One Foot in the Grape

by Carlene O'Neil

  She didn’t answer, and a hush settled between us.

  “Chantal.”

  She turned to me as color crept up her cheeks. “I guess I feel compelled to stir things up in this family. What better way than to sleep with your sister’s husband? It was Brice.”

  Thirteen

  I DIDN’T respond. For once I was speechless. It was bad enough to sleep with your sister’s husband, but Brice? Her pale face and eyes that wouldn’t meet mine made it clear she regretted her behavior. She’d made a terrible mistake, and because she’d been so open with me, I tried to hide my disgust. It took a lot of effort.

  In the end, I didn’t say anything, and she didn’t elaborate. We stood for a while, looking out over the valley.

  Finally, she turned to me. “Look, I really don’t want to talk about it anymore. I just want to stay here alone for a while.”

  My cue to leave. “Yeah. Sure. No problem.” I turned toward my car.

  “Penny.”

  I looked back at her, alone with mascara tracking her cheeks, the empty valley behind her.

  “Thanks for not saying anything. Thanks for just listening.”

  I nodded and walked back to my car, glad that for once I’d managed to keep my opinions to myself.

  * * *

  WHEN I arrived at the restaurant twenty minutes late for lunch, Annie was at the bar. Ross was behind the counter, pouring out a Pinot Grigio. They had their heads together, talking in low voices, but they pulled apart when I walked up. I hadn’t had a chance yet to talk to Annie about the night of Todd’s death, but if Ross knew, Annie knew. Probably the entire county knew.

  “Hi there.” Annie gave me a quick kiss. She made room for Ross as he came out from behind the counter for a big hug. As I let my friends hold me, I thought once again of Chantal, who had everything in the world but this.

  I looked at Ross. “It’s slow. Why don’t you join us for lunch?”

  Ross got someone to cover the bar, and the three of us made our way to a patio table, the same one where I’d met with Joanne the day before. I didn’t want to talk about Todd, which Annie understood without a single word being exchanged. It might be soon, it might not be for a very long time, but either way, I knew she’d be there when I needed to talk.

  Ross is a different story. He’s never met a question he wouldn’t ask. No amount of information is too much, and as we made our way to the patio he repeatedly launched into a comment, only to stop. His restraint was admirable.

  “So, you were running late?” Annie asked.

  “Actually I ran into Chantal.”

  “What do you mean, you ran into her? In your car?” Ross poured me a glass of wine.

  “Just by the side of the road. She was stopped, and so I stopped . . .” I couldn’t decide how much to say. I’m no stranger to gossip, but for the first time stirrings of sympathy for Chantal, although faint, held my tongue. “I wanted to ask her about Todd, and we got to talking about some guy she was seeing, and what a really bad idea it turned out to be . . .”

  “Oh, you mean Brice,” Ross shrugged. “I heard about that months ago. I thought I’d told you.”

  “No. I think I would have remembered that.”

  Annie looked at both of us. “Somebody better tell me what I missed.”

  “You tell us, Penny, since you actually talked to her, and I would just be repeating gossip.”

  “Big shocker. You repeating gossip.”

  “You’re right. Even I can’t believe I just said that.”

  Since it wasn’t going away and Ross knew the story anyway, I gave them a condensed version of my earlier conversation with Chantal.

  Annie poured herself some more wine. “I always knew she didn’t have her panties on too tight, but Brice? It’s creepy, even if he weren’t married to her sister.”

  “I think she’s sort of lonely,” said Ross.

  “Come on,” Annie said.

  “Well, I do. She doesn’t have any purpose in life. In and out of rehab. Nobody takes her seriously. She’s kind of tragic.”

  Annie put her glass down. “HELLO. She’s sleeping with her brother-in-law.”

  “I think you’re both right, in a way,” I said. “She is tragic, and she was totally out of line. I’ll be back. I want some berries.”

  Ross sets out fresh fruit for customers to nibble on while they wait for their lunch. Today it was blackberries, just picked that morning. The last of the season.

