A Food and Wine Club Mystery Boxset Books 1 through 5

by Cat Chandler

  “That’s very interesting,” Alex said, her eyes narrowing at the signal Nicki was sending her behind Victor’s back. “I’d love to learn more, but to be honest, I have one of those doctoring things I have to get to.”

  She looked over at Nicki when Victor frowned. “Don’t we have to go? You have that story you need to send to your editor, too, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do,” Nicki said. She headed for the door, grabbing onto Alex’s arm on her way. “I didn’t realize how late it was getting. We really have to be on our way.” She glanced over at Victor and waved. “Loved the tour, thanks! Please let Kurt know this was more than enough payback for making the lasagna.”

  “Nice touch to keep him from asking us why the sudden rush,” Alex said in a low voice as Nicki pulled her along. Once they reached the parking lot, she tugged her arm away. “All right. I can take it from here. Care to tell me what that was all about?”

  “I’m not sure, but I’m glad we stopped by.” Nicki unlocked the passenger door before heading around the car to the driver’s side.

  Alex got in and snapped on her seatbelt. “What did we learn besides the fact Geri is the world’s worst winemaker? And I’ll be tasting that concoction of hers in the back of my throat for the next week.”

  “It really was awful, wasn’t it?” Nicki laughed. “That clipboard I was looking at? It listed all the French oak barrels that have been used at Holland Winery for the last year, either by staff for the winery, or bought by employees for their personal use.”

  “So?”

  Nicki drummed two fingers against the steering wheel. “So, George Lancer hasn’t taken one barrel out in over a year, even though it was in his contract that he could. And during the tour, I asked Victor if George fermented his wine in just the steel tank or in the tank and the barrel, and he specifically said the tank and then the final aging in a barrel.”

  “And so?” Alex prompted.

  “Well, after wine is fermented in a tank, it’s transferred into barrels. What helps make each wine batch special is knowing not only what grapes to blend together, but how long to age the wine in the barrel,” Nicki explained.

  “Something Geri has never mastered,” Alex said. “At least not that blending part. But what does this have to do with anything?”

  “Over a year is too long for the barrel-aging process for a chardonnay,” Nicki said.

  Alex frowned. “Oh. Then where has George been getting his barrels for the last year? Or do you think he just had some extras lying around from last year? And by the way, I expect extra cheese on that eggplant Parmesan.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Jenna and Alex were in Nicki’s office, enjoying the perfectly prepared eggplant Nicki had made for dinner. It was past eight at night and none of them felt like doing dishes. Luckily, Nicki staunchly believed the taste of food was not altered in the least by the plate it was served on. So by unanimous vote, it was eggplant, on paper plates, in the office, as they enjoyed an excellent red, Barbera wine from Amador County near the Eastern border of the State, and worked on the murder board.

  “I’m not seeing anything jump out at me,” Jenna said before forking up a big bite of eggplant, sauce and cheese from her plate. “Any one of the owners had enough reason to do in George— Jeremy for the possibility of being ruined, Bill for revenge and Jim for being cut out of the profits from the new blend. And they all disliked him.”

  “Which means we should keep Geri and Kurt on the list, because they didn’t like the man either,” Alex pointed out. “And they could have gained access to George’s private room by simply walking into Jim’s office and taking the key. Which hasn’t turned up as far as we know.”

  “It’s one of my questions for the chief,” Nicki said. She was sitting at her desk, staring at her computer screen as she brought up the rest of the documents Jenna had copied off George’s machine. The man had certainly been obsessed with spreadsheets. He’d kept track of everything that way. Even his daily medications, which had included an extensive list of vitamins.

  Jenna’s fork froze midway to her mouth. “You’re going to talk to the chief? After what he told you the last time he was here?”

  Nicki’s gaze stayed on the screen as she waved one hand in the air. “We’re not doing anything illegal, and if we find something, it’s our civic duty to let him know.” She looked up and sighed. “Besides, Matt will make me tell him anyway. And if I don’t, he’ll call Chief Turnlow himself. And that’ll really get me another visit from the local police.”

