twenty-five
pairing suggestion: brunello di montalcino
—montalcino, italy
Made from 100% Sangiovese grapes,
this red wine pairs well with game.
-
I called Paul from my car as I left Trager Imports. “Paul, I just talked to Martin. He said Simon was the private party who sold the bottle at the auction.”
“Simon? But why didn’t he say something?”
“I don’t know. I know he bought it from Grand Vino, but something doesn’t match up. I’m still waiting on the name from Roberto, of where it was before then, but there’s more here. I’m heading to work now but I’ll keep investigating tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Katie. I appreciate it.” He coughed.
I started driving but I wanted to grab food before I got too far. I needed to eat on my way, since I wouldn’t have a chance otherwise before my shift.
I pulled into the Waterson Market and bought a caprese sandwich, as I loved mozzarella, tomatoes, and basil.
I returned to my car but noticed a black Mercedes Sedan parked across the lot. The same kind Simon drove. I sat in my driver’s seat and decided to eat my sandwich while I waited to see who would approach the Mercedes. I needed to leave for work soon, but curiosity was getting the best of me.
And there he was, Simon.
I got out of the car and approached him. He was loading groceries into the trunk when I reached him. “Simon?”
He turned around, looking surprised. “Katie, what are you doing here?”
“Listen, I have to talk to you.”
He glanced around.
“I found out that you were the one who sold the Chateau Clair Bleu at the auction. Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Why would I tell you?” He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“I mean, why wouldn’t you mention it at the dinner?”
Simon shrugged. “Why would it matter?”
I stared at him. It was time to put the cards on the table. “Because it was counterfeit.”
The color drained from Simon’s face. “You know?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Paul and I both know.”
Simon glanced around the parking lot as he closed the trunk. “It’s not safe for you to be seen with me right now. I don’t know who’s watching.”
A chill crept up my spine, but I was also suspicious. Simon was dodging the question.
He unlocked the driver’s door and sat down. “Listen, this thing is way out of hand and if you know the bottle is fake, then I’m in a lot of danger and so are you.” He looked around again. “Is this what your project with Paul is about?”
I nodded.
“I knew I shouldn’t have sold that bottle. I’ve been in over my head for a while but I think things are about to go south in a big way.” He put his hand to his chin. “Okay, here’s what needs to happen. The only way to get around it is to take them down but I need help. I need you and Paul.” He looked around again. “I can’t talk here. Follow me to my house, but not too close behind. When you get to my house, wait a few minutes before coming inside. I don’t want people to see us together.”
“I don’t have time, Simon. You need to tell me now.”
“I can’t. If I don’t give you evidence, the extra counterfeit bottles, no one will believe you. And then it will be too late.” Simon started the car. “Go, now.” His voice had an edge of fear to it.
I returned to my car. I knew I should leave the rest of the investigating to the sheriff’s deputies. Martin had been attacked and my apartment had been burglarized. But if I was in more danger, I needed to find the best way out of it. I hesitated but my curiosity got the best of me. I decided I would follow Simon and stay for a few minutes but keep my guard up while I was there.
I kept several car lengths between us, following him at a slow pace. We entered Glen Ellen, an area known as the former home of novelist Jack London. Simon stopped outside a one-story house with a small yard in front and an oak tree that towered over the property.
He got out of the car and entered his house. I watched, my heart rate escalating. While I waited the minutes Simon had requested, I called Dean and filled him in.
“Simon was the one who sold the bottle at the auction and he knows it was counterfeit. He says he’s in danger and that I might be, too. I’m just waiting to get a few more counterfeit bottles from him.”
“Katie, I don’t like this. Why don’t you leave and let me handle it?”
“Dean, I promise I’ll be careful, but I need to do this. I need to know now.”
“Where are you? Give me the address.”
“I’m outside Simon’s house.” I gave him the address as I watched Simon exit the house and head across the lawn to the door of a detached garage.
“I gotta go. I’ll call you when I’m done.” I put down the phone and opened my car door. A warning bell registered in my stomach and I grabbed my wine opener, pulling out the small knife so it was ready in case I needed it.
I crossed over the driveway and stood at the open side door to the garage. “Simon?”
No reply. I looked around and stepped inside, keeping my hand on the doorframe in case I had to pull myself outside.
The building was the space of a regular two-car garage except there were no cars. Instead there was a long table in the middle covered with crates of wine. At first glance, it looked like a collection at the home of a wine enthusiast. But a garage was not a good place to store wine bottles. It would get too hot and damage them.
Then I noticed several bottles on the table were empty, their labels from notable wineries in Burgundy. They were lined up in an even row next to a jug of pale red wine and two funnels. These weren’t old bottles cast away, ready for the recycling bin. These were waiting to be filled.
I stepped to the left, my foot catching on something as I went crashing to the floor, pain ricocheting through my shoulder. If I injured my arm and couldn’t carry a tray, I would be out of work for a while. I sat up and rubbed my shoulder. It didn’t seem broken and neither did my collarbone. I looked to see what I had tripped over. A crumpled green sweater and a pair of jeans with a solid mass in them. I took a closer look. It was Simon.
