Pairing a Deception

by Nadine Nettmann

  “But there’s a killer here. What if they come for me?” Isabella shook her head.

  “Why would they come for you?”

  “I don’t know,” she said as tears filled her eyes. “Why did they come for Jocelyn?”

  seventeen

  pairing suggestion: pouilly-fumé—loire valley, france

  A Sauvignon Blanc wine with a smoky characteristic.

  Isabella was much calmer by the time she finished her drink. While I wanted to believe it was my influence, I knew the whiskey probably had more to do with it. Unfortunately, her question still lingered: Why did the killer come for Jocelyn? I wasn’t sure, but I had a feeling Anita knew more. Hudson might, too.

  “Thanks for talking with me,” she said as she put her credit card on the counter. “Your drink is on me.”

  “No, it’s okay.”

  “No,” said Isabella with a stern tone. “You listened to me and we don’t even know each other. I insist.”

  “Well, thank you,” I replied. “That’s very nice of you. Are you okay now?”

  She looked around, still a little unsure of everything. “I’m better.”

  “Are you going to stay for the rest of the festival?”

  Isabella nodded. “I will. As long as nothing else happens.”

  “It won’t,” I replied, but even as I said it, I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t promise anything. Nothing about life was certain.

  The bartender returned her card and Isabella put it away and stood up. She smoothed her hair held by the clip as she stared around the tables. “I wonder if they’re in here.”

  “Who?”

  She looked at me, the fear returning to her face. “The person who killed Jocelyn.”

  I shuddered but did my best to hide it from her. “Just focus on the festival.” Though I knew I wouldn’t be able to.

  “I’ll try,” she replied as she took a deep breath. “I guess I’ll see if I can catch the tail end of the Rosé seminar. Do you want to come?”

  I glanced at the lobby sign for the events. “I might head to the one Hudson’s hosting.” If I could find him afterwards, I could ask if he knew Jocelyn’s real identity. “But I’ll see you later.”

  “Sure. Thanks again for sitting with me.” She walked toward the exit. A waiter brushed by her and she jumped, nearly knocking the tray out of his hand. Even the whiskey couldn’t tame her nervous disposition. Perhaps the next wine seminar would take her mind off everything, but I knew it wouldn’t for me.

  I slid off the stool and headed toward the Whittier Ballroom.

  The seminar was ending and patrons flowed out, some with glasses in their hands.

  Hudson chatted with a young blond woman near the doors. He noticed me and nodded. I took the opportunity to approach him.

  “Hudson,” I said and glanced at the attendee next to him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  She briefly touched his shoulder and stepped away.

  “No, it’s fine,” replied Hudson. “She just came up to thank me for the seminar.”

  “Hey, how was it by the way?”

  “Fantastic. We had some killer wines.”

  I shifted at Hudson’s poor choice of phrasing. “I have a quick question for you. When Jocelyn Rivers came to your house last month, are you sure it was her?”

  He stared at me with his eyebrows raised. “Of course.”

  “You actually talked to her face to face.”

  “No, my wife did. Sarah said some woman stopped by, talking about a wine company and then Jocelyn mentioned the visit at the opening ceremonies yesterday.” Hudson stared across the lobby and I followed his focus. It was Anita.

  “Do you know her?”

  “Who? The redhead? No, but she looks nice. Listen, I gotta go. I have a winemaker dinner tonight, but maybe I’ll see you for drinks later.”

  “Sure,” I replied, but I didn’t know when I would have the opportunity to talk to him alone again. “Just one last question.”

  “Good, cause I’m getting a little tired of them.”

  “Did Jocelyn hint about anything out of the ordinary last night? Like that she might not be who she said she was?”

  “Who she said she was? She was Jocelyn.”

  “Yes, I know. But was there anything that seemed off ? Maybe a comment she made?”

  Hudson shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean. She was happy to be here. She’d never been to a festival before and was excited to learn about wine.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, but she did say she needed me to meet her friend.”

  “Did you?”

  “No, I stayed in the bar. Besides, I don’t think she meant right then. I thought she just meant sometime during the weekend. I guess she was here with someone, but they weren’t there last night. Tama …”

  “Tama? Is Tama male or female?”

  Hudson repositioned his stance as a look of annoyance crossed his face. “What’s going on here? Are you interrogating me now, too?”

  “No, sorry, that’s not what I meant to do. I’m just trying to find out who did this so you’re not under suspicion anymore. I’m sure you’re still a suspect, you know. Even though you haven’t been arrested. She was found outside your door.”

  Hudson stared at me with such intensity, it was as if he was calculating the probability of being arrested again. “Katie, I didn’t kill her and I don’t know who her friend was.”

  A cough came from behind us. It was Mr. Tinsley. “Mr. Wiley, a word.”

  “Gotta go,” said Hudson. “Save your questions for someone else unless they’re about the festival.” He stepped over to Mr. Tinsley and as I looked around, even Anita was gone. I was alone. No Hudson, no Dean, and my only clue was the word Tama, which may or may not have to do with Jocelyn’s real identity.

  eighteen

  pairing suggestion: pinot noir —casablanca valley, chile

  Grown in a cool climate, this wine is very fruit forward.