  “How about copying those documents you’re looking at? That isn’t illegal?” Alex asked.

  “Probably. And if I’m sued by someone in George’s family for invading his privacy, I’ll be sure to apologize.”

  Jenna continued to eat her dinner and stare at the board. “Since George has no relatives, I guess that isn’t going to be a problem.”

  “Back to this problem, then,” Alex said. “Jeremy and Bill have the strongest motives, but Jim, Geri and Kurt had the best opportunity.”

  “What about means?” Jenna asked. “That’s the third thing, isn’t it? Means, motive and opportunity? Or is it the first thing?”

  Alex picked through her eggplant. “All of them. With the unfortunate rise in e-cigarettes, it isn’t that hard to get hold of liquid nicotine anymore. You can even buy it already flavored. I checked on that. It can also be made fairly easily, if you’re careful and don’t get any of it on your skin. There’s instruction videos on the Internet.”

  “Okay, we’re back to motive and opportunity.” Jenna put her empty paper plate down on the desk.

  “And contradictions,” Nicki said. When the other two stared at her, she walked over to the board and picked up a marker. She blocked off a space and titled it “Questions”.

  “Why go to the trouble of only poisoning the four bottles of wine? I mean the killer had no way of knowing which bottle George would use first, so of course all four of the bottles had to be poisoned. But why not just dump the nicotine into all the barrels and really ruin George? It’s faster and there’s less chance of being caught.”

  Alex shook her head. “It would take too much pure nicotine to contaminate an entire barrel much less ten of them. At least with enough to kill a person.”

  Nicki smiled. “Okay. We eliminate that. But why not ruin the other barrels anyway? If hurting George was the killer’s intent, why leave most of his wine untouched? At least we’re assuming they’re untouched. We won’t know for sure until the chief has them tested. Next question. Why hasn’t anyone tasted the wine?”

  “Because George was keeping it a secret?” Jenna asked.

  “But these are business men. And good ones. Would Jeremy really give up twenty percent of his winery and Jim take on the expense for the tasting event for a single case of the wine, not to mention hiring an expensive team of attorneys to get hold of the rest of it, if neither man had ever tasted it? Even Bill made sure to get a sample of a blend from the new guy he’s hired, why wouldn’t the others have demanded one from George if they were going to invest a good amount of money into his blend?”

  “You think they’re both lying and really have tasted George’s wine?” Alex made the question sound like a flat statement.

  “It would be easy enough for Jim to sneak a sample, and Jeremy probably demanded a sample,” Jenna said.

  “I don’t know,” Nicki replied turning back to her screen and opening another spreadsheet with the title of “Monthly Budget” across the top. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “If it’s true that they’ve tasted the wine, then there’s a couple of things we do know for sure. The blend is worth fighting a legal battle for, or giving up a chunk of your winery.” Nicki glanced at her friends and reluctant co-conspirators. “And someone wanted George dead, but not ruin his new blend. I don’t think George was killed because he was universally despised. If none of the barrels were touched, then I’ll bet he was murdered for his wine.”

&nbs
p; Alex looked over at the board. “Who wanted George’s special blend the most? Jim?”

  “That won’t make Maxie very happy,” Jenna observed. “She thinks he’s innocent.”

  “Maybe Stella?” Nicki stared at her computer screen.

  “Who?” Jenna and Alex said at the same time.

  “Stella, the ex-girlfriend. I’m looking at George’s monthly budget, and he was way over his head with gambling losses. But he also paid this Stella a nice sum every month. I saw the amount on his bank statement but didn’t know what it was for. Now I do. He has her name listed on this spreadsheet as one of his expenses, and for that very same amount. Except…” Nicki trailed off as she squinted and scrolled through the sheet.

  Jenna put her plate down and stood up, peering at the spreadsheet over Nicki’s shoulder. “Except what?”

