Must Be Murder

by Jen Carter

  “It’s been a strange weekend so far,” I said, spearing a piece of meat with a fork and motioning for Stella to pass me the chimichurri.

  “Well, it definitely can’t get any stranger,” Holly said.

  I hoped she was right.

  ***

  By ten-thirty, our evening was winding down. Stella and Amy had already left to see what their better halves were up to, and both Jules and Livy were losing steam. Jules had her head propped up with her fist, and every couple seconds her eyes fluttered closed. She was trying to pay attention as Elita lamented the latest boyfriend who broke up with her. Livy, on the other hand, wasn’t even attempting to look interested. Her forehead was on the table, and every time Elita replayed another memory of her latest failed relationship, she muttered the same response under her breath: Then don’t date someone who works in OV.

  The funny thing was that Livy was dating someone who worked in Otto Viti—but they had grown up together and moved here together. I wasn’t sure if she and Hunter would ever get married, but they seemed practically married already. Elita, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to stick with a relationship for more than two months. Livy probably had a good point about not dating people from OV. But since Nico was going to work here once he arrived, I wasn’t going to voice my agreement aloud.

  I glanced at Holly, the only one who really cared about Elita’s pain. She nodded along, patting Elita’s shoulder. Normally Holly and I would walk back to Aldo’s house together—her permanent residence and my home-away-from-home—but she looked like she was in for a long night of listening to Elita.

  “I think I’m done,” I announced. “Anyone want to head out with me?”

  Jules straightened up, and Livy lifted her head from the table. They started gathering their purses.

  “Yeah, early run tomorrow,” Livy yawned.

  “Yeah, early,” Jules said.

  I didn’t bother parroting them. When I was in OV, I normally joined their morning runs, but I never seemed to make it after a girls’ night out, and I wasn’t going to pretend. I needed sleep, and my friends apparently did not. Jules was up and baking by four every morning, but she took a break to run with Livy—and sometimes me—around six when her assistant got to the bakery. Livy liked being done running before seven so she could get to her store by eight. Being shop owners and all, getting to work on time was important to them—and luckily, since they both lived above their stores, the short commute helped with that. I, however, was just a part-time helper at D’Angelo Winery and had very little responsibility. And if I was honest, I was just a part-time runner, too.

  “Want me to clear some of these plates?” I asked Elita as I pocketed my phone and key ring.

  “No, don’t worry about it,” she said, glancing glassy-eyed at the plates and pint glasses littering the table. “Holly and I can take care of it.”

  “Why don’t I clear the table, and you two can wash everything when you’re done talking?” I said. My sister and Elita nodded, and I stacked a bunch of plates. Livy and Jules reached for some glasses, but I waved them off. “I’ll get it,” I said. “You two need to get home.”

  The three of us walked through the now-empty restaurant. When I turned left toward the kitchen with the plates and they went straight to the front door, we called our goodbyes.

  After one more trip to the back room for the glasses, I left the restaurant through the front door. The night air had cooled to a tolerable temperature, and I wondered why we hadn’t sat on the patio to enjoy the nice evening. Before I could come up with a feasible explanation to my own question, something caught my eye. OV was nearly deserted as it normally was at this time of night, but about halfway down Via del Corso on the other side of the street, Livy and Jules were hunched over someone sitting on THE same bench I had sat on while being accosted by the Berke sisters earlier.

  As I started toward them, something else caught my eye. Directly across the street from me, Toby stood on the sidewalk in front of Snapdragon Inn. He too was looking toward the bench. Instead of crossing diagonally toward my friends, I crossed directly toward Toby.

  Sensing me, he shifted his attention in my direction. I waved at him.

  “Hey,” I said once I was about halfway across the street. “Do you know what’s going on down there?” I nodded toward my friends. You recognize the one sitting down?”

  Toby shrugged. “I don’t know. She wasn’t there a minute ago.”

  I looked at Shane’s little brother and touched his shoulder with my pointer finger. “You look nice. Where’re you going all dressed up?” His button-down short-sleeved shirt was white with a plaid texture. It reminded me of the shirt Nico wore on our official first date.

