Dying on the Vine

by Marla Cooper

  Laurel handed me the steaming mug topped with frothy foam. “Here you go. I was thinking if you had time, we could go over the notes for the Catalina Island wedding, and then I had some ideas for our website. I was also thinking we should start a blog.”

  I laughed. “Okay, slacker. Too bad I can’t get you more interested in the business.” Even though it was going to take about three more grandes to catch up with her, I loved her enthusiasm. When I first hired her, I thought she was trying to impress me with her initiative, but it turned out that that’s just her personality.

  We settled in for our Monday morning meeting and divvied up our task list. It turned out to be a pretty easy day—a few calls for me, a few invoices for Laurel, a longish lunch where we talked about work just long enough to make our salads tax-deductible—and it was three o’clock before I knew it.

  When the buzzer rang, I ran down to let Haley and Christopher in, then escorted them to our meeting room, a cozy space I’d furnished with an orange love seat, two chairs, and a coffee table. They took the love seat, of course. Couples always do.

  “I looked at your website last night after we got home,” Haley began. “You’re a destination wedding planner, right? Does Napa still count as a destination?”

  “Believe me,” I said, “it counts. Actually, the wine country is one of the most popular places for a destination wedding in the United States, so it’s kind of a no-brainer for me. I’m just lucky to be geographically advantaged that way.”

  “That’s perfect, then,” said Haley. “It should be a piece of cake.”

  “Any chance you can help with the rehearsal dinner, too?” Christopher asked. “I have a huge family coming in from all over the country, so it’s going to be a little nuts.”

  “Yeah,” said Haley, “they think we’re throwing them a family reunion!”

  “That’s not unusual,” I said, laughing. “Are they wine lovers?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Christopher said, “my parents love wine. That’s why they buy the extra-large boxes of it.”

  Haley giggled at Christopher’s joke, then added: “I wouldn’t say anyone’s really a wine aficionado, but they all love a good party.”

  No wine snobs on the guest list? Awesome. Don’t get me wrong; I can work with even the pickiest of palates, and I can talk terroir with the best of them, but Haley and Christopher’s families sounded fun and low maintenance. “That sounds great. I’m happy to help with both.” I poised my pen to write. “So what’s the venue?”

  “Higgins Estate,” Haley said. “Out on Silverado Trail?”

  “Yes, of course. It’s a gorgeous place.” I tried not to let my surprise show. Higgins was one of the most elegant wineries in all of Napa, with a huge château perched above rolling hills. It was a popular spot for high-end weddings, and it fetched an exorbitant rental fee. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I just wouldn’t have chosen it for them myself.

  Haley chewed her lip anxiously. “But? I’m sensing a ‘but.’”

  “No, no buts,” I reassured her. “It’s lovely. They’re sticklers for the rules, but I can work with that. Sounds like they may have even lightened up a little. A couple of years ago, they wouldn’t have even let you book it without going through one of their approved wedding planners.”

  Haley’s eyes widened with surprise. “Really!? I didn’t realize you had to have one.”

  “Well, I mean, clearly they’ve relaxed the rules if they let you book it.”

  “They didn’t,” said Haley. “I mean, they did let us book it, but—”

  “But it was through that other lady,” Christopher said.

  I was confused. “Wait, what other lady?” And why do you both look so sheepish?

  “I guess I should have mentioned it before,” Haley said. “We did have a wedding planner, but she was kinda pushy. In fact, she’s the one who insisted we go to Higgins in the first place.”

  I was getting a bad feeling. Pushy? Insisting? Surely it wasn’t …

  “Babs Norton,” Haley said. “Do you know her?”

  I let out the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Babs. And here things had been going so well.

  “I do know her.” I tried to keep my expression neutral. “So what happened?”

  Christopher and Haley looked at each other. “Well, she was great,” said Haley, “but she was kind of bossy. She kept telling us who we must hire and what we must do.”

