Murders and Metaphors

by Amanda Flower

  I ground my teeth. “Chief Rainwater is not my police chief.”

  His dark eyes sparkled. “That is the rumor in the village, but my brother will be very happy to hear that that’s not true. The poor fool is still carrying a torch for you. It’s tragic to watch.” He turned to my grandmother. “It’s lovely to see you, Grandma Daisy. My, don’t you look sharp in those bell-bottoms. I suppose they were a gem that Sadie found for you. She does have a knack for clothes. I will give her that.”

  “How kind of you,” my grandmother said coolly. Just like me, Grandma Daisy was less than pleased by how Grant had treated Sadie.

  He placed his hand to his chest. “Grandma Daisy, please be kind. I would be heartbroken if I thought you were vexed with me.”

  “I’m sure you will survive, Grant. You have survived much worse,” she said primly.

  A cloud fell over Grant’s eyes, but just as quickly as it came, it cleared. “We had better move you and those books inside before my mother has all our heads. You know how she gets before a big event.”

  Unfortunately, I knew exactly how Mrs. Camille Morton got before a big event. It wasn’t pretty.

  Grandma Daisy and I, and I suppose Emerson too, because he was inside my tote bag—being suspiciously well behaved, I might add—followed Grant into the house. We arrived in the wing of the building that housed the giant industrial kitchen and the servant pantries. To make a shortcut to the tasting room, the main room in the winery, Grant led us through the kitchen. The kitchen had all the stainless-steel appliances and amenities of a professional kitchen. The French country style that Mrs. Morton loved was evident in the blue-and-white toile wallpaper, white cabinets, and reclaimed wooden worktable that dominated the left side of the space.

  Adrien Dupont was at the large island in the middle of the room using tweezers to add minuscule specks of cilantro to the caviar on spoon-shaped breadsticks. Sweat gathered on his brow, and his large biceps flexed under his chef’s jacket while he worked. He set the last piece of cilantro delicately in place and stepped back. “Take them.”

  A waiter whisked the tray out of the kitchen with a flourish.

  “How are the ramekins of mousse coming?” Adrien asked the room.

  “Good, Chef,” a young woman said after peeking into the large oven on the wall.

  “Bien,” he said, and noticed Grandma Daisy and me for the first time. “Violet! Daisy!” he cried in his deep French Canadian voice. “It is so good to see you here.”

  “I didn’t know that Le Crepe Jolie was the one catering the ice wine party,” Grandma Daisy said. “But I am glad that you are. That guarantees that the food will be the very best.”

  “Oh.” The large, muscular man blushed. “You are too kind, Daisy.”

  Le Crepe Jolie was the French café on the Riverwalk that Adrien owned with his wife, Lacey. Lacey and I had been friends in high school, and we had rekindled our friendship after I returned to the village as if I had never been gone.

  “Is Lacey here?” I asked, searching the faces in the room. I was surprised not to see her. At times it seemed that she and Adrien were attached at the hip. It was rare to see one of the Duponts without the other. They were the most in-love married couple I had ever met and doted on each other’s every whim. Their relationship would have been nauseating to watch if it weren’t so genuinely sincere. I would have been lying if I’d said I didn’t envy them.

  A strange expression crossed the chef’s face. “I don’t know if she’s coming.”

  I frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Lacey. She’s always up for a party, and I know she loves catering these big events with you. Is she sick?” I asked.

  He shook his head.

  “Grandma Daisy, Violet, you can continue this bit of village gossip later,” Grant said with a condescending air. “But I really must guide you to the tasting room so that the book signing can begin. I’m sure you don’t want to keep the famous author or my mother waiting.”

  I wrinkled my brow. I wanted to ask Adrien more about what was going on with Lacey. It just wasn’t like her to miss a big event that the café was catering. She took pride in being at her husband’s side in every aspect of the business. It was why they worked so well together.

  “Ladies?” Grant nodded to the kitchen door.

  “I’ll try to stop by the kitchen later if I get a chance,” I told Adrien.

