Dying on the Vine

by Marla Cooper

  “Maybe he knew from the beginning and was just toying with us.” I was disappointed that I wouldn’t even get the chance to try to talk to Stefan, but I guess I wasn’t as clever as I’d thought.

  Our sting was a bust.

  We went back to the office and pretended to work, but I was distracted. I couldn’t believe Stefan had stood us up. I knew I should leave the whole deposit business up to Haley’s dad, let them sue him and get the money back themselves.

  But there was more to it than that.

  If Stefan really had had anything to do with Babs’ death, then we had much more important things to discuss. Like the fact that he’d accused me of murdering Babs right in the middle of the memorial service. Was he just acting out in a grief-stricken rage, or had he been trying to cover up his own involvement? Either way, it was not okay. If the cops had a murder board of their own, I was probably on it. And I wasn’t willing to sit around and wait for them to clear my name. After all, brides are notoriously skittish about signing on with wedding planners who were also murder suspects.

  It’s not like I’d expected him to confess, but who knew what else I could learn if I could actually get him to talk to me? Now I might not ever get the chance.

  There was only one solution that I could think of.

  “You up for an adventure?” I asked Brody when he answered his cell.

  “Like a fun adventure, or just something where I come along because you don’t want to go alone?”

  “Um … it’ll be fun.” My voice wasn’t even slightly convincing. Who was I kidding?

  “Nope, you’re not fooling me. You want a favor, and favors are never fun. They’re just favors. Besides, I’m busy.”

  “Busy doing what? You don’t sound busy.”

  “I’m painting.” Brody had been updating his home office with a chocolate-brown accent wall, but I was sure he’d finished days ago.

  “You’re still painting? I thought you’d be done by now.”

  “Yeah, someone keeps interrupting me, remember?”

  “I need you to help me hunt down Stefan. I thought we’d try his house in Bernal Heights.”

  “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

  “C’mon, please? I have to talk to him, and he won’t return my calls.”

  “Yeah, because he doesn’t want to talk to you. And going to his apartment isn’t going to change that fact.”

  He had a point, but I wasn’t ready to give up without a fight. “I have to at least try.”

  “You know this is going to go poorly,” Brody said.

  “I know.”

  “And you’re probably going to end up regretting it.”

  “I do.”

  “Isn’t there anything I can do to change your mind?” he asked.

  “You could invent a time machine so I could go back in time and mind my own business. Instead of going to the Wine Country Wedding Faire to help you out, I could stay home and go to Pilates. Then I never would have met Haley and Christopher, and I’d have a stronger core.”

  “That’s a much better idea. I’ll get right on it.”

  “Okay, but just in case you don’t succeed, let’s go talk to Stefan. If you do succeed, then whatever happens won’t matter once we go back in time.”

  “I’m really sorry, Kelsey, I have to finish painting, then I have an appointment at four, and then I have to work on the time machine. Busy, busy, busy!”

  “Oh, okay, fine. I’ll get Laurel to go with me.”

  “Call me later and tell me how it went?”

  “Nope, if you’re so danged curious, you shoulda come with me.” I hung up the phone and thought for a second. If there was any chance Stefan was responsible for Babs’ death, there was no way I was going to go talk to him alone. No wonder cops always have partners.

  “Laurel?”

  She ran into my office, a little too quickly. I guess she was as bad at pretending to work as I was.

  “This is probably a little beyond the call of duty, but—”

  “I’ll do it!”

  “You don’t even know what it is.”

  “Does it involve investigating Stefan?”

  “Well, as a matter of fact—”

  “I knew it!” she said. “I’m in.”

  “I thought you wanted to be a wedding planner, but now I’m thinking you’d rather be a private eye.”

  “Nah, I’m just mad he didn’t show up to our stakeout.”

  Half an hour later, we pulled up to Stefan’s house in Bernal Heights. The boxy, modern structure sat above a garage with a steep flight of stairs leading up to Stefan’s front door, so it wasn’t until we’d reached the top that we saw a vase full of white lilies sitting on his porch—a classic bereavement bouquet.

