I made my way through the side yard, toward the back of the property. Gardeners worked in the beds around the house and winery buildings; the bushes and shrubs were all trimmed back, neat and orderly, just as Antonia preferred.
Fog danced around my legs as I walked across the newly mowed lawn, toward the path down to the festival grounds. I passed the storage buildings but stopped at the winery office. Antonia had sent Marvin to help Connor unload the tractor in the front of the house. I nodded at one of the gardeners, who pushed a wheelbarrow of trimmings past me. When he’d turned the corner, I paused at the office window and peered in.
Paperwork and a ceramic coffee cup, white with the words “Viva Las Vegas” in red, sat on the desk. Beyond the office was a doorway that led to a small apartment. There was an unmade bed and I could see a corner of the kitchen, dishes piled in the sink.
I turned my attention back to the desk. Invoices and a letter opener, a couple of receipts and what looked like a racing form.
I really needed to get better at reading upside down.
I swiveled to look back at the house. Sure enough, you could see most of each room from this window. I would have tried the door but Veronica stood at the back windows watching me, so I waved and continued toward the path down the hill. Below me stood the main exhibit tents of soft white muslin, each topped with the flag of the winery sponsoring that tent. The colors looked muted in the misty gray.
To my left was the fermentation building, silent behind the yellow police tape. I was behind the office now, and out of sight of the main house. I stopped. No doubt the police would find anything in there that could help. On the other hand, Lucas hadn’t seemed to take the wine tampering very seriously. Hmm, what to do, what to do . . .
The tape left a streak of moisture on my sleeve as I pushed it over my head. I scooted to the entrance, stepped inside, and eased the door closed behind me.
As on the night of Todd’s murder, the room was warm and humid. My running shoes were silent on the tile floor and I left the main lights off. No need to advertise that I’d ignored the police tape. Since I wasn’t sure where to start, I focused down the center aisle to the double doors that led out the rear of the building. I wasn’t in a hurry to open those doors again. The crushers could wait until last.
I let my attention wander to the aisles that ran the length of the building. There were perhaps ten rows on each side of the main walkway, with barrels stacked toward the ceiling. The building was enormous. Four times the size of the fermentation building at our winery.
I made my way to the first row of barrels. It was dark and I walked with care, led by one overhead light. It grew darker the farther I walked into the building. I reached into the pocket of my jacket and grabbed my keys and the small flashlight that dangled from them, an addition after the last time I’d been in this room. I turned it on and swung it side to side. The reflection of the light between the barrels bounced off the floor in the aisles next to me as I moved down the rows. I didn’t know what I hoped to find, so I took my time.
Halfway down the second aisle, my brain registered something had changed. It was quiet, with just the hum of the fans in the background. I turned back, retraced my steps and again shined the light between two barrels sitting to my right. No gleam of tile floor. Something blocked the light. Silently I bent down and directed the light between the barrels. Black pants. Black gloves. Someone stood listening in the row next to me.
My heart started knocking around in my chest and there were black spots in front of my eyes.
“Who’s there?” I tried to yell, but it came out more like a whimper. The leg moved and glass broke. Steps pounded on the floor as someone ran down the aisle. I started for the main door and stopped; the steps were headed in the opposite direction. With less-than-lightning-fast reflexes, I realized they wouldn’t risk being seen in the front of the building and would use the rear exit. As I turned and ran back I could hear the cost of my hesitation: the sound of the rear doors.
Sure enough, the door stood open and I was alone. I avoided looking at the crushers, ducked under the police tape and walked the twenty yards to the edge of the bluff. Nothing. Turning to my right the hillside loomed in front of me, blanketed by trees.
I walked to the edge of the growth and stepped into the brush. It was darker there, the sky canopied by branches. The trees were thick enough to block the house and other buildings from my sight. The crunch of fallen leaves, brittle under my feet, filled the silence, but other than that it was completely still. Either I was alone, or someone waited for me deeper in the shadows. A crow flew overhead and its cry echoed in the stillness. I listened and looked around. Nothing.
I didn’t have a plan if I actually found someone. What was I going to do, tackle them in the forest? To be honest, I’m not the bravest person by nature. A chill ran though me. Forget going any farther. I had to fight just to stay in place. I backed out of the woods, returned to the fermenting building, slipped back inside and closed the door. I leaned against the wall and stopped to catch my breath. I really needed to work out more.
Turning on the flashlight, I made my way down the row the intruder had just vacated.
Halfway down the aisle a broken wine bottle was scattered across the floor. I bent over to look. It wasn’t just glass. A brownish powder was mixed in and drifted through the air. Someone had dropped a wine bottle full of something that didn’t belong in the fermentation building. I felt along the top of the nearest barrel and was rewarded with the feel of the opening where the cork belonged. Antonia was right. Someone was sabotaging Martinelli Winery.
The base of the bottle was still intact and held some of the powder. I used my boot toe to sift through the broken glass. A basic wine bottle without a label. Whoever had done this could walk around the winery at will and not be noticed. The bottle breaking was bad luck for someone. If I’d passed them outside the building holding the same bottle, I wouldn’t have thought anything of it.
