by Cat Chandler
“Sorry, son. Only meant to congratulate you.”
Putting two and two together, Nicki raised an eyebrow in astonishment. “Trax is sponsoring the new Lanciere label?”
“Let me go.” Jeremy twisted around and glared at their host whose large hand was still latched onto a fistful of shirt.
Jim gave another short apology while Nicki once again stepped in to keep the peace.
“I didn’t know George Lanciere was your head winemaker too.”
“He isn’t. At least not yet.” Jeremy’s voice took on an unhappy note to match his sudden frown, and his gaze was once again on his shoes. “But he will be. We’re still in negotiations over that point.”
Bill let out a short laugh before pinning Jeremy with a hard, direct stare. “Be sure he doesn’t ‘negotiate’ you right out of your own winery.”
“He’s not as bad as you’re making him out to be,” Jim said. “There’s plenty of room for everyone to play in this ball field. George knows that.”
“He’s done both of us a poor turn on more than one occasion, and you know that too.” Bill pointed to the now-silent Jeremy. “If you want to help this young hotshot, you’ll tell him to be careful and watch his back. George doesn’t play by any rules but his own anymore, and he doesn’t care who he steps on to get what he wants.”
“Anymore?” Nicki asked, despite the fact she’d just told herself to stay out of this argument. But as usual, her curiosity got the better of her. “Did he used to play by the rules?”
Bill’s dark eyes met hers for a moment before turning away. “I liked him better when he was plain old George Lancer. Before he hit it big with that last private blend of his and decided to become more French.”
“More French?” Nicki sent a confused look around the table.
Jim laughed. “He changed his name from Lancer to Lanciere, claiming he’d decided to go back to the original spelling.”
“Along with the change in his name came an inflated ego and a whole list of demands.” Bill’s voice was flat and hard. “We all allow our staff to put up their own private blends if they’re willing to pay for the grapes and barrels, but he had the barrels written in as part of his pay. Including a stipulation that we had to supply him with only French oak barrels out of our own pockets.”
“Instead of American oak?” Nicki asked.
Jim lifted his hands in the air in an age-old helpless gesture. “Most of us use both for our wineries, but the American oak is cheaper. His demands forced us to buy more barrels of the expensive kind.”
“Now he’s claiming he has some old vines a long-lost relative shipped him from France,” Jeremy put in, the sour note in his voice accompanied by a confirming nod when the others turned to stare at him. “Says he planted them a while ago on his own secret patch of land and used the grapes in this new blend of his.”
“And he also seems to have developed a very bad French accent,” Nicki said absently, not even aware she’d said it out loud until all three men laughed.
“Noticed that, did you?” Jim grinned at her.
She sheepishly smiled back at him. “Hard not to. He sounds like a comical imitation of one of the chefs at my culinary school, who was from France.”
“French oak, French name, French accent and now French vines. Maybe he needs to take an extended trip back to his imaginary homeland and get it straight in his head,” Bill muttered.
“Well, he’ll be out soon with this new wine of his and we’ll see what tale he’ll be telling then,” Jim pointed out. “While we’re waiting, did any of you catch the game last night? It was a good one.”
“Not that good. We lost.”
Nicki continued to smile and tuned them out. She’d discovered long ago when the conversation drifted to sports, which she never watched, that it was better not to say a word.
As the game rehash grew more intense, Nicki slipped away without drawing a single glance from any of the men. Which suited her just fine. She needed to mix and mingle a bit and gather some color, and maybe a tantalizing hint of gossip and rumor, to put into the article for Matt. She certainly couldn’t send him a write-up on George’s amazing transformation to all things French, then conclude with a few heated opinions on last night’s game.
Having little to do but wait for the man to make his grand entrance with his new blend, Nicki steadily worked her way around the entire room. She politely greeted acquaintances and gained introductions to several winery owners in the area. When her cheeks began to hurt from smiling so much, she consoled herself with the tried and true adage that who you knew in the wine business was almost as important as what you knew about them. Something her perpetually absent boyfriend, Rob, repeated loudly and often.
