Roses, Wine & Murder: In the City of Steeples

by Rose Young

“I really can’t say there are any enemies. I’ve been with him since he opened about two years ago. Mitch has been traveling to New London for several years, visiting and supporting local vineyards, buying wine, and creating relationships. He got along with everyone, really.” Georgi’s voice wandered off as he reflected.

  Then he added, “We did have someone try to break into the basement through the back, some months ago, but the place is built like a fortress out of granite and has barred windows. They only damaged the door and broke some glass.” He paused a moment before continuing, “There is a scruffy delivery man we deal with who’s always in a bad mood and a little rough around the edges, but for God’s sake, no one’s perfect!”

  Suddenly, Georgi’s body language drama returned, as his hand swiped the air, he laughed at himself. “We’re all unique, look at me!” His arms flung out wide and he struck a pose. They all smiled knowingly.

  Roxanne gave him a squeeze, “You’re adorable,” she said softly. He smiled at her and squeezed her back.

  “Sooo,” Morrison continued, “as I have here in the notes from this morning, Stockman came on the 8 am auto ferry from Long Island yesterday. He drove himself to Stonington to visit three vineyards then he met you here at 12:30 pm. You unloaded the cases of wine from his vehicle and had lunch brought in. You had a 2 pm meeting here with Chamard Vineyards from Clinton, Connecticut.”

  “Yes,” confirmed Georgi, he gazed toward the raftered ceiling and searched his thoughts, “then we relaxed on the back deck. Mitch enjoyed a Havana Montecristo cigar while we shared a bottle of Paul Roget Champagne. Did you know this was a Winston Churchill tradition? Mitch loved imagining Churchill with the long torpedo cigar, pondering his place in the world with a glass of champagne.” Georgi meekly smiled at the memory.

  “And when did he leave?” the detective queried.

  “At 4 o’clock he left to drop off his luggage and rest at his condominium in Harlow Towers. He came back here for the 6 pm wine dinner event. It went wonderfully and Mitch left at 10:30 for his condo. It’s a short walk down the street. That’s the last time I saw him.”

  Georgi became somber and stared at the floor. Tears trickled down his cheeks and Roxanne handed him a tissue.

  “What else did he do when he came to New London? And who did he know, Georgi?” asked Morrison.

  “He’s here twice a month and our routine is always different. This time he went to the vineyards in the morning directly from the ferry. Sometimes I go with him but we had a wine tasting event last night and I had to prepare.”

  Georgi paused, “He liked New London because no one knew him here compared to the North Fork of Long Island. He easily walked to restaurants on Bank or State Street to see what they were serving for wine. We often went to Mystic, Stonington and coastal restaurants to see what wines they were serving. He was a great boss.”

  Chief Samson spoke up, “Georgi, I’m concerned for Roxanne’s safety. There is something missing in your story. No one seems to have a motive to kill Mitch Stockman.”

  Georgi reiterated, “I can just tell you what I know and who I like, and the only ones I don’t like are that scruffy delivery man and Mitch’s wife whom I don’t really know. I don’t think either one wanted him dead. Oh, I feel dreadful. How am I to go on?” He put his head on Roxanne’s shoulder.

  “Okay Georgi,” Morrison informed, “we’ll do some more research. I’ll be sending officers here tomorrow to go through the business books, and look around a second time.”

  Georgi moaned, “Everything is going to change tomorrow when Cruella, I mean, Marissa gets here.”

  “Why is that?” asked Roxanne.

  “Because,” he replied, “she’ll ask me to buy her out, which I can’t do, or she’ll close me down. I just hope she gives me some time.”

  Georgi looked out to the water then mindfully put two fingers to his pursed lips, and continued, “Come to think of it, Mitch didn’t seem his jovial self. He told me I was doing a great job and he was very pleased. I felt his sincerity. He said his wife wanted him home for the summer, and it would be two months before he would be back again. That was a surprise to me as he was here twice a month since the beginning. He kept an active hand in the business.”

  Then falling back into despair, he grieved, “I’m going to miss him. My whole world is falling apart.” Emotions overcame him again, tears rolled down his face. Roxanne put her arm around him, and he leaned into her.