I used my foot to push the largest pieces of glass under the barrels, where they wouldn’t be seen. Without knowing what the powder was, I didn’t want to touch it with my bare hands, so I reached into my purse and grabbed the envelope that held Antonia’s pictures. Using a photo, I scooped up some of the powder and put it in the envelope. The building remained quiet as I made my way back to the entrance.
With the doors closed behind me, I scooted under the police tape and made my way around the corner of the winery office.
“Looking for something, missy?”
Twelve
MISSY? That used to tick me off, even back when I was one.
I pushed off the wall and towered over Marvin Karp. An easy thing to do since I had five inches on him.
He seemed undaunted. “Yup, there isn’t much I miss from that window.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward his office.
Okay, great. He’d seen me come out of the fermentation building. Maybe defiance wasn’t the best stance, considering he actually had something on me. He couldn’t have been in there with me, because he’d been with Connor, and he wouldn’t have seen the person run away, since the back door wasn’t visible from here. I wouldn’t learn anything from him and turned to walk away.
“I just helped your man unload the tractor.” He hooked his thumbs into the loops of his jeans as he rolled back on his heels. “You oughta get going. He’s waiting for you.”
Damn. Marvin telling me to get going prevented me from leaving just yet. I turned back to him. He scratched at the gray stubble on his chin. Something was different. Today his usual glare had been replaced with something else. Amusement. He was enjoying something. No doubt it was at someone else’s expense. Maybe it was that he’d just caught me where I didn’t belong, but as I looked at him, I realized it was more than that. He wasn’t amused. He was satisfied.
It took a master’s touch to turn a bunch of grapes into really good
wine. Marvin seemed to have that quality in excess. From what I’d heard, Todd had shown the same promise. With Todd gone, Marvin’s position was secure. The timing worked. His office was adjacent to the fermentation building and it would have been easy to entice Todd out on some pretense of winery business.
“So, you said you saw Veronica in the kitchen the night of Todd’s death.” I nodded toward the winery office. “From that window.”
His eyes narrowed. “That’s what I said, all right. Chantal too.” He jerked his thumb back over his shoulder. “I was right there at that window the whole time, and I’d like to hear someone say different.” His voice rose an octave. “To them, I’m just a hired hand. It would take nothing for them to pin this on me if they could.”
“Oh, come on, Marvin. Nobody’s trying to pin anything on you.”
“You don’t know much about this family, do you, missy? If you ain’t blood, you ain’t. They’d stick me with this, or even you, if it kept their own from going down. I’ve taken care of that, though.” His look of satisfaction returned. “I’ve taken well good care of that.”
“What’ve you done?”
“All I’m saying is what I already said, little missy. I didn’t leave that spot the night Todd died. I saw what I saw, and that’s all I’m saying.”
With that, he disappeared into the winery office. Marvin was amused by causing discomfort to others. I didn’t know what he’d done, but I was sure someone else wouldn’t find the situation nearly so funny.
* * *
ON our way home, I repeated my conversation with Marvin. I also told Connor about the powder and the unknown person in the fermentation building. I didn’t tell him I’d briefly considered looking for the person in the woods. I admitted going under the police tape. That was enough. I didn’t feel like facing those piercing blue eyes right then.
When we reached the house we headed down to the offices and the winery lab. Ours was quite small, although some of the labs on larger wineries can be very extensive.
“Let me have the powder.”
I pulled the envelope from my bag. “You don’t know what it is. Don’t touch it with your bare hands.”
He held it up to the light. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.”
He poured a bit on a slide and slipped in onto the microscope.
“Yup, it’s Brett.”
“It’s who?”
He stood up and gestured. “Not who. What. Brettanomyces, usually just called ‘Brett.’ See for yourself.”
I peered at the tiny specks. “I think I see something. What is it?”
“It’s yeast. In certain wines and in small amounts, it’s usually okay. Sometimes it’s even a good thing. You said there was a whole bottle of this stuff?”
“Yes, and the cork of the nearest barrel was out.”
He raised his brows. “A few tablespoons of this would ruin a barrel in no time. It multiplies in the wine, and the result isn’t pleasant.”
“What does it do?”
“Makes the wine taste bitter and smell like a wet horse blanket.”
Connor carefully folded the envelope and threw it away. Taking the slide, he walked toward the sink. “You need to figure out how to tell Antonia she’s got a real problem with someone at her winery. But first, you need to wash your hands.”
I walked back to the house, taking a seat at the desk and thinking through the events of that morning. Someone had taken quite a chance, but to carry the yeast in a wine bottle would almost ensure nobody would question the contents, especially if the person belonged at the winery. Some of the surrounding wineries were jealous of Antonia’s success, but I couldn’t imagine any of them resorting to this. Once again, Francesca and her anger at Antonia’s decision to leave the winery to Stephen came to mind. I wondered where she was right now.
Around noon, Hayley came in. Her search through the kitchen cupboards and refrigerator was loud, and I pushed back from the desk.
