Dying on the Vine

by Marla Cooper

  “Well, you’re in luck,” Lucas said, rolling his chair over to an office credenza. “Stefan’s been working out of here the last few weeks while his office is out of commission, so this time I have all the information you need.” He opened up a drawer and started thumbing through it. “I can’t tell how he’s arranged everything, though. It’s certainly not alphabetical.”

  “Don’t tell Kelsey that,” Laurel said. “She’ll end up reorganizing the whole thing.”

  He pulled out a large stack of folders and set them on the desk between us. “Be my guest.”

  I quickly glanced through a couple of folders, including one that contained Haley and Christopher’s information. “This should come in handy,” I said, sliding it across the table to Laurel. While I looked through the rest, I kept an eye out for any tidbits of information that might be of use. Lots of vendor agreements and proposals, but nothing that was evidence of anything other than Babs’ exquisite taste and penchant for weddings with large budgets.

  Maybe I could use the files as an excuse to poke around a little more. “I’ll tell you what,” I said to Lucas, “why don’t Laurel and I spend some time looking through all of this? We’ll check our calendars and figure out which ones we can take on, and then we can reconvene in a bit.”

  Lucas paused while he considered it. “Sure. I’ve got some calls I need to make anyway.” He stood to go. “I think you’ll find everything you need there, but if you have any questions, I’m right down the hall.”

  Laurel and I made eye contact, but neither of us spoke until he’d left the room.

  “Keep an eye out while I check the desk,” I whispered after a minute had passed.

  She tiptoed to the door and poked her head out. “All clear.” she reported back, then closed the door behind her.

  I yanked open the middle drawer and rummaged around in it. Just your basic office supplies: some highlighters—good to know in case I had a color-coding emergency—some sturdy black-and-silver binder clips, and an assortment of used pens.

  The top side drawer held fresh notepads and a stack of glossy brochures from different catering companies, and in the third drawer I found a large binder labeled “Higgins Estate Wedding Program: Rules and Protocols.” I pulled the chunky tome from the drawer, surprised it was more than a few pages long. How many rules and protocols did they really need? That had to have been Miles’ doing.

  “Here’s a little light reading for you,” I said, handing it to Laurel. “Flip through it and see if there’s anything interesting.”

  “There’s a note inside,” Laurel said. “‘Babs—Perhaps you need to refresh your memory on our policies. Miles Higgins.’ Yikes. I wonder what that’s about?”

  “Keep reading. Maybe he underlined helpful passages.”

  While Laurel perused Miles’ manifesto, I turned my attention to the credenza. I opened the drawer Lucas had taken the folders from and searched through the remaining files one by one. Nothing major. Pulling all the hanging files forward to check the back of the drawer, I spotted a book that appeared to be a leather-bound desk agenda. A prickly heat crawled up my neck as I pulled it from the drawer, and the name embossed on the cover took my breath away.

  Babs Norton.

  CHAPTER 22

  I silently held up the datebook and showed Laurel.

  “What? Are you kidding me?” She abandoned the rule book and came around to my side of the desk to get a closer look. There was a ton of information inside, from vendor lists to planning notes. Stuff that most of us kept on our laptops or tablets these days, but Babs had been an old-fashioned gal.

  “There’s no telling what we might find in here,” I whispered.

  “What should we do with it?” Laurel asked. “Photocopy it?”

  “That’ll take too long. Let’s just take it.”

  “Take it? We can’t do that!”

  “Why not? No one knew it was there, or they would’ve already given it to the police.”

  Laurel crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Which is exactly what we should do.”

  “And we will,” I promised. “Just as soon as we have a look at it.”

  Laurel looked dubious, but she didn’t stop me from hiding the book deep in the bottom of my tote.

  Spurred on by our discovery, we searched the rest of the office, but there were no more major discoveries. That was okay with me. I was already so on edge I felt like I’d had three grande mocha frappuccinos and a fistful of Pixy Stix, and we still needed to scour through the upcoming Higgins events like we’d promised. We finally settled down with our calendars and found some holes we could fill if we divided up the work.

