I drove slowly, hugging the right lane the entire ride back to Wine Country, and it was midafternoon by the time I finally pulled up to Oak Valley, the old growth trees lining the drive greeting me with their gentle swaying in the breeze. Warm sunlight filtered through their leaves, casting beams of light across the winding drive, and the comforting scent of ripening grapes filled the air as I parked next to Ava's GTO.
My limbs were trembling with post adrenaline fatigue as I got out and stretched.
"Ohmigod, everything hurts," Ava said, mirroring my thoughts. I looked over to see her rubbing the back of her neck.
"Maybe we should have gone to the ER after all," I said, second guessing myself as the soreness set in.
Ava shook her head. "I'm sure it's nothing a heating pad and a couple painkillers can't fix."
"Or a glass of wine," I added.
Ava grinned. "Is that an offer?"
"You know my cellar is always open to you."
She glanced at the winery, then over to her car. "I feel like I should at least check in on the shop," she said, hesitating. "You know, make sure there's not a line of true crime enthusiasts outside the door."
I nodded my understanding. "Tell you what—go check in on Silver Girl, then come back for dinner. We can order in, and I'll open a bottle of our 2003 Reserve Petite Sirah."
Ava's eyebrows went up into her hairline. "Now that's an offer I can't refuse." She gave me a quick hug before hopping into her GTO and heading back to town.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I allowed myself a slow walk into the winery, my legs feeling like I'd run a marathon that day. My destination was a long hot bath followed by a large late lunch of comfort food.
But both indulgences were put on hold as I passed the tasting room and saw two familiar occupants at the bar.
David Allen was sipping a glass of Pinot Noir, a charming smile on his features as he casually brushed his too long hair from his eyes. The recipient of his charms had her back to me, but even from that angle I recognized the long, elegant neck of Jada Deveroux.
I paused only long enough to set my purse down behind the bar before approaching the pair.
David was first to look up, his smile breaking into a wide grin as he spotted me. "Well, there's our Emmy now," he said, gesturing toward me with his half-full glass.
Jada pivoted on her wooden barstool to face me.
"David." I nodded his way. "Jada—nice to see you again."
"We were just talking about you," David offered.
"Oh?" I gave him a questioning look.
"Your uh, bar manager said you were out." She gestured toward Jean Luc, whose mustache twitched at the "bar manager" moniker. Luckily he was practiced enough at dealing with customers that he covered it quickly and moved on to a couple with empty glasses.
"Yes, I just got back. I was, uh, running some errands," I hedged, covering the lump on the side of my head with my hair. "I hope you're enjoying our Pinot Noir."
"I found Jada, here, on your back terrace, taking in the view. I gave her the full winery tour then offered to buy her a drink." David gave her a wink. "It's not every day I run into a model."
Was he flirting with her? I wasn't sure why my stomach clenched at the thought, but I was pretty sure it had more to do with the fact I'd skipped lunch and not that I cared who David flirted with. Because I didn't. Not even if the recipient of such flirting looked like she might even be enjoying it.
"And did you?" I asked David, clearing those thoughts from my head. "Buy her a drink?"
David grinned, waving off the semantics. "I know you wouldn't dream of taking money from friends."
"Gee, with friends like you, who needs customers," I mumbled.
"What was that?" David asked.
"Nothing. What are you doing here, again, David?"
"Thought I'd pop in and see how everything went last night with Grant." He gave me a meaningful look, and I knew he meant about the fake emerald confession I'd meant to make and not the tenuous hold I currently had on our relationship status.
"Fine. Peachy. Great."
David cocked his head to the side, like he knew there was a lot more to that story, but thankfully he dropped it, sipping his red wine.
"I hope I didn't come at a bad time," Jada said, her gaze going from me to David. "But I, uh, wanted to apologize for earlier."
"Apologize?" I asked, turning my full attention to her.
"For lying to you." She set her glass down on the bar before clasping both hands in her lap. "Carl called me. He said you were at his studio this morning."