  He simply nodded and resumed calling out orders to his sous chefs.

  When Grandma Daisy and I stepped out into the hallway, Grant said, “The tasting room is at the end of the hallway. That’s where the signing will be. A table is already there waiting for you to set up.” He held out his hands. “Please hand me your coats and bags, and I will check them for you.”

  Grandma Daisy and I struggled out of our heavy coats. Removing them, we both appeared to have instantly lost thirty pounds. Grant took the coats from our hands, and Grandma Daisy’s purse. When he reached for my tote bag, I jerked it away from him, and Emerson hissed in protest.

  Grant froze. “Did your bag just hiss at me?”

  I blinked as innocently as I could. “What an odd question. That’s not possible.”

  Grant looked like he wanted to say more, but I was quicker. “We have some items in her bag that we need for the signing. Pens and things like that. You can never have too many backup pens at a book signing.”

  He arched his eyebrow. “Last time I checked, pens didn’t hiss.”

  “Come along, Violet,” my grandmother said, coming to my aid. “We mustn’t waste any more time.”

  “Right you are, Grandma Daisy.” I walked around her and out into the tasting room with my head held high. It wasn’t until I got halfway across the expansive room that I realized Emerson’s thin black tail was poking out the top of my tote bag.

  Chapter Four

  “You’re finally here!” Camille Morton said in a loud voice that did nothing to hide her displeasure.

  As she spoke, I caught sight of Emerson’s tail flicking back and forth out of the corner of my eye, and I quickly shoved it down into the bag. There was a soft hiss in reply that I alone could hear. There was going to be payback from the tuxie for that move. I just didn’t know in which form it would come.

  Mrs. Morton stood in the middle of the tasting room, which was subtly decorated to look like an ice-crystal wonderland with all the Morton Vineyards wines and merchandise displayed at their best advantage.

  The winery’s tasting room was expansive. It was at least thirty feet across and had a fourteen-foot ceiling supported by thick cedar beams. Two long bars with shelves of Morton Vineyards wine flanked the opposite wall. There were several large displays throughout the space, but the ice wine display was front and center. Just like outside, ice sculptures made up a large part of the decor.

  There were half a dozen people in the room, but certainly not enough to account for the full parking lot outside. I guessed that Mrs. Morton was waiting to let the general public inside the tasting room until everything was absolutely perfect. The only people holding up her perfection now were Grandma Daisy and me.

  I scanned the large space to see where the signing would take place. I thought I could avoid Mrs. Morton’s reprimands if I got right to the business of unpacking Belinda’s books. I finally made out the spot across the room in front of one of the two giant Palladian windows that flanked the front door. But instead of springing into action when I saw the place, I froze, unable to move.

  Just next to the table, a blond man in a perfectly cut dark suit stood talking to a familiar-looking woman standing near the front door of the winery. Even with his back to me, I knew who he was. I would have recognized that back anywhere. He tilted his head back as he laughed at whatever the pretty blonde woman had said. I bit the inside of my lip. Nathan Morton still had an effect on me, and I hated it.

  Grandma Daisy linked her arm though mine. “Chin up, my girl. It won’t be so bad.” She made her way toward the table and Nathan, pulling me along wit
h her.

  When she reached the table, Grandma Daisy said, “Nathan, it’s nice to see you.”

  “You as well, Grandma Daisy,” Nathan said in his best mayoral voice. He nodded at me. “Hello, Violet. Haven’t seen you in the bushes much lately.”

  “It’s the time of year. I’d much rather be inside reading,” I said, relieved that Nathan was teasing me. Last fall, to avoid seeing him, I had been guilty of hiding in the bushes around the village a time or two. I was glad we could joke about it now. Perhaps Nathan was starting to thaw toward me. I had been getting a chilly reception from him ever since I had begun spending more time with the police chief.

  “What’s this about bushes?” my grandmother asked.

