“Alright.” I said, walking beside him as we entered the wine club.
Dark cherry wood made up most of the interior of the building, lining the floors and the walls in most places. Dim chandeliers hung from the ceiling giving off just enough light to read the labels on the bottles but not so much that it got in the way of laying your head back on one of the red velvet chairs to sip your favorite vintage.
It was the kind of place you’d see in a magazine with a well-dressed guy on the cover, holding a glass and smiling into the camera. Large oil paintings hung on the wall, each one depicting another former member either holding or standing next to a bottle of his favorite blend.
I’d never actually been in the club. I loved wine and I took pride in my new business, but every time I thought about coming here I’d just picture a table full of cigar-smoking men talking about one of a handful of subject that didn’t interest me. In the end I always opted out, deciding to just stay home and plunged myself into a relaxing bath instead.
I like to think I made the wise choice… but I still wanted in.
“Where is he?” Sheriff Grammar asked a suited man as we entered the large foyer.
“Just through there.” The man replied. “In the tasting room.”
“Has anyone entered the room?” The Sheriff asked.
“Just myself and one other member, Aiden Riley.”
“And where is he?”
“He’s on the lanai.” The man replied. “The sight shook him. You understand….”
“Of course.” Sheriff Grammar said. “And which one of you found him?”
“That would be Mr. Riley.” He said. “But I came in only moments later, after hearing his glass hit the floor.”
“Alright.” The Sheriff said. “Make sure no one else enters this building.”
“Of course.” The man said. “My name is Henry, if you need anything.”
Sheriff Grammar nodded his head, motioning inside the room. I followed quietly behind him. The tasting room looked almost like a library, only instead of books there were bottles and bottles of wine lining shelves that stretched out from one side of the wall to the other. On the shelves was every kind of wine I could think of, not to mention a few I hadn’t seen before.
I was in awe just looking around. I’d never seen such an eloquent display. I wondered if any of my own labels could be found in this room, though I knew in order to find anything I’d need a guide of some sort. I could only assume the leather bound book on the desk was just that, but with Sheriff Grammar standing right next to me I knew better than to open it.
“How does it work?” Sheriff Grammar asked.
“How does what work?” I replied.
“Wine tasting…”
I looked to him, tilting my head a little to the side as I tried to figure out what it was he was asking…
“Once the bottles have been uncorked, I mean. Are they closed back up and put on the shelves again?”
“No.” I said. “Not generally. Unless of course it’s a twist off bottle, though I doubt you’ll find any of those in here. Usually, once the bottle has been uncorked its best to try and finish it off.”
“How do you do it?” He asked. “At your own winery. Do you ever put the open bottles back on the shelf?”
“No.” I said. “Look around you. These people pride themselves on being wine aficionados, this is their passion. There’s no way you’ll find an uncorked bottle back on these shelves. Why do you ask?”
“Well…” The Sheriff said. “Because I see no open bottle anywhere in this room. If this man was poisoned like I suspect then what was he drinking from?”
“I… don’t know.” I said, looking around.
The sheriff was right. All of the table tops were empty and there were no used glasses anywhere in sight. The entire room was in perfect condition. Either someone was able to quickly clean up, or there was something the other club members weren’t telling us.
“Henry.” The Sheriff stepped back out of the room. “You said you thought he was poisoned…”
“Yes.” Henry replied. “Aiden said he heard him mutter the word poison before he hit the floor.”
“How long had he been here when this happened?” I asked.
“I’ll ask the questions!” Sheriff Grammar snapped. “How long had he been here?”
“A few hours.” Henry said.
“And had he eaten anything in that time?”
“No…” Henry said. “We don’t really have food in here, only wine. And the occasional sparkling water, of course.”
“Of course.” The Sheriff said.
“Did you happen to see which bottle he was drinking from?” The Sheriff asked.
“No.” Henry said. “I only saw the bottle for a brief moment. I can tell you it was a very dark blend, but that’s all I know. I’m sorry I can’t be more help.”
“Henry.” I interjected. “Do you have a restroom?”
“Of course.” He pointed down a small corridor. “Just through there.”
I didn’t really need to use the restroom, but I knew I wasn’t going to get the answers I needed just standing around listening to people talk. I needed to snoop, to see if I could find anything else. But what I found surprised even me.
Chapter Eleven
“Are you okay?” I asked, popping my head through the door.
I’d heard the sound almost as soon as I turned down the hallway, in the beginning I wasn’t exactly sure what I was listening to. The closer I got however, the clearer it became. It was the sound of a woman sobbing on the other side of a door which had been left slightly ajar.
Normally I wouldn’t invade someone’s privacy by entering a room without first making my presence known. But there was just something about the way she was sobbing that made passing the door impossible. It just sounded all too familiar to me, and I knew from personal experience how nice it could be to know someone cared.
“I’m fine…” Her voice cracked as she flipped a small piece of paper in her hand.
“Can I get you anything?” I asked.
“I just want to leave.” She sobbed.
“Do you need a ride?”
