Marriage, Merlot & Murder (Wine & Dine Mysteries Book 4)

by Gemma Halliday

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  MARRIAGE, MERLOT & MURDER

  Wine & Dine Mysteries book #4

  by

  GEMMA HALLIDAY

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  Copyright © 2020 by Gemma Halliday

  http://www.gemmahalliday.com

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  RECIPES

  FREE BOOK OFFER

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  BOOKS BY GEMMA HALLIDAY

  Dedicated to Nick, my buddy with the snacks.

  CHAPTER ONE

  "Everything has to be perfect," I muttered to myself for what was probably the hundredth time that day. It was a Friday afternoon, and I was prepping Oak Valley Vineyards, my family's small winery in Sonoma, to host our first wedding since I'd taken over its management. While I'd been lucky enough in the last few months to book a couple of private parties at our large outdoor venue overlooking the picturesque vineyard—and even most recently hosted a Food and Wine Festival—I can't say that any of the events thus far had gone off without a hitch. Or ended up bringing in the kind of revenue that Oak Valley sorely needed to avoid being gobbled up by the corporate giants of the region. But I had hope that our future as a wedding venue looked rosy, as the first couple in over a decade to rent our space for their nuptials would be arriving for their final walk-through and rehearsal.

  Hope I tried to hold on to as I glanced at my prerehearsal checklist. Table linens for the reception—check. Centerpieces arrived—check. Chairs set up for the outdoor ceremony—check.

  "You okay, Emmy?" my best friend, Ava Barnett, asked, leaning on the bar top in our tasting room.

  "Sure, why?"

  "You're muttering to yourself again." Ava grinned at me.

  I couldn't help smiling back. Ava had known me since childhood, and if anything could counteract my nerves, it was her optimistic spirit and easy-going vibe. Both of us being only children in our families, we'd been more like sisters than just friends, some saying we even looked alike. Though, while we were both the same age (twenty-nine. Ish.), Ava's long blonde hair had a thickness and shine to it, while mine tended more toward frizzy or, on a good day, wavy with a chance of curls. Ava was also a few pounds lighter than I was, due to her love of the outdoors and my love of all things chocolate and/or bacon–covered. And while my style was usually more jeans and T-shirts, Ava always looked fresh and fashionable in her collection of boho dresses and skirts. Today's outfit: a long, semi-sheer floral skirt paired with an opaque mini underneath and an off-the-shoulder blouse that looked both easy and elegant at the same time.

  Ava had graciously offered to take the day off from running her downtown shop, Silver Girl, where she sold her handmade jewelry creations, to help me prep the winery for the big day.

  "I just want everything to be perfect," I told her in defense of my muttering.

  "I know. And it will be. The bride and groom wouldn't have booked your space for their ceremony if they didn't love it," she reasoned. "And what's not to love? A wedding at a charming hillside vineyard in the heart of Wine Country is something that most girls only dream about." Her smile widened. "This is a total fairy tale scenario."

  "As long as you don't mean one of the Grimm Brothers' variety," I countered, stooping to pick up a broken piece of cork off the floor behind the bar. "We have less than an hour to finish putting up the decorations before the wedding party gets here."

  "Which Conchita is already working on," Ava reminded me.

  "But the altar still needs some last minute adjustments," I added.

  "Which Hector promised he would do in the morning," Ava responded.

  "And what about the Eddie Factor?"

  Ava grinned. "You got me there. There's nothing I can do about the Eddie Factor."

  Eddie Bliss was my lovable but completely inept winery manager who, no matter the occasion, always seemed to break, drop, or spill something. I made a mental note to keep him busy elsewhere when our guests made their arrivals. Like possibly Alaska.

  "But," Ava offered, "maybe I can have him help Jean Luc with the—"

  "Stop right zere, mademoiselle!"

  I looked up to find Jean Luc, my sommelier, emerge from the back door as if on command. He was tall, slim, and wore a sculpted black mustache to rival any cartoon villain's. "Zee Eddie is to be nowhere near zee pouring during zee event!" he said, his French accent thick.

  "You have my word," I assured him quickly. "But the bride and groom will be here soon, and I'll need them to confirm that we have their order correct before the reception tomorrow. Could you grab the bottles from the cellar that we talked about yesterday?" I asked, mentally checking off the next item on my list.

  "Of course." He bent forward in a slight bow that bordered on comical, though his mustache twitched as he walked away. "Though I still zeenk it's a travesty that zey want to pair Pinot Noir with zee lobster," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear. "A Chardonnay would be much better."

  I felt my mouth curve into a smile again as I watched him go. Having grown up in the Bordeaux region of France, my sommelier knew his wine pairings better than most guests—possibly even better than I did, though I had been trained by the CIA. (Though, not that CIA. The Culinary Institute of America.)