  “All right,” I said, satisfied that we’d come up with a solid plan. “Let’s talk to Lucas, and then we can go.” We bundled up our things, took one last look around, and headed down the hall. Halfway there, Laurel stopped. “Do you hear that?”

  From the direction of Lucas’ office came the sound of muffled voices. None of it was intelligible, but the angry tone came through loud and clear. Laurel and I crept closer a few steps at a time.

  We stood outside his door for a moment, me with my hand up in the universal sign for “I was about to knock.” I leaned in closer. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I heard someone say, “That woman.” Which woman? There were so many women to choose from. I sure hoped I wasn’t the woman in question.

  I made eye contact with Laurel, holding my finger to my lips. Just as I was about to cup my hand against the door to get a better listen, it flew open, knocking me backwards into the wall.

  “Hey!” Laurel cried indignantly, rushing to my side.

  A red-faced Miles spun around, took one look at me, and spat, “You! What do you want?”

  It all happened so fast, it took me a second to process the fact that I was flat on my tush in the richly carpeted hallway, the contents of my bag scattered across the floor. A corner of Babs’ agenda peeked out of the bag and I quickly shoved it back in. “Well, an apology would be nice, as long as you’re offering.”

  Miles glowered at me in what could only be construed as a no. He leaned in, saying just loud enough for me and Laurel to hear, “That’s what happens to wedding planners who don’t watch their step.”

  As he stalked off down the hall, Laurel and I stared after him in disbelief. Having heard the commotion, Lucas rushed out and helped me to my feet, apologizing profusely for his brother’s behavior. “With everything that’s been going on, he’s just really on edge. I hope you understand that it’s nothing personal.”

  Nothing personal. I’d hate to see what would have happened if it was personal.

  He explained that Miles had been furious about what had happened with Stefan in the wine cave and had demanded that the wedding program be shut down immediately. Lucas had managed to placate him the best he could, but running into me in the wine cave had set Miles off all over again.

  It wasn’t exactly the smoking gun that I’d been hoping to find—or the smoldering wine barrel—but I was getting some pretty solid evidence that Miles had a temper, and it was a bad one.

  “What were you doing in the wine cave, anyway?” Lucas said, furrowing his brow in our general direction.

  I was tempted to say, Looking for evidence that your brother was trying to kill Stefan—nothing personal, but luckily Laurel cut in before I had a chance. “She was giving me a tour. Gorgeous view from up there.”

  I nodded. “I hope we’ll still get to do some events up there. Speaking of, we’re ready to look at these.” I waved the client folders in the air with an excited expression on my face, managing to distract him enough that he dropped the cave.

  Snapping into wedding-planning mode, I went through the stack with Lucas, making some vague promises about getting him proposals for the weddings we could do and recommendations for the ones we couldn’t. But the whole time, my mind was on other things. I couldn’t wait to get home and sort through Babs’ agenda and see if I could learn anything that would be of use.


  After promising to follow up soon, Laurel and I said goodbye and headed to the car and I tossed Laurel my keys. “You’re driving.”

  “Me? Why?” Laurel looked nervous at her newfound responsibility.

  “Because I want to look through this,” I said, pulling Babs’ datebook from my bag.

  Once we were safely on the road I cracked open the agenda and started flipping through the pages.

  The first thing I noticed? Two different types of handwriting. Babs’ elegant cursive, written in blue ink, and what I assumed was Stefan’s nearly illegible scrawl in black. He must have taken over the book after her death to keep the wheels turning.

  Turning to the calendar section, I looked at the days leading up to Babs’ death. She’d had several appointments at Higgins, but as far as I could tell, there was no mention of Miles specifically. And of course there was the Wine Country Wedding Faire that Sunday.

