Pairing a Deception

by Nadine Nettmann

  I glanced at the menu. “I think so.” But even as I looked at the food choices, I thought about the festival. Though I hoped Hudson was back and everything was running like normal, I had the distinct feeling it wouldn’t be.

  twenty-four

  pairing suggestion: agiorgitiko—nemea, greece

  A red wine with high acidity and tannins.

  The lobby of the Lancaster was quiet, with most guests out for the day either attending the seminars or touring the nearby towns of Los Olivos, Ballard, and Buellton.

  “Did you want to change before we return to the seminars?”

  I looked down at the seeds stuck to the cuffs of my pants. “I think that’s a good idea.”

  “Wait, Ms. Stillwell,” said Mr. Tinsley from the side of the front desk, his hand up to signal us. He continued to talk on his cell phone as we approached. “No, I’ve been calling three-oh-three. I told you, no one is answering.” He put the phone flat against his suit jacket. “Have you seen Mr. Wiley? We can’t find him and his phone goes straight to voicemail.”

  “He’s still missing?” My gut feeling had been right.

  “What do you mean still missing?” Mr. Tinsley’s eyebrows went up as far as they could go.

  “He wasn’t at the seminar this morning,” I replied.

  “I knew it, I knew it.” Mr. Tinsley shook his head as his voice escalated. “They tried to cover for him, but it’s no good. Hiring him for this festival was a mistake. A rather unfortunate mistake.”

  “He could be in police custody,” said Dean.

  “That would be the icing on the cake,” said Mr. Tinsley. “A festival brought to a halt because the host is under arrest.”

  “It may be something else,” I added. I had a growing feeling of unease that Hudson was in trouble.

  “Sure,” said Mr. Tinsley, his voice reflecting that he was anything but sure. “People can’t keep covering for him. This is ridiculous. He’s missed more seminars than he’s hosted at this point. If you find Mr. Wiley, tell him I need to see him immediately.” He put the phone to his ear and stormed across the lobby.

  “Dean, what if Hudson’s disappearance is connected to the murder? And I don’t just mean being questioned.”

  “You know him better than I do. Maybe he’s drinking with friends?”

  I shook my head. “I only met him when you did, but something’s off here. Even the director of the festival doesn’t know where he is.” I glanced down at the grape seeds on my pants. “I’m going to change and then we’ll see if there’s more to the story over at the New Sierra.”

  Dean looked around. “I’ll find out if he’s in custody. Meet you back here.”

  I went to the elevator but instead of reaching for the second floor button, I found myself pushing the one for the third floor, where Hudson had been relocated after the murder. Thanks to Mr. Tinsley, I now had his new room number.

  Nerves pulsed through me, but I tried to convince myself it was worth it just to make sure he wasn’t in his room. I knocked on 303.

  No response.

  I knocked again.

  A housekeeper pushed a cart at the end of the hallway.

  “Excuse me,” I called to her. “Can you open up a room for me?”

  She nodded and walked down the hallway, but paused before she used the key. “Is it your room?” she asked.

  “No,” I replied with my knee-jerk honesty. Why did I do that? “It’s my friend’s room and I just want to check on him.”

  “I can’t open it if it’s not your room.”

  “I just need to make sure he’s not in there. It’s a safety issue. In fact,” I added, “how about you go in there and check? There’s nothing wrong with that, right?”

  She debated for a moment before knocking on the door. “Housekeeping.” She unlocked the door and I stepped forward. “No, you have to stay out here.” She went inside as I waited in the hallway. I tried to peer through the doorway but couldn’t see anything.

  “It’s empty,” said the housekeeper.

  “Empty like he’s checked out?”

  “No, his clothes and suitcase are in the room, but he’s not.” She closed the door behind her.

  “Thank you.”

  At least I knew he wasn’t in there passed out, or worse. I went to my room, changed, and returned to the lobby.

  “Katie,” said Dean as he walked toward me with efficiency.