  I wasn’t surprised. Babs threw impeccable weddings, but she could be a bit opinionated. Most people just considered it part of her special charm. After all, you don’t get to be the Queen of Wine Country Weddings by leaving things to chance.

  “So you parted ways?”

  “Not because of that. My dad thought she was being too extravagant, so he set up a meeting with her. I don’t know what happened, but they got into an argument. And, well, I guess he sort of fired her.”

  Whoa. Someone had actually fired Babs? That was news.

  “It was kind of a heat-of-the-moment thing,” Haley continued. “Once Dad cooled down, he wanted to just forget about it and move on, but the damage was already done. Now she won’t return our calls!”

  I blew out a breath. Was this going to be weird, me taking on Babs’ former clients? I could see how it might look, especially after the scene Stefan had caused at the wedding fair. Then again, I was sure Babs had collected a hefty cancellation fee from them, and it’s not like her Pomeranians were going to go hungry. Ah, screw it. Surely Babs would understand, and she was the only one whose opinion I really cared about.

  “What the heck,” I said. “I’ll do it. I’m going to have my assistant Laurel help out, and I promise we’ll make it awesome.”

  “Oh, thank you!” said Haley. “You won’t regret it.”

  I excused myself for a moment and walked down the hall to Laurel’s office. “Laurel?” I said, rapping on her door. “Have you got a second? I’d like to introduce you to our newest clients.”

  Laurel’s eyes lit up. “I’d love to!” she squealed. She leapt from her chair and checked the large, gilt-frame mirror that hung on the wall of her office, fingercombed her blond bangs and checked her teeth for leafy green bits, and then followed me back down the hall into the meeting room.

  “Haley, Christopher, I’d like you to meet my assistant Laurel. I’m going to have her get you guys started, if that’s okay. I have a couple things I need to take care of.”

  “Thanks, Kelsey,” said Haley, hugging me impulsively. “I’m thrilled we’re going to be working together.”

  “Me too. We’ll talk soon,” I promised, waving as I pulled the door shut behind me.

  I thought about Babs. Would she really be okay with me taking on her clients? I mean, it’s not like I sought them out. Normally I wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but after the incident at the bridal fair I had no doubt Stefan was going to cause a stink.

  Only one way to find out. I went back to my office and dialed her number. She answered on the third ring, and after a few pleasantries I launched right in. “I had a meeting today with a couple I met at the wedding fair yesterday. Haley Bennett and Christopher Riegert?”

  “Oh. Yes.” Her tone wasn’t betraying much, but I could imagine that she was pursing her lips. “I trust they’re well?”

  “They are. The thing is, they came to me looking for a wedding planner.…”

  “Did they, now?” I could almost hear an eyebrow arching.

  “I met them yesterday, but I didn’t realize they’d already been working with you.”

  “So this is my courtesy call?”

  “I’m sorry, Babs. I just wanted you to hear it from me.” And not from Stefan. I didn’t need him causing any more friction between me and Babs.

  She paused for a moment, then blew out a breath. “It’s fine. Water under the bridge.”

  “So you don’t mind if I take them on as clients?”

  “Now, Kelsey, it’s not like you need my permission. We’re a
ll adults here.”

  Well, two of us are. “I know, it’s just—after everything with Stefan yesterday…”

  “Oh, don’t worry about him. Look, these things happen. And business is business, right?”

  “All right, as long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters. Thanks for understanding.”

  “Of course! Someone’s got to do it, right? And if it’s not going to be me, I’m glad it’s going to be you.”

  Whew. Weirdness averted.

  “In fact, why don’t you come by first thing tomorrow morning and I’ll give you all their files.”

  I hesitated. “Any chance I could send a courier over for them?”

  “Stefan has an appointment and won’t be in until ten, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  I laughed. “In that case, I’ll see you at nine.”

