5 The Witch Who Tasted Murder

by Emma Belmont

  “I can’t believe we get to taste wines here at home,” George agreed.

  Maris smiled at them as Charlie retrieved a corkscrew from his pocket and opened it. It always gave her a sense of satisfaction when guests referred to the B&B as ‘home.’

  “While I’m uncorking the wines,” Charlie told everyone, “please have a piece of celery. It will cleanse the palate. We’ll all start with a blank slate, so to speak.”

  Everyone dutifully took a piece and began munching.

  “I adore celery anyway,” Kate said.

  For a few moments, everyone simply chewed and watched Charlie opening bottles. Maris noted that he always placed the labels facing the wall or himself when he handled them. It appeared as though it was going to be a blind tasting. When he pulled the last cork free, he said, “There’s only one rule when it comes to wine tasting.” He paused for a dramatic moment, taking a piece of celery. “Enjoy yourself.”

  That brought smiles all around.

  “I wouldn’t call myself a rule-follower,” William said, “but I think I can live with that.”

  “Good,” Charlie said. “Everything we’re going to do here tonight has just that one aim: to make your wine tastings more enjoyable.”

  “How many wines do you think you’ve tasted, Charlie?” George asked.

  The young investor paused for a moment, still eating his celery. His eyes went to the floor and he actually seemed to be counting. “Including today…” He started to count on his fingers and then broke off in a laugh. “Honestly, thousands.”

  “Thousands,” muttered Sarah, with awe in her voice.

  Charlie took the bowl from the box and put it on the table next to the platter.

  “How do you remember them all?” William asked.

  Charlie took out his phone. “I don’t, but I take comprehensive notes. Which reminds me. Everyone take out your phones. Use whatever app you like to record your thoughts. We’re going to start with the whites.” He brought forward the white wine glasses, selected one of the bottles and poured a little into each. “If there’s a wine you don’t like, just pour it in the bowl.” He handed a glass to Sarah, and then Kate. “Also, don’t feel obliged to taste everything. It’s completely up to you.” As he finished distributing the glasses, he added, “And it’s great to take pictures too—of the glass or the bottle, although I won’t be showing that to you right away. Whatever you think might help you later, do it.”

  “Oh, wow,” George muttered. “I never thought about taking pictures.”

  Charlie lifted the wine in his glass to the overhead light fixture as the beams from the setting sun began to fade. “Tasting is about much more than taste. We’re going to use all the senses, starting with vision.” He tilted his glass. “Coat the sides of the glass with the wine and look at the legs—the drips as they fall down. The thicker the legs, the more alcohol.” He looked at them. “Take a look and then make a note.”

  They all did, including Maris. She’d heard of legs, of course, but had never realized that they had anything to do with the amount of alcohol. She made a note and estimated their thickness. George also took a picture. When everyone was ready, Charlie continued.

  “Next comes smell which, as I mentioned this morning, is supremely important,” he said.

  “I washed off my Chanel No. 5,” Sarah said.

  “Good for you,” Charlie replied, “and I’ll tell you why. Because our sense of smell is far more accurate than our sense of taste.” He swirled the wine in his glass. “You want to aerate it a bit.” Then he set his glass on the table. “If you’re afraid of spilling it, then place it on a flat surface, and move the glass in fast circles while holding it against the table top.” He demonstrated. Everyone moved to the table and imitated him. “Now,” he said, lifting the glass to his nose. “Inhale deeply.” He actually stuck his nose into the glass and took a long, deep sniff. “You can make a note, of course,” he said, with his nose still protruding below the rim. “But also try to remember what you smell.”

  Maris smelled something citrusy, almost like a grapefruit, that made her nose crinkle. She made a note. Charlie smiled and waited patiently as everyone else did the same.

  “And now we taste.” He held up a finger. “But when you do, pay attention to texture first. How does it make your lips and tongue feel? If they feel dry, that’s the tannins. If you pucker, that’s acidity.”

