Silenced By Syrah

by Scott, Michele

  The breakfast area also served as the wine bar and happy hour hot spot from five to seven.

  “Of course. Of course. Well, I’ve got to tell you that the guests are a bit edgy, as you can imagine. That mean cop called this morning.”

  “Detective Robinson?”

  Simon nodded. “What is his problem? He is so cute, but so nasty.”

  “Tell me about it. I’m on his list.”

  “You and everyone else. He gave me the okay to tell the guests who were checked in during the murder”—he lowered his voice when he said murder—“that they can all go home today. Supposedly, he’s cleared them of any wrongdoing. I don’t know. I think this is going to set us back. We are going to need some great marketing to get this thing going again, so it’s not tainted. We let everyone stay for free, and that’s seemed to help.”

  Nikki took a sip from her coffee and set it down. “It’ll be okay. Teamwork, right? We’ll all do it together.” Maybe one of the reasons Robinson hadn’t linked Moran or Bloomenfeld to the murder was because he’d been busy looking into the hotel guests. She hadn’t focused on the guests, figuring most of them probably didn’t even know Georges. She understood though, why the police would have had to look into each separate guest, especially since they were all probably antsy to get home, as Simon suggested.

  He took her hand. “Who do you think did this? Do you think the same person who killed Georges started the fire at the cottage?”

  “I don’t know, but I have my suspicions.”

  “You’re looking into this, aren’t you?”

  She shrugged. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

  “You be careful.”

  “Do you know anything about Lauren Trump?”

  “The publicist? Georges’ publicist?”

  “Yeah. Her.”

  “Not a lot. She was supposed to come in for a treatment the day he was killed. We had her on the books, but she called like ten minutes before and said that she had to go back to her hotel room and finish up some business before opening night.”

  “Did you believe her?”

  Simon leaned in closer to Nikki. “Why? You don’t suspect her, do you? I know that Detective Robinson asked her some questions. That’s about all I know. Well . . .”

  “Well, what? What else do you know?”

  He waved a hand at her. “It’s gossip. That’s all, and you know I can’t stand gossip. The Guru Sansibaba says that idle talk of others’ affairs is simply a reflection of the anger, jealousy, and pure boredom coming from within. It’s the sign of an empty soul.”

  “Simon.” Nikki raised an eyebrow. “This is not gossip. If you know something that could pertain to Georges’ murder, you need to tell me. What would the Guru say about keeping information? He’s not a priest.”

  Simon sighed, leaned in even closer, and started dishing. Like hell he didn’t enjoy gossiping. “Okay, well the word from one of the housekeeping staff, and the only reason I know this is because Marco speaks Spanish, sort of, as they do, because he’s Italian and they all talk to him and then he talks to me.”

  “Simon, get to the point.”

  “Right. So, one of the housekeeping staff went to clean Georges’ room the morning before he was murdered, and well, it wasn’t like the privacy sign was up. Poor girl got an eyeful.”

  “Was it Lauren Trump?”

  “She didn’t know who it was, because she only saw the woman’s back when she rolled over as soon as the girl walked in, but she said that the lady had short, silver hair and was very tan.”

  Nikki snapped, “It had to be Lauren.”

  Simon nodded. “I think so, too, but you know people make things up and I’m not going to get all involved. You know who Lauren Trump was married to?”

  “No.”

  “Anthony Tortelli.”

  “The defense attorney for Joseph Cordova?”

  “The one.”

  Nikki sat back in her chair and sighed. Joseph Cordova was from a huge Mafia family in the Bay Area and had recently been arraigned on drug trafficking charges and for plotting the murder of the city’s attorney. He was bad, bad news, and if Lauren Trump had any ties with that element . . . Was it possible that Georges’ murder had been a Mafia hit? Did Detective Robinson know all of this? He had to. What if Lauren’s ex-husband knew that she and Georges were carrying on and, even being an ex, didn’t care for it? And, as a favor for his attorney, Cordova gave the word and Georges was taken out by the mob? If that was the case then this thing would likely never be solved. Mafia hits were the least likely to ever be seen all the way through the justice system, and it wasn’t like Lauren was going to admit to her affair with Georges. Especially not to the cops, and the housekeeper who supposedly saw them had probably already been warned by her friends in the know to keep quiet.

