by Jen Carter
“Ma’am, you can’t be in here,” one of the first responders said to me. She stood next to a stretcher and was helping another first responder cover a body with a sheet.
Seriously, what was with the ma’ams?
“I need you to step outside.” The officer who had been sitting with Aldo had come up from behind. “Please come with me.” I felt his hand on my arm. Responding to his gentle tug, I stepped backward, right onto something small and hard. It felt like the building blocks I often stepped on when my nephews were playing on Aldo’s living room floor. Slightly off balance, I took another step backward to get off the object and right myself. But then, with a stroke of genius, I realized that being off balance could buy me some time.
“Whoa!” I said, pretending to slip. I shot my feet out in front of me and hoped that the officer would attempt to steady me before I fell into the purple slop. Inadvertently, I kicked the small, hard object across the floor. It glinted at me, shiny and green, before disappearing somewhere on the other side of the barn.
The officer’s arms circled around me, and he tried hoisting me to my feet. Luckily, I hadn’t fallen to the ground, but I wasn’t ready to go yet. There was a body on a stretcher in front of me being covered up—I needed another moment to take a mental picture. I shot my feet out again, pretending to slip in my flip-flops once more.
“Please,” the officer said, “I need you to step outside.”
The body was nearly covered. All I could see was the woman’s head, which was mostly covered by tangled hair. Only a bit of bloated, purple skin peeked out from beneath the mass of tangles. Something green glinted near her ear. As one of the first responders stepped away from the stretcher, a green-jeweled purse and its spilled contents came into view.
I gasped, feeling like I had been punched in the stomach.
The officer dragged me backward toward the barn door, much like a parent would drag an uncontrollable toddler. I pulled my feet underneath me and tried wiggling away from him.
“Thanks for catching me,” I muttered, breaking away and scrambling out of the barn. Panic began welling in my chest. I forced it down, willing myself to take deep breaths. I ran past the bench where Aldo and Holly sat and went straight for Stella and Jason, who were still talking to the authorities. From the corner of my eye, I could see Holly getting up and following me.
The detective was in the middle of saying something, but I interrupted him. Looking back and forth between Stella and Jason, I said, “It was Marlo from the bachelorette party. Angelia’s mom. Shane’s soon-to-be mother-in-law.”
SIX
Stella’s mouth dropped open.
“Ma’am, that will be for me and my team to determine,” Detective Fitts said.
Ma’am. Ugh.
“Jill, how do you know?” Holly asked as she joined the group.
I turned toward my younger sister. “I saw her purse. And an earring. Green. I saw her green—” I searched for a word to finish the sentence, “—her green stuff.”
Detective Fitts’ eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?” he asked. “You aren’t supposed to be anywhere near the body.”
The officer who dragged me out of the barn appeared at my side. “Sir, she went in without permission. I got her out of there right away.”
“Don’t do that again,” Fitts said gruffly.
I didn’t protest his rebuke. It wasn’t important.
My ex-fiancé’s future mother-in-law had died in my grandfather’s winemaking facility.
This was difficult to understand on many levels, and I just didn’t have the brain power available to care about a reprimand from anyone, including law enforcement.
Detective Fitts began hurling questions at Jason as though my discovery was worthless. Clearly, my discovery wasn’t being taken seriously, so I shuffled back over to Aldo and sat down. He put his hand on my shoulder.
“Nonno, this is awful,” I said, not looking at him.
He patted my shoulder. “You knew the woman?”
He must have heard what I said moments before to Jason and Stella. I halfway shook my head and halfway shrugged. “I know who she was. Do you remember Shane? The guy I was engaged to when Mamma and Dad died?”
Aldo nodded.
“He’s getting married to a girl named Angelia. That woman in there,” I paused, motioning to the barn, “That’s Angelia’s mother. They’re the ones doing the joint bachelor-bachelorette party here right now.” I shook my head again and drew my hands down my face, rubbing my eyes.
“Oi,” he said.
Oi was right.
“Nonno,” I said, thinking through the situation aloud. “The police just heard me say who the dead woman was, and they clearly aren’t going to take my word for it. They want to determine it on their own. Angelia is going to wake up soon, if she isn’t already awake, and she’s going to see that her mom is gone. She’s going to freak out. Shane is going to freak out, too. This is going to turn into chaos.”
I knew that Aldo understood. This was like what happened when my parents—his son and daughter-in-law—died. Losing a loved one is horrendous. Waiting to find out whether the loved one did in fact die is pretty awful as well.
Aldo didn’t say anything right away. He pulled his hand from my shoulder and put it in his lap, and then he leaned into me.
“Angelia, the daughter,” he said slowly, “she needs to know. Right away. You think?”
I nodded. I imagined what the scene would be like with the bachelor and bachelorette party searching for Marlo just as Otto Viti was starting business for the day. If I were in Angelia’s position and I saw the investigation happening in front of D’Angelo Winery, all hell would break loose. Based on the bachelor-bachelorette party’s behavior yesterday, I didn’t get the feeling Angelia or her friends were any calmer or more composed than me.