  “Doesn’t look like he’s home,” Laurel said, pointing at the arrangement.

  I knocked anyway and we waited. Nothing. I peeked through his bay window, but there was no sign of activity inside.

  Laurel studied the flowers. “These don’t look very fresh. Either the florist did a pretty lousy job or they’ve been sitting here awhile.”

  I knocked again, but still no answer. Looking through Stefan’s mail slot, I saw what appeared to be several days’ worth of mail littering the parquet flooring.

  “He’s not here,” I said, a knot forming in the pit of my stomach.

  Laurel stood on her tiptoes to peer through a window. “He must be out of town.”

  I thought about everything that had happened the last few days. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who’d started to think Stefan had something to do with Babs’ death. Maybe people had started to talk. “Or maybe he skipped town.”

  Forget the fact that I wouldn’t be able to get Haley and Christopher’s deposits back. This was serious. Had anyone heard from Stefan in the last couple of days, or had he ghosted? I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Lucas Higgins.

  He answered quickly and sounded rushed: “Hey, Kelsey, what’s up?”

  “Hi, Lucas. Hey, have you seen Stefan? I need to talk to him.”

  “You and me both. We’re having sort of a situation here.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “It’s not. In fact…” There was a pause as he covered the phone and said something to someone in the background, but then he was back. “What are you doing right now?”

  “Right now, you mean, like right now?” I looked at Stefan’s front door, not wanting to admit we’d been stalking him. “Just some … paperwork. Why?”

  “Stefan is supposed to be at the winery for an engagement party tonight, but I don’t think he’s going to show. He’s already two hours late, and no one can get hold of him.”

  “That’s awful!” I looked over at Laurel and mouthed the words, “Oh my God,” pointing at the phone, then emphatically pointing at the door, hoping she would piece together what we were saying, but she just stared at me with a quizzical expression, as if she didn’t speak mime.

  “I know. They’re beside themselves. I can’t believe he screwed us over again.”

  I gritted my teeth in frustration. It hadn’t been my imagination. Stefan was gone.

  “Anyway,” Lucas continued, “any chance you could help me out? It’s only about twenty people. The dad is one of our biggest clients. He owns a couple of restaurants, and they buy wine by the truckload.”

  I thought about it for a second. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I was sure I could wing it. “What time do you need me there?”

  “What time can you be here?”

  I checked my watch. “Two hours, give or take? It depends on traffic.”

  “You’re a lifesaver.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Even after dropping Laurel back at the office and running home for a costume change, I’d made it out of the city in record time. The late afternoon sun slanted through the oak trees, making long shadows that stretched across the two-lane highway. I rolled down my car window to feel the warm breeze on my fa
ce and soaked in the views of tidy rows of grapevines lining the hills. Nice and orderly, like I hoped tonight would be.

  Oh, who was I kidding? If I’d planned the evening’s festivities, I’d have been sure it would go off without a hitch. Heck, if I even knew what the plan was meant to be, I’d feel a whole lot better, but I had to admit: I had no idea what I was walking into.

  I punched the code Lucas had given me into the keypad at the front entrance and waited while the grand wrought-iron gates swung slowly open. Then I wound my way up the hill and parked my car, taking one last deep breath before I transitioned into work mode.

  It was go time.

  Zara was on the back patio, setting up for the wine-tasting portion of the evening. There were twenty places set, each with six stemmed glasses lined up in front of it so that the buttery Chardonnays wouldn’t have to intermingle with the spicy Zins as guests worked their way through the wine menu.

  “Zara, hi. I’m Kelsey. Lucas sent me?”

  Relief flooded the girl’s face. “Oh, thank God. I was supposed to get off at five when the tasting room closed, but Lucas roped me into staying. You’re a wedding planner?”

  “Yep.”

  She blew her black bangs out of her eyes as she polished one of the glasses with her apron. “Thank God. Brides make me nervous.”