  Toby halfway smiled. “Thanks. It’s the only nice shirt I have.” He glanced down the street again. “I’m waiting for Shane. He took Angelia out to dinner, and they’re supposed to be on their way back. Once he drops her off here, he and I are going out somewhere to celebrate my birthday.”

  I nodded and watched what my friends were doing down the street. Livy and Jules now had the woman on her feet, and they were guiding her toward us.

  “Shane took Angelia out to dinner?” I asked. “During their bachelor-bachelorette party?”

  Toby shrugged. “All of Angelia’s fun friends,” he used air quotes when saying fun, “are passed out. All her smart friends wanted to sleep. She was annoyed, so Shane took her out.” He paused to pull his phone from his jeans pocket and read a message that must have just come through. “Oh.” He raised his eyebrows and paused again as though rereading. “Shane says he already dropped off Angelia and to meet him back at our hotel.” He pocketed his phone and gave me a half-hearted wave. “Gotta go. See ya, Jill.”

  He turned and strode down the street toward Vendemmia.

  “Have fun,” I called after him. Then I turned my attention back to my friends who had the woman’s arms draped over their shoulders. Her eyes were closed, but I could tell she was Marlo’s friend, Janelle. Livy was holding a shopping bag. I assumed it had been one of the many strewn about behind Deseo a couple hours before. As Toby passed them, he didn’t stop to see if Janelle was okay. Perhaps he could tell, just like I could, that she had far too much wine over the last twelve hours.

  “Is she okay?” I asked when my friends were within earshot.

  “We found her sleeping on a bench,” Livy said. “We’re just going to drop her off at Snapdragon.”

  Janelle’s eyes fluttered. She muttered, “Don’t tell Angelia. She already hates Marlo. Don’t tell Alex. He hates Marlo, too.”

  I almost asked don’t tell them what? Then I almost asked where is Marlo anyway? But before I could, Jules answered with a better response.

  “Okay, we won’t,” she said kindly. “Let’s just get you back to the inn.”

  “Do you need help?” I asked them.

  Both my friends shook their heads.

  “It’s probably better that the Berke sisters don’t see you anyway,” Livy said. “They’re already so mad at you about this bachelorette thing. We’ll just see you tomorrow.”

  Janelle muttered something about being mad, but I couldn’t quite make it out. My friends continued helping her down the street, and I cut around the back of Chocolat toward the vineyard. There was a well-worn path between our winery and Aldo’s house, which sat dead center over OV, but I opted to cut diagonally across the vineyard rather than walking down to the path. Since we weren’t harvesting grapes tonight, my shortcut wouldn’t disrupt anyone working, and after spending more than two decades among the vines, I knew the vineyard like the back of my hand. I didn’t really need a path—I just needed the flashlight on my cell phone to brighten the way and make sure I didn’t trip on stray roots or misjudge patches of loose dirt.

  At the top of the hill, I turned and looked at the perfect view of Otto Viti from Aldo’s porch. Though there were street lamps up and down Via del Corso, from where I stood, they barely did more than backlight the silhouet
te of shops and restaurants.

  I loved that my grandfather had bought acres and acres of land decades ago and dreamed of creating a place to share his love for good food, good wine, and good company. I loved the Tuscan-themed architecture throughout Otto Viti, and I loved that many of the shop owners lived over their stores, truly investing their lives here.

  Of course I was grateful to have a teaching job forty miles south in the coastal city where my sisters and I grew up. I liked Carlsbad, I liked being close to the ocean, and a little part of me even liked having an identity outside Otto Viti. But the longer our parents were gone, the less I cared about any of that. More and more, OV and the dreams of my grandfather felt like home to me.

  I smiled down at Otto Viti, feeling content.

  Unfortunately, that feeling didn’t last.

  FIVE

  “Jill, wake up.” Stella shook my shoulder. Even in my state of dreaming, I could sense urgency in her voice. “There’s been an accident. We need you down at the winery.”

  I opened my eyes, and my blurry older sister came into view. Her makeup wasn’t done, and she was wearing jeans and an old shirt from a D’Angelo winery event. Behind Stella, Holly stood in the doorway. Most of her frizzy hair had escaped the bun she normally slept in, and she was wearing shorts and an old shirt from a different D’Angelo winery event.