Wednesdays were reserved for a standing lunch with my best friend and cousin, Annie Moore, the town veterinarian. Before Annie came to town the closest vet was in Monterey, and I’d convinced Annie to move here not long after she graduated from UC Davis. She fell in love with Cypress Cove the first time she came for a visit, so convincing her to open a practice here wasn’t difficult.
We don’t look anything alike. Annie is five-foot-two, has auburn hair and weighs around a hundred pounds. I’m eight inches taller, with streaky blond hair, and weigh decidedly more. The giveaway that we’re family is the same sense of humor, which typically bursts forth at inappropriate moments, and a tendency to rush into situations without stopping to ask questions. We also have matching hazel eyes we inherited from our grandmother.
The sun had burned off the morning gloom and was high in the cloudless sky, so I lowered the top on my car, waved to Hayley as she ate on the back patio and pulled into the lane. I turned up the local PBS station, and Vivaldi washed over me, smooth as the fresh autumn air.
I was almost at the turn into town when I spotted a car, nose first in the ditch ahead. I slowed and turned down the music. The car was partially hidden beneath an oak tree. I took a good look at the car. Oh, great. A red Porsche. New. Chantal’s car was as easy to spot as she was.
I slowed down to a crawl on the empty road and took another look. Something wasn’t right. The car was stopped at an odd angle in the ditch, almost as if it had drifted off the road, and it was pulled too far into the tree. The branches dug into the hood and were going to leave scratches when she tried to back out.
I pulled in beside the car and jumped out, balancing my concern with curiosity. Nobody was inside and the driver’s door hung open. The car rested against the trunk of the tree, and the brake hadn’t been set.
A sound came from the open field below and I walked toward the embankment. Chantal sat on a rock. She faced down into the valley, toward the creek winding along the bottom. Her normally perfect hair was pulled into a disheveled ponytail, and the loose-fitting jacket and jeans were completely unlike her usual attire.
The car hadn’t actually run into the tree, and I could see she wasn’t hurt. No longer concerned for her safety, my curiosity took over. While I stood there and wondered how to approach her, she turned. She didn’t seem startled. She didn’t react in any way. Rather, she released a long-held breath, pushed herself up from the rock and walked toward me. She moved as though the effort was enormous, as if braced against a nonexistent wind.
When she reached me, I was startled at how pale she was. Gone was the red lipstick. Black streaks mapped where tears had fallen. The pain in her eyes was evident and private, and she turned away to face the valley once again.
“I envy you, you know.” Chantal spoke without turning back. “You’re surrounded by people who love you. You know who you are. You seem fulfilled. You seem happy.”
Knock me over. A lonely and vulnerable Chantal hadn’t occurred to me. I suppose that could explain why she came on to every man she met. To hear her humble admission made me do a quick mental adjustment of my impression of her life.
“You have friends. People you can rely on. Todd and I had that, at least for a while. I really miss him.” She broke off, staring into the valley below. “Just not the way everyone thinks. I never felt romantic about Todd.”
“Why do you think everyone assumed you did?”
She turned. “Oh, come on. Look at me.” A small smile touched the corners of her mouth. “Not exactly at this moment, but how I normally look.” She shrugged. “Everyone always assumes if I’m interested in a man, it’s sexual interest.”
“No kidding.”
“Yes, I admit it. I’m a flirt.” Her smile faded. “Never with Todd, though. He was the best friend I’ve ever had.”
She looked back over the valley. “It’s just different with everyone else. Like Stephen. Don’t get me wrong, he�
�s a great brother, but I feel like he wants what’s best for the family before what’s best for me. With Todd it really felt like it was about me being happy.”
“Did your family know how close you two were?”
She studied me for a moment then shrugged. “I didn’t hide it. It must have been pretty obvious I preferred his company to theirs.”
“But just as a friend.”
“Just as a friend.”
“I can’t help it. You sound sincere, but it’s hard for me to believe you just wanted to be friends with a man—any man, much less one as attractive as Todd.” I thought of the boyfriend she’d stolen from me years before. “You forget, I’ve known you a long time.”
Chantal straightened her shoulders and looked me squarely in the eyes. “I understand why you’d have your doubts, but I’m telling you the truth.”
I believed her. For the first time in all the years I’d known her, I believed what she was telling me.
“Okay, Chantal, if that’s the case, what happened? Everyone knows you and Todd had a falling-out.”
“I pushed him away. My best friend. He wasn’t happy with what I was doing with my life. He was right, but I pushed him away.”
“What were you doing?”
She paused. “I made some really dumb mistakes and one of them, just one of them, was drinking.”
“What else?”
She bit her lip and stared down into the valley.
“Chantal, you don’t have to tell me, but if we’re going to have this conversation, what were you doing that Todd didn’t like?”
She didn’t answer.
“I can only imagine a man was involved. Am I right?”
Chantal laughed. “Of course. A woman like me can’t be alone for long.”
“Who was it?”
“You’d think the way Stephen keeps an eye on me he’d have figured it out.”
“Who was it?”
One Foot in the Grape Page 10