“Simon!” I crawled over to him. “Simon, can you hear me?” I placed two fingers on the side of his throat to check for a pulse. There was nothing.
I turned, but a radiating pain on the side of my head knocked me to the floor. Wine was running down my face, my eyes unable to open, the ground spinning beneath my hands and knees.
“Maybe now you’ll learn to stay away from my wine,” said a deep voice behind me.
I tried to pull myself up, the room a blur as a door closed in the distance, my attacker gone before I could identify him. I sank back to the floor, the world spiraling around me. A dribble of wine crossed my cheek and made its way into my mouth. Although my other senses were shaken, my sense of taste was clear. The wine was one I had tasted before. A peppery Pinot.
twenty-six
pairing suggestion: syrah—yakima, washington
A red wine with bold flavors and complexity.
-
I pulled myself to my knees, Simon’s body coming into focus. My head ached like it would after a night of heavy drinking. Only not my whole head, just specifically the right side. I picked up my wine opener from the floor and held it with the knife out as I surveyed the garage. Boxes lined the side shelves and there was a motorcycle covered with a cloth, but no attacker.
Yet he could be right outside the door, which was now closed, waiting for me to exit. I needed to call the police but my phone was still in the car, a bad habit I needed to break. I scrambled over to Simon and felt his pockets for a cell phone. Nothing.
I glanced up at the door and crawled, standing up against the wall. If the at
tacker came back, the door would hide me.
But then I saw Simon’s phone on the floor not far from his body. I had to make a choice—leave the safety of my position and make the call, or wait. I didn’t want to wait.
I ran and picked up the phone. It slipped around in my wine-covered hands as I crawled under the table and dialed 911.
“Help,” I whispered to the operator. “I’ve been attacked and there’s—” I looked at Simon. “There’s also a fatality.”
The sound of a bottle crashing to the floor on the other side of the garage changed my plans to wait online with the operator.
My assailant could still be inside.
It was all the motivation I needed. I had to get outside and in view of other people.
I sprinted to the door and pushed it open, the daylight blinding me as I spun around, ready in case another attack was on the way. The only person in the area was Leanor, exiting her car in the driveway.
“Leanor,” I yelled as I ran to her.
“Katie, what are you doing here? You’re covered in … Something?”
“I need help. He might still be here.”
“Who? Simon?”
“No, he’s …” I pointed to the garage.
“He’s what, Katie? He’s what?”
The sound of the squad car made us both turn. It pulled behind Leanor’s car, lights flashing, as Deputy Garcia and Deputy Adams hopped out. It was followed by an ambulance.
“Katie, where’s Simon?” repeated Leanor with panic in her voice.
Two medics in blue uniforms hopped out of the ambulance.
“Garage. I was in the garage and he was in there—”
Leanor started to run toward the open door.
“But Leanor, the attacker might still be there.”
Deputy Garcia ran after her as a medic approached me. “Are you injured?” he asked.
“I’m fine. I was hit on the head, but I’m okay. I’m worried about Simon. He’s …” I couldn’t say the next word. I didn’t want to admit that he was dead.
“I need you to come over here with me,” said the medic. He led me to the front steps and started inspecting my head as he conducted a barrage of tests, flashing lights in my eyes and checking my pulse. “How hard were you hit?”
“Hard enough to knock me to my knees.”
“I’m going to give you a word to remember, okay? I’m going to ask you this word in a few minutes. If you can remember it, you don’t have to go to the hospital. If you can’t, you’re coming with us. Okay?”
“Okay. What’s the word?”
“Apple.”
“Seriously? Can’t it be something more exciting, like Cabernet? Or Merlot?”
“It’s apple. Now, do you have any numbness or tingling?”
“No.”
“Do you feel dizzy?”
“No.”
“How about sensitivity to light or noise?”
“Honestly, I’m okay. But there’s Simon. In the garage. And he’s …” I paused.
“Deceased,” said Deputy Adams as he approached. “We know. We’ve checked the area and there’s no one else around. You said you were attacked?”
“Yes, someone hit me on the head and killed … killed Simon.” My head began to ache more.
Adams glanced at the medic. “How is she?”
“That depends,” he replied. “What was the word I gave you?”
“Apple.”
“Good job. I don’t think she has a concussion. Still, she should be monitored. Head injuries aren’t to be taken lightly.”
“I know,” I said as I took a deep breath. “I’ll be careful.”
“Is she ready for questions?” asked Adams.
“Sure, if she feels up to it.”
I wanted to nod but worried what it would do to my head. “Questions are fine.”
“Why were you here?”
“Simon told me to follow him. He had something to tell me.”
“About what?”
“It was about the wine. The counterfeit wine.” I touched the side of my head. It was throbbing.