  “It will take time Georgi, but you’ll be alright.” Roxanne assured him. “Right now, we must find out who killed Mitch, and that means helping the detective any way you can.”

  Morrison questioned, “Is the business incorporated, Georgi?”

  “Well, yes. Mitch insisted upon it, he said it kept the paperwork easy. I just went along because it all looked fair to me.”

  “How does that play in, detective?” asked Chief Sam.

  “It means the wife won’t be able to touch the business right away. Also, as long as we are investigating a murder, she has to wait for us to finish our work. You have a little time Georgi, but you might need a business lawyer to keep things straight.”

  “Thank you all,” Georgi said, “And I feel a little better with you here, Roxanne.”

  Detective Morrison and Chief Samson stood up. Roxanne gave Georgi another hug, and said as they all left the building, “Don’t worry too much, and call me if you need me.”

  ***

  Out by the river docks, a man read a text message from a kid spying on the Vinho Verde Wine Bar, “The cops are leaving with the blonde.”

  “Problemi,” the man said under his breath, and then swore out loud, “Mannaggia! Grande difficolta!”

  Chapter 7

  Vinho Verde – (Veen-yoh Vehr-day) - A popular table wine from Portugal that has a fresh lemony-crisp flavor. It is light green in color, ideal with fish, and low in alcohol content.

  Day 1 – 6:30 pm - The Vinho Verde Wine Bar

  Georgi’s wine dinner, scheduled for sixteen patrons, could not be abandoned due to Mitch Stockman’s demise. The reputation of the Vinho Verde rested on their exclusive clientele. Georgi also felt pressed since he had purchased the food and received pre-payment for the event. With the help of his supportive wait-staff, he was determined to carry on, yet he felt the burden of sorrow and worry that now weighed upon his twenty-nine years.

  At 6:30 pm, the Vinho Verde was primed. Soft jazz music floated through the rafters creating a relaxed atmospheric mood for the diners. Elegant vases of white Phalaenopsis orchids graced the long oak table. Each place setting had distinctive wine glasses aligned for the tasting and were accompanied by polished silver and cloth napkins.

  Georgi stood by and waited for the guests to settle. He appeared as usual, his hair razor-trimmed on the sides, with a full tuft top, a starched lavender dress-shirt with sleeves rolled neatly below the elbow, and grey silk blend slacks. He tried with difficulty to not focus on his friend and boss, Mitch Stockman. Albeit, the standard sparkle usually visible in his eyes, had dimmed.

  Georgi did his best to gather up the enthusiasm required to entertain the sizable group. The waiters served the appetizers and poured the first wine. The young sommelier held the stem of the wine glass with two fingers and rang a small bell.

  “Good evening everyone. Before you is a lovely chilled, bubbly red Shiraz, it is great for a hot summer’s day. It is a party starter with its fruity musk, cleansing fizz, and medium body. The hint of sweetness is delightful.”

  Georgi found his rhythm and turned up the charm, “The Shiraz grape is a fruity Australian and this offering is from Penfolds Wines.” Georgi gave his fruity representation, with a twist of his hip and shoulder, a turn of his head and a smile, “Sounds nice, doesn’t it?” Everyone chuckled.

  “Compared to the well-known Syrah grape of France, the Australian Shiraz is made from riper grapes, more fruit-driven, higher in alcohol, less obviously tannic, and peppery rather than smoky. Usually the wine is more appro
achable within the first two years. Believe it or not, it is also sensational at another time of year, with Christmas turkey! It is well known to complement the fixings and flavors of a festive holiday meal.”

  Georgi gave them time to ask questions, sip their wine, and enjoy the appetizers. When the guests were ready, his servers presented the next course and Georgi announced the wine.

  “Our next wine is an enchanting Sauvignon Blanc and it is crisp, dry, and refreshing. Saltwater Farm Vineyards here in Connecticut, age the wine in stainless steel tanks. This elegant libation brings to you the full flavor of the Sauvignon Blanc grape which originates from the Bordeaux region in France.” Everyone followed Georgi’s lead swirling the glass, noticing the wines color, and sniffing its perfume before taking a sip.