  On Monday she’d taken a bride for a makeup consult with someone who wasn’t Thierry—the nerve—and had an early evening menu tasting with the Carvers, whoever they were. Had she made it to that last appointment?

  I flipped through the weeks prior to her death, searching for anything that stood out about the winery or Miles. There were lots of calendar entries, but most of them seemed pretty innocuous. In fact, I probably would have skipped right over a dinner appointment at the Willows, except that it had been circled twice and annotated in black ink.

  “Look at this, Laurel.”

  “What is this, some sort of test? I can’t look; I’m driving.”

  “Sorry. It’s just—at seven o’clock on the Thursday before Babs died, it says ‘The Willows’ and the initials ‘SB.’ Then Stefan circled it and wrote Stanley Bennett’s name off to the side with two question marks.”

  “The Thursday before she died? That was right before the wedding fair. That must have been when he met with Babs to talk about the budget.”

  “Yeah, the night he fired her.” I stared out the window, deep in thought. “But why do you think Stefan circled it and wrote out Mr. Bennett’s name with question marks? That makes it seem like he didn’t know they were meeting.”

  “True, but it’s not like you tell me about every meeting you go to.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing.” I kept flipping through the calendar, looking for other entries Stefan might have flagged. “It’s weird. That’s the only one where Babs used initials. She usually wrote out the names of people she was meeting with. Stefan must have thought something was up.”

  A sudden idea occurred to me. Maybe I could go ask him myself. I fished my phone out of my bag and texted Corey.

  How’s Stefan? Any change?

  Corey didn’t answer right away, but a few minutes later his response popped up on my screen.

  Can’t talk right now, I’ll text you later

  Shoot. I could really use Stefan’s help.

  I stared out the window at the rolling hills along the highway leading back into the city. The Willows. Why did that sound familiar?

  My cell phone rang and I checked the display. “It’s Brody,” I told Laurel as I clicked to answer. “Hey, there! Laurel and I are about to go through the tunnel, so if we drop I’ll call you back when we’re going over the bridge.”

  There was a pause on the other end. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

  I searched my memory banks for any sign of what he might be talking about. “No way! Are you kidding me?” The tunnel was still another mile away. Dang it, this was no time for crystal-clear cell reception. I muted the phone. “Laurel, what did I forget? Brody thinks I forgot and I don’t want him to know that he’s right!”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Kelsey?” I heard Brody’s voice coming through the speakers, but he was still on mute. “Are you still there?” Jabbing at the screen, I disconnected the call.

  “What’d you do that for?” Laurel asked.

  “I don’t know. I panicked.”

  I wracked my brain trying to remember what it was I’d forgotten. Did I owe him a callback? Was I supposed to give him a ride somewhere? It wasn’t his birthday, was it? No, that was still another month away.

  I thought back to the last time we talked. I’d told him about finding Stefan in the wine cave. He’d told me about some engagement portraits he’d shot. Then we’d talked about Prentice. Prentice! We’d made a date with Jake Schmake to plan our staged wedding for the photo shoot.

  After we got through the tunnel, I called Brody back. “Sorry ’bout that! You know how bad the reception can be in Marin County. Anyway—”

  “Anyway, you forgot.”

  “I totally did not forget that we were supposed to go up to Jake’s this afternoon.”

  “Great, so are you coming to pick me up?”

  “About that…”

  I filled him in on all the recent developments at Higgins and told him my sleuthing schedule wasn’t going to allow for any extra-credit projects, at least not today. After I apologized profusely, he promised to call Jake and see if we could reschedule.

  “Okay, thanks,” I said. “And, hey, do you know what the Willows is?”

  “It’s a restaurant over on Geary. Why do you ask?”

  “Just following up a lead. That’s where Haley’s dad met with Babs the night he gave her the boot, and apparently Stefan thought it was suspicious.”

  “It does seem like an odd choice,” Brody said. “Not exactly where you’d expect a business meeting to take place.”

