Decanting a Murder

by Nadine Nettmann

  “No one is going to believe Tessa, sweetie,” said Vanessa. “She’s as guilty as you are.” She disappeared into the darkness.

  Jeff raised the gun. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I really did like you.” His eyes narrowed. “But this is business.”

  “Jeff, please. Don’t.”

  But it was too late. The noise of a firing gun filled the air. This time, the sound was deafening.

  As the noise ricocheted through the cellar, bouncing off the tunnel walls, I hit the floor and shielded my face, broken glass cutting into my legs.

  Everything inside told me to get up and run, but as much as I wanted to listen to my gut, my experience at the Academy had proven it would be pointless. No matter how fast I ran, no matter how quickly I jumped to my feet and sprinted down the tunnel, I couldn’t outrun a gun. My hands flew over the back of my head as I waited for more bullets to come.

  Faint footsteps followed by yelling in the distance, or perhaps it was closer, I couldn’t tell. My muted hearing gave little clues as to what was happening around me.

  “Freeze!” said a booming voice. I lifted my head enough to see a pair of shoes disturbing the broken glass near me.

  “Don’t move,” said the voice. I looked up to see Dean standing next to me, his gun pointed at Jeff.

  “Put your hands up,” he barked.

  “You must be joking,” said Jeff as he pointed his gun at Dean.

  I slid back, the glass under my knees scraping against the floor as I moved.

  The two men stood about four feet apart, both of their guns aimed at each other, neither one of them moving.

  “You okay, Katie?” asked Dean as he kept his eyes on Jeff.

  I checked my face and body for any signs of an entrance wound from the bullet. My face was intact and the only pain I felt came from where the glass had cut me. “I think so.”

  “Get to a safe place.”

  I scrambled to my feet and stepped back in the tunnel, out of the line of fire.

  “Put the gun down, Jeff.” Dean’s powerful voice came through louder this time as the muffled sensation in my ears dissipated.

  “I’m in control here,” said Jeff. “You put your gun down.”

  “Don’t make things worse for yourself. You can come out of this okay, you know.”

  A movement down the tunnel distracted my attention. I turned to see Vanessa creeping away from the commotion into the other end of the tunnel. “She’s getting away,”

  “We’ll get her later,” said Dean.

  Vanessa disappeared in the shadows toward the gated area of the cellar where it stopped at a dead end. I focused on the darkness, waiting for her to reappear.

  “Jeff, I’m giving you one last chance. Put the gun down. I’ll say you surrendered easily. You can be the good guy in this. Listen, you’re in trouble here. I can help. Let me help make this an easy transition for you. Things can only get worse if you don’t.”

  Jeff hesitated before placing his handgun on the floor in front of him.

  “Good.” Dean stepped forward and kicked the gun farther into the tunnel, the sound of metal echoing against the stone. “Put your hands up and keep them up as you lie down.”

  Jeff got to his knees then onto his stomach, his hands over his head.

  Dean took his handcuffs and pulled Jeff’s right hand behind him, then his left. I kept an eye on the darkness to my right, but there was no sign of Vanessa.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Dean looked up at me once the handcuffs were secured.

  “Yeah.” I pointed to the tunnel. “But Vanessa, she’s involved in this too. She went that way.”

  “I’ll take care of it. Get Jeff’s gun and watch him.” Dean took off down the tunnel.

  I picked up the gun, the base still warm from Jeff’s hands. I pointed it at Jeff, who lay motionless on the floor, his head up, facing me. “Don’t move.”

  Jeff laughed. “Sure.”

  “I’m serious. I’m not afraid to use this.”

  “You’re not going to fire that,” Jeff said in a voice strained by the stone floor underneath him.

  “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think, Jeff.” I steadied my aim. “My dad’s a cop. I’ve been shooting guns since I was twelve. I’m a sure shot.”

  “Right.” Jeff got to his knees. “I’ll buy that. Didn’t Tessa tell me you flunked out of the Academy? Couldn’t even hit the target?”

  “Stop it. Get back down. I will shoot.”

  “No, you won’t.” Jeff stood up. “You’re weak, just like your friend.” He lunged toward me.

  I pulled the trigger and fired.

  thirty-one

  pairing suggestion: tawny port—douro valley, portugal

  Ideal for wrapping up a long meal.

  -

  Jeff stumbled back, his whole body contracting in pain. “You shot me. I can’t believe you shot me.”

  “Oh please.” I shrugged. “I grazed your shoulder. You’re fine.”

  Dean ran up the tunnel. “You okay? What happened?”

  “He came after me, so I gave him a warning shot.”

  “You shot him?”

  “Yes.” I continued to point the gun at Jeff. “Only his shoulder. If I’d wanted to kill him, I would have. But I didn’t.”

  Dean grabbed Jeff and held him by the cuffs, glancing at his shoulder. “Looks like a shallow wound. You’ll be fine.”

  “She shot me,” Jeff repeated. “She really shot me.”

  “What about Vanessa?” I motioned to the dark tunnel. “Did you find her?”

