A
Perfectly
Purloined
Pinot
Michele Scott
Dedication:
To Elizabeth Hunter who is an amazing author as well as a strong and lovely human being--and also a genius with titles. Thank You for this one!
Also, for the rest of the girls. You know who you are! Much Love, M.
Oh no! Where was it? Where was that bottle of 1972 Pinot from Pearl’s Vineyard?! Nikki Sands Malveaux paced back and forth in the wine cellar, her Rhodesian Ridgeback, Ollie, at her side whining incessantly as he sensed her nerves going a bit wonky. She glanced down at Ollie who stopped pacing. He sat and looked up. “This is not good,” she told him. Her husband, Derek, had asked her to grab that particular bottle of wine because they would be entertaining some prospective clients the next evening, and they were a big deal. Not that it was a big deal that it was also Nikki’s birthday the following evening, which her husband of only a year and a half had seemed to have forgotten. Clients were apparently more important.
Oh well, getting very close to forty meant a few things. The first was that she was getting closer to forty. Ugh. No thank you! Second, it also meant she was getting closer to forty and no matter how often they tried, Derek and she had not been able to conceive a baby. Painful fertility treatments and a lot of sex hadn’t worked. The third thing about getting closer to forty was that forgetting a birthday might not be such a bad thing. Remaining thirty-something had a nice ring to it.
Back to the matter at hand—the Pearl Pinot. The bottle of wine was well worth almost a thousand dollars, and Derek would not be happy. Hell, she wasn’t happy. She knew it had been here in the winery’s private cellar. She’d inventoried these wines herself only two months ago. She took pride in her organizational skills. When she’d come on board at Malveaux a few years ago, she had given Derek a hard time about not being terribly organized. Not once—not ever had a bottle of wine from the cellar gone missing. It was impossible. The bottle had to be here. She flipped the overhead lights on to brighten the cellar. She scanned each bottle again and again. There were over two hundred bottles to scan, but she knew right where this bottle should be. And in its space was nothing. Empty!
She sighed. Nada! Someone had taken the bottle. That was the only answer she could come up with. Then she heard the sound of Simon’s voice. Simon Malveaux was Derek’s brother and also Nikki’s closest . . . ally was the best way to describe their relationship. They were dear friends in reality, but Simon could grate on her nerves from time to time.
“Yoo hoo, Snow White . . . Where are you? Violet and I have a little present for you.”
Ah ha! Someone had remembered her birthday was tomorrow. Of course it would be Simon. He was OCD about that kind of stuff.
Nikki went up the stairs that led into the private kitchen. There were three kitchens on the Malveaux vineyard. One was in the restaurant and another at the boutique hotel and spa, which mainly served up light fare and appetizers. The third kitchen, where she was now, belonged to the special dining room called The Cave. The Cave was reserved for special guests, and it was connected to a system of caves that ran underneath the vineyard. Derek and Nikki had come up with the idea of turning one of the caves into a unique dining room.
As she rounded back up the spiral staircase and into the kitchen, she spotted Simon with his two-year-old daughter, Violet. Violet was dressed as . . . “Hmm, let me guess, Britney Spears?” Nikki asked.
“Noooo,” Simon replied. “How passé. Lady Gaga! Oh Gawd. Your Aunti Nikki is so un-hip.” He kissed Violet on the cheek. The little girl had on a long blonde wig, a leopard print dress with heels to match, and red lipstick applied by Simon himself.
“I take it that Marco has not seen this.” Marco was Simon’s other half and a bit more conservative than his partner.
“Oh no, Poppy would have a conniption,” Simon said. Violet called Simon “Daddy” and Marco “Poppy.”
“Yes, he would have one of his Italian ragers,” Nikki replied. “You look beautiful, Sweetpea.” She kissed Violet on her other cheek. Violet squirmed out of her dad’s arms and went running to find Ollie. “Ollie, Ollie,” she called out in her adorable little voice.