  “You will have to ask Violet about that,” Nathan said with a smile. He changed the subject. “I’m very glad that Charming Books could come out and sell Belinda’s book for us. It is one part of this evening that I didn’t need to worry about because I knew that you would have us covered.”

  Mrs. Morton’s heels clicked on the hardwood floors. “Nathan,” she said sharply. “This is not the time for chatter. The doors for the book signing are set to open in five minutes. Violet and Daisy have work to do. You know how important this event is to the winery.”

  Nathan opened his mouth as if he were going to argue with his mother, but then snapped it closed. He might be the mayor of the village, but it seemed to me that his mother was still very much his boss.

  I plastered the friendliest smiled I could muster onto my face. “Hello, Mrs. Morton. Thank you for including Charming Books in this event.”

  “That was Nathan’s doing, not mine,” she said.

  “Mother,” Nathan said.

  I took a step back from mother and son. “It will just take Grandma Daisy and me a few minutes to set up.”

  “And not a second more,” she hissed. “There are a lot of people here eager to meet Belinda and have her sign their books.”

  “Nathan,” the blonde I had noticed earlier said. “Are you going to introduce me to the booksellers? I always like to meet the good people who are selling my books.”

  That’s when I recognized the reason the woman had looked familiar to me. Hers was the face on the back of the book we were selling that night.

  I held out my hand to her. “Violet Waverly, and this is my grandmother, Daisy.”

  “Oh, Daisy and Violet. Both flower names; how quaint is that? I really am back in the tiny village of Cascade Springs. Everything is so fascinating and sweet. It almost makes your teeth ache.”

  I wrinkled my brow. It was easy to forget that Belinda and Lacey were sisters. They were so different. Even so, it made it only that much stranger that Lacey wasn’t at the event tonight.

  “We’re so pleased that we are your booksellers for tonight. We’re expecting great sales.”

  “And so is my publisher,” she said with a smile. She wore a burgundy dress with a train. Her long blonde hair fell down her back, and on her right wrist she wore the largest diamond bracelet I had ever seen. A giant sapphire stone was on the ring finger of her right hand. It caught the light, and the blue stone reflected off the opposite wall. It was clear that Belinda Perkins had done very well for herself since she’d left the village, very well indeed.

  When I finally took my eyes off Nathan, I noticed a slight man, handsome in a polished sort of way, hovering near Belinda. His dark hair was slicked back with product. He wore a suit that was clearly cut to his precise measurements. There was a blue pocket square in the breast pocket of his suit that was the same color blue as the gem on Belinda’s hand.

  “Belinda,” Mrs. Morton cooed. “We can begin the signing in just a moment, just as soon as Charming Books finishes setting up.” She shot me a withering glance.

  “Everything looks lovely, Camille, just like I wanted it to be. I’m so glad that I am able to finally do a signing in my quaint little hometown. I’ve lived in New York City for so long and traveled so much. It’s nice to come home.”

  As the two women spoke, Grandma Daisy and I made short work of unpacking the boxes of books. It took only a moment.

  Belinda picked up a copy of her book and showed it to Mrs. Morton. “This is my fifth New York Times best-selling title, but seeing my book on display never grows old.”

  Grandma Daisy and I gave each other a look. I didn’t think Belinda’s comment could have come off as more insincere if she’d tried.

  I placed three pens that were to Belinda’s direct specifications in front of where she would be sitting. “Everything is ready.”

  “Very good.” Mrs. Morton checked the gold watch on her wrist. “Not a moment too soon, either.” She turned to Nathan. “Can you let the guests inside?”

  Nathan nodded before he headed to the large antique wooden door at the front of the room. He didn’t even look in my direction. It took all my willpower not to roll my eyes. We weren’t twelve anymore.

  Belinda took her seat like a queen settling onto her throne. It might have been her dress’s train that gave me that impression.

  “I hope you were able to find everything on Belinda’s list.” The man next to me held out his hand to shake mine. “Sebastian Knight. I’m Belinda’s fiancé and manager.”

  I shook his thin hand, which felt small and fragile in mine. “Violet and Daisy Waverly from Charming Books.”

