by Jen Carter
“It’s all taken care of,” I said once inside. “Shane knows.”
“Good, very good,” Aldo said. He sat back down at the table.
“No police yet?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No, no police yet. How is Shane?”
I stood on the other side of the table and turned my palms upward. “I don’t know. Shocked, I think.”
Aldo nodded.
“What should we do now?” I asked. “Go back down to the winery?”
Aldo considered my question. “Well, me, I probably need to stay, pretending to be the feeble old man.”
My phone buzzed in my back pocket. I pulled it out and saw a text from Jules.
What the heck is going on? It looks like a crime scene at the winery.
I glanced at the time displayed on my phone. It was still early—before seven o’clock. I imagined Jules and Livy were just getting back from their morning run. I tried to keep my face neutral so Aldo didn’t sense any further problems, but we were about to move into the second phase of today’s tragedy: OV beginning the day and seeing the police activity, which could easily turn into an even-uglier scene of looky-loos and gossip.
I tapped out a response to Jules.
It is a crime scene. I’ll fill you in when I can—I don’t know much yet. Heading back down there now.
I looked at my grandfather. “I’m going to go see what else I can find out.”
Aldo nodded.
I left through the front of the house and jogged down the path through the vineyard for the third time that morning. About halfway down the path, a wail rose from the street below—a long, high, heartbreaking wail. And then another. And another.
My chest clenched.
Shane must have told Angelia. They must have already gotten to the crime scene.
I took a deep breath and began running. I should have changed out of flip-flops, but it mattered less and less with each passing second. Tripping and falling—who cared under the circumstances?
On the bench where Aldo sat earlier was Angelia, crying uncontrollably. Shane and Janelle sat on either side of her, their arms around her. Two friends from the bachelorette party stood behind the bench with their arms around each other, and one friend kneeled down in front of Angelia, patting her leg. They were all in shorts and tank tops that I assumed they must have slept in. Detective Fitts and another officer stood a couple feet away. My sisters and Jason were nowhere around, but seemingly half the town was watching in a semicircle around the perimeter of the property. When Fitts saw me, he pointed and walked in my direction. I met him halfway between the tasting room and the barn.
“How is your grandfather?” he asked.
That was a dumb question. Aldo was doing poorly, of course. I didn’t know if Fitts really cared or if the question just came automatically.
“Not good,” I said. “Where’re my sisters and Jason?”
Fitts nodded to the tasting room. “They’re waiting for me in there.” Then he tilted his head toward the barn. “We were able to find identification for the deceased. As you can see, her family is now here. In fact,” he raised an eyebrow at me, “they showed up before we contacted them.”
I nodded, hoping that I didn’t look guilty.
“They must have woken up and realized she was gone,” I said.
Fitts glared at me for a long moment. I didn’t break eye contact, hoping that would somehow make me seem more honest.
Finally, he looked at the small tablet in his hand. With a sigh, he said, “This isn’t looking too good for your family. It very well could have been an accident, but since there were no signs of forced entry, that means either the doors were left open or someone let her in. Mr. Fiore already told me that most of the people who know the code are your family members—him, your sisters, you, the owner Mr. D’Angelo, and just a handful of others on staff.” He shook his head at the tablet again. “Nope, not looking good for your family at all. Looks like negligence to me.” With a glance upward, he continued, “You’ll be shut down today. We’ll be gathering evidence for at least the next couple hours.”
Closed for the day during harvest season. That wasn’t ideal, but it was also the least of our worries.
I pointed over my shoulder toward the tasting room. “Can I go see my family?”
Before Fitts could answer, movement by the barn caught my eye. Angelia was on her feet, charging toward me with her bachelorette party and Shane trailing behind. There was a fire in her tear-filled eyes.
“You!” she yelled. “You—this is all your fault!”
I understood that she was angry. I understood that she was coming at me. I did not immediately understand that she was angry at me. But that only lasted a second.