  "He's not wrong," I said, winking at Ava. "But it's what the groom requested." And considering we were in the low-to-no tourist season here in Sonoma, when many small wineries went from struggling to belly up, whatever the guests wanted, the guests got! Case in point: the decor the bride had requested, going with a floral fairy tale theme that had been a challenge to pull off in Northern California in the winter. I'd had to enlist the help of no less than three local florists to find "spring" flowers in January.

  While Jean Luc was in The Cave, as my grandmother had affectionately dubbed our wine cellar, Ava, Conchita, and I made quick work of the few remaining items on my list, ensuring that every wisteria garland, tulip bouquet, and calla lily cascade was perfectly p
laced. I was just setting the last centerpiece on one of the tables when I heard tires crunching the gravel in the parking lot outside.

  "They're here!" Ava exclaimed, her blue eyes wide with excitement. She scurried around one of the reception tables to peer out the window.

  I didn't respond, too busy trying to quash the nerves bundling in my stomach. I risked a quick peek in the mirror behind the bar counter to check my reflection. My own blonde strands were a bit on the frizzy side today, and I found myself wishing I had a brush handy. I quickly combed through a few tangles with my fingers and rubbed away a small smudge of mascara beneath one of my pale blue eyes. A quick smile showed me that my lipstick thankfully hadn't smeared on my teeth. So I at least had that going for me.

  Here we go, I thought as I turned away from the mirror. I took a deep breath to ease the tightening sensation in my chest. Then I squared my shoulders and pasted a wide smile on my face as I marched out into the bright afternoon sun to greet my clients.

  Two cars had pulled to a stop in the gravel lot at the top of our oak tree–lined drive. A distinguished looking older gentleman climbed out of the driver's side of the first car, a shiny black Mercedes. The man was tall but thick around the middle, with a full head of silver hair and dark eyes that crinkled at the corners as he squinted in the sunlight. He stepped around to the passenger side and held out his hand to a woman with sandy blonde hair in an elegant, knee-length black dress and pearls. Based on their sophisticated appearance, I presumed they were Mr. and Mrs. Somersby, the bride-to-be's parents.

  Parked next to the Mercedes was a flashy red Jaguar. Four figures climbed out of the little sports car to join the middle-aged couple in the gravel lot. Though I'd never seen the tall man and the woman who seemed engrossed in her phone who emerged from the back seat, I did recognize the man with dark, slicked back hair who slid out from behind the driver's seat, as well as the pretty, slim-waisted brunette in a lacy, cream-colored dress who came to stand next to him. She took his hand with one of hers and waved cheerfully to me with the other.

  "Hi, Emmy," the brunette called, flashing me a bright smile.

  I returned her wave. "Hi, Juliet," I replied with the same enthusiasm.

  Alfred Campbell and Juliet Somersby were the bride- and groom-to-be, and their happiness this weekend was my top priority. Money aside, it was a true pleasure to help the young woman celebrate her big day. In my interactions with Juliet leading up to this weekend, I'd found her to be sweet, genuine, and the complete opposite of the bridezillas I had originally feared when venturing into weddings. She was classically beautiful in a way that reminded me of Anne Hathaway, with shoulder-length brown hair, long lashes, and wide doe eyes, and while I knew her trust fund meant she'd never had to work a day in her life, she served on the board of several charities, her latest being a project to help provide warm clothing during the winter months to the homeless in San Francisco.

  Juliet's bubbly personality and excitement for her nuptials were infectious, and I couldn't help but grin as the happy woman pulled her fiancé toward me from across the parking lot. Ava stood next to me as the engaged couple and their guests closed the gap between us.

  "I can't believe the big day is finally here," Juliet said, her tone giddy. She released her man's hand and stepped forward to give me a hug. "Thank you for everything, Emmy. I just know that tomorrow is going to be perfect."

  That made one of us.

  "No thanks necessary," I told her. "It's worth it just to see the smile on your face." Of course, the check that would soon be hitting my bank account didn't hurt, either—especially since it would allow me to make payroll for another month. "I hope you'll recommend Oak Valley Vineyards to your friends whenever they're ready to walk down the aisle," I added.

  "Of course we will." Juliet beamed at me. She turned and swept her arm toward the older man and woman. "Emmy, these are my parents, Edward and Meredith Somersby."

  I stood up a little straighter as I regarded the older couple. They were footing the bill for the weekend's festivities, so I wanted to make a good impression. As I'd learned from Juliet, the Somersbys hailed from Atherton, an exclusive area just south of San Francisco that dripped with old money. Edward's grandfather, Joseph Somersby, had founded a chain of luxury hotels that spanned the West Coast, which was why it had come as a surprise that Edward's only daughter, Juliet, had chosen to book her ceremony at my vineyard instead of one of their several locations that boasted breathtaking views of the Pacific Ocean. Not that I was complaining, of course—locking in a high-profile family like the Somersbys for Oak Valley Vineyards' debut wedding was sure to attract the attention of more potential clients.