  “She wasn’t there. The whole place is empty.”

  “But that can’t be. There’s no exit that side. I’ve been down there.”

  “No, she’s gone. There’s no one there, I looked.”

  I stepped to the side and stared down the dark tunnel. “What if she’s hiding?”

  “No, there has to be an exit, because she wasn’t there. If she’s escaped, Peters is outside watching the property. If she’s still in here, I’ll make sure someone stays by the door in case she comes out later. Either way, we’ll get her.” He pushed Jeff forward. “Come on, let’s go.”

  The three of us walked down the tunnel to the cellar exit. I held the door open as we reached the crisp afternoon air.

  Three squad cars with flashing lights were parked outside. Another deputy stepped forward and took Jeff from Dean, guiding him toward one of the cars.

  “Anyone else in there?” said a deputy I hadn’t met before.

  “No, but take a look just in case,” replied Dean as the deputy entered the wine cellar.

  I put the gun flat on my palm and held it toward Dean. “Here, you might want to take this. I don’t want anyone to think I’m a threat.”

  Dean picked up the gun from my hand and gave it to another deputy. “You sure you’re okay?”

  I looked down. Small dots of blood were sprinkled around the ripped knees of my borrowed pants. “A few cuts on my legs. Nothing that won’t heal in a few days.” I touched my right ear. “Well, except for my hearing.” I snapped my fingers next to it. “I think it might take a while for that ringing to stop.”

  “I’m really glad you’re okay. That could have been bad.”

  I took a deep breath. “I know. And when that first bullet was fired, I thought I was a goner. I don’t know how he missed me.”

  “The first bullet?”

  “The one right before you arrived. Jeff shot at me.”

  Dean shook his head. “I fired as I approached you both. That bullet was from me.”

  I paused, my heart rate increasing. “That’s what saved me. He was about to shoot me. You saved my life.”

  Dean swayed awkwardly as if he wasn’t sure how to act. He tapped his badge. “Doing my job.”

&nbs
p; I reached out to hug him but lowered my arms back to my sides. “Thanks for being there. I’m glad you got my message.”

  “Yes, I did,” Dean replied. “I’m not happy about you coming here, especially right back to the place where you were just arrested. The last time you were here, you were attacked.”

  “I know. I know.”

  “But”—Dean paused—“I’m glad at least you let me know. We headed straight out here. I figured something bad was going to happen. I was right.”

  “I’m sorry, but I needed to get it solved today. I was worried he might try to run. I guess both of them.” I glanced up at the stone winery and then to the vineyard on the hill. “This is such a beautiful place. So sad that it had to be the scene of so much tragedy.”

  “By the way,” said Dean, “all of the money in Tessa’s account was transferred the night of the murder.”

  “By Seb, I guess.”

  “But you knew Jeff did it? How?”

  I nodded. “I figured out he was involved because of the wine in the cellar and the little details that didn’t quite add up.” I paused. “But I didn’t see the Vanessa thing coming. That surprised me and I don’t like being surprised.” I shook my head. “I was convinced that Jeff was playing Vanessa. That he was roping in this poor defenseless woman. I was wrong. I should have seen it.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it. People are hard to read. You’re not so easy yourself.”

  I held out my arms, holding my wrists together. “I guess you have to take me back to jail now. I’m sure I’ve violated some code or rule, especially with being out on bail.”

  “I don’t know, I think we can figure it out.” Dean smiled. “For both you and Tessa.”

  Deputy Peters ran up to us, sweat pouring down his face. “I can’t find Vanessa. I’ve been all over the hills and she’s nowhere.”

  “That’s okay, I’ll put out an alert. We’ll get her soon enough.”

  “Okay,” said Peters as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Want me to drive the suspect back to the station?”

  Dean looked at Jeff in the back seat. “Nah, I’ve got it.” Dean opened the front passenger door of the patrol car and locked eyes with me. “Want to ride in front?” He winked.

  “Yes. I’d love to.” I slid into the front seat and closed the door. I turned around to Jeff, who sulked in the back as Dean came around to the driver’s side. “Aw, cheer up, Jeff. I can still help with the harvest next week.”

  thirty-two

  pairing suggestion: oloroso sherry—jerez, spain

  To end on a sweet note.

  -

  The next morning, I walked into my blind tasting group, all four participants greeting me with smiles.

  “Look who’s out of jail,” said Darius. “I heard you had quite the weekend.”

  “That would be an understatement.” I put my bag down at my seat. Five glasses of wine sat in front of each person, each glass containing a different wine. The fifth glass at each seat was empty, waiting for me to pour my bottle.

  “I thought you weren’t coming back,” said Jackson. He shook his head. “You’re too good of a taster to give up after only one try.”

  “Let’s just say I’m not quite giving up.”

  “Did everything work out with Frontier?” asked Kurt. “Bill told us about it. I’m sorry you were in jail.”

  I nodded as I took out my wine, its identity hidden with a paper bag until the group used the blind tasting method to deduce what it could be. “It did, thanks to Bill and his wife.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Bill as he winked at me. “You solved that on your own.”