And what she knew right now was that the Holland, Todos and soon-to-be Trax head winemaker was universally disliked in the close-knit wine community, and was taking his own, sweet time to present his new blend. Nicki gave her wristwatch a quick glance and frowned. George had disappeared through the rear door more than an hour ago.
Wishfully thinking how much she’d love to skip the whole, unveiling, Nicki wandered over to the bar and smiled at Geri. The assistant winemaker was busy pouring tasting glasses of Holland’s newest release to groups of guests leaning against the counter’s long length. After a few minutes she reached Nicki, wearing the pasted-on, stiff smile she’d given everyone standing at the bar.
“What can I pour for you? We’re offering a good variety of chardonnays and several wonderful reds as well.”
Nicki politely shook her head. “Nothing at the moment, thanks. I just finished a glass from Charlie Freeman’s place, and it still needs to settle a bit.”
To her great astonishment, Geri’s shoulders relaxed and her eyes even warmed up.
“If you had a glass of one of Charlie’s wines, I suggest you stay near the ladies’ room.”
When Nicki laughed, Geri’s cheeks bloomed red.
“Please don’t get me wrong. I love Charlie. Really, I do. But he’s made the same bad wine for at least twenty years and never fails to bring it to all the growers’ tastings.”
“I understand having a glass of his wine without gagging is a kind of initiation test for newcomers to the area,” Nicki said, her hazel eyes lit with amusement.
“It most certainly is,” Geri replied with a quiet chuckle. “And if you accept one whenever he offers it, that’s a sure sign you mean to stick around for a while.”
“Well then, I’m going to be a permanent resident. He’s such a sweet, old guy, I could never turn down a glass of his wine,” Nicki declared, pleased when Geri graced her with a genuine smile as if she approved of the notion.
But Geri’s lighter mood didn’t last long. When she glanced behind Nicki, the assistant’s smile instantly fell into a frown. “Oh no. Here comes Jim and he doesn’t look happy.”
The big man easily made his way through the crowd, heading straight toward them. Geri was right, Nicki thought, taking in Jim’s lowered brows and pursed lips. He wasn’t happy at all.
“George needs to get on with this tasting of his,” he stated, wasting no time in getting to the heart of his annoyance. “The owners are tired of hanging around and they’re starting to leave. I’m not going to have him embarrass me if he’s back in his aging room sulking about who-knows-what.”
He glanced around and Nicki followed the direction of his gaze just in time to see three people push out the big doors and turn left, presumably heading to the parking lot.
Jim turned back to Geri and growled. “Go find him. I’ll make an announcement that we’re going to hurry him along.”
“I need a short break to take care of some personal business. Maybe someone else….”
Geri trailed off when the owner spun around and headed back through the crowd. Nicki glanced over at Geri who was wringing her hands while her lip visibly quivered. It was obvious the woman didn’t want to go find the head winemaker and deliver Jim’s message. Thinking the odious little man m
ust have treated his assistant very badly, Nicki took her elbows off the bar and sat up straight.
“I’ll go with you. If George throws a fit, you can make a run for it and I’ll keep him trapped in his room until you can bring reinforcements.”
At Geri’s raised eyebrows, Nicki grinned. “I may be small, but I grew up in New York City. I’ve had enough defense classes to bring any man here to his knees.”
Geri surprised her again when she nodded her agreement and motioned for Nicki to follow her. Together they went through the door behind the bar and slipped out of sight.
“Does George live on the property?” When Geri gave her a sideways glance, Nicki shrugged. “Jim mentioned he might be in his private room.”
“Jim gave George a room to age his own wine. He always keeps it locked, although anyone could get the key since Jim keeps it hanging on a hook in his office.”