  The mound on my plate was conspicuously large when I picked up a clipped, short voice rising above the rest. I knew that voice. I popped a berry into my mouth and peered around the plaster column separating me from the table. Well, well. Francesca and Brice. Francesca sat with her back to me, her shoulders held rigid and stiff. Brice shook his head, and his hands waved about as he stressed some point that, unfortunately, I couldn’t hear. He finished talking, stopped shaking his head, and waited for an answer. In one of those still moments that happen occasionally in crowded situations, there was a complete lull in the chatter, and Francesca’s answer carried across the restaurant.

  “I just realized something. Not only are you a cheating bastard, you’re stupid too.”

  Brice’s face visibly paled and he looked like he was carved out of stone.

  Francesca threw her napkin on her untouched plate. The scrape of the chair as she rose to leave filled the ensuing silence.

  She stomped toward the front door. Every diner watched her go, her snappy little Ferragamos carrying her as fast as they could. I popped berries into my mouth and made my way back to Annie and Ross, where Chantal was still the topic of conversation.

  “She makes it hard to like her. Her biggest problem is herself,” Annie said.

  “I’m absolutely starving,” I said. “I’m eating.”

  “Isn’t that the truth.” Ross took a berry from my plate.

  “It absolutely is the truth. What’s up with Brice? I see him alone all the time. I don’t think he and Francesca spend much time together. I’ll have the lemon sole. It’s delicious,” Annie said to the waiter, who had just arrived.

  “Ha, you’re right about that.”

  “You’re both right. The sole is delicious,” Ross said.

  “No, she isn’t right about that.” I waved off the injured look on Ross’s handsome face.

  “What’s wrong with my sole?” Ross asked.

  “I thought you liked sole,” Annie said.

  “The Chicken Buena Vista is delicious,” the waiter suggested helpfully.

  I snapped the menu shut. “I’ll have the sole. I was talking about Francesca and Brice. He spends a lot of time alone. As a matter of fact, he’s alone right now.” I repeated what I’d heard.

  “Ouch,” Annie said. “How embarrassing, but certainly no more than he deserves.”

  Ross stood. “I can’t believe I missed it and it happened in my own restaurant. I’m going over to see if he’s still there.”

  I looked at him. “At least be discreet.”

  Ross sniffed. “I’m six-foot-three, I weigh two hundred thirty pounds, and although I humbly submit it’s almost all muscle, I must say I do walk with a bit of a sway. Exactly how discreet do you expect me to be?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Already you’re making a scene. Just go.”

  He returned a few moments later. “Nope. What rotten luck.”

  * * *

  WHEN lunch arrived, I assured Ross the sole was perfection. We spent the rest of the meal discussing the fight between Francesca and Brice, and whether it was about Chantal or possibly some other indiscretion.

  By the time coffee arrived, we’d exhausted the Brice topic and Annie entertained us with stories of several of her patients, including a twenty-eight-pound cat with a thyroid problem. I figured Syrah, at eighteen pounds, wasn’t that fat after all. Of course, I did
n’t say this to Annie, who I’m sure would be inclined to disagree.

  After we finished, we wandered through the gift shop, said hello to Thomas and made sure they had my posters and postcards well stocked. I picked up a shot of Martinelli Winery, taken in the early spring, when the vines were just getting their leaves. I still preferred the one I’d taken earlier in the week, with the plants and shrubs large and full.

  Annie and I left, turned right on Ocean Boulevard and walked along enjoying the last of the day’s warmth. Tourists filled the street, cameras at the ready, their bags filled with souvenirs and local wine, some of it hopefully from Joyeux Winery.

  We turned the corner and spotted Chief Lucas and Hayley a short distance ahead. Their heads were bent close and they held hands.

  Annie nudged me. “Why didn’t you tell me they were seeing each other?”

  “I didn’t know. She said she was seeing someone but didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to jinx it. She said it was a new thing.”

  “Well, they look pretty cozy. Maybe you’ll have a police chief in the family.”