“This happened because of you!” She marched right up to me and shoved her pointer finger into my shoulder. Shane grabbed her arm, but she shook him off. “You were upset that we were having our party here, and you caused this accident to ruin my—me—my—everything!”
“Ang, this isn’t her fault,” Shane said. “How could she have done this?” His eyes were wet, but they were focused—a stark contrast to her rapidly-blinking, rapidly-shifting eyes.
Angelia whirled around on him. “How could she have done this? How could you be defending her?”
He turned his palms upward. “I’m not defending her. I’m stating the obvious. What, do you think Jill—all five-foot-three-inches of her—kidnapped your mom, knocked her out, dragged her over here, and then heaved her into a vat of wine?”
I froze in stunned silence. So did Angelia. That is, until she went nuts. She started bashing Shane the way I imagined three-year-old brothers did when they were overly-tired and frustrated with each other.
“How could you say that?” she sobbed. “Why aren’t you on my side?”
Shane just took it. Fitts didn’t move a muscle. Neither did the rest of the bachelorette party. When Angelia exhausted her anger, she dropped her head into Shane’s chest, and he wrapped his arms around her.
I looked at the detective and asked quietly, “Can I go see my family?”
He grimaced and nodded.
I walked to the tasting room and pulled open the heavy doors. The room was empty, except for my sisters and Jason sitting at one of the high top tables. They all looked toward me as I crossed the room, but no one said anything.
“Where have you been?” Stella asked once I sat down with them. Her tone was tired but not accusatory.
“Sneaking around,” I said.
I told them about how Aldo and I agreed that Shane needed to know what happened and how I went to Vendemmia to tell him. Stella raised her eyebrows at me. Jason and Holly listened with stony expressions.
When I finished, no one responded. After a moment I added, “Fitts just told me that this isn’t looking good for our family since very few people have the alarm code and there is no sign of forced entry.”
Stella clucked and rolled her eyes. “Oh, that man is an idiot. Why in the world would he say that? The investigation has barely begun.”
“How do you know him, Stel?” Holly asked. She rested her arms on the table and then her head upon her arms.
“Ugh. We went to high school together. When I was a freshman and he was a senior, we had the same geometry class. He’s a bonehead. Our teacher always paired us up to work on assignments together, and it never went well. I can’t believe he’s a detective now.”
Jason sighed and leaned back from the table, twisting and stretching the kinks out of his neck. “Two strong personalities butting heads?”
“He was preoccupied with football, and I wanted to talk about triangles,” Stella said.
Holly spat out a funny-sounding laugh, her head still on her arms. “That’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear.”
“Hopefully there’s no geometry in police investigations,” I muttered.
The sound of a door opening and closing somewhere in the back of the building caught my attention. Before I could wond
er who was back there, Amy walked into the tasting room carrying a drink holder with four large cups. She was flanked by Livy and Jules.
“Finally,” Holly said, lifting her head.
“Coffee?” I asked.
Stella nodded. “Amy texted me this morning after things started getting crazy, and she offered to bring coffee. I told her how to get in the back without the police seeing her.”
“And Livy and I saw her walking in this direction,” Jules said, “so we tagged along.”
“What’s going on?” Livy asked. She and Jules each pulled two cups of coffee out of the holder in Amy’s hands and placed them on the table for us.
Stella took the lead in recounting the tragic discovery. I was glad she had the energy to tell the story because I didn’t. Maybe after some coffee that would change. I listened, sipping my non-fat mocha, grateful that Amy knew the drink order of every employee in Otto Viti.
When Stella finished the story, Jason looked at our friends and asked, “How’s everything outside? Are people freaking out?”
The three of them didn’t look at each other. They didn’t speak right away either, like each was waiting for someone else to answer.
