Merlot and Murder
Samantha Silver
Megan Marple
Blueberry Books Press
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Also by Samantha Silver
Also by Megan Marple
About the Authors
Chapter 1
Row after row of ripening vines stretched out into the valley all the way to the other side, where huge rolling hills cast shadows across them down below. I fanned myself with the glossy pamphlet I'd been handed at the beginning of the tour, nudging Karen. "We couldn't have picked a day under eighty-five degrees to come out here and do this?"
Karen threw her usual eye-roll my way. "Oh, stop complaining and enjoy yourself, Taylor. Didn't I tell you today was supposed to be fun? I love this," she giggled, sloshing the plastic cup of Riesling around. "It's basically a socially acceptable excuse to get trashed in the middle of the afternoon."
I knew my best friend had a point, but the heat was getting to me a little, even with the wine in hand. To be fair, I was used to less heat, growing up in San Francisco by the water. Living in Napa Valley with Karen as my faithful roommate and her mother Barbara had taught me the sizzling reality of why they call them heatwaves. Watching the steam rise from the ground after a quick summer storm was plenty of evidence on its own. I'd be glad once the dead of August was over.
The real reason I'd been hesitant about getting out of the house was because I'd been feeling guilty. After finding out earlier in the year that I was actually a witch—yes, the kind with powers to curse people, although I didn’t own a pointy hat—I'd made every effort to learn more about how to control my abilities. But I'd been struggling a little more lately than I cared to admit.
After setting countless fires and turning my normal-looking feet into feet that only a hobbit could be proud of during my last would-be magical pedicure, I had to wonder when I'd actually get the hang of things. And to be honest, if I ever would.
So, naturally, Karen decided to pull me out of my Ben & Jerry's supported self-pity party and dragged me out of the house. "You need to stop overthinking it," she'd explained on the way out. "Magic will come to you without you trying so hard to catch it."
Of course, she could say that—she and Barbara had been aware that they were witches their whole lives. It was hardly a fair comparison to finding out in your mid-twenties.
We were touring the Singing Bird Winery, a smaller, family-owned winery with a cute red barn, filled with a rather impressive selection of white wines. If you were into that sort of thing, anyway. I mean, wine was okay in my book, but Karen and Barbara were definitely hardcore fans. It was a must-have at dinner time, and well, sometimes lunchtime too. Barbara, who also happened to own the souvenir shop I worked at, was nearly pouting by the time we left in the morning to go on the tour without her.
With the sun practically baking us overhead, our tour guide, Alicia, beckoned for the small group of us to come under the shade of the red barn after walking along the vineyards for the past half-hour.
She wore a bright white smile, her dark, curly hair cut at a modern angle that perfectly framed her face and made me seriously reconsider the hack job I'd tried early in the week on my own hair. Of course, things were a little more touch-and-go when you were a brand-new witch trying to use magic to style your hair. The auburn choppy bangs I thought weren’t so bad before now made me look like an angsty teenager next to the woman.
"The Stowes have owned this winery for the past forty-five years," she said proudly. "My husband's family has always believed in quality over quantity here at the Singing Bird. It's not the largest winery in Napa Valley by far, but we have a small team of dedicated people who are obsessed with providing the highest quality product for our customers. If you don't believe me, try our last flavor sample of the tour—our famous Chardonnay! Kirsten, Amanda? Would you mind helping me?"
A younger girl with dimples who was very obviously Alicia's daughter walked over to the group with a shy smile on her face. "If you're finished with your cups, I can take them for you."
The older girl didn't seem as keen to help; her artfully done eyeliner and mascara smudging around the corners of her dark eyes as she offered everyone fresh plastic cups. "Here you go," she mumbled, thrusting the clear cups into our hands, her gaze more focused on the ground than on us.
I stepped forward to thank her, tucking the pamphlet up under my arm, but she'd already turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the younger girl standing there on her own.
"Thank you," I said to her instead, smiling. "Is Alicia your mom? You look just like her!"
She glanced over at Alicia who was now pouring the Chardonnay into everyone's cups. "Yes, ma’am. I'm Amanda." Her cheeks went pink. "That's Kirsten, my sister," she added softly, looking back over her shoulder at the older girl, now hyper-focused on her iPhone.
"It's nice to meet you, Amanda. I'm Taylor, and this is my friend, Karen." I tugged on Karen's shirt. "Do you help out a lot around here?"
She shrugged, clearly more of a shy type. I felt sort of bad for striking up a conversation with her, but Alicia appeared at her side, still wearing her million-watt smile.
"I see you've met my daughter. She's a little on the quiet side and she'll probably hate me for telling you this, but it's actually her birthday!" She whispered the last part, smiling even wider. "What?" she laughed, throwing her arm around Amanda and squeezing. "There's no need to be embarrassed, honey. It's not every day you turn twelve!"
