Pairing a Deception

by Nadine Nettmann

  Copyright Information

  Pairing a Decption: A Sommelier Mystery © 2018 by Nadine Nettmann.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Llewellyn Publications, except in the form of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  As the purchaser of this e-book, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. The text may not be otherwise reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or recorded on any other storage device in any form or by any means.

  Any unauthorized usage of the text without express written permission of the publisher is a violation of the author’s copyright and is illegal and punishable by law.

  First e-book edition © 2018

  E-book ISBN: 9780738755618

  Cover design by Kevin R. Brown

  Cover Illustration by Pierre Droal/Deborah Wolfe Ltd.

  Editing by Nicole Nugent

  Midnight Ink is an imprint of Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Nettmann, Nadine, author.

  Title: Pairing a deception : a sommelier mystery / by Nadine Nettmann.

  Description: First edition. | Woodbury, Minnesota : Midnight Ink, [2018] |

  Series: A sommelier mystery ; #3

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017056591 (print) | LCCN 2017058650 (ebook) | ISBN

  9780738755618 | ISBN 9780738750637 (alk. paper)

  Subjects: LCSH: Wine—Fiction. | Murder—Fiction. | GSAFD: Mystery fiction.

  Classification: LCC PS3614.E526 (ebook) | LCC PS3614.E526 P35 2018 (print) |

  DDC 813/.6—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017056591

  Midnight Ink does not participate in, endorse, or have any authority or responsibility concerning private business arrangements between our authors and the public.

  Any Internet references contained in this work are current at publication time, but the publisher cannot guarantee that a specific reference will continue or be maintained. Please refer to the publisher’s website for links to current author websites.

  Midnight Ink

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  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To the counties of Napa, Sonoma, Mendocino, Santa Barbara,and everyone affected by the California wildfires. My heart is with you.

  Acknowledgments

  My sincere appreciation to Terri Bischoff, Danielle Burby, Nicole Nugent, and the entire team at Midnight Ink. Thank you to Kevin Brown and Pierre Droal for another stunning cover.

  Thank you to Melanie Hooyenga and Sara Spock for your feedback as well as support and camaraderie. Thank you to Solomon Mangolini for your excellent notes, Irene Phakeovilay for checking my details, and Christine Zahka for proofreading. A special thank you to Kelsey Hertig and Amy Scher.

  Thank you to my critique group: Gretchen McNeil, Jennifer Wolfe, Julia Shahin Collard, James Matlack Raney, and Brad Gottfred.

  Thank you to my parents for your encouragement and my mom for reading this manuscript multiple times. A heartfelt thank you to my husband, Matthew, for your unwavering support.

  And to all of my readers, I raise a glass of wine to you and thank you for reading. Cheers!

  Chapter Pairing Suggestions

  One: Sparkling Rosé—Santa Barbara, California

  Two: Cava—Penedès, Spain

  Three: Zinfandel—Lodi, California

  Four: Sauvignon Blanc—Napa Valley, California

  Five: Crémant de Limoux—Languedoc, France

  Six: Gewürztraminer—Monterey, California

  Seven: Barbera d’Alba—Piedmont, Italy

  Eight: Grauburgunder—Pfalz, Germany

  Nine: Viognier—Central Coast, California

  Ten: Mencía—Bierzo, Spain

  Eleven: Aglianico—Campania, Italy

  Twelve: Chenin Blanc—Stellenbosch, South Africa

  Thirteen: Verdejo—Rueda, Spain

  Fourteen: Beaujolais—Moulin-À-Vent, France

  Fifteen: Sekt—Mosel, Germany

  Sixteen: Chardonnay—Adelaide Hills, Australia

  Seventeen: Pouilly-Fumé—Loire Valley, France

  Eighteen: Pinot Noir—Casablanca Valley, Chile

  Nineteen: Vermentino—Sardinia, Italy

  Twenty: Chardonnay—Santa Barbara, California

  Twenty-One: Zweigelt—Kremstal, Austria

  Twenty-Two: Moscato d’Asti—Piedmont, Italy

  Twenty-Three: Riesling —Finger Lakes, New York

  Twenty-Four: Agiorgitiko—Nemea, Greece

  Twenty-Five: Salice Salentino—Puglia, Italy

  Twenty-Six: GSM Blend—Paso Robles, California

  Twenty-Seven: Cabernet Franc—Bourgueil, France

  Twenty-Eight: Cabernet Blend—Columbia Valley, Washington

  Twenty-Nine: Pinot Noir—Central Otago, New Zealand

  Thirty: Malbec—Cahors, France

  Thirty-One: Super Tuscan—Tuscany, Italy

  Thirty-Two: Syrah—Walla Walla, Washington

  Thirty-Three: Bandol—Provence, France

  Thirty-Four: Petit Verdot—Napa Valley, California

  Thirty-Five: Tokaji Aszú—Tokaj, Hungary

  Thirty-Six: Late Harvest Riesling—Columbia Valley, Washington

  one

  pairing suggestion: sparkling rosé—santa barbara, california

  A refreshing wine, perfect for the summer or early fall.