  “Not to worry. I can handle them.”

  “Perfect. They’re doing a tasting on the patio first; then dinner is up in the wine cave.” She pointed toward the door that led into the tasting room. “The floral arrangements are all over there, and the rental place dropped off the linens and dishware earlier. Hector will be here in a minute to take you up to the wine cave, and I can send up a few guys to help set up. But if you can make some executive decisions about where everything should go, that would be a big help. Normally, this would have all been done hours ago, but, well, you know.”

  “No problem,” I said. “I know my way around a place setting.”

  She waved me into the kitchen, where she opened a drawer and pulled out a notepad and pen. After scribbling something on the top sheet of paper, she tore it off and handed it to me. “Here’s the door code to the wine cave. When the green light blinks, it means you’re in; then you can prop the doors open after that.”

  “Got it.” I grabbed some hydrangeas and headed toward my car, but my trajectory was interrupted by a well-dressed couple strolling up the stairs, her in high heels and him in a jacket. Guests were already arriving? Maybe I could invite them to roam the gardens while they waited. I set the flowers aside and put on my game face.

  “Hi,” said the pretty brunette, beating me to the punch as I turned to greet her. “I’m Monica, and this is Gordon.”

  “Welcome to Higgins Estate,” I said, sounding all official as if I’d worked there for years. “Are you here for the Maxwell party?”

  “We are the Maxwell party,” the man said, looking confusedly at me.

  “I’m Monica,” the woman repeated, as if I hadn’t heard her the first time. I’d heard her, but Lucas hadn’t told me the couple’s first names, just their last, and I didn’t want to tell her what happens when you assume.

  “Of course! The bride and groom. We’ve been expecting you. I’m Kelsey, and I’ll be filling in for Stefan tonight. I’m so sorry for the confusion today.” Not that I had anything to apologize for, but I didn’t think saying, I’m sorry Stefan is a jerkface, would strike quite the right tone.

  She crinkled her eyebrows in confusion. “Are you his assistant?” Deep breath. Count to ten.

  “No, but I am a wedding planner myself, and Lucas told me how important it is that everything go smoothly for you tonight, so don’t you worry about a thing. All you have to do is relax and have a good time.” While I pretend I know what’s going on and what Stefan had planned.

  “All right,” Monica said, still looking unsure.

  I put on my best smile. “Now let’s get you set up on the patio with a glass of champagne.”

  Gordon put his arm around his fiancée and gave her a squeeze. “See, sweetie? I told you everything would be okay.”

  She actually seemed to relax a little. Whew. Everyone knows if the bride’s not relaxed, then nobody’s relaxed.

  I led them up to the patio, where I left them in Zara’s capable hands. In the meantime, Hector had shown up and was carrying floral arrangements off to the official Higgins Estate SUV, which would be shuttling guests up and down the hill later in the evening.

  After introducing myself, I rescued my abandoned hydrangeas and headed to the parking lot, a bee following me the whole way. As Hector and I were loading the SUV, a white truck with the words “A Moveable Feast” painted on the side pulled into the spot next to us.

  The driver—a dark-haired man with a goatee, a white jacket, and a tattoo of a whisk on his forearm—rolled down his window as I approached.

  “You must be the caterer. I’m Kelsey. I’m the … wedding planner.”

  “You sure about that?” he said, smiling broadly.

  “Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m definitely a wedding planner; I just wasn’t supposed to be this wedding planner.”

  He shrugged. “All right. Where do you want me to set up?”

  “Just up the road. You want to follow us?”

  “Will do.”

  Hector and I took the SUV, winding our way up a narrow road with the catering van close behind. The sun was about to dip behind the mountain, and the sky was a brilliant blue punctuated with pink streaks. I hoped Monica and Gordon were enjoying the sunset. As it turned out, they’d made the right choice in showing up early.

  Hector pulled up near the arched door of the wine cave, and the catering van rolled to a stop behind us. I jumped down from the SUV and checked my watch. We didn’t have long to get everything ready.