But Amanda buried her face into her mom's neck, leaving only the smallest of smiles visible. "Stop, Mom. It's not even my birthday anymore." She turned her face to look at me and Karen. "It was Thursday."
"Well, happy belated birthday, then," Karen said, holding up her Chardonnay. "To being twelve! It's an awkward year, but hey, once you get through it you're golden." She took a generous gulp of her wine, ignoring the funny looks on Alicia and Amanda's faces. I groaned.
“And how many cups have you had?” I whispered to Karen as Alicia and Amanda turned back toward helping the others. “Don’t give that poor girl a complex!”
Finishing the last bit of wine and ignoring Karen’s chuckling, I walked over to the big trash can to dump the plastic cup, looking over the frames that were dotted along the long wall. Generations of the Stowe family smiled back at me, some of them working in the fields, some of them bottling wine inside the red barn we were standing in.
"Everyone? Our tour ends inside the shop here, where you are more than welcome to browse around. We have merchandise as well as our wines for sale. Oh, and make sure to take a small sample of our homemade cheese! Freshest you'll get in Napa Valley!" Alicia called out to the group, an audible excitement in the air at the mention of free cheese.
"Taylor! Did you hear her? Come on—I am not leaving until we try some of that cheese," Karen whispered behind me, yanking on my arm. I shook my head -
of course that was what she was worried about.
"This way, please," Alicia said over the din of rising noise from the group, gesturing for us to follow her through another set of double doors.
Karen managed to squeeze us in through the front of the slow-moving crowd, which I was thankful for. As nice as it was to have a slight buzz from all the free wine, and the promise of free cheese to go along with it, I was ready to feel the wind whip through my hair on the way back home to Rosemary Creek.
I stepped around a display barrel of fancy-looking corkscrews, stopping short when I nearly ran smack into the back of Alicia.
She was frozen on the spot, except for the way her body seemed to sway to the one side. She slumped against the shop counter, her shoulders heaving with terrifyingly silent breaths.
Behind the counter, a man was crumpled into a heap on the floor, his eyes barely open as he stared straight up at the ceiling, not moving. Even his chest wasn't rising like it should have been.
"N-Nick? Nicholas!" Alicia shrieked, dropping to her knees in an instant. "Somebody call 911!"
Karen gasped as she looked over at me, bringing her hand to her mouth.
We both knew it. We could both feel the energy was gone in him.
He was dead.
Chapter 2
I was down on my knees beside Alicia, with my hands going to the man's neck to check for a pulse. Someone had to do it. The spark that I always felt coming from someone else's pulsing energy was missing, and focusing all of my healing powers through my touch was still no help to the guy. Nick was most definitely gone.
Somewhere in the midst of everyone gasping, one older lady nearly fainting, and Alicia desperately trying to keep her daughters back, it hit me that this man must be Alicia's husband.
"Are you, is he?" I asked, and Alicia sobbed in reply, clutching onto her husband's dark blue blazer.
I slowly shook my head. "I'm so sorry."
It took everything in me not to turn and run away as I stood up and slipped back into the crowd beside Karen. It was a deep guilt I'd felt before, even though I knew it wasn't really my fault. I could sit there all day and wonder what would've happened if I'd shown up five minutes beforehand, but it didn't do any good. Even Barbara couldn’t bring someone back from the dead.
"The girls," I whispered to Karen, nodding to Amanda, whose poor face was white as a sheet, tears streaming down as Kirsten pulled her back away from the scene.
"The police and ambulance are on their way," a man with a white beard said as he held his phone away from his mouth.
The sobbing coming from Alicia wasn't unlike that of a wild animal. And it was like being in someone else's worst nightmare, watching her leaning over her dead husband.
Kirsten, who'd successfully steered her little sister away and over to a nearby bench, was now shouting for everyone to back up and give her mom some space. "Move! Everyone needs to get back!"
"Was that a broken wine bottle beside him?" Karen leaned in to whisper close to my ear. "Oh my god, what if someone else did this? I can't see." Stepping around me, she tried to get a better look, but I pulled her backward, shaking my head.
"Seriously, Karen? That's the first thing you think? That's the first place your mind goes to?" I glanced back over at Amanda sitting on the bench, her knees pressed up under her chin as she wrapped her arms around her legs.
"I'm just saying," Karen mumbled. "I couldn't really tell if his head was bashed in or anything. I didn't see any blood but maybe,"
My eyes bugged out. "Karen, stop being so overly dramatic! It was probably a heart attack."
"Then how do you explain the bottle?"
"Maybe he had it in his hand and dropped it? I don't know." My magic could do plenty with enough oomph behind it, but I couldn’t exactly guess the intentions of a dead guy.
A younger man, no older than me or Karen, rushed into the shop. "What's going on in here?" His nametag suggested that he was Tom, who worked at the Singing Bird.