“No…” She replied. “I was just waiting for-“
“Zara?” I heard Sheriff Grammar call from behind me.
“Sheriff.” I said, quickly turning around.
“Who were you talking to?” He asked.
“No one…” I turned back to see an empty room.
It seemed the woman vanished once she heard Sheriff Grammar’s voice. Not that it was a hard thing to do in this place. It seemed almost every room had at least two separate doors, each one opening to a different location. I guess it only made sense for every room to be connected, seeing as how this place was built for socialization.
“I… was just thinking out loud.” I said.
“About what?” He replied.
“Wine…” I said. “I was going over the labels in my mind.”
It wasn’t the best lie in the world, but it seemed to work well enough in the moment. I was about to turn and follow the sheriff when I noticed the small piece of paper I’d seen the woman flipping had fallen to the floor. She must have dropped it in her rush to leave. I quickly scurried into the room, picked it up and slid it into my pocket.
“Come on.” He said. “Something about this doesn’t add up to me.”
“Yeah…” I said. “It doesn’t feel exactly right to me either.”
I followed the sheriff back out into the main area of the wine club. He walked silently through each room, looking for anything out of place. But everything seemed to be in perfect order, not that I’d expect anything less from this kind of place. Most people that were part of a private club like this prided themselves in keeping their surroundings magazine ready.
“Should I call his family?” Henry asked.
“You haven’t already?” Sheriff Grammar said.
“No…” Henry replied. “We wanted to keep the crowd
s down. This isn’t really the kind of press we like around here…”
It was a slightly selfish thing to say, sure. But it made sense to me. The wine business was a strange one, appearances mattered so much here. Just the thought that something was out of place could turn your fate on its heels and send you spiraling down a path to ruination. So yeah… they should have called his family, but honestly I couldn’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing.
“I’m going to call for the ambulance.” Sheriff Grammar said. “You make sure that room stays undisturbed and I’ll tell the ambulance to keep their lights and sirens off.”
“Of course.” Henry said.
“Now. I’m going to talk to Aiden Riley.” He said, as I quietly followed behind him.
The name Aiden Riley was well known throughout most of California wine country. News stories featuring his name and pretty-boy face seemed to pop up on an almost daily basis. Just two weeks before that he’d been in the paper after outbidding everyone on a bottle of 1945 Château Mouton Rothschild, which from everything I’d heard growing up was one of the most delicious bottle ever produced.
From the looks of him I’d always assumed he’d be one of those snooty, self-absorbed guys you’d find holding a yacht party full of bikini-clad girls. But truth be told, I’d never actually spoken to the guy. Aiden was just two years older than me and had always been popular in school, both with guys and girls. He was captain of the lacrosse team, and one of the fastest swimmers in school. But now he was corkmaster of the local wine club.
“Mr. Riley.” Sheriff Grammar said as we walked out onto the lanai. “I need to ask you a few questions.”
“Alright.” He turned to us, sitting down a glass of white wine.
“Tell me a little about what happened.” Sheriff Grammar said.
“I got here a little while ago.” He said, sitting down on the edge of a large railing. “I needed to get away… I sat down in the chair for a while. I read a book, I drank a little wine… not much happened.”
“Was Mr. Ford here when you arrived?”
“Yes.” Aiden replied. “I noticed him almost as soon as I walked through the door. He was on the phone.”
“Do you know who he was talking to?” The Sheriff asked.
“I don’t.” Aiden said.
“Did he seem upset?”
“Conner Ford came into this world upset.” Aiden snapped. “He was the very definition of a crotchety old man. He has been ever since I’ve known him.”
“Mmhhmm…” Sheriff Grammar said. “And you’re the one who found him, correct?”
“Yes.” Aiden answered. “I saw him going into the other room, a few moments later I heard a strange noise so I went in there to check it out.”
“Then?”
“I saw him standing near one of the chairs, his hands were wrapped around his neck as if he were choking on something. I was so surprised I dropped my glass, ruining my shoes. I went closer to him, then heard him say something about poison wine.”
“Did you happen to see which bottle he’d been drinking from?”
“No.” Aiden said. “Like I said, he wasn’t the friendliest guy…”
“Was it red or white?” I chimed in.
“Who told you to ask questions?” Sheriff Grammar almost snapped his neck turning to look at me.
“I… was just-“
“Red.” Aiden interrupted me.
“Well…” The Sheriff said. “Your story matches up with Henry’s, so I guess that’s all I need for now. Just don’t go anywhere.”
“I’m getting married in a few days.” Aiden said. “Believe me, I’m stuck here.”
“Alright.” Sheriff Grammar said. “Well, I need to get going, but I’ll contact you tomorrow so you can come answer a few more questions.”
“Fine.” Aiden said.
“Zara.” The Sheriff said. “In Light of what’s happened I’m going to push your questioning back a little. I’ll contact you tomorrow. For now, I’ll take you home.”