  With those thoughts crossing her mind, Nikki realized that none of these theories could answer why anyone would burn down her cottage—especially if it was somehow tied to Georges’ murder. Then again, maybe it wasn’t all tied together. Maybe the cottage being torched by an arsonist was an entirely separate thing. But why?

  “Simon,” Marco yelled out.

  Simon reached across the table and touched her hand. “Keep this mum. If it’s true, you know how those kinds of people can be—dangerous. I better get in the kitchen and finish serving. Do you want a full breakfast?”

  “Amazingly I do. I’m famished.”

  Simon scurried away and Nikki was once again left with her thoughts. If the incidents were separate, then she’d have two cases to work on. She didn’t have the energy for that. And now, with the word “mob” thrown in the mix she couldn’t help but think twice. Simon didn’t mince words. She liked to figure these puzzles out, but if the mob was involved, she didn’t think she wanted to tangle with that. Maybe she’d get some more answers from Lauren Trump herself. Interesting that Lauren didn’t use her married name. Probably guilt by association.

  Nikki ate quickly, went back to her room, showered, and headed out to buy some clothes to wear. By the time she bought several tees, some jeans, and a sweater set as well as some flats, she had just enough time to head back to her room, change, and put on a dash of makeup. Good thing she’d splurged on that disguise yesterday, because she hadn’t had time for the cosmetics counter. She’d have to get back into the city soon to see about some work clothes, plus she wanted to check on Alyssa.

  She made it to Grapes in under ten minutes, and although she was only five minutes late, she found Lauren Trump on the back patio with a bottle of Chardonnay nearly polished off, her eyes bloodshot and her face splotchy, which Nikki assumed was from crying.

  Nikki sat down across from her. “Lauren?”

  Lauren hurriedly wiped her eyes and put her sunglasses on.

  “Are you okay?”

  Lauren burst out in tears. “No. No, I’m not. I’ve done a horrible thing.”

  Huevos Rancheros

  and Caramelized Grapefruit

  with Schramsberg’s Blanc de Blancs

  This brunch is not only delicious and elegant but easy, too. Serve it with Schramsberg Chardonnay-based, vintage-dated sparkling wine. Blanc de Blancs blends citrus with tropical fruit notes and contains a soft vanilla flavor on the back palate.

  HUEVOS RANCHEROS

  6 6-inch corn or flour tortillas

  vegetable oil

  1⁄2 cup onion, chopped

  1 clove garlic, minced

  12⁄3 cups (14 oz) canned tomatoes, chopped

  8-10 green chiles, chopped (substitute: 2 4 oz cans

  green chile)

  3⁄4 tsp salt

  6 eggs

  1⁄8 tsp pepper

  1 cup shredded cheddar cheese

  1⁄4 cup butter, melted

  Fry tortillas in oil until crispy. As you fry try to form a small well in each tortilla. Place tortillas in a baking dish. You may require two dishes depending on size.

  Sauté onion and garlic in 2 tbsp o
f oil until tender. Stir in tomatoes, green chile, and 1⁄2 teaspoon salt. Pour equal amounts of tomato mixture over each tortilla.

  Preheat oven to 350°.

  Carefully break eggs, one on top of each tortilla. Sprinkle remaining salt, pepper, and cheese over eggs. Drizzle butter over; cover. Bake for 15 minutes. Serve immediately. Serves 6.

  CARAMELIZED GRAPEFRUIT

  1 grapefruit

  2 tbsp brown sugar

  2 tbsp port wine

  2 tbsp butter

  Cut your grapefruit in half and pour 1 tbsp each of brown sugar, port wine, and butter on each half. Bake at 350° for 10 minutes; serve hot. Serves 2.

  Chapter 17

  “Lauren, what are you talking about?”

  Lauren shook her head and sobbed. A waiter approached and set down a plate of salmon in a black bean sauce and an extra plate.

