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

by Gemma Halliday

  "What about the cake? And the doves? And the presents?" she sobbed, her mind clearly spiraling with grief. "I just wouldn't feel right keeping any of them."

  "Oh, honey." Andrew took both of Juliet's hands in his. "You don't need to worry yourself with that sort of thing right now. We'll handle it all later."

  She nodded. "Who would so such a thing, Andrew? Who would hurt Freddie?" she asked, her voice small.

  Andrew shook his head. "I don't know, baby girl."

  Juliet dissolved into tears again, shoulders sagging as her head dropped down. Andrew wrapped her in a comforting hug, and another pang of sadness ran through me as I watched her weep into her friend's shirt.

  The rest of the wedding guests left as soon as the officers dismissed them, everyone in more of a hurry to leave than they'd been to arrive. Not that I blamed them. They'd come for a wedding and ended up at a crime scene. Needless to say, I didn't think any of them would be hurrying back to Oak Valley for a weekend tasting anytime soon.

  By the time the last of the uniformed officers had left and the bulk of the wedding items had been stowed away, the sky was dark, and I was mentally and physically exhausted. I hugged Ava good-bye, thanking her for all her help that day, and made my way to my cozy two-bedroom cottage at the back of the property.

  When I'd come home to take over the winery, I'd moved back into the same cottage my parents had occupied my entire childhood. I'll admit it had seemed larger then as a kid than it did now as an adult. The small building nestled among the centuries old oak trees had originally been built by my grandfather before I'd been born. It had been upgraded little by little with AC and modern electrical, so it was comfortable even if it wasn't palatial. In my dreams I could envision expanding the upstairs and adding a walk-in closet to the master bedroom, but my dreams were considerably larger than my bank account, so for now the guest room served as a fine overflow for my shoes and winter coats.

  I grabbed a pint of mint chip from my freezer and settled on the sofa to let mind numbing TV take me away. Unfortunately, the first thing I saw as I turned my set on was my winery—a reporter in a windbreaker standing in front of it talking about the untimely death of Alfred Campbell at the "killer wedding on the hill."

  The mint chip stuck in my throat as I listened to the reporter say the police were investigating but as of yet had no leads. While I wasn't sure it was entirely true, at least no one had mentioned Juliet, except to say the "bride-not-to-be" was grieving in private and had no comment.

  Soured on TV, I flipped the thing off and crawled up to my big, comfy bed, where sleep sadly eluded me. The adrenaline and shock of the day's events caused me to toss and turn, resting only in short spurts before visions of dead bodies and crying brides woke me again.

  If it was possible, by the time the sun streamed in through my bedroom windows, I felt even more tired than when I'd gone to bed. I groaned, throwing an arm over my eyes and contemplating just staying in bed that day. It was a nice thought. One I entertained for a good two minutes before the million things on my to-do list compelled me out of my sheets and into a long, hot shower.

  I did a quick mascara and lip gloss thing before throwing on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a pale lavender sweater. I attempted to tame my hair into something presentable, but three tries in, I gave up and pulled it back into an easy ponytail instead. I was just slipping my feet into a pair of suede ankle boots when a text came in from Ava.

  I'm outside. I have lattes.

  Before heading downstairs to the front door, I said a silent thank you to fate for sending me such an awesome best friend.

  My boots echoed off the hardwood floor of the small living room as I crossed to the door, where I found Ava just approaching with two coffee cups bearing the logo of our favorite café, the Half Calf.

  "Have I told you lately how much I love you?" I asked her, grabbing one cup and stepping back to allow her entry.

  "Yes. But I don't mind hearing it again." She gave me a grin as she plopped down on my well worn sofa, tucking her legging encased legs up underneath her. She'd paired them with a cold-shoulder tunic top in the same navy color that served as a stylish backdrop for the silver crescent moon pendant around her neck. "How did you sleep?" she asked, taking the lid off her latte and blowing on it to cool the drink.

  "I'm not sure I did," I told her truthfully, inhaling the warm French Roast scented steam rising from my own cup.

  "Sorry, Emmy." She sent me a sympathetic smile.