  Next to the door, there was a pile of dish crates marked “A-1 Party Rentals.” I hoped they’d left me everything I needed, because there wouldn’t be time for them to come back out if anything was missing. On the bright side—or maybe the not-so-bright side—the cave would be lit by nothing but candles and a chandelier, and dim lighting can cover a multitude of woes.

  “Would you mind helping us move some things into the cave?” I asked Whisk Guy. “Zara’s sending up reinforcements, but we don’t have a ton of time.”

  “Sure, point the way,” he said, shutting the door to his van.

  “Thanks. I owe you one. What was your name again?”

  “Pete.”

  “Okay, Pete, give me one second to get these crates open so I can take a quick inventory.”

  Grabbing my flashlight so I could see what I had to work with, I opened the first box and found a pile of plates separated by little squares of cardboard. Whew. Plates are important.

  I opened the second box and shined the light inside. More plates. Subsequent boxes unearthed silverware, tablecloths, and water glasses. Where were the wineglasses? I’d have to send Hector down to make sure we had enough.

  “Hey, Kelsey?” Hector asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, distracted as I counted out how many wineglasses we were going to need.

  “I can’t open the door.”

  “Hold on,” I said, trying to do the math in my head as I multiplied the number of guests we were expecting by the number of glasses per guests. I didn’t even know what they were serving. Champagne and wine? Just wine? Maybe Zara already had them ready to go down at the château.

  “Okay, sorry. Let me try.” I took the slip of paper over and punched in the numbers Zara had written down for me. The light on the keypad flickered green. “There you go,” I said as I turned the doorknob and pushed.

  Nothing.

  I tried again, pushing as hard as I could, and still the door didn’t budge. Dang it! Was it so much to ask that this evening go smoothly?

  “I don’t think it’s the lock,” I said. “The door seems to be stuck.”

  “Here, let me try,” said Pete. He threw his weight against the door, and af
ter a couple of tries he was able to crack it open. “Something seems to be blocking it.”

  I couldn’t see inside the cave, but the smell of oak and wine came wafting out, stronger than I remembered it. It was starting to get dark and the cave was nothing but a black hole, so I clicked my flashlight on again and shined it through the crack in the door. The light reflected back to me, and it took a moment for me to realize it was coming from a dark puddle on the floor.

  “Is that…?” Hector asked.

  “It looks like blood,” Pete said.

  My heart thudded in my chest. Blood? No. This could not be happening.

  Leaning in closer, I was hit with the strong smell of Cabernet Sauvignon. The dark puddle stretched as far as my flashlight beam could see. “No, there’s too much for it to be blood. I’m sure it’s…” I shimmied my arm into the cave and held my breath while I touched my finger to the liquid. I laughed. “It’s just wine.”

  As relieved as I was that it wasn’t blood, I still had a major problem on my hands. How was I going to clean this mess up before the guests arrived? “Um, I don’t suppose anyone thought to bring a mop?”

  “I think there’s a wet vac down at the château,” said Hector. “Want me to go get it?”

  I never thought I’d be so happy to hear the words “wet vac.” “Great. Help me get this door open first, okay?”

  The three of us lined up again, putting our shoulders against the door.

  “Okay, on three,” Hector said. “One, two, three.” We pushed hard and the door opened.

  A huge puddle filled the entryway, along with splintered pieces of Hungarian oak. I didn’t even have time to wonder how it had happened. All I knew was that a barrel held three hundred bottles’ worth of wine, which meant there was literally thousands of dollars’ worth of breakage on the floor of the cave.

  “Wow, talk about the angel’s share,” Pete said.

  “What?”

  “You know, when wine evaporates, they call it the angel’s share?”

  “Oh, yeah. Lucky angels.”

  “Drunk angels,” he added. “They don’t usually get this much at once.”

  “True. And they really can’t hold their liquor.” I tucked the flashlight under one arm and took off my shoes, glad I was wearing a dress, so I wouldn’t have to roll up my pant legs. This was going to make a mess.