"I was," I said, nodding.
"He said you know."
"Know what?" David asked, clearly not enjoying being left out of the loop.
Jada cleared her throat, eyes flitting to David. My guess was she'd not envisioned an audience for this particular apology. "About our relationship. Mine and Carl's." Jada turned back to address me. "I'm sorry I couldn't say anything before, but Carl had to keep things quiet."
"Yes, he mentioned that," I said.
"You and Carl Costello?" David asked. "Really?" He looked like he was waiting for the punch line of a joke. "You two are an item?"
Jada nodded. "You have no idea how hard it's been hiding this."
"How long have you been seeing him?" I asked, leaning an elbow on the bar.
"A few months," she said. "I know he can seem a little over the top sometimes, but Carl is so sweet. So devoted. He's just really the kindest man I've ever met." She paused. Her eyes imploring as they turned to mine. "Which is why you have to believe he had nothing to do with Gia's death."
That was an interesting statement, considering I hadn't mentioned believing any such thing. I wondered if Costello had primed her to come plead his case.
"Costello said he was waiting for you in a poolside cabana after the show," I said carefully. "How long was he alone before you joined him?"
Jada averted her eyes, gaze going down into her wineglass. "Not long."
But long enough.
"Did anyone else know about your relationship?" I asked. Like, say, the dead woman. Who had blackmailed Costello over it.
But that must not have been something Carl had shared with his secret lover, as Jada shook her head in the negative. "No. Of course not. Carl said we had to keep it strictly secret." She sighed. "Which has not been easy. So many times I've wanted to spend holidays with him or go out to dinner or even just hold his hand." Her eyes got a faraway look in them, and as much as she and Costello seemed like an odd couple to me, I felt for her. She seemed truly in love with him, and it couldn't be easy to play along with Fabio being the love of his life.
Jada shook her head, pulling herself out of her fantasy. "Look, Carl would never hurt a fly. He just doesn't have it in him. You have to believe me."
While I had the feeling the conviction behind her words was true, I wasn't quite as convinced as she was about the designer's innocence.
However, after the day I'd had, there were other people higher up on my suspect list.
"Jada, I'm curious—you didn't happen to see your agent as you were backstage changing after the Links show, did you?"
"Hughie?" A tiny little crease formed between her eyebrows. "No. Why?"
I shrugged. "Just curious."
David raised an eyebrow at me, and I could feel him mentally wondering what I'd been up to all day.
"Do you know how Smart Models is doing?" I asked, changing tactics. "I mean, financially?"
"I-I don't know," Jada stammered, clearly caught off guard by the question. "I've always been paid on time, if that's what you mean." She looked from me to David. "Why do you ask?"
"I was just wondering how stable Hughie's financial situation is," I said vaguely, trying not to tip too much of my hand.
She frowned again. "I don't know. I mean, my check for the charity show cleared," she offered, raising her eyebrows as if asking if that tidbit was helpful.
"Speaking of the charity show," Davi
d cut in, "I assume you both heard about the memorial at the Links?"
I shook my head. "No. A memorial for Gia?"
David nodded. "Not an official service or anything. But I guess the club felt they needed to do something for her. They're planning a cocktail party tomorrow night to honor her."
Jada's eyes went down to stare into her wineglass again. "That's very thoughtful," she said quietly.
"I hope you'll come as my guest," David added.
I wasn't sure if he was talking to Jada or to me, but then he added, "Ava too."
"Uh, sure," I agreed.
Jada nodded. "Carl mentioned going."
Again David had a look on his face like he was having a hard time wrapping his head around Jada and Costello as a couple, but he quickly covered it. "Well, then, I'll look forward to seeing you both there."
"Uh, if you'll excuse me, I should be getting back to the City," Jada said, her gaze still downcast. Not that I blamed her. I was sure the death of her friend was weighing as heavily on her as the possibility of Costello's secret slipping out.
"Let me walk you out," David offered, downing the last of his wine and slipping off his barstool. He gave me a wink before putting an arm around Jada and steering her toward the front doors.