  I didn’t have tickets to a wine dinner so I ate in the cafe at the New Sierra and returned to the Lancaster Hotel. A solitary police car was still parked out front and the stairs to the second level were cordoned off with yellow police tape, but the staff at the front desk were smiling, the bartender was serving drinks, and the attendant at the bell stand was ready to assist with bags. The hotel activity seemed back to normal.

  I stared at the bellhop. Even though he wasn’t the same one I had walked past the night before, it gave me an idea.

  “Good evening,” he replied. “Are you checking out? Do you need help with bags?”

  “No, I’m looking for the bellhop who was here last night. Short dark hair, in his early twenties.”

  “Ah, you mean Eddie.” He looked over his shoulder to the open door behind him. “Eddie, you have a fan.”

  Eddie walked out of the back room as the other attendant moved away. “Yes?”

  “The woman who was found on the second floor …”

  “Oh.” His smile disappeared. “I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to comment on that. All inquires must be directed to our general manager,” he said in rehearsed language.

  “No, I’m not asking about that. Sorry, I should have started differently.” I took a deep breath to try and fill my lungs, but they had tightened with my mistake. “Last night I was in the bar with a group, and I walked past you on the way out. Do you remember seeing us?”

  “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I’m not sure what I’m allowed to say. All inquiries—”

  “Listen, don’t say anything you don’t want to, but I was over there in the bar with a group of six people that went down to four.”

  The bellhop stared at the ceiling as he thought about it. “Yes,” he said as he snapped his fingers. “You were all near the fireplace.”

&
nbsp; “Exactly.” I relished in the small victory. “There was a lady with dark brown hair and a black dress with me. Does that sound familiar?”

  “I think so.”

  “Perfect. Did you happen to talk to her at all yesterday? Perhaps when she arrived or when she met a friend in the lobby last night or maybe even later?”

  “No,” said the bellhop as he shifted nervously. “I’m not supposed to comment on our guests’ activities. There’s a whole privacy issue, you know?”

  “I completely understand,” I replied, unsure of how to proceed. I decided to go a more stealth route. “I’m just going to ask yes or no questions. All you have to do is reply yes or no and you don’t have to tell me anything else.”

  The bellhop hesitated and glanced around, as if looking for an escape. “Yes, but make it quick. I need to be working.”

  “Do you know her name?”

  “No.”

  “Did you see her meet someone in the lobby while we were all in the bar?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was that person female?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did she have red hair?”

  He debated about it for a moment. “Yes.”

  “Did they chat for a while?”

  “Yes. I think they talked for like, a minute or so, and then they both went to the bathroom.”

  “Together?” I knew Anita had been lying, and this just confirmed it.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Girls do that, don’t they?”

  “Okay, one last question. After I left the bar with my friend, the lady in the black dress stayed with the other gentleman we were with. Do you know how long she stayed after we were gone?”

  He shook his head. “No. I don’t remember the time, sorry. I only start watching the clock near the end of my shift.”

  “But you saw her leave?”

  “Yes.”

  I leaned on the stand. “Did she go upstairs?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was she alone?”

  He looked at me and then away. “No.”

  “Was she with the red-haired lady you saw her talking to earlier?”

  “No.”

  With the list of suspects dwindling, I had the sneaking suspicion that I already knew the answer to my next few questions. “Do you know the man she was with?”

  “Yes,” he replied as he dropped his voice to a whisper. “The one who wears that big red pin.”

  “Hudson Wiley?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t the one who took his bags to his room, I just remember seeing the pin.”

  As far as I knew, Hudson was the only attendee with the red MS pin at the festival, but just in case, I described him. With his hair, he was hard to mistake.

  “Yes, that’s him.”

  “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem. Let me know if I can be of any further assistance.” He paused. “With your luggage, that is.”

  I nodded and stepped away. At least now I knew Anita had lied about talking to Jocelyn. It was nice to have confirmation on something. And she went upstairs with Hudson, which sort of confirmed his story, but not in a good way. However, there was still one more person I knew who had interacted with Jocelyn.

  I walked into the bar area and felt a wave of relief as the same waiter was there, behind the counter this time.

  “Hey,” I said as I leaned on the bar. “Remember me? I was here last night.”

  He glanced up at me as he polished a glass with a white towel. “What would you like?”

  “Not drinking, actually, I just have a question.”

  He didn’t react.

  “Okay then,” I continued. “I was with the group by the fireplace and there was a lady with us. She had dark hair and wore a black dress and sat in that chair there.” I pointed to the empty seat. “Did she pay by credit card?”

  He continued to polish. “Don’t know.”

  I debated for a moment, trying to see how I could find out more. “How about this, did you happen to see anyone else who might have talked to her besides Hudson?”

  “I hear nothing and I see nothing,” he replied with a smirk.