"Jesus," he said as he skirted around the shop counter and stopped dead in his tracks. "Alicia? Oh my god, what happened?" His frantic eyes were wide as he looked around. "Is anyone in here a doctor?"
Alicia just collapsed on top of her husband's unresponsive chest. "It's too late. He's already gone," she whispered.
"The police are on their way. We just came in here and she found him like that," I offered, explaining to this Tom guy. "We just finished the wine tour."
In the somber quiet, the distant sounds of multiple sirens could be heard coming over the hills. The authorities were definitely on their way.
I was busy stealing looks at Amanda sitting all alone on the bench. She didn't know me from Adam, and it was clear before that she was more reserved, so I didn't want to impose myself on her. I just hated the idea of her going through losing a parent. Unfortunately, I was all too familiar with the experience. And I had been a lot older when I had lost my parents; I couldn’t imagine what she was going through right now, and my heart broke for the poor girl.
"This is just so sad," I said softly, leaning up against one of the far walls of the barn. Karen and I had decided to take a breather, and stopped outside of the entrance to the corking room where a gust of cold air shot out from the room's air conditioning vent.
"No kidding," she replied, shaking her head. "My buzz is completely gone."
I bumped her with my hip. "You're terrible, you know that?" Usually Karen was a bit more compassionate about situations like these.
"What? The whole thing is sad, there's no doubt about that. It's just killed the little bit of joy I had going today. I was trying to get you out of your sad-sack mood. It was bringing me and Mom down."
I frowned. "I'm sorry I’m such a Debbie Downer.”
She studied the look on my face, eventually pulling away from the wall. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Taylor. I’m just being a jerk. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the sudden headache I feel coming on.” Nudging me, she did her best to give me a sad smile. “I just wanted you to have a good time, that’s all.”
“I know you did. I was trying to enjoy myself too." Sighing, I pulled away from the wall.
“Hey, I’ll be right back. I’m getting a call from work—it might be about the new litter of kittens that were brought in last night,” she said, pointing over her shoulder.
As I waited for Karen, trying not to get distracted by the flurry of people coming and going, a soft, urgent voice caught my attention. I whipped my head around, trying to find its source. About a dozen yards away, Kirsten was visibly upset as she listened to Alicia. Even with the air conditioning vent rattling overhead, I could just make out what they were saying.
Placing her hand under Kirsten’s chin to cup it, Alicia met her watery gaze. "I know he was your stepfather, but please don't give me a hard time about this right now, Kirsten," she said, sounding utterly exhausted. I could only imagine.
"No, Mom, I-" A small noise struggled and fought its way out before Kirsten continued. "I think someone did this to him. I think someone killed him."
It was barely whispered, but the words alone were enough to send a shockwave through me. Did she really think so? What would make her think that? I didn't know anything about Nick Stowe, other than he was Alicia's husband and the girls' stepfather. Who knew what kind of condition his health could have been in? It was likely Kirsten knew more about it than I did, though.
I tried to be casual as I listened in, pretending to be interested in something on my phone and not at all paying attention to their conversation. It was wrong to be listening in on something like this, but I had to admit that my interest was piqued. You don't just overhear that someone might have just been murdered in the next room over from you and not wonder what was up.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Alicia straightening up and bringing her older daughter closer to her. "Honey, we have no idea what happened," she sniffled, trying to keep it together. "The police will figure out what's going on, okay?"
When she pulled Kirsten against her, circling her arms around her, Kirsten just stared straight ahead, tears in her eyes. Kirsten was older, and she had suspicions. Even if I hadn’t heard her say it, I could see it in her eyes.
"Mom?" Amanda whispered in a scratchy voice, immediately getting pulled into the mother-daughter hug. The three of them cried together, and I pocketed my phone, feeling like I'd done enough intruding on them in what was an incredibly private moment. I spotted Karen coming back over and made a beeline toward her.
"What’s going on? Did I miss something?" Karen asked.
"Kirsten just told Alicia that she thinks someone killed Nick," I whispered as I darted my eyes around, making sure no one was within earshot.
Her brown eyes went wide. "See? I told you! I knew I wasn't imagining things. I wonder what makes her think so. Did she see something weird? Did she say anything else?"
I shrugged. "She didn't really say much else other than that. Alicia wasn't really listening. She's out of it, I think. Shock, maybe."
Karen let out a low whistle. "Yeah, well I can't exactly blame her. Imagine giving a public tour of your business, and boom, your husband's dead body is just lying there around the corner, waiting for you to discover it."
I winced. Sometimes Karen could be a little more than brutally honest. "I just feel so bad for them, you know? I hope they find out what happened, one way or another. I wish we had a way to help them get through this. Is there anything we could, you know, do to help?" I said, wiggling my fingers around. If that was what I imagined witches did to use their magic, no wonder I was having trouble with it lately.
Merlot and Murder (A Paranormal Cozy Mystery) (California Witching Book 3) Page 1