  He took a sip, and held it in his mouth. Everyone followed suit. As Maris took a small taste, she tried to concentrate on her lips and tongue. She was definitely puckering. The wine was on the acidic side. Mouths closed, they all looked at one another, and then at Charlie, who swallowed. As though they’d been waiting for permission, everyone else followed suit. William made a yummy sound.

  “After you swallow,” Charlie said, “how long does the experience of the wine linger in your mouth? Is it gone already, or can you still taste it. That’s the finish: sometimes short, sometimes long, or just average. Go ahead and make your notes.”

  Though Maris wasn’t really sure what to write, it seemed to her that the finish had ended almost immediately. When everyone looked up from their phones, Charlie nodded.

  “One final tip,” he said. “Remember how it smelled?” He looked around the group, and Maris recalled the grapefruit aroma, nodding. “Did that very first impression of the smell match the taste?”

  Maris thought back. In fact it did. The two went together nicely. She made her note.

  “Good,” Charlie said, when everyone was finished. He gave them all an impish smile. “Any guesses as to the varietal?”

  “Sauvignon Blanc,” Sarah said immediately.

  He inclined his head toward her, and turned the bottle on the side board. It was a Sauvignon Blanc from Alegra Winery. There were murmurs and smiles all around, and Kate clinked her glass to Sarah’s. “Well done, you.”

  Charlie indicated the platter and bowl. “You can finish your wine if you like, but please have something to eat. Any of these will help to get our palates ready for the next wine.”

  Although no one emptied their wine, everyone reached to the platter, including Charlie. Maris took a pita chip this time.

  “Man, is this fun,” William said. “I thought it was going to be like a class or something.”

  “I just thought we were going to drink wine,” George agreed.

  Charlie smiled at him. “There is nothing wrong with that, my friend.” He nodded to the sideboard and waiting wines. “Shall we proceed to the next?”

  A few hearty yeses answered him.

  As he led them through the same steps for the other wines, Maris was astonished at how different they all tasted. Perhaps he’d chosen them for that reason, or perhaps using all the senses made that much of a difference, but she couldn’t remember ever feeling so capable of distinguishing between the various whites and reds. In the end, the wines had come from both Alegra and Crown wineries, and the Alegra wines had proved to be everyone’s favorites.

  “What’s that bottle over there?” Kate asked. “That dusty one behind the rest.”

  Charlie finished draining his glass of the last red he’d served. “Something rather special. The pièce de résistance.” This time there was no hiding of the label or even being coy. He presented it to them as though it was his newborn son. “A 1971 Bordeaux from Domaine Ponsot, the Clos St. Denis Grand Cru. One of my favorites.” He gestured to them with the bottle. “And I’d be delighted if you’d share it with me.”

  “But…” Sarah said, her eyes glued to it. “But that has to be worth…”

  Charlie shrugged. “A few thousand dollars.” George sputtered and Kate gasped, while William clutched his wine glass to his heart. The wine investor smiled at them. “But what’s a few thousand between friends.” In the stunned silence that followed, he opened the bottle. Maris exchanged a surprised look with her guests, as Charlie poured the first glass and gave it to Sarah. She set aside the previous glass, holding up the Bordeaux to the li
ght. “There’s bound to be a bit of sediment.” He poured another and moved on to Kate. “Just ignore it.” Then he poured for Maris. “It’s not harmful.” Once everyone’s glasses were full, he lifted his to the group. “To wine tasting in Pixie Point Bay.”

  They all lifted their glasses. “To wine tasting in Pixie Point Bay.”

  As Maris took a deep sniff and then a sip, she was immediately struck with the intensity of the flavor, but it had almost no acidity. It was rich and smooth and for a long moment she only held it in her mouth, as the lush flavors of blackberries and black currants washed over her tongue. When she finally swallowed, the finish was long and almost sweet. Not only was it incredible, it was completely unlike any of the other reds they’d had tonight.

  “Amazing,” Sarah whispered. Her wide eyes stared down into the glass, and then at her husband. “I can’t believe this.”

  He mouthed a silent ‘wow.’