“Over the past three days, two people have died and two have been assaulted. It’s time for you to leave this to us.”
I stayed silent. I knew I wasn’t going to stop.
“Did you see who attacked you?”
The throbbing increased. “Don’t you think if I saw who it was, I would have already said?”
“I understand you’re in pain, Ms. Stillwell, but it’s an important question.”
“No, I didn’t see who attacked me, but it was after I had tripped over Simon’s body.” My thoughts went to Simon. Poor Simon. But I needed to focus. “It was a man’s voice who said that maybe now I would learn to stay away from his wine. That’s all I know.”
“What do you think he meant by that?”
I shook my head, which wasn’t a good idea. “I don’t know.”
“What else?”
“That was it. Then I called 911.”
Deputy Adams nodded and continued to write in his notebook. “What about when you entered the garage? Did you see anything strange or suspicious?”
My headache increased every time Deputy Adams spoke. “Just bottles. But I didn’t see anyone waiting for me. If I did, I wouldn’t have gone inside. I thought I was about to talk to Simon. He went in the garage just a few moments before I did.” I took a deep breath. “This all leads back to the counterfeiting. Simon said that he was in danger and I was, too. And then this happened.”
“Who was he in danger from?”
“I don’t know, but he said he needed help.” I paused. “What if the person who attacked me and Simon and Martin is the same person who poisoned Cooper?” As soon as the word poison left my lips, I knew I had made a mistake.
“News spreads pretty fast,” remarked Adams.
He had seen me leave Paul’s house, so this shouldn’t be a surprise. “I guess it does.”
Deputy Garcia joined Adams and whispered something to him as he pointed back to the garage.
Adams nodded. “Let’s talk about Cooper for a moment.”
“I didn’t know him that well but he was a nice guy,” I said, repeating what I had said at the station the day before.
“That’s not what I’m asking,” said Adams.
“Did you see anyone touch his wineglass during the evening?” asked Garcia.
“His wineglass?” I raced back to the memory in my mind. “I don’t think so.”
Deputy Adams glanced at Garcia and back at me.
“What?” I looked at both of them. “We all drank the same wine. That wasn’t it.”
The deputies seemed to wait to see if I would react. I didn’t because I already knew what they were talking about.
“I was the one who poured the wine. But I know what you’re getting at. You think it was one of us who poisoned Cooper. Which is why you arrested Paul.”
“You’re a clever girl,” he replied flatly.
“But Paul didn’t do it.” I didn’t mean to say it out loud; it was just a verbal confirmation of what I already knew. I hadn’t done anything wrong but the fact that I was on the suspect list unnerved me. Even though they had arrested Paul earlier, we all were under suspicion.
I didn’t need any more nights in a cell. I had only ever spent one night in jail and it was enough. Now they had seen me leaving Paul’s and at the scene of two attacks. I was showing every indication of being an accomplice or the assailant.
The pain in my head traveled to my stomach as my mind turned with the events of the night Cooper died. I tried to go back to that night and remember if Cooper talked to anyone after dinner, but my memory was fuzzy, most likely from the headache and the stress. He might have told someone else that the wine was fake and that I
was the one who figured it out.
And then I let a thought from the back of my mind come to the forefront. The one thought that had been waiting there in the wings, waiting to be acknowledged, but I kept pushing it away. Like when I was with my blind tasting group and didn’t want to entertain the idea that the wine was something different than the conclusion I was heading for with my calls. My chest tightened and my breathing became shallow. Paul had been careful not to let anyone know what my profession was that night, but they all knew I was knowledgeable in wine. Cooper wouldn’t have been able to tell if the wine was fake, at least not that I knew of, and everyone knew I was sitting next to him at dinner, talking to him in a low whisper.
It was time I acknowledged the possibility, and I swallowed hard as it fully dawned on me: What if the poison had been meant for me?
twenty-seven
pairing suggestion: beaujolais—saint-amour, france
Known as the most romantic Beaujolais,
this red wine is soft, floral, and best served slightly chilled.
-
“Are you paying attention, Ms. Stillwell?”
I looked at Adams. This moment reminded me of the service portion of the Certified exam. No matter what happens, be ready with an answer. “Well, I do have a head injury.” I took a deep breath and rubbed my head. “So what happens now? What about Paul? He’s no longer a suspect, right? It wasn’t his voice I heard.”
“Paul isn’t really any of your concern at the moment.”
The medic turned his attention to me. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”
“No, I just need some rest. At home.”
“If you start to feel nauseated, dizzy, or begin to vomit, you need to go to the hospital. Do you have someone who can stay with you?”
“I’ll be fine. I have to get to work now anyway. I’ll be super late.”
The medic shook his head. “You need to take care of yourself. No work for twenty-four hours and you need someone who can stay with you overnight. Head injuries can be very serious. You fall sleep, you might not wake up again.”
Great. Jumping to the worst possible conclusion. “So I can’t go to sleep tonight?”
Uncorking a Lie Page 14