  “See here,” Nicki pointed at a row. “He paid her every month going back as far as I’ve been able to look. But three months ago he stopped listing it as an expense, and it didn’t show up anymore on his bank statements from then on, either.”

  “It could be they had a love child and he decided to cut costs by becoming a deadbeat dad,” Jenna said. “Kind of sounds like something he’d do.”

  “Stella left the winery around the same time George came out with his spectacular blend ten years ago.” Nicki leaned back and frowned. “Maybe he was paying her off.”

  “Paying her off for what?” Jenna asked. “A love child makes more sense.”

  “Maybe. But tomorrow while Alex is out on her morning run and you’re sleeping in, I’ll go have a talk with Stella.”

  Jenna shook her head. “How do you propose to do that?”

  “By enjoying a very nice breakfast at Sandy’s diner.” Nicki glanced at the clock display on the bottom of her computer screen. “Oh shoot. It’s almost nine o’clock. I’m supposed to call Matt at nine.”

  “Since you’re still annoyed with him, why are you calling him? Let him stew for a while,” Alex advised.

  “He could stew enough to refuse to give me any more assignments, or demand I take one far away from here,” Nicki said. And her bank account could not afford for Matt to cut her off, even for a few weeks.

  “Well, he might do that anyway. I hear Alaska is nice this time of year,” Jenna said.

  Nicki scooped up a handful of paper clips and threw them at the computer geek.

  The next morning Nicki pulled into a parking spot right in front of Sandy’s diner. The restaurant, with cute, checked curtains across its front windows, was the only business with any customers at 7:30 a.m. on a Tuesday. Except for the Starbucks on the opposite corner of the square. But most of the permanent residents in and around Soldoff preferred drinking coffee in their own kitchens, so the street in front of Sandy’s had more activity than the one facing its well-known rival.

  Nicki smiled at the young, gum-chewing hostess standing behind the front desk.

  “Good morning.”

  The teenager looked up and popped her gum before offering up a bored “hi” in return. She picked up a menu and stepped around the desk. “You here by yourself?”

  “Yes, I am. And I wonder if Stella is working this morning?” Nicki asked.

  The girl sighed and put the menu down. “Yeah. She’s on station three. But she can’t come over and talk to you while she’s working. Sandy doesn’t allow that. You’ll have to wait until she goes on break.”

  “I’m an old friend of hers. Do you think I could sit at one of her tables?”

  The hostess gave her a suspicious look. “Are you going to eat or just order a cup of coffee?”

  Not wanting to miss her opportunity to talk with Stella, Nicki figured a breakfast at Sandy’s was a small price to pay. “Oh, I want breakfast. And I’d prefer to sit at one of Stella’s tables.”

  “Okay. It’s a slow morning, so there’s plenty of empty ones.” The girl picked up the menu again and started walking toward the back of the restaurant. Apparently being a newer employee, Stella drew the section away from the front windows and back by the kitchen and bathrooms.

  “I’ll tell her you’re here.” The hostess tossed the menu on the table and sauntered toward the front of the place.

  Nicki tore off a paper towel from the roll on the table, assuming it was meant to be the napkins since there weren’t any others in sight, and placed it across her lap before picking up the menu. At least the table was clean and so was the silverware. She’d certainly eaten in worse establishments.

  A woman with bright red hair and lipstick to match, wearing a yellow uniform that was too short and tennis shoes that had seen better days, approached the table, her green eyes looking Nicki over.

  “Hi. Kelly says you asked for one of my tables because we’re old friends. But I don’t recognize you.”

  So much for polite, introductory small talk, Nicki thought.

  “I needed an excuse to sit here so I threw out the first one that came to mind,” Nicki said, going with the honest approach. If this whole investigation had taught her anything, it was that she wasn’t any good at lying.

  Stella raised a heavily lined eyebrow. “Why did you need to sit at one of my tables? I don’t serve the food any different from the other waitresses.”

  “But I don’t want to talk to them,” Nicki said. “I want to talk to you.”

