WINE, ROSES & CHEATS
Gold Trotter Mystery
Gianna B. Reid
This story is a work of fiction and any resemblance to a person living or deceased
is coincidental.
PROLOGUE
Brazilian jazz filled the air at the garden club’s Wine & Roses spring soiree. The blend of aromatic spring blossoms with international wine bouquets created an intoxicating atmosphere. The men wore European style sport-jackets, imported finely woven cotton shirts and linen slacks; the women arrived in glamorous colorful designer dresses and accessories while adorned with faux-gem necklaces.
The jazz ensemble stopped at precisely 8:30 PM for the announcements of the best spring floral and tally on the favorite wine. Everyone waited in anticipation, only an occasional cough, throat clearing and whisper was heard among the guests.
Gail Potter deliberately swished her hips against Max while making her way up to the front. As chair of the event she took enormous pleasure in building the excitement among the guests. She smiled and waved the envelope at the group.
“This isn’t the Oscar’s,” Gavin mumbled to Kay.
“Shhh, I want to hear.”
“We all want to hear,” he said louder. Kay shook her head.
Gail slowly opened the envelope delighting how all eyes were on her. Everything is going as planned, she thought. Finally she unfolded the paper to disclose the winner of the floral competition and wine vote. A worried expression washed across her face and she brought her hand up to her mouth.
“Who is it?” A woman shouted.
“Who won?” Another demanded.
“It…doesn’t say,” Gail said nervously. “There’s a note: You will be dead before the end of this evening.
1
It was a muddy mess in the garden for Kay. Early spring always presented with a gooey soil after the winter thaw, perfect for children’s mud pies but not for a gardener. The earth clung to her gloves like cookie dough and clumped beneath her shoes. With every step she became increasingly frustrated. As much as she loved flowers and gardening, there was a part of her that swore this would be the last year. That is, until the next year. It was the melody of song birds, the sunlight that reflected on each new born green leaf, and the sweetness of the air that kept Kay rooted to the task. It is what she called poetry for the soul.
Her husband, Gavin, came out to the back yard with their dog, Cody. He approached her very cautiously because he heard Kay muttering to herself. He knew the drill by now, stay away when Kay is in the garden. But he felt that today’s mail would cheer her, so he placed a large glossy postcard in Cody’s mouth and coaxed the dog to bring it to Kay. Cody nuzzled Kay from behind.
“Gavin please keep Cody out of the mud,” she called without looking up.
“Oh, but I think he has something for you,” Gavin replied smiling. Cody barked and the card dropped to the ground.
Kay turned around quickly. “Oh what is it, Cody!” The dog placed his front paw on the postcard giving it a paw-print stamp of approval. Kay shook her head while giving Cody an affectionate head rub. Gavin was grinning from ear-to-ear and couldn’t wait to witness Kay’s expression. She removed one glove to lift the postcard from the ground and began to read. Sure enough, Kay’s face lit up with excitement.
“It’s the invite to the Wine & Roses event! And they used my floral photograph for the invite!” Kay sprung to her feet and hugged Gavin. Now both he, Cody and Kay were muddy. “Gavin, this is such a thrill! I can’t wait. It’s on June 13, the day after our anniversary!” Cody barked and placed his paws on both of them.
“I hear the tea kettle whistling,” Gavin said rushing toward the back door into the kitchen.
“I’ll have a cuppa,” Kay called to him. “Come on, Cody, let’s go and have some lunch.”
The happy trio settled into the kitchen for a quick bite of grilled-cheese sandwiches and tea that Gavin prepared. Cody begged both Gavin and Kay for a taste, and each snuck some to the dog without the other knowing.
“I’m too excited about this to continue gardening,” Kay admitted.
“Yes, but you want to enter your roses into the contest as well,” Gavin reminded her. “You’ll be the rose among the thorns between your photograph and winning spring flowers.”
“Oh Gavin, you’re too much and that’s exactly why I love you.”
“I’m not too much,” he said, quickly adding, “but just enough.” He started clearing the dishes.
