Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Praise for
Silenced by Syrah
“A lively, well-written novel that leaves you wanting to read more.”—Suite101.com
“[A]n enjoyable read . . . A very pleasant way to pass an afternoon.”—ReviewingTheEvidence.com
Murder by the Glass
“Nikki is such a fun character.”—The Best Reviews
“The writing fairly sparkles . . . A murder mystery, a love triangle, and gourmet recipes with wine pairings . . . what’s not to love?”—Romance Divas
“Another fun and very readable mystery by Michele Scott . . . Her protagonist is someone with whom most women readers can identify—a modern woman with flaws and limitations just like all of us.”—Suite101.com
Murder Uncorked
“All the sparkle, complexity, and romance of a fine champagne. This mystery is one you’ll want to read right through with a bottle of good wine and some of the author’s tasty canapés at your side. I loved it and look forward to more installments.”—Nancy Fairbanks
“A perfect blend of murder and page-turning fiction!”
—Holly Jacobs
“The first in a series that has great potential . . . The Napa Valley is a lush setting, and foodies will drink in the wine lore and will savor the recipes for tasty tidbits.”
—The Mystery Reader
“Edgy and suspenseful . . . Sleek, smart characters add realism to a mystery made more colorful by the fabulous Napa Valley setting.”—Romantic Times
The Wine Lover’s Mysteries by Michele Scott
MURDER UNCORKED
MURDER BY THE GLASS
SILENCED BY SYRAH
A VINTAGE MURDER
The Horse Lover’s Mysteries by Michele Scott
SADDLED WITH TROUBLE
DEATH REINS IN
TACKED TO DEATH
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
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South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.
A VINTAGE MURDER
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / July 2008
Copyright © 2008 by Michele Scott.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
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375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
eISBN : 978-0-425-22254-6
BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME
Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
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To my son, Anthony,
who reminds me
not to take myself so seriously.
Acknowledgments
This book would have never been written without the help of a man I have never had the pleasure to actually meet: Geoff Cardwell, Officer in Charge, Barossa C.I.B., South Australia Police. He was instrumental in helping me learn as much as possible in a short amount of time about the Barossa, and I am indebted to him for that. E-mail is a good thing for a writer. Geoff, I hope we meet one day and share a glass of Shiraz together. I would also like to thank Sandra Harding and Mike Sirota, who continually champion me. Along with Karen MacInerney, who is a dear friend and one of the best writers I know. Thanks for listening to me whine, K. A big thanks to my husband and kids and even our dogs and cats who sometimes had to wait for dinner. I will now take you all to Cold Stone. I promise. This time I mean it. The book is done.
Chapter 1
Nikki Sands could not believe where she was and what she was doing. But what she really couldn’t believe was with whom she was doing it. She looked out the car window. The valley was breathtaking, covered in grape vines, with soil the color of buttered toffee as the sun cast its morning rays across the landscape. Although she’d seen plenty of vines working at the Malveaux Winery in Napa, this was different. She was far away from home.
She couldn’t help but smile. Even inside the car she could smell the rich soil and the aroma of ripe fruit that hung in the air. God, it was intoxicating. She breathed in deeply, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, she shook her head in amazement. Was it possible that she actually sat smack dab in the middle of a Monet painting? Because if that was at all possible, this was what it would feel like—kind of blurred but completely serene. Peaceful. Yes that’s where she must be—in the middle of a painting. The view spread out in front of her: rolling hills of green set behind a charming village filled with church spires rising
high from ancient stone buildings, and amidst it all were rows of manicured vineyards. Napa had charm in and of itself, but this place felt almost as if Nikki had been tossed back in time to a yesteryear of simplicity and rustic elegance.
The last forty-eight hours had been a whirlwind, and even though she still had some jet lag, everything in her world felt right. Well, almost everything. She knew that on another continent, in another part of the world, she’d left someone with a broken heart, and that did not feel good. In fact, she knew she’d have to deal with it, with him sooner than later, or the guilt would eat her alive. There was a part of her that couldn’t help feeling like a monster for making the choice she had, but the logical side—the one not connected to her heart—helped her realize that by making that choice, she’d actually wound up sparing him more pain in the long run. The truth was, the relationship she’d decided not to pursue would’ve never worked. No matter how hard she would’ve tried to convince herself that it was right, her heart would’ve belonged to someone else, and it was that “someone else” she was now with.