  “Hey. Did you find out if he’s in custody?”

  “He’s not, but they’ve identified Jocelyn.” He motioned to the floor above. “Her real name was Rachel Carlson. She’s from Santa Barbara and works in a fitness center.”

  “So not in wine at all?” I stared at the floor as the information turned in my mind. “Why did she pretend to be Jocelyn Rivers?” I put my hand up before Dean could speak. “I’m guessing it was just to have the pass. But why did she want to talk to Hudson about a wine company?”

  “I don’t know,” said Dean. “And unfortunately, we can’t ask her.”

  “Now I’ll share my news. Hudson isn’t in his room and he hasn’t skipped town—or if he has, he left all his stuff.”

  Dean stared at me. “Where did you hear that?”

  “I have my sources and you have yours.”

  He gave me a skeptical look. “You said you weren’t going to get involved.”

  “Have you met me? When I went to change, I decided to check that his belongings were still in his room.”

  “How?” Dean’s face was stoic.

  “Nothing illegal, I promise. I had housekeeping check. Come on, let’s go over to the New Sierra.” I wanted to divert the attention from me doing potentially shady things. Dean knew I sometimes bent the rules. He had even arrested me last year after a winery owner pressed charges, but they were dropped long before we started dating. Now I was law-abiding, or at least tried to be.

  Dean held the door open as we left the hotel. “I still don’t understand why you’re not in law enforcement.”

  “I told you. It’s complicated.”

  “I know you didn’t graduate from the Police Academy, but you could have tried again.”

  I shook my head. “My passion is wine.”

  “And solving things with wine.”

  “Except right now that’s not helping find Hudson. I want to know where he is …” I paused. “Where do we find a missing somm?”

  “The wine cellar? Sorry, I don’t mean to joke about it, but it seems like the logical place,” said Dean. “Where else could someone hide a body?”

  “A body?” My heart fell. “Please don’t tell me you think he’s dead.”

  “It’s a possibility,” replied Dean.

  As much as I didn’t want to agree with him, he was right. There was a chance that whoever killed Rachel had already taken care of Hudson. We might be too late.

  twenty-five

  pairing suggestion: salice salentino—puglia, italy

  A very drinkable red wine made from the Negroamaro grape.

  I kept an eye out for Hudson as we walked across the grass. I had a small amount of hope that Mr. Tinsley had located him in the last few minutes, though I knew it was unlikely.

  “Look, it’s my favorite seminar leader,” said Jocie—the real Jocie Rivers—as she approached with two of her friends. “This is the Katie I was telling you about,” she said as she glanced at them. “They missed your seminar yesterday, but I told them all about it.”

  “I’m so bummed we missed your talk on Pinot,” said one of her friends. “Are you going to give another one?”

  “She doesn’t know yet,” said Jocie, answering for me. She looked at Dean. “Who’s this tall drink of water?”

  “Dean,” he said as he put out his hand. Jocie shook it, as did the other two ladies, who then smiled and winked at each other.


  Jocie leaned close to me and put her hand at the side of her mouth. “He’s a cutie. Nice catch.” She wasn’t as quiet as I would have liked, and one of her friends giggled.

  “I hope you had a nice time at the other seminars,” I quickly added to ease the awkwardness. I avoided eye contact with Dean. I didn’t know if he was smiling or embarrassed.

  “We did!” exclaimed one of the ladies. “I learned that wine starts to turn to vinegar the moment you open the bottle so you have to drink it fast. I’m good at that.”

  “And Silvia here learned how to taste wine like a pro.”

  “You suck air across the wine in your mouth like this.” Silvia put her lips together and breathed in. “You get more of the flavors that way. I’m going to call it the canary, ’cause it sounds like a bird singing when I do it.”

  “Canary,” replied Jocie. “Ain’t she a hoot!”

  “I think canaries chirp, actually,” said Silvia. “Not that I have one at home, that is. I just know it.”

  “Where is home?” asked Dean.

