A Flair for Chardonnay

by Deborah Garner

  “I noticed the local paper had some coverage of the events at the winery yesterday.” Sadie watched Tina, trying to gauge her reaction. Tina moved back into the breakfast room and shrugged her shoulders.

  “I haven’t had a chance to read it yet.”

  Somehow Sadie doubted this was true.

  “Well, it identified the victim. Apparently, he had some business dealings with the winery recently.” Sadie waited for a response while Tina circled the room, picking up a few small plates and coffee mugs that guests had left.

  “You’re talking about the proposed sale that didn’t go through. You’ll have to ask Stefano and Angelo about that. I have nothing to do with the business of the company.”

  Sadie flashed back to the sense of ownership that Angelo had shown when Sadie first entered the tasting room. At least until Luisa set him straight.

  “Maybe I’ll ask one of them,” Sadie said. “I was thinking I’d go by the winery today, since I’m staying another night. If it’s open today, that is.”

  “Oh, it’ll certainly be open. In fact, it might even be busy. You know how gruesome people can be, chasing crime stories. Then again, maybe they’ll be scared away.” Tina paused. “Sadie, I’m barely holding it together. Do you mind if we drop this topic?”

  “Of course. I apologize. I know this must be terribly hard for you. I’ll stop by the winery, then,” Sadie said. “I hope things get back to normal.”

  “You should consider coming back for the festival. Check with Angelo for the details when you go by the winery.”

  Or with Luisa, Sadie thought. Luisa seemed to be calling the shots regarding the festival, but Sadie assumed from Tina’s comments about her sister-in-law the previous night that Luisa was unlikely to get credit for her hard work. Even unspoken, the tension between the women was obvious. And what was that all about, anyway?

  Sadie returned to her room and gathered up Coco. She took her for a brief walk around the back garden before loading both herself and the petite canine in the car. Coco settled immediately into the soft velvet inside the tote bag, while Sadie buckled her seatbelt and pulled out onto the highway. Coco was a great travel dog, lulled to sleep by any movement of cars, trains or planes. This was indeed fortunate, as Sadie often headed off in one direction or another. Occasionally, she left Coco at home when she traveled. Amber took good care of her and customers enjoyed seeing her in the store. But, more often than not, Sadie took her along for company. Plus, Coco was like a living, breathing accessory, elegant and fluffy, perfect for any of Sadie’s colorful outfits.

  “So, Coco, what do you think of all this?” Sadie directed the question to the tote bag, glancing at it briefly and then quickly looking back at the road. It occurred to her that the driver of a car to her right probably thought she was talking to an empty seat, or perhaps to herself. Not that it should look that strange in this day and age of hands-off cell phone devices.

  “I absolutely agree,” Sadie said, answering her own question, having not received so much as a yip in reply. “Tina seems unusually calm this morning, all sorts of odd interactions are taking place between members of the Tremiato family, and I don’t believe for a second that Matteo went fishing. So what do you think is going on?”

  One glance up the driveway of the Tremiato Winery validated the theory that people were inclined to follow news stories. The parking lot was more than half full, with some visitors gawking at the fermentation building, which had been roped off the previous morning, while others, presumably, were in the tasting room. Sadie pulled into an open parking spot and headed inside, tote bag swaying from her arm.

  Angelo was busy pouring two glasses of wine for a young couple at the counter. They had the rosy expressions of honeymooners, not an unusual sight in the wine country. It was a perfect area for a newlywed escape, flush with upscale inns, fine dining and pastoral vineyard scenes in every direction.

  Sadie browsed the display shelves, eyeing the same tempting chocolate she’d seen on her first visit, then settled in at one end of the tasting counter. With a dozen other visitors milling around and Angelo occupied with the young couple, she took advantage of the time to look around.

  The tourists in the tasting room seemed interested only in wine and small talk, not murder. Through her eavesdropping skills, she caught comments about vacation plans and the various wines they’d tried in the area. A few dropped names of other wineries nearby. Others bragged about the great deals they’d gotten on exquisite accommodations. Sadie suspected the lookie-loos who were following the crime news were all outside.