  Wine and food festivals have a gentle hum to them as they combine three great elements: wine, food, and people who love both. The sound is a mixture of wine being poured, chefs crafting their dishes, guests chatting, and an overall excitement in the air, carried through the tents or lawns where they are held. These events happen all year long and all over the country, but an added bonus to those in the late summer or early fall is the harvest season, when the grapes reach the last stage of their growing cycle and are plucked from the vines, on their way to become wine. Guests often get a glance of the activities and may even be able to participate in them.

  I stood at the edge of the lawn where the Harvest Days Wine and Food Festival was about to start. The four-day event at the New Sierra Hotel in Santa Ynez celebrated the wine regions of Santa Barbara, California. Located close to the ocean and backed by rolling hills, Santa Barbara wine country was known for its picturesque setting, a long grape-growing season, and the world-class wines created there, especially Pinot Noir, Chardonnay, and Rhône varietals. The region was also a little over two hours north of Los Angeles, where I grew up, not that I was going there. Not sure when I would again. As far as I knew, my father still didn’t want to see me since my not-so-innocent past was revealed. It didn’t matter that I had been law-abiding since that moment, but a cop’s daughter wasn’t supposed to break the law. The damage was done and I wasn’t sure when, if ever, it would be repaired.

  I shook the thought off as I stared at the two white tents in front of me. I couldn’t hear the gentle hum. Not yet. Although the opening ceremonies were still about an hour away, the chefs would already be prepping the food and people would start lining up, ready to be the first ones in the tent.

  Dean was dropping our bags off at the nearby Lancaster Hotel while I studied, and although the flash card
app was open on my phone, I hadn’t looked at it in the last few minutes. I needed to focus, and being near the festival wasn’t helping. Even though I had studied the whole drive, I wanted to get a few more minutes in. My next test, the Advanced Sommelier exam and the third of four steps to Master Sommelier, was only a few days away. Not great timing for a wine and food festival, but I didn’t want to miss this weekend and I figured I could use a brain break before the three-day exam.

  I pulled open the wooden door of the Lancaster Hotel to find a quiet place to sit while I waited for Dean. A large stone fireplace stood in the middle of the lobby and dark wooden beams lined the whole hotel. The bar, located in the corner, had green leather chairs like it was from a time when the bartender would already know your name as well as your favorite drink. Even though I knew it was much smaller than the palatial New Sierra, which had ballrooms to hold the wine seminars, the cozy atmosphere and charm of this building gave me a calm and welcome feeling.

  I took a seat on a couch in the corner of the lobby and looked at my phone, the bright red flashcard app on the screen.

  “What are the ten Crus of Beaujolais?” I paused for a moment as I thought about the region of France known for producing a lighter red wine from the Gamay grape. Each Cru had a distinct taste due to the soil, climate, location, and more. The vineyards within each Cru could label their wine with the Cru name, such as Saint-Amour, a popular wine for Valentine’s Day. “Saint-Amour, Juliénas, Chénas, Moulin-à-Vent, Fleurie, Chiroubles, Morgon, Régnié, Côte de Brouilly, and Brouilly.” I pressed the screen to flip the card over as I took a deep breath. I was correct and had named them in order from north to south.

  I went to the next flashcard and read out the question. “What is the name of the aphid that nearly destroyed the wine industry in Europe? Phylloxera.”

  I paused before I hit the next screen. I still wasn’t used to electronic flash cards. I enjoyed the paper ones, as I learned the facts while writing them, but my whole supply had been stolen earlier in the year. It was too much work to replace them and the test was coming up fast, so now I used the electronic ones. Still, it wasn’t the same.

  I glanced out the window to the white tents on the lawn. The hum of wine, food, and happy attendees would begin soon.

  “There you are,” said Dean as he approached. Even though he had driven most of the five-hour journey from San Francisco, he still looked refreshed and excited. “You have a strange expression. Everything okay? Or are you just going over wine facts in your head?”

  “Do I do that?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Sometimes.” Though it was true—I often went through maps of regions or mentally recited the prestige cuvée of Champagne houses such as Taittinger’s Comtes de Champagne and Louis Roederer’s Cristal. Not to mention the ten Crus of Beaujolais were still going through my mind, especially Saint-Amour. It was a reminder that this was our first weekend away together.

  I turned off the app and put my phone in my pocket.

  “Done with studying?” Dean raised his eyebrows, his blue eyes staring at me as if I was doing something wrong.

  “I need to let it all sink in. Are we set with everything here?”

  “The bags have been put away and apparently festival passes can be picked up at the New Sierra Hotel.”

  I could sense a little nervousness in his voice. We had been dating for six months, but our different schedules—my working mostly evenings and weekends at Trentino Restaurant and Dean working rotating shifts as a Napa Valley detective—and the distance between Napa and San Francisco made time together difficult. Today was the start of four uninterrupted days together. “Great. Shall we walk over to the New Sierra?”

  Dean shifted his feet and sat down on the couch next to me. “I’m sorry I didn’t book us there. Maybe that would have been easier …” His voice fell away.