  Grandma Daisy had a stack of sticky notes in her hand, ready to give them to Belinda’s fans for the book signing so she could accurately inscribe their books. “Oh, we most certainly got everything that Belinda might need. You don’t need to worry about that.” She lifted her cloth bag, which had been hidden by the book table’s linen tablecloth.

  “White-chocolate cashews?” Sebastian asked.

  “That’s what I’m calling them,” my grandmother replied, and tucked the bag back under the table. I knew that she did this so he wouldn’t have the opportunity to double-check her work.

  Sebastian scowled.

  Belinda smiled at the table. “All those lovely copies of my book. It never gets old to see them. Even hitting the best-seller list is still a treat after all this time.”

  Right. She’d said something similar to Mrs. Morton only minutes before. The more often she said it, the less sincere it became. I held out my hand. “We’re happy to be your bookseller for this event.”

  She studied me as she shook my hand. “You look familiar.”

  “You may not remember, but I’m an old friend of your sister Lacey.”

  She ripped her hand from my grasp. “I don’t want Lacey to have anything to do with this event.” Her voice was sharp as a knife.

  Mrs. Morton bustled in between us. “Belinda, is everything all right? I hope Violet hasn’t done something to offend you.”

  Belinda glared at Camille Morton. “I didn’t know that there would be people associated with my sister here at the signing.”

  Mrs. Morton looked at me accusingly.

  I held up my hands in innocence.

  Grandma Daisy gave me a quizzical look, but before I could explain, Nathan opened the doors and the signing had begun.

  Chapter Five

  An hour into the event, wine and book lovers milled around the tasting room. Despite the grandeur of the winery, most were dressed for warmth, as they would be participating in the midnight grape cutting. No one was costumed as grandly as Belinda in her long gown.

  Belinda smiled at the next person who came up to her, holding up a book to be signed. “Would you like me to sign it to you?” she asked.

  Grandma Daisy sidled up to me. “It seems to me that Belinda has a little of Jekyll and Hyde in her, doesn’t she? Why did she freak out at you just before the signing?” It was the first time my grandmother had had the chance to ask the question because we had been too busy with the long line of customers wanting to buy Belinda’s book on wine. Sales had been strong, and I guessed that we had sold well into two hundred books so far.

  “Something to do with Lacey,” I sa
id out the side of my mouth.

  Grandma Daisy raised her brow.

  Belinda smiled as she signed the woman’s book with a flourish. After the woman walked away holding the book to her chest, Belinda turned to Sebastian. “Whoever purchased the items on my short list, the Icelandic water was especially delicious this time.”

  I shot my grandmother a look, but she smiled as sweetly as you please. “I told you Cascade Springs water was just as good as that Icelandic stuff,” Grandma Daisy said in a low voice only I could hear.

  “I believe that it was the bookshop keepers who attended to the list,” Sebastian said.

  Belinda smiled at Grandma Daisy and me like she hadn’t freaked out at all when I’d said I was a friend of Lacey’s. “Thank you so much, ladies. Sebastian takes such good care of me.” She smiled up at him from her chair. “Don’t you, my love?”

  He smiled back, but the expression didn’t quite meet his eyes.

  “Sebastian is a sommelier in his own right. Isn’t that true, my love?” she asked as another person stopped in front of her table to have his books signed.

  “That must be enjoyable to be in the same business as your fiancée,” Grandma Daisy said.

  “It is. It is helpful to Belinda that I know the ins and outs of the business. It makes her life easier if I can concentrate on the business end and she can focus on her writing, both the books and the reviews for other publications.” Sebastian pressed his lips into a thin smile. “I will never be the star of wine culture like Belinda is. Wineries and restaurants bend over backwards to earn her approval. You may have seen how the Mortons have treated her. There’s a reason for that. Every winery in the country wants a favorable review from Belinda Perkins.”

  “Can you make the book out to Bone and Hearth Vineyards, the winery that you destroyed?”