  “Fine. But you have to order something, and it has to be more than coffee.”

  “That’s what Kelly said.” Nicki smiled and pointed to a vegetarian omelet. “I’ll take that with egg whites and fruit.”

  Taking out her notepad, Stella wrote the order down, commenting without looking up. “The egg whites are extra.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Toast or English muffin?”

  Nicki folded her hands and patiently walked through the various choices until Stella finally looked up.

  “Anything else?”

  The waitress was making it very clear she wasn’t going to engage in a social conversation, so Nicki decided to take a bold chance.

  “Only a few words.”

  “Okay,” Stella laughed. “You can have ten or so, and I’ll expect a decent tip.”

  “I know about George’s wine and the money.”

  Stella’s jaw dropped open and she took a quick look around. “Keep your voice down.”

  “I will if you agree to talk to me. Otherwise the police chief might be interested in hearing about it, and the station is right across the square.” Nicki didn’t actually say she wouldn’t tell Chief Turnlow anything because she certainly was going to tell him. But she didn’t want Stella to know that. At least not yet.

  “Fine,” the waitress said. “My break is in thirty minutes. We can talk then. In the meantime, I’m going to put your order in.”

  When Nicki’s food came, she picked her way through it. The omelet wasn’t bad. The vegetables still had a crispness to them, so the line cook hadn’t turned them into mush. But she didn’t touch the canned fruit swimming in a small bowl. Luckily, she didn’t have to wait long before Stella caught her attention and jerked her head toward the front door.

  Nodding, Nicki stood up and left a generous tip on the table before hurrying to pay the rest of her bill at the front cashier’s desk. Stella passed close to her halfway there.

  “Meet me around the corner,” she whispered.

  Now completely curious about the big mystery surrounding George’s wine, Nicki made her way to the designated spot and stood waiting, feeling she stuck out like a sore thumb loitering on the nearly empty sidewalk. Fortunately, Stella showed up within five minutes and led her further down the street until they came to a bus bench. The older woman sat and indicated Nicki should do the same.

  “Who told you about the wine?”

  “George did, in a way,” Nicki said. “Stella, he’s dead, so there’s not any reason to keep it secret anymore.”

  She pulled out a cigarette. “Do you mind if I smoke? We’re outside and all, so it shouldn’t b
other you.”

  “Go ahead.” Nicki didn’t like anything about cigarettes, but she didn’t want Stella to be uncomfortable and clam up.

  The waitress lit one end and took a long drag. “I wish I could say I picked up the habit from George.”

  “George didn’t smoke,” Nicki said.

  The waitress laughed. “You did know him. No, he never got in the habit. He only used it as an excuse to spend time on the phone with his bookie. And he only lit up outside so he could keep the smoke blowing away from him. Told me he was allergic to it, but I think he was scared of getting cancer. He was always talking about the diseases he didn’t want to get.”

  Nicki smiled. “He took a lot of vitamins.”

  “Yeah, he did.”

  “Tell me about the wine,” Nicki said.

  Stella pursed her very red lips and eyed Nicki for a long moment. “Not much to tell. It was ten years ago. He and I were both assistant winemakers at the time and he desperately wanted the top job. More pay, more prestige, more of just about everything. But he needed something to set him apart. We all made our own blends, even back then, and George was no different. He was a good winemaker, but not a great one. Didn’t possess the nose or the palette. But I did.”

  Nicki’s mind raced, putting the pieces together. “The wine he introduced ten years ago was actually yours?”

  “Sure was,” Stella said, her eyes staring straight ahead. “But there was no way Jim Holland was going to let a woman be his head winemaker. I doubt if he would have bothered to even give me credit for the blend. So, I made a deal with my boyfriend.” She looked over at Nicki and smiled. “George and I were an item in those days.”

  “I did hear that.” Nicki smiled back at her. “The deal was for George to bring your blend out under his name?”

  “For a price. I sold him the wine. And when it became a spectacular hit, he had to pay me every month to keep my mouth shut.”