into work.”
“She isn’t working. Said she just wanted to be around people. She doesn’t have any family in town.”
“When did she start working for Thomas?”
“She goes to school in Monterey. Wants to be a marine biologist, and works there when she’s out of school.” Ross paused. “Lucas wanted to talk to her, so they decided to meet here. We heard the whole conversation.”
No surprise there. “Tell you what. Why don’t I come into town for lunch and say hello to Joanne?”
“I think she’ll be okay with that, if I tell her you were a witness and want to help Lucas. If you’re here soon, you can try my truffle frittata.”
“On my way.”
By the time I was ready to go, Connor was back in the vineyards. I glanced at him as I drove by. A mistake. I got the look. I waved and became engrossed in adjusting the side mirror.
The morning was bright and brisk as I tooled down the two-lane road connecting Cypress Valley to the coast and the town of Cypress Cove.
Monterey, to the north, would be busy for the weekend as tourists and visitors from the south made their way up Highway 1 from Santa Barbara and Los Angeles. I merged with traffic then took the next right and made a sharp left onto Ocean Boulevard, the main artery of Cypress Cove.
If elves were to design and build a town, it would be this one. Angular and moss covered, with every roof pitched, every doorway arched. A temperate climate allowed for flowers year round, which grew in profusion from every available bit of earth.
I narrowly missed an errant tourist in the middle of the road and pulled into the parking lot. A tree-lined path connected the lot to the front of the building and the lobby. I walked to the main entrance, which was shared by Sterling and Beauty and the Bean, the coffee and gift shop. Flowers flanked the door, large pots of marigolds and chrysanthemums in bright yellow and bronze.
Mouthwatering aromas wafted into the lobby. I opened the front door to the restaurant and entered the main dining area.
I headed to the display of desserts, my favorite food group. Pastries and cakes with mountains of whipped cream were housed in glass cases designed to keep out marauders like me. Autumn blossoms, artfully arranged in hollowed gourds, graced the tops of the cases and tables. The whitewashed stucco walls and rough tile floor made the restaurant cool and inviting, even on the hottest days.
I reached into the glass case for a chocolate-covered strawberry and saw the reflection of a woman on the patio. Her head was slumped forward and she wiped away a tear. Slightly plump, with masses of unruly red hair, she looked like a garden fairy herself. Although the sun was warm, she pulled at the moss green sweater around her shoulders.
I walked over to the double doors and stepped into the morning sun. Joanne didn’t look up as I dragged a chair over to her side of the patio table. I hated to interrupt her thoughts, to break the silence, but my desire to learn more about Todd compelled me forward.
She suddenly focused her soft blue eyes on me. “Are you Penny?”
“You must be Joanne.”
She held out her hand to shake mine, and there was a slight tremble.
“I feel like I know you. Your photographs are beautiful. I wish . . .” She stopped.
I knew she was thinking of the wedding pictures I’d never take. “I know. Me too.”
Joanne took a ragged breath. “Ross said you wanted to talk about Todd.” Her eyes held questions.
“Thanks for seeing me. You see, I found him.” I hurried on, before she could ask any specifics I couldn’t bring myself to answer. “Also, my niece was the last person with Todd before he, I mean, before . . .”
Joanne closed her eyes, but not in time to stop the tears. “Todd was the nicest person I’ve ever known. I can’t imagine anyone doing this to him.”
“How long did you date?”
“A little over a year. Todd grew up in Monterey. He was visiting his mother when I met him. He grew up as an only child and was really close to her, especially after his dad died. They came into the Monterey Bay Aquarium, where I was doing research. It took him a while but eventually he asked me out.”
“He seemed to like the work he did at Martinelli.”
“I guess. Oh, don’t get me wrong. He loved his work. Viniculture came naturally to Todd. He was learning as much as he could about the business and about Martinelli Winery. It wasn’t easy for him, though. Marvin Karp is the manager over there, and he always acted like Todd was after his job. Todd couldn’t go to him for help and Marvin said some things that upset Todd.”
“I know Marvin. What kind of things did he say?”
“He pretty much let Todd know there wasn’t a future for him at Martinelli. I told Todd not to worry about Marvin, but now I think there was something to Todd’s concerns. I wonder, if Todd kept showing promise, if there was a chance Antonia might have offered him Marvin’s job.”
“Marvin’s very good, but if Todd proved better, it’s a definite possibility. Antonia’s first loyalty has always been what’s best for the winery. How did Todd get along with the family?”
Joanne let out a sigh. “Great, at first. Stephen likes whatever his mother likes. And Francesca isn’t at the winery very often, so that wasn’t the problem.”
“But there was a problem,” I prompted when the silence lengthened.