  “I’m glad we had an early dinner,” Kate said. “Because I’m not eating or drinking anything ever again.”

  There was light laughter from the entire room, including from Charlie.

  “Thank you,” Maris said, lifting her glass to him. “For this, and for a wonderful evening.”

  “To Charlie,” Sarah said, quickly echoed by the others.

  By the time they reluctantly finished their wine, there were hugs all around. As far as the Wine Down was concerned, Charlie had set a new high bar. With the evening ended, the couples bid him and Maris a goodnight before heading upstairs. As she started the cleanup, he helped her take everything to the kitchen.

  “Charlie, if you don’t mind me asking,” Maris said. “How did you get your start in wine?”

  He smiled. “An evening not unlike this, actually. Just a casual tasting with friends. It was when I had my first Bordeaux that I jumped in with both feet. I got into wines just as the supply couldn’t keep up with the demand.” Maris loaded the glasses into the dishwasher as he handed them to her. “The prices just got higher and higher, so I invested, sold, and invested more.”

  “The wine that you brought to Dom,” she said, shutting the washer. “That was a Bordeaux as well.”

  He nodded as he scraped the leftover food into the trash. “That’s an excellent example. One of the best. I hope Harlan got a chance to taste it.”

  Maris paused as she put the empty bottle in the recycle bin. “Harlan? Do you mean Friedrich at Crown Winery?”

  “No,” he said, putting the platter in the sink. He turned on the water. “I mean Harlan, at Alegra, with Dom and I.” He began washing the platter. “He was there having a glass of wine with Dom when I arrived.” He turned off the water and toweled off his hands, smiling at her. “I had met him previously, of course, and their business must have been concluded since he left as soon as I arrived.”

  That would explain the fourth glass, Maris thought. She paused and regarded Charlie.

  Had the wine this evening helped to jog his memory? Why hadn’t he mentioned Harlan when Mac had interviewed him? Or had it just skipped his mind after the shock of learning of Dom’s death?

  “I think I’m going to turn in as well,” he turned to the kitchen door but paused. “Thanks for lending me your dining room tonight. It’s always fun for me to introduce people to my world. Who knows, maybe a vintner was born tonight.”

  “Or an investor,” Maris agreed. “And it was entirely my pleasure. Thank you, again.”

  With that, he headed to the stairs and then up.

  Maris, however, exited to the back porch and then through the garden and into Cookie’s greenhouse. She took out her phone and dialed Mac.

  19

  Though she had to grit her teeth, Maris left the early morning light behind and made her way to Cellar 14 of Alegra Winery. The corridor leading down seemed shorter today, but no brighter. The only truly redeeming aspect of this morning’s visit was the person that she was meeting. When she entered the cellar, he was waiting.

  “Good morning, Mac,” she said, not having to force her smile.

  “Good morning, Maris,” he said. “Thanks for your call last night.” He had been looking through a manila file folder of documents but set it on a barrel head. “Harlan should be here any moment.”

  “Great,” Maris said, and thought, The sooner, the better.

  As she approached him, she couldn’t help but look at the floor where Dom had lain, and also the stain of red wine.

  “I’ll keep this short,” the sheriff said.

  He’d seen her staring at where the body had been and probably assumed she was uncomfortable being in the room where the murder had happened. But if that had been true, she could suggest that they simply step outside.

  “Sheriff McKenna?” said a man’s voice from the door.

  Maris turned to see Harlan Krone, almost tall enough that he had to duck through the arched opening. Once again she was struck by the resemblance to his father—except for the full beard and dapper hair cut. Although he was dressed in work clothes, as though he might be volunteering at the Alegra harvest again, they were clean.

  “Mr. Krone,” Mac said, “please come in.”

  For a moment, the big man dithered. His eyes glanced around at the shelves of wine bottles, the wooden barrels, the floor and the ceiling. Then he absently stroked his beard before he finally took a step in. The young man looked as anxious as Maris felt. Only then did she realize that must have been Mac’s intention, to put Harlan on edge. They could have met anywhere but he’d chosen the murder scene. It actually helped her to relax a little knowing that the cellar was likely a tactic.