  Luisa was nowhere to be seen. This hit Sadie as peculiar since Luisa had been so territorial the first day Sadie met her. Sadie finally caught sight of her through the open back door, which allowed a clear view across the yard to the family farmhouse. There, she watched as Luisa paced the front porch, stopped periodically to exchange words with Elena, who retorted by waving her arms and, though Sadie couldn’t hear, spouting some undoubtedly sharp words. What were they arguing about? Luisa had specifically sent the appetizers off with Sadie the day before so that she could stay with Elena and comfort her. But there was nothing that looked comfortable about the discussion taking place now. Both women were upset.

  If only I could hear them from here. Sadie stepped away from the counter and was about to head outside when the sound of Angelo’s voice stopped her.

  “Sadie, right? Here to taste our chardonnay again?”

  “Absolutely,” Sadie said, turning back toward the counter. “I was hoping to, but didn't want to interrupt you when you have other customers.”

  Angelo brought a glass out from behind the counter and poured a half inch of the winery’s famed chardonnay. Sadie lifted the glass to her lips, stuck her nose in the rim to sniff it – after all, she’d seen experts do that on television – and took a sip, noticing that Angelo looked beyond her and out toward the farmhouse. A light crease crossed his forehead, disappearing instantly when Sadie set the glass down and looked up at him.

  “I was here yesterday for the festival,” Sadie ventured, “I’m sorry for what your family is going through. Plus all your visitors…You seemed so excited about the harvest celebration your winery was planning.”

  “Today is a new day. Yesterday was unfortunate, but it’s over.” Angelo tilted the bottle of wine over Sadie’s glass, but she shook her head to turn down the refill.

  “We’ve already rescheduled the festival for next weekend,” Angelo continued.

  “Well, good,” Sadie said, wondering why Angelo spoke with the same nonchalance that Tina seemed to acquire overnight. That cool attitude had certainly not reached Luisa and her mother. Lost in thought, Sadie almost missed Angelo’s comment, but caught the end of it.

  “…festival next week, since you live out of the area.”

  Realizing he’d either suggested she return for the rescheduled festival or voiced the thought that she couldn't, she replied with the safest comment. “We’ll see. I may be able to get away again. I’m sure it will go off without a hitch this time.” Unless the murderer returns to the scene of the crime.

  Luisa entered the tasting room through the back door. Elena was not with her.

  “It’s nice to see you again,” Luisa said to Sadie, though Sadie suspected Luisa’s statement was less than sincere. “Thank you for taking the food to the bed and breakfast yesterday. We never could have eaten all that, even with close friends dropping by last night to see how we were doing. I assume it was enjoyed?” Luisa’s voice seemed more animated than usual, most likely from the discussion with the mother.

  “Yes, it was welcomed eagerly. I had a few nibbles myself.” As did your local law enforcement. An image of the plastic bagged bruschetta heading out the door ran through Sadie’s mind.

  Sadie’s cell phone rang, and she excused herself to take the call outside. Talking on the phone inside business locations had always struck Sadie as being rude. She particularly disliked the all-too-common occurrence of this in
restaurants. She recalled one especially annoying occasion where a single man had two cell phones on his table, both on speakerphone. It was as if he thought he was out to dine with two other people, who chattered away at him while he forked spaghetti into his mouth. Why the restaurant manager never asked the man to put the phones away had always been a mystery to her. Looking back, she regretted not having the nerve at the time to walk over and dump both phones in the man’s marinara sauce. She vowed to carry through with this action if the opportunity ever presented itself again, in which case she hoped the offending party would be hovering over an especially creamy bowl of mushroom soup, or perhaps an elaborate bouillabaisse. A sticky stack of syrup-laden pancakes might do, as well.

  Sadie walked to an empty corner of the outside patio. Amber’s harried voice surprised her. It was rare that anything ruffled the girl’s nerves.

  “Oh, I’m so glad I was able to reach you! Here…” Sadie heard a thump and wondered if Amber had dropped the phone. She was startled at the sound of Matteo’s voice.