Joanne looked out over the patio garden. “Have you ever met a woman who couldn’t resist the challenge of a new man?” Joanne didn’t wait for an answer. “Chantal is like that. We’d just started dating when Todd went to work for the Martinellis, but Chantal threw herself at him. She just can’t help herself. Todd didn’t want any part of it. Then Stephen got involved.”
“He was angry at Todd?”
Joanne shook her head. “No, funny enough. I mean at first he was. He thought Todd led Chantal on. As if she needed any encouragement. But after Todd told him he wasn’t interested in Chantal, Stephen backed off.”
“Did Antonia know about Chantal and Todd?”
“I’m sure she did. Antonia doesn’t miss much.” Joanne turned her face into the morning sun and exhaled deeply. “He was so excited when he got that job. He still enjoyed it, even after the drama with Chantal.”
“How did Chantal handle it?”
“Not well. She’s used to getting her way.” Joanne paused, biting her lip. “She disappeared for a while. That is, she went on a binge. She likes to party and then she likes to go to the ‘spa.’ At least that’s what they call it, but everyone knows the truth. There’s a clinic just north of Monterey that the old money in the valley uses.”
I knew the clinic. “Did she check herself in?”
Joanne pushed herself away from the table and we both stood. “Antonia insisted. She makes sure Chantal stays hidden when she gets sloppy. It isn’t good for the winery if one of the family members has a problem with alcohol. Or pills. Chantal’s been on and off of both, for years.”
Joanne leaned on the table. “Somewhere around that time, she started seeing someone else, and she and Todd actually managed to become friends. It was almost like she trusted him because he never let her play her games on him.”
“Who did she start seeing?”
Joanne shrugged. “Todd didn’t know. She wouldn’t tell him, but it was clear it wasn’t anyone good for Chantal. That was when she got bad—with the drugs and drinking, I mean.”
“I wonder if Stephen knows who it was. He seems overly protective, even for a big brother.”
Joanne smiled softly. “Oh, you noticed that, did you? Stephen acts like Chantal is made of glass.”
“How much time have you spent around them?”
“When I wasn’t working I went and kept Todd company, so I saw them when they came into the tasting room.”
“Is Stephen always this protective of his sister?”
“Every time I’ve seen them. It’s irritating, but I’ve never heard Veronica complain about it. She was a nurse in Monterey before marrying Stephen. It seems like she’s fit right into that family, but I wonder how it’s working. Can you imagine sharing a house with Antonia?”
“Not remotely. How long have they been married?”
“It’s been years. Todd heard Antonia tell Veronica to start having children. Antonia wants heirs to continue the family legacy and inherit the winery. Stephen’s being groomed to be the lucky recipient.”
“I heard about that. Francesca doesn’t hide how much she wants the winery.”
“Well, you’ve picked up quickly on all the Martinelli family secrets.” Joanne smiled. “It’s funny, but Francesca’s more like her mother than she’d ever admit. She’d love to get her hands on the winery, but Antonia is determined to leave it to Stephen. I think that’s what infuriates Francesca more than anything. Antonia was given an opportunity that she won’t give her own daughter.”
“I’m not a fan of Francesca’s, but I can understand that.”
Joanne rubbed her temples, her eyes closed.
“Let’s go inside.” We walked to the patio door. “Just one more question.” I thought about Todd, and the wedding photos. “Todd came to my house, to ask me . . .”
“I know, about being our photographer.”
I nodded. “He acted like there was something on his mind. Do you know what that might have been?”
“No. To be honest, we’ve mostly talked about the wedding the last couple of weeks.”
“If you think of anything, please call me. It would be something to do with the winery. Something that bothered him. Anything that might explain why he was out at the crusher alone that late at night.”
Joanne paled. “Is that where it happened?” She reached out and I grabbed her by the arm. “Lucas said he’d wait to tell me the rest when I was feeling stronger.”
Damn. “He was hit over the head. He was unconscious, and felt nothing.” I held her eye and willed her to believe me. I needed to believe it myself.
She nodded and steadied herself as I held open the door for her. We chose a window table and Joanne stopped and turned to me.
“I understand it wasn’t an accident, but I’d assumed it was a random murder. A robbery that Todd walked in on, or some terrible chain of events. Why all these questions about the Martinellis?”
“I’m just trying to understand what happened.”
Her eyes welled up. She turned to face the window. “I hope you figure it out. I still can’t believe he’s gone. How could this happen in Cypress Cove? Things like this never happen here.”
Outside, a web stretched from the window frame to the potted marigolds. As a trapped honeybee struggled, a spider descended the spindled thread.
Joanne watched for a moment, then shuddered and turned away. “At least, they never have before.”