  “That explains it.”

  “Explains what?”

  “Hayley was the last one to see Todd before he went into the fermenting building, and Marvin tried to make it look like she was the most obvious suspect. Lucas told me he didn’t think I needed to worry. He was trying to reassure me.”

  They made their way toward us. “I don’t want to put Hayley on the spot. She said she’d tell me when she was ready.”

  “So let’s avoid them. Move it.”

  We each made a sharp turn, right into each other. Annie, being so much shorter, took the brunt of the impact. She flailed into a group of sightseers and landed on the sidewalk, along with cameras, bags and a couple of tourists. Stealth mode. Catlike. Yup, that’s us.

  As I apologized to tourists and helped Annie up, Lucas and Hayley stopped in front of us.

  “Hi, you two.” Hayley blushed. “Connor insisted I get off the vineyard for a while. He said working ten days in a row, even during crush, was too much.”

  I nodded. “I quite agree.”

  “We thought we’d grab a bite, just a quick sandwich, and then I need to get back to work.” Lucas took Hayley’s arm.

  Hayley blushed a pretty pink and smiled. I don’t think I’d ever seen her look quite so happy. “Great idea. Enjoy.”

  “Actually, Penny, this saves me a call. Can you stop by the station? There’s something I’d like to ask you about.”

  “Sure. When do you want me there?”

  We agreed to meet in an hour. Annie and I watched as they walked away, Lucas’s hand resting in the small of Hayley’s back.

  “They look so cute,” Annie said. “So, you’ve got an hour. Come on. I’ll keep you company.”

  We made our way into Neiman’s while Annie speculated on what Lucas wanted. “You must tell me absolutely everything.”

  “I’m glad he wants to see me. I was going to call him anyway. Lucas doesn’t know about Francesca getting Marilyn’s land.”

  “Are you going to tell him about Brice and Chantal?”

  “I don’t know yet. Chantal made a mistake, but it was stupidity more than anything. I’d like to leave her out of it, but it could be important. If Todd confronted Brice or if Brice felt Todd was interfering in his relationship with Chantal, who knows what might have happened.”

  “I’d love to know what Francesca and Brice argued about at lunch,” Annie said. “It might have been about Chantal, but, in reality, Chantal probably wasn’t the first one, or even the only one, that Brice was ‘playing doctor’ with.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You have such a way with words.”

  “I bet ‘Hide the Thermometer’ is one of his favorite games.”

  “Stop.” I pushed her toward the elevator. With unspoken agreement, we made our way to the second-floor shoe department. No surprise there. I wanted to try the new style, which, of course, had changed in the last week. I wasn’t sure about it. They were back to stiletto heels, only this time the toes were extra pointed. I held up a cobalt-blue pair. The reed-thin, all-dressed-in-black waif of a salesgirl slinked over.

  “I’d like to try these on.”

  She eyed my feet and all but snickered. “I don’t know if we stock them that large. What size do you wear?”

  “Nine, which isn’t large for my height, by the way.”

  “You go up two sizes in these because of the narrow toe. I’ll bring a size eleven.”

  Already I wasn’t sure. Nothing took the shine off a new pair of shoes faster than watching your foot grow two sizes.

  We found chairs and waited. When the waif returned with the shoes, I opened the box and held one up.

  Annie stared at the shoe.

  “What?”

  She rolled her hand side to side. “I’m not sure about the color. They sort of remind me of this special I saw on waterfowl. This one duck had blue feet. A ‘blue-footed booby.’”

  “Right. Size eleven? More like a big-footed booby.”

  I tugged the shoe on. It felt like I had my foot crammed into a pencil sharpener.

  Finally, I got the second shoe on. I looked at Annie. “Well?”

  “Stand up so I can see.”

  I braced myself on the arms of the chair, rose and plunged headlong into a rack of marked-down platforms. By keeping my thighs firmly clamped together and swinging my feet out to the sides like boat rudders, I managed to walk down the aisle, leaving a wake of mismatched shoes.