“What’s your hurry?” Kay asked. “Let’s talk for a while.”
“Can’t now, I have to keep working on my article.”
“Oh, I forgot. What is it about?”
“Remember, I started interviewing the owner of the winery, Max Berkin, who just so happens to be the man supplying the wine at for the garden club event.”
“Oh yeah, now I remember, but you wouldn’t have had this assignment if it weren’t for Gail Potter who introduced you to Max.”
Gavin chose to ignore that tiny detail that the Wine & Roses committee chairwoman, Gail Potter, had the connection which snared a lucrative assignment for Gavin with the Wine Cellars Digest Magazine.
“Nonsense, the stars are in alignment for you and me,” Gavin joked, kissed her and went upstairs. Cody was already asleep beneath the kitchen table.
Kay lingered over her tea looking out the window day dreaming. Though the winter chill was not completely gone, spring was in her heart and evident with budding forsythia and tree branches. A splash of bright yellow and new born pale green leaves heralded Kay’s favorite season.
Spring wasn’t always like this. In fact many springs were dreadful when Kay was married to Robert. He didn’t support her working in the yard and wanted little to do with it. He never understood all the fuss about flowers and how people discussed gardening. No, he would have been content with just mowing the grass and raking leaves. Robert often said, “Just let nature do what it has to do.” This often started an argument that would continue until the following spring. Sure there were qualities about Robert she had loved otherwise she wouldn’t have married him. With his passing more than 10 years ago, Kay was able to put it in perspective. She appreciated Robert, understood him better and forgave him for any shortcomings. God knows I’m not perfect. She thought to herself. Gavin knows it too! Her reflective moment was interrupted when Gavin hurried into the kitchen.
“Max Berkin just called and asked us to come to his home this afternoon. He wants to show us his wine cellar.”
“Oh, I don’t think I can do that,” Kay dismissed it instantly.
“Why not, it will be fun.”
“Yes, but the chair of the event, Gail Potter, should be going there, not me.”
“This has nothing to do with the event, this is my assignment,” Gavin insisted lifting Kay from her chair. He held her closely to his chest engulfing her petite figure within his 6-foot 2-inch frame.
“Besides, I’m a mess,” Kay continued to make excuses.
“You’re beautiful,” Gavin said kissing her cheek.
“What’s got into you?”
“Spring fever,” he said with a devilish tone. They laughed and went up to change…
***
As soon as Max finished his phone call with Gavin he went across the hall to his wife’s bedroom. He and Lana lived lavishly in a Saddle River, NJ, 18-room mansion. It was an older home built in the late 1950’s with sprawling landscape, indoor and outdoor pools, cinema room, guest bedrooms, a kitchen that Kay’s entire first floor would fit into with room to spare, two dining areas, a study-library, a home office, a
nd of course the wine cellar. Lana was immersed in a novel on her Kindle.
“Lana, dear, we’re having some company today.”
“Will I have time to shower and change?”
“Relax, it’s casual. It’s just the journalist, Gavin Murphy. He and his wife are stopping by to see the wine cellar. He told me she’s the photographer whose photo is featured on the invite for the garden club’s party. The one we’re hosting.”
“Oh?” Lana said with interest.
“Oh yes indeed,” Max said already acknowledging the wheels turning in Lana’s head. “They are the sort of allies we can use and we’ll need.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Lana added with a smile. “Let’s cultivate them.”
***
About an hour later, Gavin and Kay arrived at the Berkin’s home. The entrance to the driveway was gated. Gavin stretched his arm to a buzzer to be let in. He and Kay looked at each other in amazement.
“Boy do I regret selling my brother’s Jaguar. Here we are in our little Toyota.”
“We’re artists, Gavin. We’re not supposed to be rich.” Kay stated with an authoritative tone.
The buzzer sounded and the ornate iron- gate slowly opened.
“Do you think they have a maid?” Kay asked.
“They have it made,” Gavin quipped. “Did you remember your camera?”
“Yes, now relax will ya,” Kay shot back.