Ten
“TO fully appreciate the bouquet, twirl the glass several times. This allows the undertones of fruit, in this case pear, to rise from the glass.” Connor held the glass up to the light. “Also, notice the faint amber hue of this wine. This is caused by using more of the Cabernet grapes.”
I poured a glass from the bottle in front of me, picking up where Connor had left off. “In this Syrah, on the other hand, you can see the difference in the color, which is a clear, true burgundy.”
On the first Tuesday evening of every month, Connor and I teach wine-tasting classes in town at the Cypress Cove Civic Center. The class is just an overview of what many consider an art and a lifelong study, but it helps when trying to distinguish between different labels and vintages. The tourists enjoy it, and it keeps our labels fresh in their minds when they return home and wander down the wine aisles in their local markets. In any event, Connor and I enjoy sharing our knowledge. The evenings can be fun.
When tasting, you’re supposed to refrain from drinking the entire taste. You empty the remainder in the vessel provided and move on to the next selection. In classes given on wine appreciation at the college, I’ve actually seen that happen.
Here, though, you have a roomful of tourists on vacation. They don’t grasp we often have six or seven bottles to taste and, by the third or fourth glass, they don’t care. Sometimes you get large parties. Those are the most fun. Tonight it was the Ferrari Club, which had driven the coastal route up from Los Angeles. Twice yearly they came and took over the town for a long weekend. You could tell when those weekends occurred just by the number of times you saw the familiar black horse rearing up, the Ferrari logo, emblazoned on every imaginable piece of clothing.
Halfway through the tasting, Stephen Martinelli appeared in the back of the room. The Martinellis frequently gave classes at the civic center as well. Todd had run the classes, and I wondered who would take over. Stephen must have been checking on when they were scheduled next. He looked up and I caught his eye. I waved briefly and got a slight nod in return.
How did Veronica let him walk around dressed like that? This evening’s ensemble consisted of a drab green sport coat and weird pink tie combination.
I nodded to Connor to continue, scooted off the platform and weaved through the Ferrari Club members. Stephen saw me as I worked my way toward him, but that didn’t stop him from trying to leave. I caught up to him just as he was about to depart through the fire exit. He would rather set off the alarm than talk to me. Great.
“Hi, Stephen. Got a minute?” I wedged in between him and the door.
“Uh, sure.” He glanced around the room. His hands were in his pockets, and as he shifted his weight from side to side, I was struck again by how someone as vital as Antonia could have produced someone so, well, bland. Maybe that was why he wore those ghastly color combinations. Otherwise, he would have completely matched the brown wall behind him. Actually the wall had more color. And more personality.
“Good group tonight.” That’s me. Master conversationalist.
“Uh, yes, it looked like it was.” Silence.
Well, that was fun. Let’s try that again. “Did Martinelli have a seminar today too?”
“No. We had one scheduled for tomorrow, but the person teaching was supposed to be Todd . . .”
Silence
. He wiped his brow and avoided my gaze.
“Stephen, do you mind if we talk about last night?”
“I guess not, but I don’t know what there is to say. I thought at this point the police would be looking into that.”
“They are, but I have some thoughts on it and I’d really like to get your input.” For results, when I can’t think of a lie, flattery runs a close second.
“Uh, do you mind if we sit down over there?”
I didn’t mind. Stephen had turned milky pale and was sweating. Better to sit down now than scoop him up after he swooned at my feet. We sat on the bench around the fireplace, which was burning low and steady, just enough to take the chill out of the cool night air. Not that Stephen was cold. He immediately removed his jacket and placed it between us on the bench.
“So, Stephen, tell me about Chantal and Todd.”
My directness appeared to catch him off guard.
“Hum, I don’t think . . . Why do you . . .”
I was out of patience. “Come on. Spit it out.”
“Well, I’m not sure what to tell you. Since you’ve brought it up, I guess you’ve heard Chantal was interested in Todd.” He wiped his forehead.
“Yes, and I also know he rejected her. That must have been quite a shock for someone like Chantal. I’m sure she isn’t used to being rejected.”
Stephen eyes grew wide. “You can’t possibly think Chantal had anything to do with last night. Chantal wouldn’t hurt anybody.”
“It isn’t always easy to know what people will do when they’re upset. I heard you weren’t very happy either. Didn’t like the hired help rejecting your favorite sister, did you?”
“That’s crazy.” He wiped his brow.
Boy, was he sweating. “Is it? From what I saw last night, Chantal’s certainly drinking again. Was she more upset about Todd than you might know? It wouldn’t be the first time a broken heart was motive enough to kill.”
I didn’t like using Chantal’s problems as an inducement to get to Stephen. It felt rotten, but I wasn’t here to win a popularity contest. I was no expert on looking into murders, but I was a first-class information-getter. You take a deep breath, find the soft spot in people, then press.
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