Murder By the Glass

by Michele Scott

  Nikki groaned. That was an even more difficult subject. “I’ve told you, my aunt raised me. I was born in Tennessee, thus the very slight, once in a blue moon accent. My parents were poor. My father was killed in a car accident and my mom sent me to California to live with my aunt.”

  “I know that’s the short version, but I want to know more. I want to know about your childhood, your friends, where you went to school, all of it.”

  “It’s boring.” She waved a hand in the air. “It really is.”

  “Fine, tell me about your teenage years, by then you were in California with your aunt. She must be quite a gal.”

  “She is. Definitely.” Nikki didn’t mind talking about Aunt Cara who meant everything to her and was really the only mother she’d ever known.

  As she was about to say, “Let’s talk about the vineyard,” which would be a safe topic, a car’s tires squealed off the payment from Highway 29 and sped into the Estate. They could see its headlights coming their way. The next thing they knew a Porsche Carerra pulled up in front of the cottage. Nikki’s jaw dropped. She looked over at Derek who crossed his arms in front of him.

  Ah, the Boys of Summer. Nikki and Derek watched as Simon—Derek’s half brother, and his lover, Marco, stepped out of the car. When Nikki signed on at Malveaux she’d dubbed the two nitwits with her Boys of Summer tag and they in turn had a pet name for her.

  “Goldilocks, you’re still here,” Simon said. “I thought after that bad business with the murders and all last year, you would’ve taken your pretty tail back on down to the City of Angels. We were hoping to stay in the cottage.”

  Marco swaggered up to the porch and batted his long eyelashes at them. In his Italian accent he said, “I’m happy you’re here, Bellisima. You make this place interesting. And, look, do I detect love in the air?” Marco pointed to the now emptied wine glasses.

  “That’s not exactly a shockaroonie. We knew it was a matter of time before you two were shacking up. Mommie Dearest must be beside herself.”

  “We’re not ‘together,’ you morons. We’re simply having dinner,” Derek replied.

  “God, you two are so silly. Why don’t you get it over with? Get it on already and we can all go forward with our lives,” Simon said.

  “Boys, be good and go stay at a B and B in town, please,” Derek said.

  “And miss the fun? No way. We’re going up to the main house. Let’s do lunch tomorrow, Goldilocks. We have so much to tell. We’ve been Zenning out in Sedona and found the most marvelous of gurus. His name is Guru Sansibaba, and I’m telling you, both Marco and I are changed men. Material things mean nothing. We’re like the openhearted, open souls to the world and our fellow man and woman, of course, that our spirit guides have so graciously shown us how to become.”

  “Along with Guru Sansibaba,” Marco said.

  “Yes, of course,” Simon replied.

  “That’s obvious with the convertible there. What happened to the fashion shows in New York?” Nikki pointed to the Porsche.

  “Yes, well, just because we know materialism is a fruitless path, we don’t have to deny ourselves in this life,” Marco said. “Simon wanted to get rid of the Mercedes. This is a fit for our new image. The shows in New York disappointed me. I don’t think I have the need to design for that world any longer.”

  “Interesting. And as far as the Porsche goes, well, I can totally see how the rest of the world might not think of a Porsche as a materialistic person’s kind of car,” Nikki said.

  “See you love bugs tomorrow.” Simon got behind the wheel and he and Marco tore up the road toward the main house.

  “I’ve really missed them,” Nikki said.

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Simon does seem a bit more chipper, he’s usually sour-faced and nasty. I thought he was almost nice.”

  “It won’t last. Here, I’ll help you clear the plates.”

  Even though Nikki wasn’t especially pleased to see the return of the boys after they’d been gone for several months, she was happy they’d provided the distraction they had. Derek dropped the topics of discussion for the evening. With the dishes washed, he stretched, letting out a yawn.

  “Tired?” Nikki asked.

  “A bit.”

  “Yeah, me, too, it’s been a long day.”