With nothing else to say, Nicki followed along behind Geri in silence. It was only a minute or two before Geri turned right and headed down a wide hallway, finally stopping in front of a solid, wooden door standing half open. When the assistant halted in the doorway, Nicki stood on her toes and peeked over her shoulder. Not able to get much of a view, Nicki stepped around the silent woman and shoved the door completely open.
“George? Are you in here? It’s Nicki Connors and Geri.” With the assistant winemaker practically breathing down her neck, Nicki took several steps into the room. “George?”
An audible gasp behind her had Nicki turning around. She raised a questioning eyebrow at Geri whose shocked stare snapped over to Nicki’s face and stayed there.
Puzzled, Nicki turned back around, her gaze sweeping across the interior of George Lanciere’s private space. It didn’t take long to spot the feet and ankles sticking out from behind the edge of a row of barrels. She rushed over only to skid to a stop at the sight of the winemaker lying sprawled, face down on the stone floor, in a pool of something with such a strong stench, Nicki quickly pressed her hand over her nose and mouth. There was a trickle of blood seeping out from beneath George’s head, and a wineglass was smashed into jagged shards that splayed outward from his completely motionless form.
A sudden, sharp pain shot up Nicki’s arm when Geri’s fingernails dug deep into her bare skin. She winced when the assistant clamped down even harder, but managed to rise on her toes and crane her neck forward to get a better look at George. Seeing an unblinking, protruding eye, Nicki’s stomach lurched violently. Pressing her hands to her midsection, she took deep, slow breaths until the sick feeling subsided into the background. When she was sure her stomach was going to behave, at least for the moment, Nicki held her breath. She shook off Geri’s hand and stepped forward to kneel beside the unnaturally still body. She gently laid a hand on his back, counting her own breaths and waiting through the fifth one before closing her eyes. There was no movement beneath her fingertips.
Covering her mouth again, she rose to her feet and faced Geri while she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her cell phone. “Do you have your cell phone with you?”
Geri’s breath came in such jerky, fast bursts, Nicki sincerely hoped the women didn’t faint on her. “Use your cell phone and call Jim.” When all she got was a blank stare, Nicki reached out and gave Geri’s shoulder a hard shake. “Call Jim. I’m calling 9-1-1.”
Nicki kept her own cell to her ear and her stare on the assistant as the woman fumbled for her phone.
“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”
“There’s been a terrible accident at Holland Winery.”
Chapter Five
“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, Nicki.” Chief Turnlow carefully lowered his solid weight into the only other rickety chair in the small room across from where George lay dead on the floor. Nicki wasn’t having much luck blocking out the low murmur of voices and the scuffle of feet drifting across the hall as the emergency crew went about the grim business of removing the body. Each sound conjured up a vivid picture of the scene in her mind, so she hunched her shoulders and fought the urge to put her hands up against her ears. Her excellent imagination wasn’t doing her any favors right now.
“Are you able to answer a couple of questions now, or do you need to lie down for a few minutes?”
Nicki stiffened her spine and raised her chin a notch. She was not going to fall apart the way the assistant winemaker had. The last time she’d seen the plainly dressed woman, Geri was sobbing loudly with her face buried in Jim’s shoulder while he quickly guided her out of the room. So by default, Nicki was elected to stay behind with the deceased George and wait for the police. Luckily, she didn’t have to wait long.
“I’m as fine as I can be under the circumstances, Chief,” Nicki replied, folding her hands in her lap to keep them still. “Are you sure George is dead?” She winced at the ridiculous question, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“As a doornail,” the chief confirmed. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Her mouth opened and then shut again. Looking straight at the chief, she shrugged. “I don’t know.”
At his raised eyebrow, she shrugged again. “Geri and I went into the room and he was lying on the floor.”
“Did you touch or move anything?”
“No.” Nicki shook her head then took a deep breath. “Just his back.”
Chief Turnlow’s eyebrow rose a notch higher. “His back?”
“I put my hand on his back to check if he was breathing.”
“Was that before or after you called 9-1-1?”