  I shook my head. "I'm really sorry for Juliet. I can't imagine what she's going through."

  "I saw a CSI van in the lot already when I pulled in," Ava said. "The police have any leads?"

  "None that Grant shared with me."

  Ava paused, and by the mischievous look in her eyes, I could tell she was trying to read some meaning into those words. "So what did Grant share with you?"

  "Nothing," I told her emphatically. Then I paused, sipping my drink. "Except that Juliet's dad told him Freddie might have had a thing for the ladies."

  "Gee, ya think?" Ava said, heavy on the sarcasm.

  I shot her a look.

  "What?" Ava said, doing an innocent palms-up thing with the hand not holding her latte. "You can't tell me you didn't see the groom checking out my derriere at the rehearsal."

  "You're right. I can't," I conceded. "And the police know about that too."

  "Grant said that?" Ava asked, taking a sip from her steaming coffee.

  I nodded. "He thinks it's motive for Juliet to want him dead."

  "Get out! Juliet?" Ava shot me an incredulous look.

  "I know, right?" I told her. "I mean, Juliet is a philanthropist. She collects blankets for the homeless. I don't see her murdering her fiancé over a wandering eye."

  "Does Grant think that's all that wandered?" Ava asked, picking up on the same thought I'd had last night.

  "Maybe not." I shook my head. "I don't know. All I know is, I don't see Juliet doing this."

  "Wasn't her bride's attendant with her the whole time anyway? What was his name…Andrew?"

  I nodded. "Probably."

  "And her dad was there too. I know because he kept asking me how much longer until the ceremony started."

  I groaned, thinking of Edward Somersby. I was supposed to have collected the final payment for the wedding last night, after the reception. Only we'd had a corpse instead of a ceremony, and clearly I hadn't had the heart to ask him for it. Or, honestly, even a clear enough head. "I have to collect a check from him for the nonexistent wedding."

  Ava clucked her tongue. "Talk about awkward."

  "I know." I paused. "I really wish I could just forget it, but the truth is even though the wedding didn't go on as planned, I still have expenses. The servers all showed up, the tables and chairs were laid out, and there are all the nonreturnable items—food, flowers, centerpieces."

  "Champagne," Ava added. Then must have remembered how Freddie'd been found, because she visibly cringed. "Sorry."

  "Yeah, I'll never look at a bottle the same way again," I agreed, taking another fortifying sip of coffee.

  "Do you want me to go with you?" Ava asked. "To talk to Somersby?"

  "Would you?" I immediately asked.

  She grinned. "What are friends for?"

  "I owe you one," I promised her.

  "Well, make that one a bottle of last year's Pinot Grigio from the cellar, and I'll call it even."

  "Done!"

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Somersbys had rented out the Belle Inn Bed & Breakfast, just east of downtown, for the wedding party to stay in. The two story, asymmetrical building boasted a beautiful front porch that wrapped around one side of the house and had been a stately Victorian residence in its heyday. Now it was flanked by mature maple trees and a couple of large palms and sat across the street from a Starbucks, an indie bookshop, and a café. I pulled my Jeep around the back and parked in the small lot that bordered a well-appointed garden, and we followed the pathway ba
ck around to the front entrance. While the vibe inside was quaint and homey, a polished reception desk sat just off to the right.

  After we gave our names to the young, freckle-faced woman behind the desk and listened to her end of the conversation as she called up to the Somersbys' suite, she directed us to wait in the parlor just to the left of the entry. I took a seat on a high backed chair near the picture window, and Ava sat opposite me, perching on the edge of a loveseat with ornately carved arms and legs.

  We didn't have to wait long, as Edward Somersby's frame filled the doorway just a few moments later. While he'd seemed an impressive patriarch on our previous meetings, today his shoulders held a slump, and he seemed years older, his face sunken and pale.

  "Mr. Somersby." I stood, greeting him as he came into the room, and Ava did the same.

  He nodded to us both and gave a weak smile before sagging into another high backed chair beside me. "You wanted to see me?"

  "First off, let me offer my condolences," I said, the words sounding hollow even to my own ears. "How is Juliet?"