  The next morning, I stopped by a pastry shop near Babs’ office to stock up on baked goods. I was so relieved that this wasn’t going to be an issue between us, and I wanted to express my appreciation in my favorite way: with food. I’d pick up the files, we’d eat mini scones, we’d laugh and chat, and everything would be fine.

  When I got to the ornate building in Pacific Heights where Babs’ office was located, I circled the block until I found a spot, then I grabbed the box and trudged up the hill to her front door.

  I buzzed and waited for someone to let me in. Why didn’t I have a jacket? The morning fog hadn’t burned off yet and it was still chilly outside. I buzzed again, feeling impatient. If she didn’t let me in soon, I was going to have to eat all the pastries and she’d have no one to blame but herself.

  I pulled out my phone to call up, but before I had a chance to dial, the door opened and a young man in his twenties came through, winding a scarf around his neck. I ducked past him and darted into the marble hallway, relieved to be out of the cold air.

  An old-fashioned brass dial showed that the elevator was already in use, so I climbed to the second floor. I knocked, but no one answered. Had I really beaten her to the office? Dang it, she must have forgotten about our appointment. On a whim, I turned the doorknob and was surprised to find it unlocked. Maybe I’d just leave the box on her desk with a note to call me.

  “Hello? Babs?” I called, in case she was there but had been ignoring all my buzzing, phoning, and knocking. I stepped inside her gorgeously furnished front office and had the urge to take off my shoes so I didn’t sully the hand-tufted silk rug under my feet.

  “Anyone here?” No answer. I tiptoed across the room toward her office but found it empty. I paused. This was creepy. I mean, right? My intentions were good, but I shouldn’t have been there.

  Right behind me, a loud, jangly noise caused me to jump so fast that I actually threw the pastry box into the air, causing fresh baked goods to rain down around me. It was her phone. Who still uses landlines? I wondered, trying to quell the pounding in my chest.

  I dropped to my knees and started gathering pastries up off the carpet. Oh, why had I included croissants? It would take me half an hour to remove evidence of their flaky goodness. I crawled across the carpet to chase down a cruller that had rolled under a high-legged couch that sat a few feet in front of a wall of bookcases. I bent my head toward the floor to see where the cruller had gone, but let out a yelp when I saw a pair of eyes staring back at me.

  “Babs! I’m so sorry!” I said, shooting up off the floor. “I knocked, but no one answered.”

  I waited a beat, but she said nothing in response. What was she doing back there?

  “Babs?” I popped back down to the floor again, prepared to launch into a lengthy apology for breaking and entering. But when I saw her vacant stare, I could tell no apology would be necessary.

  Babs Norton was dead.

  CHAPTER 3

  Scrambling backwards across the rug, I bumped into Babs’ coffee table and knocked over a silver vase full of roses.

  Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was jumping to conclusions. Maybe she was … napping?

  I rushed around to the back of the couch, careful not to disturb anything, and let out a gasp as I noticed a halo of blood surrounding her head.

  She definitely wasn’t napping.

  I clutched at my stomach, feeling a wave of nausea. 911. I had to call 911.

  Determined not to touch anything else in the office, I fumbled for my cell phone and frantically dialed.

  “911. What’s your emergency?”

  That was an easy one: “It’s Babs Norton! She’s behind the couch,” I stammered out.

  “Someone’s behind a couch?” the operator repeated serenely.

  How could she be so calm at a moment like this? Oh, yeah. That was her job.

  I tried again, this time explaining what I had discovered in Babs’ office. Namely Babs. And I would have liked to have thought I was pretty calm, too, but the operator’s repeated requests that I please stop hyperventilating told me otherwise.

  “Can you tell if she’s breathing?” asked the operator.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “When I saw the blood, I called you immediately.”

  “Okay,” said the operator. “I’m going to ask you to go ahead and step outside, in case there’s an intruder and he’s still there.”

  “An intruder?” I spun around and quickly surveyed the room, looking around for something I could use as a weapon in case I had to defend myself. If someone was still there, maybe I could heave a laser printer at him.