  “Sorry, I took the liberty,” Lauren said and sniffled. “Have some.” She took the bottle of Chardonnay from the ice bowl and held it out for Nikki.

  “No. I think I’ll just have water. Thank you, though.”

  Lauren poured the rest of the bottle into her glass. “I didn’t call you here to go into this. I called you to talk about marketing. I know you do some of that for Malveaux and I felt the need to get with you and make a plan, and I’m going back to the city in a few days, so I thought we should talk now and start putting one together. I believe Georges would not want the winery or restaurant to suffer. You know, the vineyard restaurant was the ultimate dream for Georges.”

  “No, I didn’t realize that.”

  “Well, it was and we have to see it succeed for his sake and for his honor. God, I’m rambling, I’m really upset and I had one glass of wine because I got here early and now look, I’ve about finished off the bottle.” She held it up again in the afternoon sun and laughed a bit. “Looks like I didn’t actually about finish it off.”

  Nikki sliced off a couple pieces of bread and scooped up a serving of the salmon for each of them. “Lauren, I agree with you about the marketing, but that can wait. You’re obviously very upset. What do you mean that you’ve done something really terrible?”

  “Can I get some more wine first?”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “I won’t drive, I promise. And right now I can’t think of a better idea.”

  “Maybe you should try and eat something first.”

  “Nikki, I was sleeping with both Georges and Baron.”

  “Waiter!” Nikki hollered. The waiter came over and she ordered them both another glass of the Chardonnay, along with the mussels in a garlic, ancho butter sauce, and the paella. After a blow like the one Lauren had just delivered, she’d have wine with lunch, too, and plenty of lunch—comfort food, Latin fusion style. After the waiter took their order, Nikki said, “Can you repeat that?”

  “I was having sex with both Georges and his best friend.”

  “Holy cow.”

  “You said it. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I’m drunk, sad, and confused, and God knows I have no idea who I can talk to.”

  Nikki knew from past experience, Janie included, that she could have made a decent living as a psychologist. Maybe it was because Aunt Cara had always taught her to keep a good game face on and always, always listen. She’d told Nikki, “Don’t let anyone know too much of what you’re thinking ’cause then they’ll tell you what you need or want to know, and think that you’re on their side whether you are or not.”

  “Um, can I ask you something?”

  “What? Like what was I thinking?”

  “That, too, but aren’t you married?” Nikki pointed to her ring finger.

  Lauren laughed. “Oh, no! You’ve heard the stories, too. I tell you, that Detective Robinson had me holed up in his office for hours yesterday quizzing me about it. I sure in hell hope he doesn’t bring Anthony in on this, but no doubt he will. Anthony will have a shit fit, but there’s not a great deal he can do.”

  “What are you talking about?” The waiter approached, opened the bottle, and handed to cork to Nikki. She looked up at him. “No time for formalities, friend. If it’s skunky, I’ll let you know. Just pour.” Who had time to sniff, swirl, taste, and approve when she knew she was on the verge of some hot and heavy info? The waiter poured her a glass. She took a major sip. Full bodied.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m married to Anthony Tortelli, attorney to the Cordova family, but we’re going through a divorce.”

  Was Lauren delusional? Did she think that would stop the mob from seeking retribution for their attorney? No wonder Baron had been at the church last night. Poor man was probably praying for his soul for more than one reason.

  “Anthony has that job with the Cordovas only because my best friend from childhood is old man Cordova’s mistress, and I arranged a meeting for Anthony with the Cordovas and it all went from there. Anthony is an excellent attorney, and the Cordovas know it, but none of the family would have done this. Anthony left me. He’s after one of the Cordova cousins and that’s better business for them anyway. It’s fine with me. I’d lost interest in him.” She slurred her words. “It’s not like it didn’t hurt my ego though. Anthony’s new girlfriend, the cousin, is something like twenty-three.” She picked up a knife and feigned stabbing it in her heart. “I guess you could say my ego needed a boost.”

  “Georges and Baron?” Nikki asked. Wow. Who would’ve guessed?

  “Georges and Baron.” She half laughed again and drank some more wine.