  “Los Angeles! We’re up here for a girls’ weekend.”

  “That sounds fun,” I replied.

  “You have no idea,” said Jocie as she laughed, her guest pass flapping in the wind. “We’re getting wild!”

  “Woo!” the two other ladies responded in unison.

  I glanced at her pass. If there was more of a reason for Rachel to take the original pass from her other than gaining entrance to the festival, I wanted to know what it was. “Do any of you work in the wine world?”

  “The wine world?”

  “I mean, what do you do? For work?”

  “Oh sweetie, we’re all retired.”

  “But did any of you work in the wine industry, perhaps at a winery or a distributer?” I asked.

  “No, but I drank a lot of it,” said one of them.

  “Me, too. Does that count?” said another.

  I smiled. “Absolutely.” They were so sweet together. I wanted to attend wine and food festivals with friends like them. “One last question, have any of you heard of Tama Winery?”

  “No, is that a good one?” asked Jocie. “Should I add it to my shopping list?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” I glanced at Dean. “But listen, have a wonderful day and enjoy the festival.”

  “Let me know if you do another seminar, okay?” Jocie pointed at me. “We want to sit in the front row.”

  “I’ll save you three seats.”

  “Woo-hoo,” replied Jocie, and the three of them continued into the hotel.

  “Nice ladies,” said Dean.

  “I agree. They’re here to have a good time, which means that Rachel just took the opportunity of a lost pass to assume her identity. Hudson never said Jocelyn’s name in reference to the visit at his house in Denver, only that she mentioned it at the opening ceremonies so he knew it was her. The question is, why did someone who works at a fitness center want to talk to Hudson about a winery?”

  “The question at the moment though—”

  “Is where is Hudson,” I interrupted. “Come on.”

  We entered the New Sierra as crowds flowed out of the ballrooms with the release of the last seminar of the day.

  Walt and Ben strolled through the lobby, each with a glass of wine.

  “Hey, the famous duo is back together again,” said Walt. “Why aren’t you drinking?”

  “Just got back, haven’t had a chance to get any wine yet,” I replied.

  “Got back? Where did you guys go?”

  “Grape stomping,” replied Dean.

  “No way,” said Ben. “They have that here?” He looked around the lobby. “Where? I want to go.”

  “No, it was a special event at a winery,” I added. “Sorry.”

  Ben looked heartbroken at the news. Clearly I wasn’t the only one who had dreamed of stomping grapes. “First it’s a weird day and now I’ve missed grape stomping. What next?”

  “Define weird day,” said Dean.

  “Apparently Hudson is playing hooky,” said Walt. “Didn’t host a single seminar.”

  “Probably off boozing it up,” added Ben. “Then Walt here broke two glasses.”

  “This one’s still intact,” said Walt as he held up his glass.

  “You should win a prize,” replied Ben.

  “So you haven’t seen Hudson at all today?” I asked.

  “Nope. Too busy watching Walt break his glasses,” said Ben.

  Walt knocked the glass out of Ben’s hand. It landed on the carpet and a large shard broke off. “Nearly even.”

  Dean shifted next to me. “Okay, then.” He picked up the pieces.

  Ben glared at Walt. “That was rude and uncalled for. Not only do you now owe me a drink, you’re paying for dinner. Just watch, I’m going to get the biggest steak on the menu.”

  “Lovely,” replied Walt. “At least I don’t have to buy you dinner here. I can find somewhere cheaper.”

  “Why not here?” I asked.

  “We heard a busboy say management lost the keys to the food storage and the restaurant might not open tonight. I tell ya, if there ever was a day to drink, this is it.” Walt pointed to our empty hands. “I see you don’t agree. I think it’s bar time.”

  “Yes, bar time,” added Ben. “Then we can figure out where Walt’s buying me a steak dinner.”

  I smiled but my thoughts were still on the comment from the busboy. “We’ll have to catch you a bit later. We have to go see about something.”