“Oh no. I left him in the cellar. “Speaking of . . .” she turned to look at Simon. “I have some questions for you. First, how did you know where to find me this morning?” Before she completely started in on her interrogation, she opened the cellar door to find the very large dog at the top step looking at her in total dismay. “I’m sorry.”
“Ollie!” Violet threw her arms around the dog who was three times bigger than she was. He licked her face.
“God! I wish that beast would not do that!” Simon said, hands on hips. “Duh, process of elimination. I went down to the house and you weren’t there. I tried your cell, and knowing that there is no cell reception down in The Cave, and knowing that Derek has some big wig clients you’re entertaining tomorrow night, I figured I would come on down here and see if I might find you.”
“I have taught you well,” she said, referring to the fact that the two of them had solved a mystery or two together over the past few years and they had gotten kind of good at it.
He shook his head. “Debatable as to who the better Nancy Drew is. Now get that mutt to stop drowning my child.”
“She loves it. And you know what, I am sure Marco would wish you didn’t dress her like a freak show. I would have to agree. You’re scaring me. You’re becoming like one of those bad pageant mothers.”
“Oh, please.” He waved a hand at her. “I am not. Violet loves playing dress up with Daddy. And look how cute she looks.” Violet was now on the ground rolling around cracking up as Ollie continued to lick her. “Do you really think so, though—a bad pageant mommy? I mean daddy. Oh no. I did blow dry her hair this morning.”
Nikki frowned. “And red lipstick. Ease up a bit. She’s got time for America’s Next Top Model, Tyra.”
“Fine. Maybe you could let me make you up. You’re looking a bit frumpy these days. All house-wifey and stuff.”
“I love you, too. So where’s my present?”
Simon’s jaw dropped as he turned and pointed to Violet. “Duh. You were the first person she wanted to see her all dressed up. That’s a gift you can’t return, sister!”
“Yes, it is.” Nikki smiled. “So, uh, I was in the wine cellar looking for a special bottle of wine. You may recall the 1972 Pinot from Pearl’s Vineyard.”
His eyes widened. “Of course. That is a very special bottle of wine.”
“Yes, and it’s missing. And Derek wants it served at tomorrow’s dinner.”
He brought both hands to his mouth and said, “No!”
“Simon? Did you take that bottle of wine?”
He crossed his arms across his chest. “Excuze me? Pleeeze. Really?”
“Oh come on. You and I both know that on occasion, especially a special one, you have come over here and made your way into the cellar and snuck a bottle or two back to your place.”
Simon turned red. “I only did that twice. Once when Marco and I made up after that huge Sansibaba fiasco, and then another time when we found out Violet’s adoption had been approved. We had to celebrate that.”
“Simon.”
“Okay, there was one other time and it was because, because I wanted a nice bottle, and you guys always have the best in that cellar, but I did not take the Pearl wine. I swear. I didn’t.” He crossed his heart. “I would never take something that expensive. Plus, I know that bottle is special to Derek. I’m surprised he wants to pour it. Those must be some seriously
special clients.”
Nikki eyed him. Maybe he was telling the truth.
“Oh my gosh, maybe it was Pearl herself. You’ve heard the stories.”
“The ghost stories. Yes, I have heard them, but I don’t believe them. And do you really think a ghost would or even could take a bottle of wine? How would she open it, and then how would she drink it? Something tells me that ghosts don’t drink.”
“She might try. She did drink herself to death.” Simon chuckled.
Nikki knew that Pearl had been Derek and Simon’s great aunt. Their dad had adored her regardless of the fact that she was usually drunk by noon and she didn’t get up until eleven. Apparently, she was always good for laughs and a batch of brownies, though Derek claimed that most of the time they were burnt. “A ghost did not take the wine. But you . . .” she shook her finger at him. “I am not so sure.”
“Oh, please. You know there are others around here who might borrow a nice bottle and not realize just how nice that bottle of wine is,” he said.
“Really? And who might those others be? Do you know something?” Nikki raised her eyebrows.