“Jill,” Aldo dropped his voice, still leaning toward me. “I think we need to tell them. Pronto.”
I looked over at the police talking to my sisters and Jason. “Will they let us leave? Do they need to get statements or anything? I don’t know how this works.”
Aldo took my hand and stood up. “Come.”
He led me over to the group, his demeanor suddenly very un-Aldo-like. He hunched his shoulders and moved slowly—much more slowly than normal.
Jason noticed us first. “Aldo,” he said, “are you okay?” My brother-in-law, whose thin frame and dark Italian complexion normally made him look about ten years younger than he was, looked even older than his thirty-three years this morning. His face was drawn, gaunt, troubled.
“Eh, Jason, I need to go lay down,” Aldo said in a far-more-tired voice than he was using a moment ago. His shoulders slumped uncharacteristically. “This—it’s too much for me. Jill, she’s going to take me back to the house to rest, okay?”
“You can’t go anywhere,” Detective Fitts grumbled. “We aren’t done with you here.”
“Why can’t he?” Jason countered. His tired eyes suddenly blazed. “He’s a seventy-five-year-old man who doesn’t even run the facility anymore. He hasn’t for years, and he doesn’t have anything to do with this. Let him go rest. If you really need to talk to him, we can take you up to the house after we’re done here.”
Fitts studied Jason. Then he nodded to Aldo and me. “Come right back here, young lady.”
Young lady? Whatever. We had bigger problems than the authorities using ma’am and young lady interchangeably.
I took Aldo’s arm, and we walked around the building toward the vineyard.
Once we reached the path to his house, I asked him in a low voice, “Are you okay?”
“Of course, yes,” he answered. “Once we get home, you find Shane. Call him. Or find him. He can share the news with Angelia.”
“That was quite a performance back there,” I said, my voice still low as I glanced over my shoulder. We were out of sight and out of earshot of the detective, but I felt wary. For all I knew, police could be scouring the vineyard
. “In my whole life, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say you were tired.”
“Desperate times, my love, desperate times.”
We hiked up the path in silence.
Once we reached his Tuscan-style, brick house and went inside, Aldo went straight for the kitchen. He sat down at the table and stared out the back patio doors toward his wine cave, which had been built into the hillside—and over which his own private vineyard grew. I continued on through the kitchen toward my home-away-from-home room. I hadn’t grabbed my cell phone from the nightstand when we left with Stella that morning, and it was right where I left it the night before. I grabbed the phone and stared at it. Years ago I had deleted Shane’s contact information, and now, I stood there, staring at the phone, willing myself to remember his phone number. Certainly it had to be somewhere in the back of my mind. Two. . .something. . .?
But no. It wasn’t there.
It shouldn’t have surprised me, though. I barely remembered my own phone number. How could I remember an ex-boyfriend’s number from years ago?
I threw on a pair of jeans, put the phone in my back pocket, and headed toward the front of the house.
“Bye, Nonno,” I said, patting his shoulder as I continued toward the front door. “I’m going to Vendemmia where the bachelor party boys are staying. If the police show up before I get back,” I stopped in the front hallway, realizing I didn’t know how to end the sentence. If the police showed up before I got back, how would my absence be explained?
“I will take care of it, Jill,” Aldo called. “Go, go.”
I went.
My parents were gone, yes, but if I could have anyone in their place, it was Aldo. I couldn’t imagine trusting anyone more than him, and if he said he would take care of it, he would.
Vendemmia was a little hotel all the way at the east end of Otto Viti—a great choice if the boys of the bachelor party wanted to stay as far as possible from Snapdragon where the bachelorette girls were. And Vendemmia probably couldn’t have been more different from where the girls were staying, either. Snapdragon was a beautiful, quaint little inn with its bright, swirly, hippie décor. Vendemmia, though small by hotel standards, was definitely bigger than Snapdragon, far more modern in décor with its clean-line furniture, and run by a man who was legitimately sane. Perhaps his good-natured, calm ways were the biggest difference between Snapdragon and Vendemmia.
I pushed open the hotel’s front door and found the owner, Morrie Flash sitting behind the front desk with a newspaper and a cup of coffee. The hotel lobby was inviting, painted a soft gray and decorated with tables of purple orchids along all the walls. Morrie, sitting there with his crooked smile, gave off a welcoming vibe as well. Although he was about the same age as Aldo, he colored his hair to a sandy blonde, giving himself the impression of being about ten years younger. On the flip side, he always hiked his pants up too high, his belt crossing just above his waist and giving away his true age. He was one of Aldo’s best friends—they had known each other for decades. He was also a well respected boss. Amy Chase’s husband, Will, worked for him, running the tasting room connected to Vendemmia. And since Amy was Stella’s best friend, my sisters and I often heard about what a kind and fair boss Morrie was.
Keeping this in mind, I decided to be honest with Morrie about what had happened and why he needed to tell me which room Shane was staying in. Morrie was notoriously private on behalf of his guests. That’s why celebrities who occasionally visited OV stayed at Vendemmia. But if I told him what was going on, I was sure he’d help me.