  “Agreed,” said Dean as he stepped away with me. We locked eyes.

  “Restaurant?” I said.

  “Restaurant,” he replied.

  twenty-six

  pairing suggestion: gsm blend—paso robles, california

  Made from Grenache, Syrah, and Mourvèdre, this Rhône blend has a bold yet earthy quality.

  The door was unlocked even though the restaurant didn’t officially open for two hours. We passed by the tables and stopped in front of the kitchen. Food prep started early in the day and I didn’t want to barge in.

  “Aren’t you going in?” asked Dean.

  “It’s kind of trespassing, kind of uncool to walk into the kitchen. Not to mention the whole food safety thing. Besides, we don’t exactly have probable cause yet.”

  “You’re definitely a cop’s daughter,” replied Dean.

  “I’m sure a waiter or chef will come out soon.”

  It took a few minutes, but eventually a busboy exited the kitchen with a tray of glasses.

  “Did I hear correctly that the keys are lost?”

  He put the tray on the bar. “We’re closed,” he replied in a tone that expressed he was not in the mood for questions. “The Belmont Café is still serving lunch.”

  “Are you opening for dinner?” asked Dean.

  “It’s yet to be determined, but the Belmont—”

  “We’re looking for a friend,” I interrupted. “There’s a chance he might be locked in the food supply closet.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” said the man.

  “Maybe,” I replied. “But can we take a look?”

  “No. Kitchen rules. Health code violations. Hotel rules. Need more?”

  “Would you mind checking?” asked Dean. “Then we’ll move on.”

  The man’s gaze shifted to his hand. “Can’t. The door is locked.”

  A crash came from the kitchen.

  The man’s eyes grew wide and he pushed through the swinging door. We followed him into the kitchen.

  “Someone’s in there,” yelled a line cook as he pointed at the closed door. “I just heard a noise.”

  “Either that or it’s rats,” said a waiter, who faltered when he saw us standing there. “Sorry, forget I said that.” He glanced at the door. “B
ut there’s definitely something in there.”

  “Law enforcement, we need to get that door open,” said Dean as he pulled the handle. It didn’t budge. “How do we get in here?”

  The waiter shrugged. “That’s not our lock. Never been on there before.”

  I stared at the large padlock looped through the latch. “Can we get something to open this? Maybe a hammer or a crowbar?” I yelled to the rest of the kitchen. “Anyone?” I looked at Dean.

  He had his phone out, ready to dial.

  I put my ear to the door. A rocking noise came from inside. “I hear something and it could be a person.” I stared at the staff. “And if they die because you didn’t open it up, this is on your head.”

  “I’ll do it,” said the head chef as he grabbed a large meat cleaver. “I’ve been wanting to do this for the last twenty minutes anyway. We have a kitchen to run.” He lifted the blade as I put my arms behind my back, knowing how easily it could take off one of my hands.

  With two chops, the lock fell from the door. I rushed forward and opened it. There was Hudson, rocking back and forth on a chair at the far corner of the supply closet.

  The kitchen staff gasped.

  His mouth was gagged and ropes tied him to the chair.

  I pulled the bandana away as I reached him. “Hudson, are you okay?”

  Hudson lifted his head, blinked a few times, and dropped it again. “I will be.”

  I worked on the ropes, but they were tied knot over knot. “These aren’t coming loose. I need a knife.” I had my wine opener, but I knew the small blade on the end would take a long time to make any progress. “Can we get that knife back?” I yelled out to the kitchen.

  “Here, I’ve got it.” Dean leaned forward with a switchblade and cut through the rope on both sides.

  “You carry a knife?” I asked.

  Dean focused on Hudson. “Who did this?”

  Hudson brought his wrists forward and tried to work on the remaining knots, which looped like bracelets, but his fingers stopped moving.

  “Here, let me.” Now that the tension was off the ropes, I was able to pull them apart.

  “Thank you,” breathed Hudson as he rubbed his wrists, both of them red.