  “An accident?” I repeated. “Is everything okay?”

  “No.” Stella pulled on my arm gently. I gave way and sat up.

  “What’s going on?” Holly asked. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and yawned.

  “We need to get down to the winery. Now,” Stella said. She took a step back so I had room to get out of bed.

  I pushed the covers away and stood up. The clock on my nightstand said 6:10. Trying to pull my hair into a knot, I noticed that I also was wearing an old D’Angelo winery event shirt. We probably had fifty each.

  “Go brush your teeth,” Stella directed me and Holly.

  “What is—” Holly began.

  “Just go,” Stella said. “I’ll explain as we walked down. Meet me at the front door when you’re ready.”

  Holly and I exchanged tired glances as we passed Stella and shuffled down the hall to the bathroom, but neither of us said anything. We were used to our older sister directing us, and while it could be annoying sometimes, ninety-five percent of the time her way was the best way, so we couldn’t argue a lot.

  When we finished brushing our teeth and met Stella in the entryway, she had our flip-flops ready and the front door open. “Let’s go,” she said.

  We slipped on our shoes and followed her out.

  “Can you tell us now what’s happening?” I asked. The morning air felt like a punch in the face, which was just what I needed to wake me up.

  “There was an accident,” Stella said as she led the way through the vineyard. I kept up with Stella’s strides but stayed two paces back in case she stopped suddenly as she was prone to do. Holly—the shortest and least athletically-inclined—was quickly left behind.

  “You already said that,” Holly called after us.

  “I know,” Stella said. “It’s just, ugh, I’m having a hard time wrapping my brain around it.” She stopped walking and turned. I nearly ran into her but managed to avoid a collision. Next time I would stay three paces back. Holly caught up moments later.

  My older sister looked different, and it wasn’t just her makeup-free face. I had seen that look on her face before—six years before when our parents died. My heart began thudding in my chest.

  “What happened?” I asked. “Is it Aldo? Jason?” I looked around as though one of them would magically appear. Where was Aldo, anyway? Shouldn’t he have been at the house when Stella woke us up?

  Stella shook her head. “No.” She put her fingers to her temples as though trying to squeeze an ache right out of her head. “This morning Jason went to do his Sunday morning check at the winery before church—just like normal. He went straight to the barn to punch down the caps. The barn doors were already open.” She paused and looked at her feet. “And someone was there, in the vat of Pinot Noir.”

  My heart thudded harder in my chest. My skin started to feel hot.

  “What do you mean?” Holly asked. “In the vat? How—”

  “What—? Who—?” I interrupted.

  Stella shook her head. “A woman. That’s all I know.”

  Maybe I wasn’t thinking clearly. Maybe I was still partially asleep, or maybe I was in denial. Whatever was going on in my foggy, uncomprehending mind, I needed clarification.

  “Is she alive?” I asked. “Like, was she just there—just standing there?”

  Stella continued shaking her head. “No, not alive. Not standing.”

  My head went light.

  “We’ve got to get down there,” Stella said. “The police, the paramedics, everyone—they’re already there.”

  She turned and began jog-walking down the path. My muscles itched to break into a run, but I restrained myself. I had more questions for Stella that couldn’t be answered if I sprinted ahead.

  “Where’s Aldo?” I asked. “Where are your boys?” Normally Stella had her two young sons with her. If they weren’t with her or at school, they were with a family member. But it sounded like everyone was at the winery, and I doubted Stella would wake her boys and drag them into something as horrendous as this.

  “The boys are at home, sleeping. When Jason saw what had happened, he called 911. Then he called Aldo and me. I called our neighbor and asked her to come sit at the house so I could get down here.”

  “How did anyone get into the barn?” Holly asked. “All the doors are pass-code protected. An alarm would have gone off if someone tried to get in without the code, and only a couple of us even know the code.”

  Stella shook her head. “I have no idea.”