  I paused in front of the mirror and looked back at Annie. “Do you think these are sexy?”

  “Not the way you’re walking.”

  Afraid to do any more damage, I managed to peel them off where I stood, handed them to the waif and apologized for the mess. Having once again donned my sensible flats, we made our way out of the store and into the afternoon sunshine. When we were out on the street, Annie resumed the conversation of Brice and Francesca.

  “The reality is that his marriage to Francesca has opened a lot of doors he might have otherwise found closed, hotshot doctor from the city or not. You know as well as I do few things impress people in this town like a local family connection. What I’d like to know is whether or not Francesca knew all the time what he was up to?”

  “That’s a good question.” I stopped at the police station. “She isn’t a pushover, not by a long shot, but sometimes people put up with amazing things in the name of love. If she doesn’t know about Chantal yet, I don’t want to be the one responsible for her finding out. Nobody, not even Francesca, deserves to have their husband fool around, especially with a younger sister.”

  Fourteen

  AT the door of the police station, Annie extracted from me a promise to tell her everything and walked off. The bounce in her step and diminutive stature would have suggested someone twenty years of age instead of the thirty-eight I knew her to be.

  I entered the station and recognized the clerk behind the counter. He waved me in and signaled to Lucas that I was there. Lucas came out of his office, swung open the waist-high counter gate and asked me if I wanted some coffee. When I declined, he poured himself a cup and led me into his office, closing the door.

  I caught a glimpse of a file on the desk with Todd Ryan’s name on it. Lucas followed my glance and casually scooped it up. He tilted his cup toward the chair in front of the desk. “Have a seat.”

  If I wanted Lucas to share with me, I didn’t want the desk between us. Instead of the chair I chose the couch under the window, open to the afternoon breeze. He seemed to understand what I was up to, but he smiled, turned the chair he’d indicated toward me, and sat.

  “Have you remembered anything else about that night you want to share?”

  “Nothing I didn’t tell you. Why?”

  “I’m inclined to believe you
were right about that light disappearing into the house. There weren’t any footprints at the fermenting building or around the crushers that didn’t belong to family members. No fingerprints unaccounted for, no unusual car tracks, no reports of vagrants or people that aren’t from here, and believe me, in a town like Cypress Cove, we hear about all of them.” He looked at me. “That means right before and after the murder, you were alone with Todd and his killer.”

  I nodded. “Trust me, that’s crossed my mind more than a few times.”

  “I was just hoping something else might have occurred to you. Let’s work it backward. If it was a family member, then it was someone with all of you earlier that evening in the library. What if something was said, something the killer wanted kept hidden?”

  “I see what you’re saying. I was thinking the killer already knew they were going to try to kill Todd later that night, but what if something was said or done in the library that forced the killer to act?”

  I got up, paced around the room, and replayed the evening in my head. Finally I shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t think of anything. Everyone seemed to behave normally.” I counted off the names on my fingers: “Marvin, obnoxious as usual. Stephen tried to keep Chantal away from the bar. Chantal, of course, flirted and drank. Veronica didn’t say much. Just sat there and rattled those damn pearls. Francesca was her usual condescending self, along with Brice, who had his cell phone glued to his ear, and, of course, Antonia, who seemed fine. Todd came in late, after everyone else.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why was he late?”

  Good question. “I don’t know. Stephen said Todd was responsible for coordinating the shifts in the tasting booths. The wineries take turns. Otherwise it’s too crowded. Maybe he was late because he was finishing up the schedule.”

  Lucas looked over his notes. “Do you think his death had anything to do with the festival?”

  “Doubtful. The festival happens every year, but this is the first one since Todd’s been with Martinelli Winery. If I had to guess, I still think it’s something to do with the winery. I told you the night Todd died that Antonia thought someone was up to something, and since then I’ve confirmed it.” I told Lucas about the person in the fermenting building. When I mentioned going under the police tape, he raised his brows but didn’t say anything. “Todd could have found out who was sabotaging the winery.”