  The waiter came back with their entrées. Nikki had already eaten her salmon. It looked as though Lauren was going to stick with the liquid lunch. “Do you want some? It’s great. My friend Isabel owns this place. You should eat.”

  “Oh, maybe a little.” She put some of the food on her own plate and picked at it.

  “Why did you do this? I can understand the ego thing, I really can.” Nikki had a fleeting thought of Derek and Andrés. “But Georges and Baron were best friends and partners.”

  Lauren started to cry again. “I know. I’m horrible, aren’t I?”

  Well, yeah. Nikki wasn’t going to tell her that, though. Silence was the best policy. Just listen and let her think there are no judgment calls.

  “I couldn’t help it. I met Georges over a year ago when his second cookbook came out. I went to his book signing and had dinner at his place in the city. We got to talking and when I told him what I did, he complained to me about how his publisher really hadn’t helped him much with the marketing and that he didn’t want to remain a regional-type chef. He aspired to be the next Emeril. I told him that I could help him with that. Then the whole Bernadette fiasco came about right before things started to really happen for Georges, right around the time the connection with your boss, Derek, and that whole deal transpired.”

  Nikki acted like she didn’t have a clue about Bernadette, Georges’ ex-wife. She wanted to hear Lauren’s version. “What are you talking about? What Bernadette fiasco?”

  Lauren smiled. “I did my job. See, you don’t know about the fiasco.”

  Mum is the word.

  Lauren proceeded to tell her about the fire, about Janie moving into the house, Bernadette’s suspicions, and then being prosecuted for arson. “Funny thing is I knew that Janie wasn’t screwing Georges because I was. Bernadette is an idiot. Way too low class for Georges. I don’t know what he ever saw in her. He was into the Bohemian thing or something when she came along and did she have a jealousy issue! Janie is a sweet kid and her mom had just died, and well, Georges wanted to help her. I loved him for that. And Janie is crazy in love with that kid she married, Trevor. Bernadette’s suspicions were pointed in the wrong direction.”

  “And you kept all of that from going huge with the media?”

  “I did. Anthony was doing his thing with the Cordova cousin by then, so I made a deal with the Cordovas and Anthony. He could have the cousin and I would be way more than fair and civil in a divorce if they would help me keep th
ings about Bernadette and Georges hush-hush. They have some media holdings. Sure there were tidbit stories, but no media circus. It helps having my friend Anne being old man Cordova’s side dish.”

  “I guess,” Nikki replied.

  “They agreed to help and things stayed quiet. Georges was able to pursue his dream and I was able to market and publicize for him.”

  “What about Baron? It sounds like you two adored Georges.” Nikki took a bite of the paella, one of her favorite dishes at Grapes, with the shrimp, chorizo, and chicken mixed in with the Arborio rice. It blended well with the Chardonnay, and the wine helped this huge story go down a whole lot better than if she were listening with a Coke in hand.

  “Oh, Baron. He’s sweet. He’s funny with his Irish idioms and he’s been lonely here in the states and he wants to go home to his family, but he felt a loyalty to Georges for getting him started in the industry. He does, or did adore Georges, like a brother. He’s devastated over this.”

  Obviously not that loyal. “I still don’t get it. Sure he’s a nice man, but . . .”

  “I know, I know. I already told you that I’m terrible. I felt sorry for him, and one night while Georges was out here in Napa working on details with the interior designer—that Stacey Redwall—for the restaurant, I went into the restaurant in the city. It was a slow night. Baron and I shared some wine and then we shared some more and later at my place, things just happened. You know how that goes.”

  Not really. “So, it was a one night stand?”

  “No.” Lauren twirled her wine glass in the light, the color a pale gold. She set the wine down and whispered, “Here’s the thing about Baron. Not only is he sweet, nice, and funny but, oh my gosh, he is, well . . .” She held her pointer fingers up, several inches apart.

  “Gotcha,” Nikki said.

  “You can’t give up a lover like that. I figured, what was the harm? I had Georges and Baron and neither one wanted a commitment and neither one wanted to go public. It was all fun and games.”