  “Ma’am, are you still with me?” the operator asked. “I need you to vacate the premises.”

  “Sorry,” I said, “I’m going. I was looking for something I could use to protect myself.”

  “No, please don’t touch anything,” she said with a little more urgency in her voice. “I need you not to disturb anything.”

  “What? Why?”

  “In case it’s a crime scene.”

  Crime scene? Damn, she was right. I might actually be standing in the middle of a crime scene, and I’d already disturbed it when I flung a box of pastries at it.

  I didn’t want to leave Babs there, but the 911 operator was right: it was time to go. I raced down the stairs as the operator waited patiently. When I got to the ground floor, I burst through the front doors, pausing there on the sidewalk to catch my breath. The sound of the lead-glass door swinging shut behind me caused me to let out a loud “Eeep!”

  “You okay?” said the operator.

  “Yeah,” I said, “just a little jumpy, that’s all.” Not only had I vacated the premises, I’d locked myself out of them.

  “So what now?” I asked the operator.

  “I’d like for you to stay on the line with me until someone arrives.”

  “Ummmm, okay.” An awkward pause ensued. “So, what do you want to talk about?”

  A squad car came screeching to a stop on the street in front of me, lights flashing, and two uniformed officers emerged. Thank God. I hung up the phone and slid it into my back pocket. Oops. Sorry, 911 lady.

  “You Kelly McKenna?” asked the older of the two.

  “It’s Kelsey, but close enough,” I said. I pointed toward the door of Babs’ building. “She’s right up there. Hurry!”

  “The ambulance is two minutes out,” he said. “Can you let us into the building?”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t have a key. Someone would need to buzz us in, but we could probably—”

  The officer took the butt of his pistol and broke a pane of glass, reached in, and unlocked the door all in one fluid movement.

  “Oh, okay,” I said. “That’ll work.”

  We stepped over the shattered glass and into the lobby just as the wail of the ambulance’s siren came to a stop outside. The paramedics had caught up to us by the time we reached the stairs.

  “Second floor,” I yelled, pointing up as they raced past me.

  “Wait here,” said the older cop as he followed the others up the stairs.

  I sank down onto the stairs and leaned against
the banister. How could this be happening? Babs was kind of a legend in the wedding-planning community, and even though I didn’t know her very well, I’d always respected her. She’d even sent a couple of clients my way back when I was just a fledgling wedding planner with big dreams and few credentials.

  I shook my head. What was happening up there? I crept up to the second-floor landing, but they’d closed the door behind them. After pacing for several minutes, I couldn’t take the waiting anymore. Air. I needed air. I also needed to hear a friendly voice, so I went back outside and dialed Brody.

  Pick up, pick up, pick up.

  “What’s up, Kels? You must’ve read my mind. I was just thinking about breakfast and, look, here you are!”

  “Brody, thank God you picked up,” I said. My eyes had actually teared up a little at the sound of his voice.

  “What’s wrong?” he said. “You sound weird.”

  “It’s Babs. I’m at her office.”

  “Uh-oh. What did you do?”

  “No, no, it’s not like that. I found her on the floor of her office. The paramedics are with her now.”

  “What?! Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?”

  “I’m waiting outside for the police. I’m okay.” I was glad he couldn’t see my hands shaking.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Yeah, positive. Just keep me company until they come back, yeah?”

  “Of course,” he said. “So what happened?”

  “Well, I stopped by to talk to her about a client and—” The sound of a siren interrupted my thought, and a second squad car pulled up as the two officers from before emerged from the building. The older one spotted me and waved me over. “Brody, I’m going to have to call you back.”

  “Dang it! You can’t leave me hanging like that!” he said.

  “Sorry, I gotta go.” I hung up and rushed toward the officer, who was pointing the two new arrivals toward Babs’ office.

  “How is she?”

  He tightened his lips and shook his head.

  “You mean, she really is … dead?”

  He nodded grimly. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. “But what—how?”