Finally, Livy said, “It’s probably what anyone would expect. Guests staying in the hotels and bed-and-breakfasts are curious. Shop owners are concerned. Everyone wants to know if your family is okay and what happened. And there’s been a lot of commotion right out in front where the bachelorette party has congregated.”
I put my coffee cup down after a big gulp. “Angelia accused me of causing this when I was outside, and then she attacked Shane when he said I couldn’t have done it. She’s probably still upset and causing most of the commotion.”
“She accused you?” Jules said. Then under her breath, she added, “There’s something off about that one.”
My sisters and I exchanged glances. I’m sure we all had the same thoughts, though none of us would express them in conversation. Yes, Angelia wasn’t someone we would be friends with—just the fact that she wanted a bachelorette party in OV meant that we saw the world a little differently than she did. But we also lost our parents in a horrific accident, and any craziness that comes from a loss like that should be permissible. Suddenly I felt like I was suffocating all over again, just like when our mom and dad died.
“What do you need from us?” Amy asked. She gestured to Livy and Jules. “What can we do to help?”
Jason shook his head before anyone could answer. “I think Otto Viti needs to carry on the best it can. Just do what you would normally do and try to keep guests here feeling as comfortable as possible.”
The front door flung open, revealing Fitts standing in the doorway. He assessed the scene within the room, and his expression went from serious to upset in 1.2 seconds.
“You D’Angelos are going to be nothing but trouble, aren’t you?” he barked. “Did I say you could have visitors?”
Holly glowered at him. “Did you say we couldn’t?”
He ignored her and looked at our friends. “You three—you extras—get a move on. You can’t be here.”
I saw Stella’s hand ball into a fist. Jason saw it too, and he placed his over hers, nearly-imperceptibly shaking his head.
Amy, Livy, and Jules said goodbye and reminded us to let them know if we needed anything before retreating toward the back offices.
Fitts strode toward us. “Okay, we need to talk some more,” he said while reviewing the notes he had written on his tablet. As he approached, he looked up, his eyes zeroing in on Jason.
“Mr. Fiore—”
“Detective?”
We all turned toward the voice coming from the tasting room entrance. Janelle was standing there, looking haggard with tangled hair and dark circles under her eyes.
“I remembered something from last night,” she continued. “I need to tell you about it.”
EIGHT
Janelle shuffled into the tasting room, and Jason rose, offering her his seat. She sat down with her eyes fixed on the table. After two slow, deep breaths, she spoke in a shaky voice.
“Last night, Marlo and I had too much to drink. Between the hangover and the shock of what happened to her, my mind has been foggy.” She paused, looking like she was steeling herself for what was to come. Stella gently laid a hand on her shoulder, probably the most comforting gesture that could be managed at that moment. “Earlier, we had gone shopping and gotten a bunch of products from that little homemade beauty supply place. Then we went back to Snapdragon and hung out for a while. I’m not sure how long we were there, but the next thing I remember, we were back outside with all our shopping bags and looking for a place to buy more wine. It was dark, but I didn’t seem to think it was very late. We were mad that all the tasting rooms were closed. Then Marlo’s ex-husband called her, and they started fighting on the phone.”
I remembered the scene outside Elita’s family restaurant but remained quiet. Holly and Stella did as well.
“I don’t recall what they were fighting about. I just know that Angelia’s name came up.” Janelle shook her head. “Anyway, after that, Marlo was upset, and—” She interrupted herself with a sob, and Stella patted her shoulder. “And we came up with this awful idea. It was the alcohol. We were going to do it because we had too much wine and weren’t thinking clearly. And also—” She sobbed again, this time taking longer to recover. “And also because, Marlo and I, we aren’t very nice people.”
After a moment of silence, Fitts said softly, “Ma’am?”
Stella shot him a look that clearly meant stop rushing her.
Janelle took another moment to compose herself, and then she continued. “We decided that we’d break into the winery and tamper with the wine that was fermenting. We—”
“What?” Holly interrupted. “Why? How?”