  We continued down the path in silence. Once we reached the grassy area behind the tasting room, I saw Aldo sitting on the bench that Holly had stood on while giving yesterday’s tour. He leaned his elbows on his knees and held his face in his hands. A police officer was sitting next to him looking grim but calm. Jason stood a few feet away, talking to another officer.

  My heart seemed to beat faster and harder with each step. When we were close enough to catch Jason’s eye, he glanced at us but didn’t wave or otherwise acknowledge that we had arrived. A man coming from the direction of the tasting room joined Jason and the officer. He wore jeans and a white button-down shirt rather than a uniform, but he flashed a badge at Jason.

  “Is that—?” Stella muttered as we closed in. She squinted toward the group of three men. “No, it can’t be. Is it?”

  “Who?” Holly asked.

  Stella didn’t answer.

  As we approached, the plain-clothes officer looked at us. His eyes zeroed in on Stella, and he nodded slightly.

  “Stella D’Angelo,” he said.

  “Fiore,” she corrected him. She touched Jason’s arm. “This is my husband, Jason Fiore. How are you, Jared?” Her voice was strained.

  “You can call me Detective Fitts, now,” he responded. He was a big guy—I’d guess about six-foot-four—and he had the bulk of an ex-football player. His blond hair was buzzed close to his head, and his skin had a slightly pink tinge.

  I wondered how Stella could possibly know the detective, but I didn’t ask. There were more pressing matters. I caught Holly’s eye and inclined my head toward Aldo, who was still sitting on the bench with his face in his hands. She and I went to our grandfather. Holly sat down next to him, on the opposite side of the officer, and wrapped her arms around his neck. I crouched down in front of him, sitting on my heels, and put my hand on his knee.

  He looked out. “Girls, girls,” he said, shaking his head. “This is terrible. So terrible.”

  “Aldo, what happened?” Holly asked. She let go of his neck and shifted to face him. “How did anyone get in past the alarm system?”

  He shook his head and shrugged.
“It seems impossible. There is no way.”

  The officer sitting with Aldo said, “So far we’ve found no signs of forced entry.”

  Holly and I looked at each other, and I could tell her thoughts matched mine. The officer had to be wrong. No one could get into the barn without the alarm code. If they hadn’t found signs of forced entry yet, they hadn’t looked hard enough.

  “Who was it?” I asked. “Did you see her?”

  Aldo shook his head again. “No, I don’t know.” He gestured toward the barn doors that had been cordoned off with yellow police tape. “I have not—it has been blocked—there is no way—” He trailed off.

  The police officer began asking Aldo more questions, and as hard as I tried to concentrate on what he was saying, my mind wouldn’t stay put. Aside from wondering who the woman was and how this happened, I found myself thinking about the day ahead. The only house nearby was Aldo’s, but plenty of shop owners lived above their stores—and every weekend, the hotels and bed-and-breakfasts were nearly full. How long until people started waking up and taking their morning walks toward Amy’s shop for coffee? How long until people saw the police cars and word got out that someone had been found dead in a vat of Pinot Noir at D’Angelo Winery? Were we looking at a day of chaos ahead?

  I stood up and started pacing. Energy was building inside me, and I wasn’t going to be able to contain it much longer. The barn doors were opened, and the flimsy yellow tape cordoning them off wasn’t going to stop anyone who really wanted to get in there. At least, it wasn’t going to stop me and my itching-to-move muscles. Without thinking about whether or not it was okay—deep down I knew it wasn’t—I jetted toward the doors and under the tape.

  “Ma’am, you can’t go back there,” the officer next to Aldo called after me.

  Ma’am? Did I really look like a ma’am at the age of twenty-nine? Maybe the literally-just-rolled-out-of-bed look wasn’t working for me.

  I could hear footsteps behind me, but I didn’t stop. Inside the barn, my senses suddenly felt heightened, and time slowed. I took in the scene. The area all around the vat of Pinot Noir was stained by the purple must that had splashed over the side. The concrete floor was wet with purple with globs of grape skins and pulp spread throughout. The tool I used to punch down the cap lay on the floor rather than hanging on the back wall. Sodden, ripped shopping bags lay soaking in the wet mess.