  “Please notice the notes of lime zest balanced by clean minerality and the exotic fruit finish with a hint of white pepper. This lovely wine will deliciously complement our locally harvested oysters in our Shitake Mushroom Soup. Please enjoy!”

  The patrons murmured their enjoyment of aromas and flavors while cooing over the pairing and delectable soup.

  Upon readiness of the next course, Georgi rang his small bell to announce it. “My dear guests, here we have a beautiful Pinot Blanc wine from Shinn Estate Vineyards on the North Fork of Long Island, New York. The grapes are grown sustainably on their enchanting biodynamic vineyard. We are serving the wine with luscious warm lobster and fresh spring greens.”

  Everyone took a sip and a taste, then melted into a dreamy utopian place, floating on a flavor wave that rippled across, then out, evidenced by their verbal, ‘ooohs and aaaahs.’

  Georgi highlighted, “This lovely Shinn Vineyards, Pinot Blanc wine, is vibrant and fruit driven. It can balance on your tongue the rich creaminess of lobster tossed in lemony-aioli wonderfully. I find that enjoying wine with a complementing food is a synergetic education of both, like a fine dance in your mouth.”

  In the traditional way, Georgi kissed his fingertips and loudly made the sound, “Mwah! Isn’t this delightfully fun?” His patrons happily nodded savoring the wine and food.

  The last course was dessert. By now, the conversations were louder and filled with laughter. To get their attention, Georgi rang the little bell.

  “Attention everyone, we have two desserts for you to choose from, Chocolate Cherry Torte or Rhubarb & Custard Pie a recipe passed through my family.” The diners made their dessert choices and were served, as Georgi prepared to announce the wine selection.

  “I would like to present our next wine: a Napa Cabernet Sauvignon from Jonathan Edwards Winery here in North Stonington, Connecticut. Mr. Edwards, travels every year to California to utilize their grapes and make fine wines there,” Georgi emphasized, “which he brings here, for us to enjoy. It is a lushly flavored, bold, dry red wine aged in oak for 18 months. This wine is the perfect accompaniment to either of these fine desserts you have before you. The intense flavors are rich in cassis, dark chocolate and fresh earth.

  “Our second virtuous wine from the vine is Inniskillin’s Sparkling Vidal Icewine originating from, Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario, Canada.” Georgi looked over his guests, raised his eyebrows and accentuated, “Yes my friends, I said ice wine, they harvest the grapes only after they have frozen on the vine. This allows for a sweet more concentrated wine. Served cold, this delightful libation will shimmer over your tongue. The natural acidity balances well with the luscious sweet nectars of mango, lychee, citrus and pineapple. Both of these wines offered will meld lovingly with either of these delectable desserts.

  The guests made their wine choice and were served, Georgi rang for attention and intoned, “As we are about to sip in celebration of the new growing season, please raise your glasses high, I would like to offer you a toast from my great-grandfather. Thank you all for joining me on a journey into wine civility, and when you recall our time together, I hope it is with jovial sincerity.”

  One guest added, “Hear! Hear!” They sipped and clapped cheerfully, admiring his flair for making their evening memorable.

  Georgi added his final announcement, “If you desire, I have a marvelous organic coffee from Native Coffee Traders of New York; also, our outdoor deck is available so you may swoon over the starlit night reflected in the Thames River. Thank you ever so much for traveling with me among the grapevines and our momentary escape from the outside world.” The patrons clapped then mingled, appreciating Georgi’s knowledge and generous personality.

  ***

  By the time the patrons and wait-staff had left, it was nearly 11 pm. Georgi was exhausted and emotional. He locked the front door of the Vinho Verde after hanging a sign, Closed due to a death in the family. We will reopen soon. His heart sank while wondering what his future would hold. He stepped onto the sidewalk.

  The golden glow from the street lamps cast Georgi’s shadow on the 1780s granite structure of the Vinho Verde. He listened to the clip-clop of his Italian leather shoes on the uneven cobblestones. Georgi’s slim form of 5’-10” was suddenly elongated as his shadow stretched down the small side alley where his car was parked. He heard a distant fog horn and looked up from his steps to see the mist moving down the Thames River. A shiver ran through him, not from cold, but from grief. He unlocked his burgundy PT Cruiser, and slipped behind the wheel, feeling the tiredness wash over him. Suddenly, his door was yanked open and someone shoved his head into the steering wheel violently. Georgi squealed.