  “Maybe Mr. Bennett picked it,” I said. “Anyway, I’ll keep looking through the book and see if there’s anything that’s actually helpful.”

  We got off the phone so I could concentrate on Laurel’s driving. Traffic was starting to pick up, and it was bringing out my worst backseat-driving tendencies. “Watch out,” I said, pointing up ahead. “That light up there has a camera and they take a picture of your license plate if you run it.”

  “I’m not going to run it.”

  “I’m just saying, watch out.”

  “Do you want to drive?”

  “No, you’re fine. But you might want to slow down a little.” Okay, so I was maybe having some control issues.

  “Seriously, I will pull over right here and we can switch.”

  I waved my hand to dismiss her concern. “No, don’t be silly. I won’t say another word.”

  I waited at least a full thirty seconds before I spoke again. “Speaking of driving…”

  “That’s it. I’m pulling over.”

  “No! I was just going to say, as long as we’re out, why don’t we go by the Willows?”

  Laurel crinkled her nose. “What for?”

  “I don’t know. Just a hunch. Stefan thought it was suspicious, and now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  A quick search showed it wasn’t far out of our way, and Laurel agreed that it was worth a shot. I navigated while she drove, and I even managed to keep my opinions about her blinker usage to a minimum. When we arrived, she dropped me off at the front door so she wouldn’t have to find a parking place, or possibly because she didn’t want to parallel park with me watching.

  As soon as I walked in the front door of the Willows, I got what Brody was saying about it being a strange meeting place for a wedding planner and a client. I guess technically it was a restaurant, but with large-screen TVs on every wall and over thirty beers on tap, it seemed more like a sports bar—definitely not Babs’ style.

  I approached the hostess, who was wiping down the plastic menu sleeves in advance of that evening’s dinner service so that the ketchup stains wouldn’t obscure the various selections of burgers and nachos.

  “Hi,” I began. “I have kind of a weird question. How far back do you keep records of your reservations?”

  “We don’t take reservations. First come, first served.”

  “Oh, well…” I pulled up a picture of Babs on my phone. “Have you ever seen this woman in here?”

  The hostes
s took a look and shook her head. “Not that I remember. But she doesn’t look much like our usual crowd.”

  I asked a few more questions but didn’t learn anything that would be of use, except for maybe the fact that they had two-dollar oysters on Wednesday nights.

  “That was a bust,” I said as I slid into the driver’s seat, which Laurel had abandoned. I turned off the hazards and pulled away from the curb, finding it oddly comforting to be behind the wheel again.

  I had no idea why Babs and Mr. Bennett had chosen this as a meeting place, and I still didn’t know why Stefan had found it significant.

  All I knew was I hoped Stefan woke up soon, because we had a lot to talk about.

  CHAPTER 23

  “So,” I asked the pile of papers spread out before me. “Where should I start?” I finally had all the information on Haley and Christopher’s wedding, and was eager to finalize their plans. But I also was looking forward to going through Babs’ desk agenda line by line to see what else I could uncover.

  Before I could make a firm decision one way or the other, my phone rang. It was Corey, and from the sound of it, things had taken a turn. There’d been an emergency surgery. Something about internal injuries. The details were scant, but the outcome was clear. Stefan was in the ICU, and Corey was beside himself.

  Poor Corey. Despite their breakup, he obviously still had feelings for his ex, and I found myself promising to help out however I could. I didn’t know if Stefan would approve, but it was the one thing I could do.

  “Thanks, Kelsey, I appreciate the offer,” Corey said, blowing his nose on the other end of the line. “I’ll let you know if I think of anything. There’s something else I wanted to ask you, though. I couldn’t talk earlier because the police were here asking questions.”

  My heart sped up a little. “Like what?”

  “Like if Stefan had said anything about what happened in the wine cave.”

  “That’s something we’d all like to know. It’s not that easy to topple a rack of wine barrels.”