  “Tuesday, right? Dinner? I have to go out of town for a couple of days to take care of some charity business, but we are on for Tuesday?”

  “Absolutely.” The other day Derek had invited her to come to dinner on Tuesday with him and their accountant, to discuss some business. She loved the fact that he was so involved with the Leukemia Foundation. He was very hands-on and had been for years. His mother had passed away from the terrible disease when he was a kid, and he’d kept her memory going by dedicating much of his time to helping find a cure.

  “I’ll call when I get in.” He kissed her on the cheek. His kiss was different than Andrés’. It was sweet and tender. Andrés’ kiss always came with a sense of urgency and electrifying energy. Derek’s kiss on the cheek was like melting chocolate candies inside the mouth. Yummy.

  He left and she went into her room, flopping down on the bed. With a sigh she reflected on the day’s and evening’s events from the morbid and horrific to the light and funny, and she smiled at the tinge of romance that filled the air. At least she allowed herself to believe it. What was life without some fantasy to string you along?

  However, her last thoughts before drifting to sleep weren’t pleasant. The first was a memory of the past—something she wanted to forget. When she was seven she’d been in a car accident that had killed the man she’d always thought was her father, only later discovering that they were not related at all. She’d been hurt badly in the accident, spending two weeks in a coma before her mother shipped her off to California to be raised by her Aunt Cara. She didn’t want to think about the one thing that she and Susan Jennings Waltman had in common—the lack of a mother. But Nikki didn’t care if she ever saw her mother again. The next and final thought she had before sleep overtook her had to do with the photos she’d seen of Susan Jennings, and who it was Susan had been having sex with in those pictures—Blake Sorgensen.

  Chile-Rubbed Chicken,

  Mango, and Avocado Salad

  with Franciscan Oakville Estate’s

  Cabernet Sauvignon

  Let’s say it’s been a long night and maybe you didn’t come across a dead body or have to cut the evening short with the man of your dreams due to unwelcome visitors, but you have your own reasons for wanting to mix up something easy, fun, healthy and fast. Keep in mind that Nikki does like to roast a chicken or two on Sunday afternoons to have on hand during the week. This is great whether you’re a single gal, a committed woman, or in charge of a family because you can use chicken for a variety of meals, including sack lunches. If you don’t prepare your chicken ahead of time, then it will take you a little more time to throw this dish together and your chicken will be warm. However, the flavors will still be delicious and you can open wine while you’re sautéing the chicken breasts in the chile rub. One to try is Franciscan Oakville Estate’s Cabernet Sauvignon. This wine has bold earth flavors of coffee, tobacco, and toasted oak, making it a full-bodied, rich wine with a maturity that leaves the oenophile desiring more as the supple tannins provide a lingering finish.

  If you like a white wine or a wine that has a bit of a sweeter taste to it, one to try that would complement this dish would be a Riesling. Rieslings are usually a good choice with Thai or Mexican dishes as they work well with warm spices. They also pair well with light and fruity dishes, so this is a perfect match because of the mango and spice. An excellent value and delicious Riesling comes from V. Sattui. You can only order their wines online, but it is well worth it. A blend of Riesling and Muscat, this slightly sweet white is a great party or picnic wine. It matches well with so many foods, it’s refreshing to drink and it commands a modest price.

  3 tbsp brown sugar

/>   1⁄4 cup water

  1⁄4 cup plus 2 tbsp fresh lime juice, plus lime

  wedges for serving

  1 tbsp red chile powder

  1 tsp chipotle chile powder

  1 clove crushed garlic

  1⁄4 cup vegetable oil

  Salt and pepper

  One 3 lb roasted chicken, skin removed, meat

  shredded (3 cups)

  1 ripe mango, peeled and cut in 1⁄2 inch chunks

  3 scallions thinly sliced

  5 oz mesclun (6 cups)

  Roasting the chicken: Clean and season the chicken with salt, pepper, or poultry seasonings, and ancho chile powder. Place on a rack in a shallow roasting pan and cook at 450° for 15-20 minutes. This will seal the juices. Then reduce the heat to 375°. There is no need to baste the chicken. Length will vary with the size of the chicken. The best method to tell if it’s ready is with a meat thermometer placed in the thickest part of the thigh, which should read between 175°-180°. Once the chicken is roasted, allow it time to cool before shredding and preparing the salad.