I had to hand it to David—he didn't give up easily. Then again, if I had to pit David's Bad Boy charm against Costello's artistic flamboyance, I'd bet on David every time.
I paused, watching the couple slip outside.
Bad Boy charm? Since when had I ever thought David Allen charming?
I shook my head. Must be posttraumatic stress from the car wreck.
As a surefire remedy, I made a detour to the kitchen to grab a pint of Ben & Jerry's before making my way to my cottage for that long hot bath.
Though, as soon as I got there, I realized the bathtub was all the way upstairs and the TV was right there in the living room. And since I was already several mouthfuls into my Cherry Garcia, I plunked onto the sofa and grabbed the remote, putting a hot bath on the back burner. I cued up While You Were Sleeping and let the nineties rom-com take me away to a place of meet-cutes, implausible misunderstandings, and inevitable happy endings.
After half a pint and a dozen adorable smiles from Bill Pullman, I could feel the stress of the day starting to ease. I contemplated adding a glass of wine to the mix, but that would require getting up. And my kitchen was at least ten steps away. So, I contemplated it for a while longer while I finished off my Cherry Garcia instead. By the time the movie and my ice cream were done, I had enough fortification to pour myself a small glass of Pinot Grigio and drag myself upstairs for that long awaited bath.
After a good long soak, I threw on a pair of black yoga pants and an oversize T-shirt with a picture of Minnie Mouse on it. I left my hair to air-dry and slipped a pair of flip-flops on before venturing outside and down the pathway to the cellar to grab the promised bottle of Petite Sirah for Ava.
My grandmother and namesake, Emmeline, had long ago dubbed our wine cellar The Cave. As a child, I'd had a fear-fascination relationship with The Cave, sometimes enjoying the cool hideaway on hot summer days where I could be alone with my dolls or books—or later journals filled with teenage angst. But at other times its deep, dark depths had been fuel for my childhood imagination, filling it with monsters, dragons, and all manner of creepy crawly things.
While age had faded those visions of monsters and dragons, I knew the creepy crawlies were real. Add to that mix the fact that not only had David Allen's stepfather died in The Cave, but also on a separate occasion I'd been tied up and threatened by a killer, and as an adult I still had mixed feelings about the place.
I flipped on the lights, quickly padding through the welcomed cooler temperatures until I found the rack that held my quarry. I didn't linger, grabbing a bottle and locking the doors behind me before taking the wine to the back terrace where the setting sun and cool breeze were perfect for a dinner al fresco.
An hour later, Ava had arrived, we'd ordered delivery from one of our favorite Mexican restaurants, and we'd just settled at the large tiled table on the patio to dig in.
I poured Ava a glass of our vintage Sirah and couldn't help watching with a lift of pride as she rolled the first sip around on her tongue, smiling contentedly. "Oh, that is nice."
"Mellow, right?" I asked, pouring a glass for myself.
"Very. Smooth, but it still has that hint of a deep plum flavor."
"If only every year were like this." My gaze traveled out over the fields. "Our harvest is going to be a little short this year."
"No!" Ava set her glass down, frowning. "Are you sure?"
I shrugged. "Hector said not to worry about it, but—"
"But of course you're going to worry anyway." She shot me a grin.
I couldn't help returning it. It was comforting having a friend who knew me so well—and hung out with me anyway.
"Well, if Hector says not to worry, then I don't think you should. After all, he's the expert."
"Are you trying to say I don't know what I'm talking about?" I teased.
She gave a look of mock innocence as she scooped a chicken enchilada smothered in Authentic Mole Sauce onto her plate. "Not me. I like free wine."
I laughed. The Sirah was definitely kicking in. Plus the glass of Pinot Grigio from earlier. Plus the ice cream sugar rush. "Well, I'll just be happy if we can make payroll and enough to cover the cost of a new fence."
"Deer breaking in again?" Ava asked. Having grown up in Wine Country, Ava knew as well as I did what a constant problem they were.