  “Why didn’t you volunteer what you knew about the murder?” Mac asked.

  Maris’s brows rose just a little. True to his word, he was wasting no time.

  Harlan gaped at him. “Because I don’t know anything about the murder.”

  “You were here that morning,” Mac said.

  “I was just having a glass of wine with Dom,” the young man said. “That’s all.”

  “After helping with the harvest here and being dragged away by your father,” Maris added.

  He regarded her, as though seeing her for the first time. “You were with Rosamel that day.”

  “Why would you help at the harvest of your competitor?” the sheriff asked.

  Harlan’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Because they need it.”

  “Really?” Mac said. “When your own winery is harvesting too?”

  Harlan’s ice-blue eyes met the sheriff’s. “We have enough help.”

  “So much help,” Mac said, “that you have time to have a meeting with your competitor.”

  “It wasn’t a meeting,” the young man said stiffly. “It was a glass of wine and I wasn’t here long.”

  “How long were you here?” Mac said, not letting up.

  Harlan thought for a moment. “Maybe…ten minutes.”

  The sheriff gestured to the room. “Where were you standing?” Harlan stroked his beard and pointed to a spot next to one of the barrels. “Show me.” The young man slowly moved past Maris and took a position next to the closest barrel. “And where was Mr. Alegra?” Harlan pointed to the other side of the barrel. Mac moved to stand in that place. He looked up at the young man. “Within easy reach.”

  Harlan swallowed and then frowned. “Look, I don’t even know how he died.”

  “He was struck,” Mac said, without offering any further information.

  Harlan blinked at him. “Struck?” He glanced at Maris, then looked at Mac. “You mean he was punched?”

  Maris watched as Mac processed that information. If Harlan were putting on an act, it was a decent one.

  “What was the purpose of your meeting?” the sheriff asked.

  Now Harlan scowled and balled his hands into fists. “It wasn’t a meeting.” His voice was tight and controlled. “There was no purpose. We had wine.”

  “Oh,” Maris said, “speaking of which. Did you get to taste Charlie’s 1947 St-Emilion?�
�

  “A 47 St-Emilion?” Harlan said, scowling at her. “The Cheval Blanc? I’ve never even seen one. Are you saying Charlie Gorian had a bottle of it?”

  “He did,” Maris replied. “I saw it in the tasting room when he showed it to Rosamel.”

  “Before he came down here and saw you with Mr. Alegra,” Mac said. “What did you discuss while you were having wine? The harvest perhaps?”

  Harlan looked as though he was going to shoot back with a retort, but clamped his lips together, taking in a long breath through his nose. “We just had wine.”

  As anxious as the tall man appeared, he was simply not budging.

  “All right, Mr. Krone,” Mac said. “I’m not going to bring you in for questioning. But you’re not to leave the area. I’ll be back in touch with you.” He didn’t bother with the business card.

  “Fine,” was all Harlan said, before quickly striding from the room.

  As Mac watched him go, he hooked his thumbs behind his utility belt. “‘For sparkling was the rosy wine, and private was the chamber.’” He looked at Maris. “Pretty tight-lipped kid.”

  “Whatever they discussed,” Maris said, nodding, “he was obviously very uncomfortable repeating it.”

  Mac picked up the manila folder from the barrel head. “I’ve got the forensics results back.”

  He opened it and was about to show her, when she said, “Could we look at those outside?” She’d already stayed longer than she’d anticipated—or wanted. Now that Harlan was gone, there was also no reason to be in the cellar. “It’s such lovely weather.”

  20

  Outside at the large circular drive, they sat on one of the visitor benches, under a pretty cedar arbor draped with grape vines. As Mac sat down, he said, “You’re right. It really is nice out here.”

  An older couple passed by, on their way to the winery. A few cars were already parked in the lot. Though the sun was out, she and the sheriff were in the shade, and a soft breeze rustled the grape leaves around them. She was glad to be out of the cellar, but it also happened to be a very pleasant day.