  As long as everything goes well, that anxious voice in the back of my head reminded me for the fiftieth time.

  I ignored my doubtful inner monologue and offered Mr. and Mrs. Somersby what I hoped was a cordial smile. "I'm so pleased to meet you both. I'm Emmeline Oak, owner of the Oak Valley Vineyards. You can call me Emmy." I shook Edward's hand when he offered it.

  "A pleasure," he said stiffly. Mr. Somersby squinted at the Spanish style buildings behind us that made up the main inner workings of the winery. They'd originally been built by my great-grandfather, but generations since had added on and improved here and there. Edward nodded to himself as if indicating that the venue's appearance met his approval. "If you don't mind, I'd like to see where my money's going," he told me, lifting his chin. "Can you give us a quick tour of your establishment?"

  "I'd be delighted," I replied, nodding politely. I'd spent my childhood playing in the old building with its tanned façade, stone accents, and a tiled terra cotta roof, and I was proud to call it both my place of business and my home.

  I gestured to Ava, who was still standing beside me. "First, I'd like for you to meet my friend and associate, Ava Barnett. She'll be serving as my assistant wedding planner this weekend. We're here to make this a memorable experience for your whole family, so if there's anything at all that we can do for you between now and tomorrow's festivities, please don't hesitate to ask."

  "Nice to meet you all." Ava gave the group a friendly wave. "Congratulations, Juliet and Alfred," she said, offering the younger couple a bright smile.

  "The pleasure is all mine." The groom flashed a blindingly white smile Ava's way. "You can call me Freddie." He took Ava's hand and pumped it up and down, his grip on her fingers lingering just a tad longer than might have been necessary.

  I tried not to judge the groom too quickly. Most of my dealings had been with Juliet, and I'd only had the opportunity to meet Freddie Campbell a couple of times—both of which had been brief. He was classically tall, dark, and handsome, but beyond that I knew very little about him or his background. Juliet had said he was some sort of entrepreneur, but it was all kind of vague.

  Freddie released Ava from his grip and took a step back, sweeping his arm toward the other man who had arrived in the Jaguar with Juliet and him. "This is my best man, Baker Evans."

  Baker was a few inches shorter than Freddie and quite a few pounds heavier—a fact accentuated by his round features and small, dark eyes set behind thick glasses. His dress shirt strained against his belly, his dark hair shaggy in a way that spoke of the need for a haircut more than a fashion choice, and his nose sat slightly crooked in a face that was marked with the scars of teenage acne. He gave Ava and me a curt nod and a shy smile.

  Next to him, the final member of their party, a woman with short black hair in a stylish pixie cut and a phone that seemed attached to her hand like an appendage, cleared her throat and looked impatiently at Freddie.

  The groom's polished smile lost some of its sparkle. "And this is Natalie," he added, his tone going just a tad flat.

  "Natalie Weisman," the woman said, stepping forward to shake first my hand and then Ava's. "I'm Freddie's cousin. And I'm also one of Juliet's bridesmaids," she emphasized, nodding toward Juliet. "I told Jules here that if Freddie was really going to throw in the towel on bachelorhood
and settle down, I want a front row seat."

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Juliet stiffen. Edward and Meredith also stared at the woman in silent disapproval. I had the impression that the Somersbys weren't fans of Freddie's outspoken cousin—not that it seemed to bother the woman. Natalie continued to look at Juliet with a taunting smile. "Poor Julesy. Doesn't know what she's gotten herself into with this one."

  "Well, then," I said, hoping to break the sudden tension in the air. "Now that we're all acquainted, Ava and I will walk you around the property before the rest of the wedding party arrives for the rehearsal. Right this way, please." I motioned for the group to follow me into the tasting room.

  Ava and I spent the next forty-five minutes escorting the engaged couple and their entourage around Oak Valley. We showed Juliet the rooms where she and her bridesmaids would do their hair and makeup for the ceremony, as well as several of the more scenic locations around the property that were perfect for taking wedding photos.

  My ten-acre plot of land boasted a breathtaking view of the countryside and also featured a charming terrace courtyard in the back that was bordered by thriving rose bushes. Despite the dismal state of our finances, I was proud of how well Hector had managed to maintain the landscaping. I was hoping that tomorrow I could convince the wedding photographer to cut me a deal on a few promotional images of the property to post on our website and social media pages.

  "Ooh!" Juliet squealed when we stepped out onto the second-floor balcony, which overlooked the vineyard, bathed this time of year in warm hues of orange and gold. She squeezed Freddie's hand. "We have to do some pictures up here! I feel like I'm in a scene from a romantic movie." She exhaled a happy sigh. "The view is absolutely breathtaking."

  "Breathtaking," Freddie agreed smoothly. Though I couldn't help but notice that the only "scenic view" he was taking in was that of Ava's backside as she leaned on the railing.