I nodded. "Set off the motion sensors the other night. Hopefully Hector can fend them off long enough to harvest and get some better barricades up before planting season."
"We could always call my dad," Ava offered. "He's got a twelve gauge."
"Ava!" I shot her a look. "I am not shooting Bambi's mom."
She laughed. "I was kidding! Come on, you know I cry at Disney movies too." She glanced at my T-shirt. "Nice outfit by the way."
I shrugged. "I'm going casual chic."
"Well, you've got the casual at any rate." She shot me another joking grin before shoving a bite of enchilada into her mouth.
We chewed in silence for a moment, each of us enjoying the mingling sweet spices and warm chilies mixed with the deep, rich chocolate flavor that created a complicated mole. Finally Ava broke it, putting down her fork and grabbing her wineglass again. "You know, I've been thinking about something that Costello said."
"Oh?" I licked dark, rich sauce off my fork. "About what?"
"About Daisy Dot." She sipped from her wineglass. "When he accused her of stealing his design for those cutouts in her dresses."
"I'm not sure we should take anything he says about Daisy too seriously. The man clearly hates her."
Ava nodded. "Right. And her him. But, I'm wondering, what if it was true?"
I dabbed at the corner of my mouth with a napkin. "What are you thinking?"
"Well, Daisy was right that someone did steal her rubies. It wasn't Costello, but it was one of his models, so she wasn't too far off the mark."
I nodded. "True."
"What if Costello was right, too?" she asked. "What if Daisy actually did get ahold of some of his early sketches and go public with the design first?"
"But how would she get the sketches?" I asked. "I mean, it's not like Costello would invite Daisy over to his workroom."
"Noooo," Ava said, drawing out the word. "But as his lead model, Gia was in there all the time."
I paused, bite of enchilada midway to my mouth. "You think Gia stole the design?"
Ava shrugged. "We've learned she'd do just about anything for money. She stole jewelry, and she blackmailed Costello."
"And she had no loyalty to Costello," I said, thinking it through as I shoved the bite into my mouth and chewed. "Actually, I totally see Gia doing it."
Ava nodded, leaning forward in her chair. "She could have easily taken photos of
his sketches with her phone and then approached Daisy with them, saying she had a great way to get back at Costello. You know, for a fee."
"You think Daisy would have gone for it?" I asked.
"You tell me. How much does Daisy hate Costello?"
I sipped my wine, thinking back to my conversation with her. "A lot."
"There you have it." Ava shot me a triumphant grin and sat back in her seat.
"Okay, so what does this have to do with Gia's murder?" I asked.
"Well, maybe Daisy was afraid Gia would spill that her design was stolen. Maybe something about showcasing them for the public at the Links show was the catalyst. Maybe she even visited Gia in her dressing room to make sure she kept her mouth shut and Gia demanded more money."
"Now that does sound like the Gia we're getting to know."
"Anyway, I think it's worth not discounting Daisy as a possibility."
I thought so too. And I was about to say as much, when the sound of glass shattering ripped through the air, causing me to freeze in place.
Ava heard it too, her mouth dropping open in a surprised O. "What was that?" she asked, gaze whipping back and forth, scanning the fields behind us.
"I don't know." Thanks to the mellow wine haze hitting my brain, realization was slow to dawn. "But I think it came from the direction of my cottage."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
On pure instinct, I stood, abandoned my meal, and ran down the pathway. I vaguely heard Ava call out my name, her chair scraping against the stone patio as she got up as well, but I didn't hit pause long enough to look back. If someone was trying to break into my home, I was not going to let them get away with it.
I wrestled with my flip-flops as I pumped my legs, my heart suddenly beating at such a frantic pace that I was sure I wouldn't need any cardio for a month. Luckily it was a short jaunt from the terrace to my cottage, and while it felt like it took a month, in reality it was probably only seconds before my small cottage came into view.
Fashion, Rosé & Foul Play (Wine & Dine Mysteries Book 6) Page 17