Janelle shook her head at the table and two tears fell from her face. Then she looked up at Holly. “Because we could. Because you were so condescending during the wine tour, giving Marlo a friends and family discount on that bottle she bought. We aren’t your friends or your family. We knew you were just playing games with us since your sister nearly married Shane.”
Holly looked stricken, but she didn’t respond. If I were Stella, I probably would have taken my hand off Janelle’s shoulder, but Stella was more mature than I was.
Janelle looked at me. “And then, of course, there was you. We didn’t want you giving us the tour—you of all people. And a boring tour at that. Then, with all that showing off, dancing around the wine like an acrobat.” She shook more tears off her face. “It was an awful idea, I know, and I’m ashamed. We really did have too much to drink, and it brought out our vindictive sides.”
“How did you get into the facility, ma’am?” Fitts asked.
Janelle shrugged. “We started walking toward the winery, but I didn’t make it there. I passed out somewhere, and then the next thing I knew, I was waking up in the hotel being told something had happened to Marlo. But Marlo must have left me wherever I passed out and continued on with the plan. She had an eidetic memory and saw that one,” she nodded at Holly, “punch in the alarm code earlier. She knew the code by just watching hand movements over the keypad. It was a nice little gift Marlo had. We used it every time we wanted to—” she cut herself off. More tears fell to the table.
It seemed that she wasn’t going to continue.
I found my voice. Looking at Detective Fitts, I said, “Last night my sisters and I met up with friends. Stella left early, and Holly stayed late. But when I left about ten-thirty, Janelle was sitting on a bench near here. My friends helped her up and took her back to Snapdragon where she was staying.”
Fitts grabbed his tablet and started tapping with his pointer fingers across its screen. “And who are these friends of yours?”
“They were just here, and you sent them away. Livy Green and Jules Carson.”
“I’ll need to talk to them.” He glanced up. “Why didn’t you also help her back t
o the hotel? Snapping-what-was-it?”
“Snapdragon Inn,” I said. “I had trailed my friends out of the restaurant because I cleared the table before leaving. When I got outside, they had already found Janelle down the street. I was going to see what happened right away, but I got sidetracked because Shane’s brother, Toby, was standing right across the street from me. It turned out he was waiting for Shane to come pick him up so they could go out and celebrate his birthday. Toby was telling me this while Jules and Livy half-carried Janelle back toward us.” I glanced at Janelle. If she and Marlo had thought Holly was being condescending the day before by offering a wine discount, trying to be kind or diplomatic right now seemed pointless. The truth was the truth, no matter how I said it anyway. “I would have helped them carry her the rest of the way, but earlier in the afternoon, the two owners of Snapdragon yelled at me about the bachelorette party staying there. Apparently, Katia and Carolina Berke—the owners—thought I was the reason the bachelorette party was in OV, and they were mad because of the disruption it was causing. I didn’t want another confrontation with them by showing up with Janelle being as drunk as she was.”
Fitts nodded and looked at Janelle. “Okay, so while you were passed out, Marlo went to tamper with the wine. She was drunk, but not so drunk that she couldn’t remember the code to the wine facility. She let herself in, somehow fell into the wine, and drowned.”
Holly looked at Jason. “Could the carbon dioxide from the must have made her pass out?”
Jason looked back at Holly but didn’t answer. It was too terrible to think about.
“How were you planning to tamper with the wine?” Fitts asked.
Janelle hesitated, her eyes cast down again. Finally, in a small voice she said, “we were going to put the bath bombs from the beauty store into the wine.”
Holly’s mouth dropped open. “You were going to do that because I gave you a discount and because Jill knew Shane eons ago?”
“I’m so sorry,” Janelle sobbed.
Fitts closed the cover on his tablet. “So this was all one big accident.” To me he said, “Go get those friends of yours. I better talk to them just in case.” And then to Stella he said, “Looks like your family might get lucky and be off the hook here.”