Simon teeter-tottered on his feet from one foot to the other. “I might.” He grinned.
“What do you know?”
“I don’t know if I want to tell you.”
Nikki narrowed her eyes at him. “Simon! I am warning you! What do you want?”
“There are these Gucci sunglasses I have been eyeing.”
“No way!”
“Fine. Make me your lemon bars.”
“Oh wow, you don’t ask for much, do you?”
He shrugged. “You want something from me, and I want something from you. That’s what makes us BFFs, Snow White. We have a nice balance together.”
“Balance, schmalance! You better run on if I have to start baking. I also have a ton of other things to do, including finding that bottle of wine. Or, who stole it!”
Nikki knows she is on borrowed time here. She has to find that bottle of Pearl Wine. She can’t tell Derek because she knows not only will he be slightly upset, she doesn’t want to eat crow for all the grief she gave him about being disorganized, and let’s face it—maybe she did just put the wine in the wrong spot. Maybe she messed up. No time for sour grapes, though, especially if she’s going to convince Simon to tell her what he knows. Lemon bars seem to be his price, and of all the desserts he could have picked she’s happy he chose this one. It’s easy and tasty. It’s a perfect blend of sweet and tart. Hopefully for Nikki, her bars will sweeten Simon up so he can give her the 411 on the wine.
Nikki’s Lemon Bars
Crust
1 ½ cups all purpose flour
1/3 cup sugar
¼ tsp salt
1 tbsp lemon zest
½ cup butter, room temperature
Filling
4 large eggs
1 1/3 cups sugar
1 cup lemon juice, freshly squeezed and strained
Preheat oven to 350° F. Line 9x9 inch baking pan with aluminum foil.
Make the crust. In a large bowl, whisk together flour, sugar, salt and lemon zest. Cut butter into chunks and add to flour mixture. Blend in with an electric mixer at low speed until mixture forms coarse, sandy crumbs. Pour into pan and press mixture down (with your fingers of the back of a spoon) into an even layer.
Bake for 16-19 minutes, until just lightly browned around the edges.
While crust is baking, make filling. Whisk together all filling ingredients in a large bowl.
When the crust comes out of the oven and is still hot, pour in filling mixture.
Bake for about 20 minutes, or until filling is set and does not jiggle when the pan is gently shaken.
Cool completely before slicing.
Top slices with confectioners’ sugar to serve.
Make about 24 bars.
After Nikki spent the morning making her famous lemon bars, she headed up to Simon and Marco’s place with the dessert. They lived up the road on the vineyard. To her dismay, they weren’t home, so Nikki decided to see if they were at the Malveaux Spa, which Marco ran and where Simon enjoyed as many treatments as possible on a regular basis. She still had plenty to get done, but finding that bottle of wine was the first thing on her agenda. Then she could plan out the dinner menu for tomorrow’s guests.
She was pleased to find Marco at the front desk. His handsome face was bright and cheery as she walked through the spa doors. The sounds of a Brazilian flute came through the speakers to add to the serenity of the place. “Ah, Bellisima, what brings you here today? You are not on the books. I can fit you in, though. It is a special day, and you should be treated special!”
Ahha! Marco remembered her birthday. One day off, but close enough. She’d take it. “Oh, Marco. That is so sweet.”
“Isn’t it though?” he asked in his crisp Italian accent. “Our little Violetta has been accepted at Le Marche School for Gifted Toddlers. Simon must have told you.”
Nikki frowned. “No. He didn’t.”
“Ah well, you must have known by osmosis then. Special day for our girl.” He winked at her.
“That is wonderful, but do you guys really want to go that route with Violet? I mean, it seems so, I don’t know . . . snooty. Maybe you should put her at The Little Red House School. I’ve heard wonderful things about it, and the families are a bit more down to earth, I think.”
Marco’s eyes widened. “What are you saying? Are you saying that Simon and I are not down to earth? Oh Bellisima. Why do you say such things?” He frowned.