  In a small saucepan, bring the brown sugar and water to boil. Transfer to a large bowl. Whisk in the lime juice chilé powder, chipotle powder, and garlic; let cool. Whisk in the oil and season with salt and pepper. Add the chicken, mango, and scallions and toss thoroughly with the dressing. Add the mesclun and gently toss. Transfer the salad to plates and serve with lime wedges.

  If you decide to sauté the chicken breasts, sauté over medium-high heat in sauté pan with a tablespoon of oil. Season chicken with salt and pepper. Brown the chicken on each side. When finished, dice chicken and proceed with recipe as above.

  Chapter 6

  Nikki called Isabel several times on Sunday, leaving messages on her machine. She was very worried about her friend. Late Sunday night Isabel returned Nikki’s call and explained to her that she’d gone for a long hike in Skyline Wilderness Park, needing the fresh air.

  “I would’ve gone with you,” Nikki told her.

  “I am sorry. I needed to give myself time alone. I wanted to think. Andrés does not understand why I am as saddened as I feel with concern to the wedding and the death of Susan. You have to promise to me, Nikki, that you will not tell my brother that Kristof and I had a relationship.”

  Nikki bit her lip and sat down at her kitchen table, looking outside her window at the hills of grapevines now beginning to flourish with the first hint of sugared bulbs, soon ready to turn from fruit into wine. “I think you should tell him. He loves you and he’s your brother. He’s not stupid, Isabel. I think he’ll figure this all out eventually. You two had to have been spotted by someone around town and the rumors will spread.”

  “I do not feel that way. I told you that Kristof told me stories to keep everything in regard to us quiet. He said that it was important for us to grow our relationship in that way and keep it from the eyes of the town gossips.”

  Nikki rolled her eyes. “You were a sucker, my friend.”

  “I do know this.”

  They chatted for a few more minutes and Nikki finally got off the phone, feeling better about Isabel’s mental state. A hike through the wine country air could do wonders for a person.

  Nikki woke up Monday morning and found herself swamped in work. The week before she’d gotten behind, what with her daydreaming over what was supposed to be the perfect not-real date on Saturday. Oddly enough, she really didn’t have any complaints, except the part about finding Susan’s body. That had put a damper on things. With Derek out of the office, she not only had to make her calls for the day, she also had to clear his agenda and follow through with a few extra items he’d laid across her desk. Around four o’clock a handful of bigwigs from San Francisco were scheduled for a visit to the winery. They were considering carrying Malveaux wines in their restaurants. Derek usually liked to deal with the rich and pompous; he had a good way with people and knew how to handle them. Today, however, Nikki had to play the game.

  She put together a cheese and appetizer tray to complement the wines she planned on having the group taste.

  Of course, they arrived fifteen minutes late and the leader of the group, David-pronounced-“Daveed” Kistler, Nikki immediately mentally dubbed him Kiss Ass. On Daveed’s arm was a slinky, blond Playboy-looking model, who walked in asking to buy a set of crystal goblets she’d spotted in the gift shop as they came in. Daveed’s immediate response, “Of course, baby girl, whatever you want.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Nikki Sands.” Daveed took her hand and shook limply like she might break if actually given a real handshake. God, how she hated that.

  The model nodded. “I’m Angel. Just Angel.”

  Daveed let out a stupid sounding laugh. “Isn’t she adorable? I love a woman with one name. Angel. Wow—it’s so fitting.”