  He sighed deeply, shrugging. "Not well. As expected. She's been inconsolable. I don't think any of us got a lick of sleep."

  "We're so sorry for your loss," Ava said gently.

  "Oh, don't feel sorry for me," Edward replied with a scoff and a frown.

  "Uh, we didn't mean to imply…" I trailed off, looking to Ava, not sure what to say to that.

  Luckily, Edward plowed on. "That man wasn't good enough for my daughter. I always knew that." He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "But it kills me to see her in so much pain."

  I nodded sympathetically. I'd only known Juliet a short time, and it was heartbreaking for me to see her in such a state. I could only imagine how it felt as a parent. "Please let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

  He shook his head. "Not much to be done now but move on."

  I had a feeling it would be some time before the grieving almost-widow would be moving on, but I kept that to myself.

  "How long had Juliet and Freddie known each other?" Ava asked, her voice soft and comforting.

  Edward's bushy eyebrows hunkered down in a frown, as if he was trying to remember. "Oh, about a year, I guess."

  "That's not very long," I mused.

  "No. It wasn't." He shot me a pointed look. "And her mother and I told her there was no reason to rush into marriage, but Juliet always has been headstrong like that."

  "So, it was Juliet's idea to get married?"

  "Oh, I don't know. I mean, Freddie proposed, of course, but who started the conversation? Well, it's really none of my business, is it?"

  What he really meant was it wasn't my business. And he was right—it wasn't. I cleared my throat. "Anyway, I'm sorry to intrude at such a time, but there is the small matter of the funding for the…uh…event," I finished lamely.

  Somersby blinked at me as if not understanding.

  I did some more throat clearing. "I, uh, will see if I can get some of the fees refunded, but we do have to settle accounts still with our vendors. For the flowers, food, chairs…" I trailed off, hoping he'd catch my drift.

  "Oh, yes. You want your check." His face was stoic, though his voice held an edge to it.

  I licked my lips. "I know you have some…extenuating circumstances," I said, dancing around the dead body. "I talked with the band last night, and they're willing to only bill for travel expenses, not the full evening. And the officiant graciously waived all fees."

  "Well, I suppose I should be thankful for small favors," he said, though I noticed he made no move to retrieve a checkbook.

  I smiled awkwardly at him, wondering how many times I'd have to uncouthly ask for payment before it arrived. "Yes, well, I'm sure everyone understands what a difficult time this must be for you."

  Though instead of looking grieved, Edward let out a sardonic bark of laughter. "Difficult? That Freddie Campbell has been more trouble than he's worth since the start. And his death is no exception."

  "You really weren't a fan," I said, stating the obvious as I shot a look Ava's way. She seemed as taken aback at his open hostility as I was, a small frown forming between her slim eyebrows.

  "No, I wasn't," Edward went on. "But in truth, I didn't know the man well enough to be a fan. And that was what I told Juliet, too. What did she really know about him? Where did he come from? Where did all this supposed money come from?"

  "Supposed?" I asked, jumping on the word. "You think Freddie was pretending to have more assets than he did?"

  But Edward blew out a long sigh and shook his head. "I don't know. I mean, he drove flashy cars and spent enough, but every time I asked him about his business, all I got were vague answers."

  Which was what I'd gotten too. Then again, I hadn't actually pressed either him or Juliet for details. The truth was, considering that the elder Somersbys were footing the bill for the ceremony and reception, I hadn't really cared how the engaged couple earned their own paychecks. "Juliet mentioned he was an entrepreneur of some sort?" I said, remembering what she'd told me.

  "Of some sort." Edward snorted. "Never did pin him down to more than that." He paused. "Not that it matters now, I suppose."

  I bit my lip. With the police looking in Juliet's direction, I had a feeling every detail about Freddie's life mattered now. Maybe even more so to Juliet than it had before. I was almost hesitating to ask, but… "The police said you mentioned Freddie had an eye for the ladies."

  Edward scoffed again. "Didn't you notice?" He turned to Ava. "I know you must have. His eyes were practically glued to you all evening."