“Ah, Jill, how are you this fine morning?” he said, his lopsided grin growing. He folded his paper and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
I approached the front desk and placed my palms on it. “Not very good, my friend,” I said. “There was an accident at the winery. The police are there right now, and it’s not a good scene.”
Morrie’s face hardened, but he didn’t respond. He waited for me to continue.
“One of your guests—Shane Albert—his future mother-in-law was involved, and I need to talk to him.”
I know it wasn’t the clearest explanation, but those were the only words that came to me.
Morrie turned toward the computer on the desk and pecked at the keyboard. A moment later he looked at me. “Shane’s in room 112. Do you want me to show you there?”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
Morrie came around the front desk and hurried toward the lobby’s door. I followed. Just outside, he pointed left. “His room is just down this first row. Do you need anything else? Is Aldo okay?”
“He’s shaken, but he’s okay.”
Morrie reached out to squeeze my shoulder. “Let me know what else your family needs, Jill. We’re just right down the street from you. Whatever you need.”
I nodded my thanks, and then Morrie retreated into Vendemmia’s front office. I scampered toward room 112 and knocked loudly. And then I knocked loudly again. And again. I knew that I wasn’t giving Shane a lot of time to wake up and get to the door between knocks, but I didn’t want him to think that he was only dreaming about someone banging on the door. He had always been a heavy sleeper. And a lazy person in general.
I heard movements on the other side of the door. Then sounds from the handle.
Toby swung open the door, his hair disheveled and his eyes squinting.
I didn’t give him a chance to speak. “Toby, where’s Shane? Is he here?”
From inside the room, I heard Shane groan. “What’s going on?” he called.
I leaned toward the opened door and said, “Shane, it’s Jill. I need you to get up quickly. We need to talk.”
I didn’t know if the brothers were sharing a room with anyone else, and I wasn’t going inside to find out—I could already imagine how gross a bachelor party hotel room would be, and I didn’t need to experience any of the sights or smells firsthand. Plus, I didn’t want to talk to anyone but Shane. He could meet me at the door, listen to what I had to say, and then decide what to do from there.
There was no sound inside the room. Before I knew it, words that I hadn’t spoken for years were flying out of my mouth.
“Shane, now. Get up, now.”
If the situation had been less tense, my skin would have crawled at the sound of those words and the memory of how impatient I became around him. But there was no time to think about that.
Finally, I heard some rustling followed by more rustling.
Toby wandered back into the room without talking to me.
“What’s up?” Shane said as he ambled toward the door.
I motioned for him to step outside. He did, probably too groggy to argue, and the door slammed behind him.
“There was an accident at the winery sometime last night,” I said. The words spilled from my mouth like a waterfall. “Someone fell in a vat of wine—actually it was Marlo who fell into the wine. She was found this morning, and the police are over there right now trying to sort it out. I don’t know if they’ve confirmed yet that it was her, but I know it was her. I recognized her earring and purse. I have no idea when Angelia is going to get up and realize that her mom is gone, but I thought it would be better for you to tell her than for her to find out later from the police. I’m not suppos—”
“Wait.” Shane shook his head, his eyes squeezed shut. “Marlo fell in a vat of wine? Last night?”
I nodded. “Yes. I mean, I don’t know exactly when, but it was her, and she was found this morning.”
He opened his eyes. “Is she okay?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how long she was there or how she got in there, but when Jason found her this morning, she. . .” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
Shane looked stunned. Frozen.
“Hey, I’m not supposed to be here right now,” I said, suddenly feeling the pressure to get back to Aldo’s house. “And I’m not supposed to be telling you this. I just know there’s going to be panic when Ange
lia can’t find her mom, and I don’t know when the police will officially identify the body.” I glanced in the direction of Aldo’s house. “I gotta go before the police realize I left.”
I paused, not sure what to say or do. A shoulder pat seemed awkward, and a hug seemed inappropriate. I had just told him that his future mother-in-law was no longer with us.
“I’m really sorry,” I said. “Really, really sorry.”
He didn’t say anything.
“I gotta go,” I said.
After another moment of silence, I turned and went the way I came, scurrying around to the backside of the hotel so I could get to the pathway leading to Aldo’s house.
As I began hiking through the vines, I mulled over what had just happened. Telling Shane might have been the dumbest decision I could have made. After all, what if I was wrong about it being Marlo? But I wasn’t wrong. I saw the purse and the earring—I was sure they were hers.
Maybe telling Shane was the best thing I could have done. Surely Angelia would rather hear it from him than the police, right? And surely that would head off some of the panic of searching for a missing mom, right?
But maybe I was wrong. . .
I’d probably know once I got back to Aldo’s house—depending on whether or not the police had beaten me there.
SEVEN
When I reached Aldo’s porch, I was sweating and out of breath. I went around to the back and peeked through the kitchen window, just to make sure that the police weren’t already there. When I saw Aldo still sitting at the table by himself, I tapped on the window to get his attention. He looked up, saw me, and then let me in through the patio door.