  “Now listen here, twinkle toes,” a man’s hot breath exhaled into Georgi’s ear and gripped tightly onto his tufted hair. “What did the woman with the police tell you?”

  Georgi whimpered, “She told me she found Mitch dead, she was mugged at the beach, and saw someone at her house, that’s all.”

  “Did she find anything?”

  “No, no, she didn’t!” Georgi yelped.

  “Where is Stockman’s laptop?” the attacker demanded.

  “I don’t know!” Georgi pleaded. “He kept it with him all the time.”

  “That’s what I want to know, good boy,” the gruff voice snarled. The thug slammed Georgi’s temple into the steering wheel and he passed out.

  Georgi finally woke with a massive headache and started to cry. Discombobulated, he held his head and moaned, “Ohh, ohhhh, I have to call Roxanne.” He looked at the time, almost midnight, so he called Detective Morrison instead.

  Chapter 8

  Day 2

  Fire Chief Samson left early this morning for work. This was the big day; the Secret Service were to establish their presence in New London and Groton. The president was to deliver the Coast Guard commencement speech in five days. It was a special affair for the state of Connecticut and the meeting required the state police, local Fire and Police Chiefs, the Naval Admiral of the Groton Nuclear Submarine Base, the local FBI contact, the Coast Guard official and the Emergency Medical Services to be present.

  Up to one month prior, the Secret Service had met with the state and local precincts. Extreme vetting and background checks had been made on all crews involved, including their spouses and children. This was protocol for any presidential visit.

  This morning’s official proceedings, managed solely by the Secret Service, were to review security installments. This included the arranging of all law enforcement on highways, bridges, waterways and preparing for their closure on the morning of the visit.

  In addition to all this, the Commander-in-Chief’s blast-proof limousines and a convoy of SUVs were being flown in on cargo planes along with multitudes of radio, surveillance and security equipment. The whole ordeal was a multi-million-dollar necessity.

  ***

  At 9 am Roxanne answered a call from Detective Morrison who explained Georgi’s circumstance of being attacked. He asked if she could meet him at Georgi’s Hempstead Street apartment at 11 am.

  Roxanne was dismayed and alarmed to see Georgi with a bandage on his forehead and looking pretty haggard. She rushed to his bedside. “Oh, Georgi! This is te
rrible. I’m so sorry this happened to you!”

  “Detective, what’s going on?” she asked frantically.

  “Georgi, tell Roxanne what the guy said to you.”

  “He wanted to know if you found something, Roxanne. Did you? Did you find something?”

  “Like what? He beat you up for that?”

  “He wanted to know what you told the cops and what you found,” repeated Georgi.

  “What I found? What I found was a dead man!” her hands went to her head, “I can’t believe this! Oh Georgi, I feel so badly. He beat you up because of me?” Moving her hands over her heart she felt panicked.

  “No,” Detective Morrison inserted. “The thug beat him because some evidence was left behind and he thinks you found it. And it must be linked to Stockman’s murder. Possibly, now that he thinks you did not find anything, he will leave you alone.” Pausing he took a deep breath and continued, “Look, Roxanne, I’d like you to check the crime scene with me again, in case we missed something. I have to interview Stockman’s wife today, so let’s see if I can tell her anything other than more bad news.”

  “Ohhh,” Georgi moaned, “I can’t deal with her today.”

  Roxanne decided for him, “Georgi you won’t have to meet with her today,” she narrowed her eyes at Morrison, “Right, detective?”

  “Right,” he agreed, “It’s unnecessary in your condition, Georgi.”

  Roxanne compassionately held his hand. “You rest up Georgi, and take care of yourself. Okay?”

  He smiled. “Thanks, that makes me feel better. But I’m worried about you! He was a very mean man!”

  “Did you see his face?” she asked.

  “No, I didn’t. I felt his hot breath in my ear …” he gulped, “and his horrible voice.” Georgi whimpered and held his head.

  “There, there,” she soothed. “We don’t need to talk about it anymore. Take a couple more pain pills and I’ll bring you some food. What would you like?”