  Was there a barf bag around anywhere? Nikki went behind the counter provided for private tastings. Angel giggled like a little six-year-old girl. How was Nikki going to get through this tasting without either vomiting or cracking up? There was only one answer. Drink with them, because apparently they had already been having some fun throughout the wine country.

  As she started to pour, another man came in. “Sorry I’m late,” the man said. “I’m Daveed’s partner, Roman Pangilini,” he said.

  Nikki was soon pleased that Roman had joined the group, because while Daveed was playing showman to his playmate, Roman was the only one really absorbed and interested in Nikki’s wine display and tasting.

  After several tastes, talk turned to the events over the weekend. “Did you know the bride who died out at the Waltman Castle over the weekend? Someone at one of the other wineries was telling us about it.” Roman took a sip of the red wine Nikki was now pouring.

  “I’d met her.”

  “Me, too, briefly, in the city when I was working the deal to buy out the chain.”

  This sparked Nikki’s interest. “Really? How?”

  “I was only introduced to her while I met with Antoine Ferrino about buying out his restaurants. He was married to her friend Martha or Megan. God, what was her name? You know, she kind of made it big for awhile in the Victoria’s Secret catalogue and then one day you just didn’t see her anymore.”

  “Pamela?”

  “That’s it. Pamela.” Roman snapped his fingers.

  “Pamela Leiland was married to Antoine Ferrino?” Nikki hadn’t known that tidbit. Antoine Ferrino had started a chain of gourmet Italian restaurants. There were a handful sprinkled across the country in cosmopolitan cities.

  “Oh, yeah. Part of the reason he wanted to sell was because they wanted kids and since Antoine wasn’t exactly a young guy, he and Pamela wanted to get moving on it. He figured he hadn’t been around to see his other kids grow up, because he’d been so busy starting his restaurants, so if Pamela was going to get pregnant, he wanted to have a second chance to do it right. I met her and the bride, Susan, I think it was, over dinner at the restaurant one night.”

  “That didn’t happen. The pregnancy thing,” Daveed interrupted. Angel had spread herself out in one of the oversize lounge chairs and was more than two sheets to the wind. “Right after the buyout, the poor guy died of a heart attack. Pamela was devastated. Weird, but I think she really loved him. It was like ‘Beauty and the Beast’—but an old beast and a young beauty.”

  Nikki turned around to grab another bottle of wine to open. And, hmmm? You are considered what, now? She faced back around with a smile on her face. “That’s horrible.” She was wondering if Daveed didn’t realize that he appeared to be in the same class as Antoine Ferrino, or at least almost. Daveed had to be in his midfifties. Angel not over twenty-five. From what Nikki had seen of Pamela, though, she was fairly bright. Nikki knew that Angel couldn’t even hold a candle to Ollie the dog in the brains department.

  “Pamela made out okay, money wise. There wasn’t as much there as anyone thought. We bought him out at a good price, but Antoine was a bit of a gambler and not just with horses
and poker. He’d made some bad investments in the stock market and lost. What he had left, his kids and Pamela divided. It was too bad, about a couple a mil is what I heard.”

  “A couple million, that’s it?” Angel sat up.

  Even drunk the word million meant something to the wannabe starlet. She sounded mortified. Then she laughed. “That would only be enough for a year’s worth of shopping. A real woman couldn’t live off of that for long.”

  Daveed joined her laughter and went to her side. Couldn’t this sucker see how he was being played? Probably. The sad thing was he more than likely didn’t care. The scene was almost pitiful. How empty the two of them had to be. And was it likely that Pamela Leiland wasn’t exactly like them? Nikki got the feeling Susan had been like them, only she’d gotten lucky with Kristof—not only was he filthy rich, but young and handsome. Well, she hadn’t been that lucky because she wasn’t around to reap the rewards.

  After Nikki made a huge sell to the May-December couple and their sidekick and said her goodbyes, she headed back to her cottage and drank a tablespoon of Pepto Bismol to ease the nausea they’d caused. But it had been a worthwhile visit, both financially and mentally stimulating.