  “Sadie? You have to help me. I’m in a lot of trouble.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Sadie settled into a corner booth at The Grapevine, a small café located a couple of blocks from Vines and Tines. Perusing the menu, she chose a salad of mixed greens, cranberries, pumpkin seeds and sliced grapes in a lemon-basil vinaigrette. An individual-sized basket of cheddar sourdough bread landed on the table shortly after she placed her order. Turning down an offer for wine – the server had an exceptional suggestion for pairing with the salad – she settled for an iced tea and tried to clear her thoughts.

  Matteo’s call had been out of the blue, his tone frantic. She’d almost convinced herself that Tina’s fishing story was possible, despite the fact it sounded, well, fishy. But the story Matteo told her was, unfortunately, more believable. It was also much more worrisome. Matteo told Sadie he had been communicating with Simon Flanagan during negotiations for the winery sale, which would have transferred ownership to Serrano-Flanagan. The sale would have effectively ended the family business. A venture begun generations ago would have died. The Tremiato family had been in discord over the decision until the majority decided to keep the property and winery in the family.

  All that would have been fine, had the deceased accepted the fact the Tremiatos didn't want to sell. Instead, Flanagan had blamed the failure of the proposed business deal on Matteo, who’d decided against selling in the end. Sadie hadn’t been able to pry any specific business details out of Matteo. He’d remained tight-lipped, though mentioned there had been hang-up calls recently that he suspected came from inside Serrano-Flanagan. He’d considered those calls harassment, annoying rather than dangerous.

  The bigger problem was that Matteo hadn’t been fishing. Worse yet, he had set up the loan of the fishing gear with his friend as a ruse to cover being out of town for the night, his intention being to meet the deceased in secret at the winery. That plan hit a rough snag when he arrived at the winery after midnight, expecting to meet a very alive Mr. Flanagan. Except that he wasn't. Alive, that is.

  Sadie watched her salad arrive and thought back to her exchange with Matteo on the phone.

  “Matteo,” Sadie had said, trying to recover from the unexpected shock of the call. “What is going on? People are worried about you. There’s been a murder at your family’s winery and you’re nowhere to be found.”

  “It wasn't supposed to happen this way.” Matteo’s voice was so faint Sadie could barely hear him.

  “What wasn't supposed to happen this way, Matteo? You’re starting to scare me. And why are you whispering?”

  A pause. “I’m behind your counter.”

  “You’re hiding behind the store counter?” If she hadn’t been so worried, Sadie would have laughed. “Did you tell Amber why you’re hiding behind our counter?”

  “I just said I was avoiding a pushy customer.”

  “So tell me what happened.”

  “I was just supposed to meet him to pass on some information. How was I to know this was a set-up?”

  “I’m trying to follow, Matteo. Start over again. Who were you supposed to meet? What information? What set-up?”

  “The particular information isn’t important,” Matteo said, keeping his voice low. “But I’m telling you I was set up. I agreed to meet Simon Flanagan at our family winery, a man I did business with recently.”

  “Matteo. I don’t think I like where this is going.” Sadie took a deep breath and urged him on.

  “I know, I was foolish,” Matteo continued. “Flanagan wanted to stop by the store, but I didn’t want him to come here. He suggested meeting in the fermentation building. It would be quiet and out of sight.”

  “Oh dear, Matteo! What have you done?”

  “Nothing! But that’s not how it’s going to look. They’re going to think I killed him.”

  “Did you?”

  “Of course not! He was already dead when I got there. But I didn’t wear gloves. Why would I? I thought we were just meeting briefly. I’m sure someone inside the company was setting me up, retaliating because I blocked the sale of our winery. I probably tracked footprints all over the place, too.”

  “This is not good,” Sadie said, thinking back and remembering the crime scene unit dusting the door for fingerprints. No doubt they’d checked for footprints, too.

  “What size are your shoes?”

  “Thirteen and a half.”

  “Matteo! This is really not good! Why can’t your feet be a size nine? Ten, tops?”

  “Sadie, it’s not my fault if I have big feet!! You are not helping!”