Nicki’s nose wrinkled and her eyes narrowed as she thought it over. “Before.”
“Hmm…” The chair creaked out a warning as the chief leaned back, crossed his arms over his large chest, and studied Nicki in silence.
She didn’t like that little humming noise he was making one bit and showed it by glaring at him. “I wasn’t checking to make sure he was dead before I called 9-1-1, Chief Turnlow. So you can stop giving me that look as though I just became your primary suspect.”
He chuckled and sat up straight, uncrossing his arms and placing his hands on his knees. “Probably should have known I couldn’t intimidate a New York City girl. And as far as you being a suspect, I never thought you were. Unless, of course, I find out you went missing during the tasting.” He slanted his head to one side and smiled. “Did you?”
“I didn’t even go to the ladies’ room,” Nicki declared. She relaxed when his chuckle grew into a short laugh.
“Well then, having cleared up the matter of your whereabouts, why don’t you tell me how it happened to be you who found the body?”
“Jim asked Geri to find Mr. Lanciere. He’d been gone a long time and everyone was waiting to try his new blend.”
“Lancer,” the chief said as he took out a small notebook and a stub of a pencil.
“What?”
“The name on his driver’s license is George Lancer.”
Nicki ducked her head and bit her lip to keep from smiling. Somehow that didn’t seem very respectful to the dead-as-a-doornail winemaker. “So, I guess he isn’t French after all?”
The chief barely lifted his shoulders in a small shrug, his gaze staying on his notebook. “Don’t know if he’s French or not. I’m just saying the name on his driver’s license says George Lancer.” He flipped over a page before raising his head to smile at her. “If Jim asked Geri to locate Mr. Lancer, why did you find the body?”
“Geri didn’t want to go alone,” Nicki sighed. “George wasn’t always a nice man.”
The lawman nodded. “So I’ve heard. Then Geri asked you to come along?”
“Not exactly. When she looked upset by Jim’s order, I offered to come along and she agreed.” Nicki’s eyes narrowed. “We came to his private aging room, opened the door and there he was. I put a hand on his back to see if he was breathing, then told Geri to call Jim and I called 9-1-1. There’s nothing more to tell than that.”
“What did yo
u do while you were waiting for help to arrive?”
Nicki gave a snort to go along with her annoyed stare. “We didn’t do anything. We stepped away and waited. Jim was there after I finished counting the bottles and glasses on the tray but before all the stones on the wall.”
He did a few more scribbles in his notebook. “How many bottles and glasses did you see?”
“You didn’t count them yourself?” Nicki asked, then sighed when the chief remained silent and smiled at her. “Four bottles, one uncorked, and three glasses,”
“Why were you counting the stones in the wall?”
Now she was the one to cross her arms and give him a bland stare. “The situation didn’t lend itself to clever conversation. Besides, Geri was sobbing and I’d already counted all the rings in the barrelhead in front of us, so I moved on to the stones in the wall. Which I kept counting while Jim took Geri away and left me there alone with the bottles, the barrels and a dead body.”
The chief reached over and patted her knee with one, large, beefy hand. “I’m sorry you found the body, and I don’t think you killed him. The fact is, it’s unlikely anyone killed him. He probably had a heart attack. I understand he was a heavy smoker and he didn’t have the look of an exercise nut. But that’ll be for the coroner to decide.” He paused and tapped his little notebook. “I’m just trying to sort out who arrived at the scene and in what order. I take it after you and Geri Gant found the body, Jim was the next person to arrive?”
An hour later Nicki walked into her townhouse, giving the front door a hard shove behind her. Not bothering to check if it latched shut, she dropped her purse onto the floor instead of the hallway table and headed straight back to the sanctuary of her kitchen.
Pausing by the center island, she leaned against it for a moment, braced her hands on its top and closed her eyes. The picture of George Lancer’s dead body instantly appeared in her mind causing her eyes to snap open again. Taking several deep breaths, she focused her gaze on the far wall.