And when the man beside her took her hand and gave it a squeeze, a surge of electricity shot up from her toes and warmed her entire body, confirming that yes, she’d made the right choice. He glanced over at her. “I can’t believe you’re really here with me.” Nikki’s stomach swirled with a mixture of nerves and something she hadn’t felt in years—passion, not lust, but real passion. “I really can’t believe it. I didn’t know if you would come. I’d hoped.” He pulled the car off to the side of the road.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“This.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her. “Thank you for being here with me,” Derek said and then kissed her again.
“There’s no place else I’d rather be,” she replied.
Derek pulled back onto the road. They were on their way to the Hahndorf Winery in the Barossa Valley of Australia, to meet with the owner, Liam Hahndorf, and his wife. Derek’s goal was to secure a distribution and licensing agreement with Hahndorf Wines. The popularity of Australian wines was on the rise in the States. Derek felt they made a great product, and when Liam Hahndorf had approached Derek, he saw the potential in the deal. Essentially, the Hahndorfs would send certain vintages to the States with the Malveaux name on them. The Malveaux Winery would then distribute them in the U.S.
“Tell me a little bit about Liam Hahndorf,” Nikki said. “You’ve obviously met him before and you think he makes a good wine.”
“Yes, he does. He and his wife Grace started the winery about fifteen years ago and they’ve done well. Liam is a smart businessman. I’ve met him a few times, and he’s real personable. The last time I saw him was about six months ago. He was in L.A. at the same time I was.”
“Oh yeah, when you went there for that big-time celebrity soiree and didn’t invite me,” she joked.
Derek shook a finger at her. “Let’s get one thing straight: I know I should have told you a lot sooner about my feelings. I didn’t know how you would react. I didn’t know how you felt.”
How couldn’t he have known? She thought her signals had been loud and clear, like a neon sign.
“Anyway, you know what I’ve been through in the past, so as stupid as it might sound, I guess I was apprehensive about hanging my heart out there again.”
“It doesn’t sound stupid.” Nikki knew all about Derek’s unlucky-in-love history. He’d married a conniving, horrid woman who’d totally manipulated him without ever truly being in love with him. “I just wish you hadn’t taken so long to get smart, you big dummy.”
“Funny, huh? I like funny women, you know.”
“You do?”
“Oh yeah. What I’d really like is to take you back to the hotel and have my way with you.”
Oh boy, stomach flip-flop right on over, like a pancake on a griddle. “Hmmm.”
He held up a finger. “But business first this morning, and like we agreed on the plane, the first time will be an all-day affair.” He winked at her.
Oh yeah, that agreement. That had been her idea. How stupid had that been? But last night had been kind of sweet. They’d talked all night aboard the Malveaux jet and cuddled, ate excellent food, and drank champagne. Then, after a bottle of Dom Perignon and some slow kisses, the topic of sex had come up.
“Wow,” Derek had said after one long swap of the tongue that made Nikki’s toes curl.
“Yeah, wow.”
He laughed.
“What so funny?” she asked, feeling confused.
“I’m laughing because this is so crazy. You and me.” He leaned back in the cushy seat.
“Well, yeah, it is a little crazy, but . . .”
He took her hand. “No, I don’t mean crazy in a bad way.” He shook his head. “I know how your mind works. I mean crazy in a great way and I was laughing because if our kiss is any indication of . . . well, you know . . .” He wiggled his eyebrows.
Her face grew hot and all she could do was nod.
“You do want to, don’t you? Make love?”
Of course she did, but things did feel sort of weird. After all, Derek was her boss and she’d run away with him on the spur of a moment. Holy cow, this was the craziest thing she’d ever done in her life. “Yes,” she said tentatively.
“I don’t want to push you, Nikki. I can definitely book us separate rooms at the hotel.”