Any expectation to meet a man in a silk smoking jacket and ascot were completely erased from Gavin’s imagination when Max Berkin opened the door. He wore a black sweatshirt and jeans with tousled white hair greeting Gavin and Kay with a broad smile and hearty handshake. Kay noted his blue sapphire pinky-ring which was an immediate turnoff.
“So you’re the famous soccer journalist,” Max remarked.
“You can’t mean me,” Gavin replied feigning humility.
“Come into our study, my wife Lana is waiting for us.”
Gavin and Kay followed through a maze of marbled floor that amplified their every step. The entrance to the study was a plain dark mahogany door, but once inside the furnishings were extravagant and the view was over-the-top. Lana stood up and walk toward them.
“This is gorgeous,” Kay gushed unable to hide her reaction. “A photographer’s paradise!”
Lana laughed and gave Kay a spontaneous hug. “Kay I think we’re going to be great friends,” she announced.
“Just look at that garden, and it’s early in the season, I am so impressed.”
“All the glory goes to our gardener,” Max assured her. He was about to say more, when his mobile phone signaled a text message. He glanced at the caller ID and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
Gavin busied himself thumbing through various books from Max’s collection. Most of them were about vineyards, wines, and travel. Lana turned her attention to Gavin.
“My father was in the business, that’s how Max and I met.”
Gavin looked at Lana who appeared to be studying him, so likewise he did the same to her. He noted her warm brown eyes, long dark hair, and olive skin. She was an attractive woman, probably in her late-fifties, a little too thin by his standards. The pause in conversation became awkward and was broken by Lana saying, “Has anyone ever said you resemble Liam Neeson?”
Lana’s question instantly caught Kay’s attention. She had heard more times than she cared to count and would be happy to never hear it again, whereas Gavin never seem to tire of it. His reply ranged from: Do you really think so? Yes; and No, really?
“Why don’t we go down to the wine cellar to talk and take photos,” Max quickly intervened.
“Good idea, that’s why we’re here,” Gavin agreed. Kay gave him a look that communicated, “Yeah, you think.”
The two couples trotted down the hall which led to a descent down a steep staircase to the wine cellar. The area had an ideal fixed temperature of about 12◦ C (55◦ F) and humidity at an ideal 75%. Light sensors illuminated the cellar where racks of expensive wines were kept. Some of the bottles were covered in dust, most looked relatively clean.
“Here let me hold one of my favorites for a photo,” Max suggested. He chose a bottle of French wine, Henri Jayer Richebourg Grande Cru, threw his shoulders back and held-in his stomach to appear taller than his 5’9”. Kay took several photos of him from different angles including one from the floor which would also give the illusion of a taller stature.
“Let me take one of you and Lana together,” Kay said while lightly directing Lana toward Max. Lana swept her hair away from her face before standing alongside her husband.
“Closer,” Kay instructed. “A little more,” Kay said waving her hand to the left.
“You have to forgive my wife, she’s a hopeless romantic,” Gavin joked.
Everyone laughed, which loosened up the moment. Kay captured both candid and posed images of the couple. The last one was with Gavin and Max together. They returned to the study for a few additional pictures using the garden view as a backdrop. Kay was about to take one last one when Max’s phone again signaled a text message. This time he excused himself and stepped into the hall.
The text read: Where are you? We need to talk. Max shut-off the phone and returned to his guests.
“Sorry about that,” Max apologized.
“That’s OK,” Gavin replied. “I have to go home and write while this is fresh in my mind. Coming here has helped with the article.”
“And I want to prepare the best photos for the article,” Kay added.
“Oh what a sweet dedicated couple you are,” Lana commented. “I just love creative types.” With that she entwined her arm with Kay’s and they walked toward the front door. Max and Gavin followed behind.
The Berkins continued to wave good-by and didn’t stop until Gavin’s car was fully out of sight. Once inside, Lana crossed her arms and leaned against the door wearing a satisfied expression.
“I told you they would be perfect,” Max said. Lana smiled, began to go upstairs then turned toward Max.
“Who called?” She asked.
“Uh, it may have been a wrong number, or Barnaby.”