  “You’re going to need to turn yourself in and explain what happened. Just tell the police the truth. Unless you give them the back story, all they’ll have is evidence against you.”

  “That’s just it. I don’t have a back story that can be proven. There’s no way to explain this. No one from Serrano-Flanagan is going to admit to setting me up.”

  “What about cell phone records, Matteo?”

  “That could be a problem. He’s called me repeatedly. Oh, no! I wouldn’t be surprised if the calls were bugged! Sadie, you have to get me out of this. I’ll owe you chocolate for the rest of my life.”

  Was he serious?

  “That could work,” Sadie said, realizing she hadn’t had a truffle in more than 48 hours, though the chocolate drizzled cream puffs had helped still the cravings.

  “Why do you think the calls were bugged?” Sadie temporarily set aside the thought of free chocolate in favor of more information.

  “It…it doesn’t matter,” Matteo said. His voice dropped to a whisper, as Sadie heard a sales transaction taking place. She could almost see him crouched behind the counter while Amber rang up purchases on the counter above.

  The discussion had ended with Sadie offering to dig a little deeper and with Matteo saying he was off to fish, as long as he had the equipment and needed to stay out of sight. He promised not to disappear while Sadie worked on clearing him.

  Sadie stabbed a fork into a clump of red leaf lettuce and cranberries, swirling it around the bottom of the plate to soak up some extra lemon-basil dressing. She was enjoying the mix of flavors when a man slid into the chair across from her.

  “Sorry to intrude on you, Sadie,” Stefano said, reaching for a piece of the cheddar sourdough bread.

  “Stefano, nice to see you,” Sadie said politely.

  “I’m glad I ran into you. I think you might be able to help me.”

  Maybe the Tremiato family should consider paying her a retainer. Chocolate and wine could be paired, right?

  “Does your winery produce a good Port?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Stefano paused, his hand suspended in mid-air ready to stuff bread in his mouth.

  “Never mind,” Sadie said. “How can I help you?”

  “It’s Tina.” Stefano leaned back in the chair like a sultry GQ model, catching a few wandering female eyes.

  “Oh th
at poor darling. How is she doing?” Sadie had no idea what to expect from this conversation, but she guessed that Matteo wasn’t the only Tremiato pulling her deep into their family affairs.

  “I’m so worried about her. Since yesterday’s … events, she’s not been herself. You’re going to continue staying at The Vintage Vine, right? You know you’re safe there.” Sadie nodded. “Maybe you can just watch her and make sure she’s not too distraught, that she’s not saying crazy things that make no sense. Maybe you could let me know if you think I should do something to help, if she seems to be out of control or something, if you sense she might sabotage herself and … the family.”

  “It sounds like you want me to spy on your wife.” Oops. Subtlety was never one of her strengths.

  Stefano coughed and sat up straighter. “No, no, of course not! I’m just … worried.”

  Sure you are, Sadie thought.

  “I don’t mind checking on Tina.” Stefano coughed again, and Sadie pushed her untouched water glass toward him.

  “Maybe Luisa will stop by to see how she’s doing?” Sadie suggested. “My sister-in-law was kind enough to check in on me when my last late husband died.” This was a fabrication, of course. Morris didn’t have a sister as far as Sadie knew, and her other husbands’ sisters had been less than fond of Sadie. They found her too brash, too bright, envied her color sense, she was sure. And they always resented the feathers. She hoped Stefano might now reveal something to help crack the enigma that was Luisa Tremiato.

  Stefano smiled. “I wouldn't count on that. Those two have never been close.”

  Sadie took a delicate chance. “I noticed that your mother seems to be quite proud of Tina’s bed and breakfast. Does Luisa see your wife as a rival for Mama Elena’s approval?” Sadie hoped she wasn’t touching a raw nerve.

  “Yes. Rivalry or something like it,” Stefano said. He frowned, and Sadie knew he wouldn’t share anything more about his sister.

  “I’m happy to check in with Tina when I get back to the inn. But ... Stefano, couldn’t you ask her how she’s doing?”