  I knew where this was going. The young bellhop was hesitant to break the rules by talking to me, but this guy was playing a different game. I glanced around and then pulled out my wallet and put a five-dollar bill on the counter. He smiled but didn’t move. I pulled out a ten and put it next to the five.

  He stopped polishing and removed the two bills from the bar. “I don’t listen to conversations. It gets too loud in here. But she spent the whole time with Hudson, except for that one lady.”

  “Which one?”

  He picked up another glass. “Not sure. Some lady came up, started talking to her when Hudson left for a while.”

  “What did she look like?” I could barely contain my excitement. Either it was Anita, someone new who might know more, or it was the killer.

  “Don’t know. She had on a blue hat. One of those fancy ones. That’s all I remember.”

  “A fancy hat?” The skepticism was clear in my voice. “I don’t think I’ve seen a hat this entire festival.” I looked around the bar and spotted Walt and Ben in the corner. I turned my attention back to the bartender to finish my questions. “Besides the hat, what else?”

  “That’s it. But their conversation was intense.”

  “You could hear it?”

  “No, just the way she acted. Like professional and stuff. I see a lot of people doing business deals in here. Over drinks, you know? It seemed like it was one of those.”

  “And Hudson was part of it?”

  He put the glass on the shelf. “She left before Hudson came back. He bought a few more drinks and that was that.”

  “Did any of them pay by credit card?” I repeated my earlier question, hoping that the fifteen-dollar tip would now include that as well.

  He shook his head. “Hudson covered the bill for your friend and then they left.”

  “Anything else?”

  “If you’re asking if I followed them out of the room, I didn’t. I was working.” His tone had shifted. “Speaking of.” He turned his attention to a gentleman a few feet down the bar.

  “I want a Negroni cocktail. Gin, vermouth, and Campari. Capisce?”

  “You got it. Coming right up.”

  “Thanks for your help,” I added, but he was busy making the cocktail. I directed my focus to Walt and Ben and walked over to their table. “Rick Roll, this seems to be your bar of choice.”

  “It’s uncrowded,” said Walt.

  “And cozy and clever,” added Ben.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” replied Walt. “How can a bar be clever?” He looked up at me, not waiting for Ben’s answer. “Did you find your Beaujolais friend?”

  “I did. Anita. Thanks for the tip earlier. What are you drink—” I stopped speaking as I stared at the label on the bottle of wine. It said Tama Winery.

  “Merlot,” replied Walt, but I was too busy processing the discovery. Tama wasn’t a friend. It was a winery.

  I swallowed hard and composed myself. “I didn’t realize they had Tama on the list here.”

  “They don’t.”

  “Watch out, Walt. She’s going to challenge you to a taste test again.”

  “No, I’m not, but if it’s not on the list, where did you get it?”

  “A friend,” replied Walt with a smile. “Keep the label turned this way. I don’t want the bartender to see.”

  “Which friend?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Walt swirled his glass of Merlot.

  “Yes, I would.”

  He shook his head and smiled. “My secret.”

  “No, I’m serious, I want to know.”

 
“Sorry, Stillwell, I already gave you info today. I’m not sharing any secrets, especially when they involve free wine.”

  “Ooh, burn,” said Ben. He looked at the bottle. “But if you’d like a glass, I’m sure Walt will share.”

  “I might. If I feel generous.”

  “No, that’s okay.” I thought about how to handle this. “Are they serving Tama at the festival events then?”

  “Nope. It was a gift from a new friend, and that’s that.” Walt motioned to the seat. “You’re welcome to stay, but having you stand at the table is making me nervous.” He took a drink. “Also, before you sit, you should know that I’m not going to answer the wine question no matter how long you stay. The subject is closed.”

  Ben lifted the bottle. “And almost empty.”

  I debated sitting but knew it wouldn’t do any good. I wished them both good night and left the bar. Just like the row of wines I would have to identify at my upcoming exam, it seemed like multiple people at the festival had something to hide. And Tama Winery might be the key.

  nineteen

  pairing suggestion: vermentino—sardinia, italy

  A light white wine with an herbaceous quality and a slightly bitter finish.

  The next morning, I needed to clear my mind and running was the way to do it. I stuck to the main road and although there weren’t any vineyards near the hotel, the scenery was calming and there wasn’t much traffic this early on a Saturday. Within an hour or two, the streets would be busy with people driving in for the festival or visiting the nearby wineries, but I had woken up early enough to miss that.

  My late-night research on Tama Winery had provided little information, only that it was located farther up the coast and the website was under construction. It might mean nothing at all that Hudson mentioned it and Walt and Ben had a bottle of it. Then again, it might mean everything.

  I ran along Mission Drive. The morning sun highlighted the rolling hills and I looked forward to seeing the vineyards that would provide me with the calmness I needed.

  I thought about the murder, Jocelyn’s still-unknown true identity, and Anita lying about knowing her. I felt like I couldn’t trust anyone, and maybe it was better that I didn’t.