  "Were they?" Ava asked innocently. To her credit, she didn't even blush.

  "I take it that was not an isolated incident?" I surmised.

  "No. Hardly." Edward shook his head again. "And, again, her mother and I told Juliet as much, but she just laughed me off as being overprotective."

  On that point I agreed. Edward Somersby did seem protective of his daughter. He'd struck me as that way before the ceremony that never happened too. I wondered… A protective father might do all sorts of things to preserve his daughter's happiness. Clearly Edward Somersby hadn't wanted Juliet to marry Freddie. Maybe he'd thought a dead groom was better than a cheating husband?

  Ava must have been wandering down that line of thinking too, as she piped up from her perch on the sofa. "Do you remember when the last time was that you saw Freddie alive?"

  Edward's forehead wrinkled. "Last night at the rehearsal dinner," he replied. "We left him at the restaurant, and Juliet rode back here with my wife and me."

  "She didn't ride with Freddie?" I asked, remembering the couple had arrived at the winery for the rehearsal together.

  But he shook his head. "No, Juliet didn't want Freddie to see her the night before the wedding. Tradition, superstition—call it what you will." He shook his head as if he really didn't understand either. "Anyway, she stayed with Meredith and me in our room that night."

  "And neither of you saw Freddie after that?" I asked.

  He shook his head. "No."

  "Not at all the day of the wedding?" Ava pressed.

  "No. I assumed he was with the groomsmen."

  "What about Juliet?" I asked, remembering Grant's line of questioning. "Did she arrive with you?"

  But Edward shook his head again. "No, she and Andrew drove in together."

  "So you came alone?" Ava asked.

  "I arrived with my wife." Edward's frown was deepening with each question we lobbed his way, and I could tell we were on the verge of pushing it. "She and I were together all morning."

  "You were together the entire time you were at the winery yesterday?" Ava said, pressing it just a little further.

  "Yes. I mean, up until you came to get me for the ceremony," he said, nodding my direction.

  "Your wife didn't leave you to check on Juliet at all?" I asked.

  Edward looked up at me again and scowled. "No. We checked on her together. Why does it matter where
I was anyway? Are you insinuating that I had something to do with Freddie's death?"

  Oops. Yep, definitely over the verge.

  "No, of course not," I backpedaled. "But the detective was asking me about Juliet."

  Edward's eyes narrowed. "Juliet? Why?"

  "He, uh, seemed as though he thought she might have had something to do with…" I trailed off, chickening out at voicing that thought under Mr. Somersby's scowl.

  "That's ridiculous!" he said, practically shouting in the small parlor. "What reason could she possibly have to want Freddie dead?"

  "His wandering eye," Ava reminded him.

  Edward's mouth moved up and down a few times, but nothing came out as the realization must have hit him that he'd been the one to give police the motive. "Th-that's completely ridiculous," he finally repeated.

  "I agree," I reassured him. "And Detective Grant is very good at his job. I'm sure his questions were just routine," I told him, but even I could hear the uncertainty in my voice.

  Edward turned in his seat so that he was facing me. One of his bushy brows lifted. "Are you well acquainted with Detective Grant?"

  I felt the warmth creep into my cheeks. "You could say that," I replied, choosing my words carefully. I could practically feel Ava smirking beside me.

  "Well then, you can tell that detective to look elsewhere for that man's killer," he said hotly. "I assure you a Somersby did not have any hand in this."

  The way he emphasized the word made me think he had some inkling who could have had a hand in it.

  Again, Ava must have been on the same track, as she asked, "Who do you think might have wanted Freddie dead?"

  "Believe me, I have no idea. But if the police are going to look anywhere, they should start with his family, not mine."

  "Natalie?" I asked, remembering the one family member from Freddie's side who had been in attendance.

  His eyebrows formed a frowning v again as he nodded in the affirmative. "Bad blood there, mark my words."

  I thought back to the interactions I'd witnessed between the cousins. While Natalie had seemed to enjoy poking fun at Freddie, I'd taken it as just that—fun. "I thought Freddie and Natalie were close. Isn't that why Juliet asked her to be in the wedding party?"