“What the hell does he want?” Lana yelled and returned to her bedroom. She quickly sent a text message to Gail Potter: We met Gavin and Kay. Good work.
Max took a deep breath and went back to his study. He placed his mobile phone back in ready mode and pressed a number he had stored for automatic dialing.
“It’s about time,” a voice snarled.
2
As soon as Kay and Gavin returned home they set out to work on the photographs and finishing the article. Gavin’s deadline was rapidly approaching. The editor of Wine Cellars Digest had emailed several times asking for a status on the piece with each successive email having an added tone of impatience. An opportunity to write for a glossy publication was light years from the ho-hum local newspaper pieces Gavin had done recently and he wanted to present his very best work.
Kay saved the images onto her laptop and began fiddling with the size and cropping when something in the background of Max’s wine cellar caught her attention. It was a bottle of New York State wine with a 1925 label. She quickly searched online to check the period of prohibition which was from 1920 – 1933.
“That’s strange,” she said loud enough for Gavin to hear as he passed through the living room.
“What’s strange?” He asked and continued walking toward the kitchen.
“US Prohibition was from 1920 – 1933. But Max has a bottle of New York wine with a 1925 label. Don’t you think that’s odd?”
Gavin made a face. The last thing he wanted was to have some wine expert rip his article apart. If Kay saw it, then surely an expert or anyone else would too.
“Though wine was still supplied to churches during Prohibition,” she added.
“Oh that makes it alright so the clergy could imbibe,” Gavin’s impatience grew. “Do me a favor just crop it out of the picture.”
“You
don’t have to be so testy!” Kay snapped. “It’s not just about your article Gavin, I’m thinking of the garden club members who hired Max Berkin for the Wine & Roses event.”
“Your garden ladies wouldn’t know the difference between a bouquet of flowers and a wine’s bouquet,” Gavin sniped.
Now Kay’s wrath had been uncorked. She was about to add fuel to the argument when her home phone rang. It was Gail Potter, the committee chair.
“Hi Kay, just wanted to confirm that you’re expecting the committee to meet at your place tomorrow evening.”
“Yes that’s right, at about 7,” Kay replied.
“Great, see you then!”
Still on the warpath, Kay made a beeline to the kitchen where Gavin was already having a mid-afternoon snack while Cody was whining for a walk.
“Kay, I’m sorry, this article could mean more assignments for me,” Gavin turned toward Kay while he apologized.
“Well, it’s not like you need the money, Gavin. Your brother Paul left you a sizeable inheritance, and once you sell the house in Pearl River…I don’t understand.”
“You wouldn’t because you are a retired teacher with a comfortable pension. But I struggled all my life as a journalist, a freelance writer, and it goes beyond the dollars.
At this age I want affirmation of my God given talent. Like you want for your photography.”
Kay sighed and shook her head affirmatively. “I’m sorry too. And I will crop anything you want out of the photos.”
Gavin kissed her forehead, grabbed Cody’s leash and the two went for a long walk.
Kay returned to the images but was interrupted again by another phone call. The call ID read: Lana Berkin. What could she want? Kay asked silently. Lana you’ll just have to leave a message. Lana’s call was sent to voicemail.
.
***
Gail Potter, a forty-something divorcee with both beauty and brains, was an ambitious woman all her life. Even at college she had to be both student body president as well as homecoming queen. She was a Harvard Business School graduate and held some vague post at a no-name public relations firm. Even so, her social calendar was crowded with committee meetings, luncheons dates, black tie events and affairs, both fundraising and the “fun-raising” sort as Gail dubbed the kind she was having with Max Berkin. Her ambition only took her as far as the fringe of old money and the nuveau riche, but that all changed when Max crossed her path at last year’s Harvest Ball. Once an open-book about her personal affairs, Gail kept this relationship in the shadows and beneath the sheets. Just the thought that she was in bed with a multi-millionaire vineyard owner was enough cache to have Gail coming back for another glass of Dom Perignon.
Wine, Roses & Cheats (Gold Trotter Mystery Series Book 5) Page 1