  “No, I like this hotel.” We had talked about it while planning and decided that we wouldn’t mind the walk from the Lancaster to the event. “It’s cozy and charming. Honestly, it’s great.” I smiled at him, but he kept a stoic expression. “Come on,” I said. “It’s going to be a great weekend. The festival will be a lot of fun.”

  He took a deep breath. “You’ll keep studying, right? I don’t want this, or me, to be a distraction from your test.”

  “You won’t and the festival won’t be, either. I’ll still be studying, sipping wine while I go through my notes.” But even as I said it, a little bit of concern crept into my mind. Not just anyone could take the Advanced. It required an application, an acceptance, and a three-day course prior to the exam, not to mention an extremely low pass rate. Friends had been on the waiting list for years, but after I took the course in Texas a few months ago, my application had gone through for the exam this week. If I failed, I wasn’t sure when I would be able to take it again. I might be back on the wait list for another year or two.

  Dean, as if he could read my thoughts, put his hand on my knee and squeezed. “You’re going to do great. I’ll help you study, too.”

  “Thanks, but I’m definitely ready for some wine and festivities. Shall we go get our passes?” I stood up.

  “Yes,” said Dean as he joined me.

  “No, I have to stay here,” shouted a woman near the front desk. “You have to find me a room.” Her white dress barely hid her thin frame and her shoulder-length dark hair swayed with her movements.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we’re all sold out. Perhaps you can try the New Sierra?”

  “No, no!” She stomped her foot like a child who had just been told they can’t have the piece of candy they want.

  “There’s nothing I can do, ma’am,” replied the attendant.

  The woman pounded her foot again on the wood floor.

  “Sounds like someone might need some wine,” I whispered to Dean.

  “Yes,” he replied. “As well as a hotel room.”

  We walked past as the lady continued to argue. It wouldn’t do any good. If the hotel was sold out, she could stomp her foot all she wanted, but it wouldn’t magically make a room vacant.

  Dean held open the door and the scent of freshly cut grass greeted us as we crossed the lawn.

  I pointed to the smaller of the two tents. “I’m sure that’s where they’ll have the opening ceremonies today, and then the grand tasting on Sunday in the bigger tent. More people come to that one. Today’s event will be small since it’s only Thursday.” I stared at the entrance, the red partition across it to stop people from entering. “I’m surprised attendees aren’t lining up already.”

  “Why would they line up? Is there a benefit to being first?”

  “I would say yes, so they can be the first ones to taste a dish, or so they don’t worry about food running out in case the chefs didn’t prepare enough for the entire group.” I paused as another reason came to mind. “Or I guess so they can get food without waiting in line. If they’re first in, they can choose any stand they want.”

  “So waiting in line, to avoid other lines?” said Dean with a smile.

  I laughed. “It doesn’t make sense but it does. There’ll be lines the whole weekend, especially at the seminars so people can get a good seat.”

  Dean’s phone beeped.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Just work,” he said as he looked at it. “But it’s fine.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay taking time off for the festival?”

  “One hundred percent. I’m excited to spend time with you and learn more about your world of wine. I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks.” A strange smile appeared on his face, one that I wasn’t sure I had seen before.

  I stared at him. “What’s going on?”

  “I might have a little surprise for you on Saturday.”

  “What is it?”

  “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a s
urprise anymore.” He winked but then turned serious. “It’s wine-related.”

  I nudged him. “Spill it.”

  “You’ll see. Patience.”

  “Patience is not one of my virtues,” I replied.

  “I’m aware,” said Dean. “But you’ll find out soon. You’ll be happy, I promise.”

  We entered the expansive marble lobby of the New Sierra Hotel. Guests milled about, several already wearing green festival passes on lanyards around their necks. A coffee shop in the corner emitted the sound of fresh beans being ground.

  The Harvest Days Wine and Food Festival took up the majority of the hotel and while attendees could purchase tickets to individual events, passes for the entire four-day festival were steep. Working for Paul Rafferty, a side job I did expanding his wine collection in addition to working at Trentino Restaurant as a sommelier, provided me with some much-needed extra cash but not enough to afford a festival pass. Fortunately, I secured one through Trentino as a pourer for the grand tasting on Sunday.

  Dean joined me on a volunteer pass and the weekend had turned into a nice little getaway for the two of us.

  “There we go,” I said, motioning to a table on the far side with a sign for Harvest Days on the front. “Registration table.”

  Two ladies wearing identical Harvest Days Wine and Food Festival shirts, one in blue and one in green, sat behind the table. “Good afternoon,” they said in unison as we approached.

  “Are you already registered?” said the lady in green.

  “Or would you like to purchase a pass?” added the lady in blue.

  “Just checking in. My name is Katie Stillwell.”

  “Katie Stillwell, Katie Stillwell,” said the lady in green as she went down the list. “Ah, yes. You’re pouring for us on Sunday.”

  “That’s right.” I smiled and saw that Dean was smiling, too. He had a proud look on his face, but all I was doing was pouring wine. Something I did every night at Trentino. Except at the restaurant, I was able to tell the story of the wine as I opened the bottle for the guests at the table. I had never worked at a wine and food festival before, but I had attended several of them and I knew there wouldn’t be much time for conversation between pours. However, there might be a few guests who wanted to know, and that made me happy.