  “You’re free then, right? Not out on bail?” said Jackson.

  I poured my wine into the empty glasses on the table. “All charges were dropped against both me and Tessa. Jeff’s in jail, waiting for his court date, and I just heard from Dean that they picked up Vanessa. She’d cut and dyed her hair and was on her way to Seattle, but they got her.” I filled the last glass and put the bottle on the floor. “So everything is back to normal now. I used to think normal was boring. Now I’m glad for it.”

  “What about Frontier? What’s going to happen there?” asked Kurt.

  “Alan, the winemaker, is taking over the operations and he hired a great assistant. Tessa.” I sat down as the silence that always kicked off a wine-tasting session fell across the room. Everyone seemed to stare at the five glasses in front of each of them, waiting to see who would go first. Going first was difficult, especially as one hadn’t had any wine yet to cleanse the palate, their taste buds still affected by the morning’s toothpaste or a flavorful and greasy breakfast.

  “Okay,” said Kurt, breaking the silence. “Who wants to go?” He leaned back against the wall of the private dining room and clicked his pen.

  “I’ll go.” I reached for the first glass of red wine. “Who brought this?”

  “It’s mine,” remarked Jackson.

  “Jackson brings the tough ones,” whispered Darius. “I’ll switch with you if you want, and I’ll go first.”

  I returned my attention to the glass of wine in my hand and swirled it. “No, it’s okay. I’ll go. Jackson, you ready?”

  “Yep.” Jackson picked up his pen and placed it on the paper grid in front of him, ready to write down everything I said about the wine so the group could break down my deduction.

  “Great. Let’s start.”

  “Ready?” Bill clicked the stopwatch. “Go.”

  I swirled the wine, little droplets running down the inside of the glass after each swirl. “This is a red wine, it is a clear wine, with medium viscosity, and a ruby core with a purple to violet rim. There are no flaws on this wine.”

  I held the glass to my nose and took a deep breath. “On the nose, black cherry, black raspberry, blackberry, black plum, chocolate cake frosting, turned earth, baking spices.”

  I took a long sip and swished the wine around my mouth. The flavors danced on my tongue, sending a combination of fruits to my brain. My mind raced to identify the different elements before I paused for a moment and focused on the deductive method. Is there cherry? Yes. Is there cranberry? No.

  I picked up the paper cup in front of me and spit the wine into it, licking my lips before I spoke. “On the palate, confirm the black cherry, blackberry, black raspberry, chocolate cake frosting, turned earth, baking spices. Acid medium plus, body medium plus, alcohol medium plus, tannins medium plus, complexity medium plus. Initial conclusion, this is a new world wine, one to three years.”

  I stared at the glass in my hand, a small amount of ruby colored wine still swirling at the bottom. “Possible varietals—a Malbec from Argentina, a Shiraz from Australia, a Cabernet from California.”

  My mind raced from Shiraz to Malbec. It could easily be a Shiraz with the color and the descriptors, but it could also be a Malbec. I needed to trust my instinct. But what was my instinct telling me? Think. What was different? There was cake frosting. Definitely cake frosting. I made my decision.

  “Final conclusion, this is a 2014 Argentine Malbec from Mendoza, quality level good.” I looked up at Bill, who stopped the watch.

  “Three minutes, twenty seven seconds. Nicely done. Jackson, how did she do on the grid?”

  Jackson looked down at the paper in front of him. “Good job on the grid, you hit all the areas, just don’t forget to confirm on the palate what you said on the nose. You didn’t confirm the plum. Other than that, nicely done.” He looked at the other members of the group around the table. “Anyone want to argue?”

  Kurt shook his head. “Katie, I think you’re right. I also got plum, chocolate, and cherry as well as a tar quality. 2014 Malbec is a good call.”

  Darius nodded. “Agreed.”

  “Well done,” said Bill. “Don’t forget to take a deep bre
ath and go slower. Your time is great, so you can slow it down in the future. Then you won’t miss anything.” Bill motioned to Jackson. “Jackson, the reveal.”

  Jackson held up the paper-covered bottle and removed the bag. In his hand was a 2014 Argentine Malbec. He beamed at me. “You’re an excellent taster.”

  Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Thanks.” I took another deep inhale of the glass, the scent of Malbec clear now that my deductions were confirmed.

  “You’re still The Palate,” quipped Bill as he picked up the second glass of wine. “So, the next Certified Exam.” He paused. “Have you registered?”

  I looked at the glass in my hand and swirled it, the remaining Malbec climbing the sides. “Not yet,” I said as a smile spread across my face. “But I’m going to.”

  the end

  About the Author

  © Matthew Semerau

  Nadine Nettmann, a Certified Sommelier through the Court of Master Sommeliers, is always on the lookout for great wines and the stories behind them. She has visited wine regions around the world, from Chile to South Africa to every region in France, but chose Napa as the setting for Decanting a Murder, her debut novel. Nadine is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and International Thriller Writers. She lives in California with her husband.