Nikki walked back behind the counter. She gave him a hug. “Now you guys know that I love you, I just tend to speak my mind.”
He pulled away. “We know.”
“The thing is, I don’t want Violet to grow up all self-entitled and bratty. I think she can get a good education at the Red House. She is only two. Then, when she goes on to elementary school, you can consider a more exclusive option.”
“However, Bellisima, the problem with this idea that you have, is that it is soooo hard to get into the best schools now. Simon and I are only setting her up for the best possible opportunities in life. Only the best!” He kissed his fingers to punctuate his point.
Nikki nodded and decided not to fight this fight. As Violet’s godmother and aunt, she would be sure to find ways to keep little Violet levelheaded. It was Nikki’s Aunt Cara who had done that for her, so she would happily take the role on with Violet.
“You are here for a scrub, no?”
“No.” She held up the platter of lemon bars that she had set down when she walked around to give Marco the hug. “I am here because Simon wanted me to make a dessert for him, and because he said once I had done so that he would help me with something.”
“Something? Help? Oh no, Bellisima, who has been murdered?”
“No one!”
He waved a hand in front of his face and arched his eyebrows. “Are you certain that no one is dead?”
“I assure you. I have not found any bodies lately.”
“Hmph. It is simply that when you and Simon plan and snoop that I can be certain someone has been found dead close by.”
“Okay, so yes, I do know I have been called the Nancy Drew of Napa. But no one is dead this time. This time, it’s robbery!”
“A robbery?” He rubbed his palms together. “Oh, what happened? Who was robbed?”
“Derek and me, actually. The winery. All of us.” She decided to match his dramatic flair.
Marco raised his eyebrows again. “What has happened? Terrible!”
“Well, Derek is hosting a dinner tomorrow night for some major clients and he asked me to locate the bottle of Pearl Pinot Noir from 1972. He says it’s a really important client and he wants to seal the deal of a lifetime.”
“Yes. Very good and quite expensive. A collector’s item. Must be some special clients. Lifetime deal? Intriguing. What are you planning to have the chef cook, Bellisima?”
“Well, that
all depends on when and if I find the Pearl wine.”
“Yesss. Who do you think would take this wonderful wine, and from your cellar, no less?”
“I don’t know,” Nikki replied. “At first I questioned Simon, but that didn’t pan out, and this is why he insisted I fix him the dessert. He says he may know of someone here who would have taken the wine.”
“Really? Who could that be? There is only Alyssa who has access to The Cave cellar and I don’t think she would take it. You are such good friends, and she is engaged to the detective, so I don’t believe that she would do that.”
“I don’t either. It could be someone who doesn’t have access to the cellar though. Couldn’t it? I mean what if it was left unlocked and someone stumbled onto it like that?”
Marco nodded. “Possible. It is always the ones you trust the most.”
“Who do you trust the most?” Simon had come in behind her.
Nikki whipped around. “Where’s my tiny tot?”
“Oh, she’s a little sleepy. I left her with Skye.”
“Skye?”
“Our new nanny,” Marco piped in.
“I didn’t know you guys hired a new nanny,” she said.
Simon nodded. “I’m thinking of going back to school, and with Marco running the spa, we thought it was a good idea.”
“School? You? For what?”
“Oh, don’t be so positive, Missy-The-Glass-is-Half-Empty,” Simon shot back.
“I am not. I just don’t see you as a student.”
He sighed. “Okay, so here is the deal. Marco and I want our daughter to be raised on the best possible foods out there, and I am sorry but our food supply is causing all sorts of disease. Call us fat ass America, please.”
“Simon, that is rude.”
“Sorry. Anyway, I am going to become an organic farmer.”
“You are?” REALLY…?!
“Yes. I am going to take a class and we are going to build a green house and grow all sorts of organic produce, and if you’re nice, I might share.”
A Perfectly Purloined Pinot (Nikki Sands' Mysteries) Page 1