Chapter Twelve
It was getting pretty late by the time we’d left the wine club, luckily though, it wasn’t far to my house. All I wanted to do was go home, take a shower and go to sleep. A wine club competition, two dead guys, poisoned wine… it was all enough to drive a girl crazy. But like my grandmother told me, it can always get worse… and it did.
‘BUZZ’
I looked down at my phone to see a text from Shelly.
‘Got a ride home with the waitress. Car still at Rizzy’s. Get home. ASAP!!!’
“Stop!” I said. “Turn back.”
“What?” Sheriff Grammar said.
“My car.” I said. “It’s still there. Shelly left it for me.”
Sheriff Grammar pulled a hard right, using one of the handful of side-streets in our little town as an impromptu shortcut. And only a few moments later we arrived at my car.
“Thanks.” I said. “Sorry you didn’t get to question me.”
“Maybe I won’t need to.” He said. “Cross your fingers…”
I hopped out of the police cruiser and got in my car. I wasn’t sure what Shelly wanted, but in all the time I’d known her I’d never seen or heard her use the words ASAP. Panic wasn’t really her thing, she was usually the calmer, more collected one in the room. Whatever was going on must have been either really good or really bad, and I had a feeling which way that domino was going to fall.
As I pulled away I noticed Sheriff Grammar pulling into the parking lot of Rizzy’s, and then open his car door. Not that I’d paid much attention to it, but I was pretty sure Rizzy’s was closed at this hour, but maybe he had some sort of investigating to do. Truthfully that didn’t’ matter to me though, all I wanted to do now was find out what Shelly wanted.
“Oh no…” I said, looking around the room. “How could this have happened?”
“I have no idea.” Shelly said. “I was in the vineyard for a while, but the doors were locked. I know it.”
“You heard nothing?” I asked. “No car or anything?”
“No.” She said. “But it’s hard to hear anything with these hills. You know that.”
“Yeah… I’m beginning to see that. We should clean this up.”
“Don’t you want to call the police?” She asked. “You’ve been robbed. This was almost your entire private collection.”
“No.” I said. “Whoever has this was smart enough to get it without us noticing. There’s no way they’re stupid enough to be found out.”
“But what about the crime?” Shelly said. “What about a police report or something.”
“What good would it do?” I asked. “The world already thinks this vineyard is responsible for a man’s death. I don’t need to add another level of danger.”
“I guess…” She said. “I mean…. It’s your decision. I’m sure you’re right.”
“I’m not.” I said. “But none if it seems like the right decision. Not anymore. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should have just stayed in New York.”
“Don’t say that.” Shelly said. “You weren’t happy there. This is just a bunch of craziness. None of this is your fault and we’re going to get to the bottom of it.”
“I don’t know if I believe that anymore.” I said. “Now, I don’t know what to think.”
“But if someone else is dead, then shouldn’t they at least know it’s not your fault. I mean, that guy hadn’t been here, right?”
“I guess.” I said. “What about the waitress? What did you find out from her?”
“Not a lot.” Shelly said. “She’s just super stressed out. You were right about her wanting someone to talk to though, I just don’t think any of it can help us. Apparently she’s pregnant…”
“I know.”
“What? How?” Shelly asked.
“I saw her the other day. I could just tell. I’m not sure how.”
“She’s pretty scared…”
“Of what?” I asked.
“I’m not sure really
, just new mom nerves. Every time she tried to talk about it she kinda went to pieces.”
“That’s it?” I asked.
“That, and the fact that she can’t stand her boss.”
“Which boss?” I asked.
“The lady from the cheese shop. Apparently she’s quite a handful. Emily Walls, do you know her?”
“No.” I said. “Is she really that bad?”
“Oh yeah…” Shelly said, holding out her phone. “I tried to snap her picture as she rode by my table on her high horse, but I was afraid she’d see.”
“She looked a little familiar.” Shelly replied. “Like maybe I’ve seen her around town but never actually spoken to her or something.”
“Funny how that kind of thing happens even in small towns.” I said.
“What about you?” Shelly asked. “Did you figure anything out while you were at the wine club?”
“No.” I said. “I got nothi- Wait!”
It wasn’t until she asked me that I remembered the crying woman I’d seen in the back room of the club. Once getting back home and finding my house broken into I’d completely forgotten about her. And even more importantly I’d forgotten about the small paper she’d been holding in her hand, the one now taking up residence in the pocket of my jeans.
“Look!” I said, pulling it out and unfolding it. “She was holding this.”
“Who?” Shelly asked.
“There was this woman.” I said. “In one of the tasting rooms. She was crying, I think. I tried to talk to her but she vanished.”
“This is all so crazy.” Shelly said.
“She dropped this.” I held the paper in the air.
“What does it say?”
For the first time since getting it, I lifted the paper to my face and read it. To say I was surprised by the words I saw written down would be the understatement of the year. At first I thought I was reading it wrong, or that maybe it was a joke, but the more I thought about everything that had gone on those last few days the more plausible it seemed.
Murder Before Moscato_A Vineyard Winery Culinary Cozy Mystery Page 5