“No, no. I want to. It’s just when we do, I want it to be special.”
“Me, too.”
So when they’d landed in the middle of the night, exhausted from travel and emotions, they’d turned in with Derek taking the sofa in the hotel room and insisting she sleep in the bed. Although she’d been exhausted, she’d fallen asleep thinking she sure would have liked having Derek’s warm body by her side. Suddenly their idea of making their “first time” extra special seemed extra stupid, because no matter what, it was going to be special.
Nikki set the fantasies aside as they pulled up to the Hahndorf Winery. A security guard waved them to a stop at a kiosk. “I thought this was a mom-and-pop operation in the middle of nowhere. What gives?” Nikki asked.
“You got me. It does seem like overkill, and I had no idea Hahndorf would have security.”
Malveaux was one of the larger and more well-known wineries in Napa, and they didn’t have a setup like this. Not even close. Derek gave the security guard his name. The man glanced down at a sheet of paper. “Yep. G’day, sir. Says here you’re visiting with the Hahndorfs. Okay then, go straight ahead and over the small hill there and you’ll see the winery and house.”
Derek thanked the man and drove off.
Unlike Napa Valley, which in May would mean summer was near and so was picking season, in the Barossa, May was the end of autumn. Winter would arrive in the next month, just as the heat in Napa started to rise into the nineties.
“What’s that?” Nikki pointed toward the middle of the vineyard, where several trucks were parked, including a large semi. There was also a row of motor homes. She squinted to see if she could get a better look. “I think that’s a film crew.”
Derek slowed down. “Yeah, it looks that way. You should know.”
“It’s been a while.” Nikki had once played the starring role in a short-lived cop show when she’d pursued an acting career in L.A. The acting had never taken off, and she’d discovered she was much better at managing a winery than she could ever be at playing a detective on TV.
They pulled past the winery, its architecture very chateaulike, reminiscent of the wineries in France. “Jeez, if that’s the winery, what must the house look like?”
“Good question. We’re about to find out. I’m curious what they’re filming out there,” he said. “Maybe a commercial.”
“I don’t know, it seems like a lot of vehicles for a commercial.”
At the end of the drive, in an area secluded behind a row of gum trees, a house appeared. It wasn’t as opulent as the chateau. Though still quite large, it l
ooked comfortable, like an English-style stone cottage.
Derek parked in the circular drive next to a row of expensive automobiles ranging from the sporty to the luxurious.
“He must like cars,” she said.
“I’d say someone does.” Derek climbed out, went around to her side, and opened the door for her, taking her hand.
“Such the gentleman.”
“My dad didn’t send me to private school for nothing. But, I hated that place, especially the etiquette class.”
“I’d say it paid off nicely.”
“Don’t get used to it. I’m only trying to impress you.”
“You’re funny, too.” They walked up a pathway lined with flowers and plants that Nikki assumed were native, because she didn’t recognize them. “Someone keeps a lovely garden.”
Derek pressed the doorbell. Chimes rang out from the other side of the door.
Soon a young woman in her early twenties swung the door open. She had long sandy blonde hair, large hazel eyes, pouty lips, and seemed awfully thin. She wore tight jeans and a low-cut orange cotton sweater. Nikki thought her pretty in the grunge, Kate Moss way that had hit heights of popularity back in the late nineties. “Oh, the film crew is down in the vineyard. You passed them,” she said in a heavy Aussie accent.
“We’re actually here to see Liam Hahndorf,” Derek said.
“Oh. Dad!” the girl shrieked. “Some man and woman are here for you.” She breezed past them, keys in hand. They watched her get behind the wheel of a navy blue Aston Martin. She took off in an apparent hurry.
“Well, well, g’day, mate!” A tall gray-haired gentleman with warm brown eyes and soft wrinkles forming around them appeared in the doorway. “Oh damn, Hannah. She’s gone again! Silly girl. She’s surprised us by taking a holiday from school. Says she’s not sure it’s for her. Oh boy, Grace won’t be happy about her running out of here like that.”
A Vintage Murder Page 1
