A Perfectly Purloined Pinot (Nikki Sands' Mysteries)

by Michele Scott

  When I woke at three in the morning to go to the bathroom, I went to the side of Hannah’s bed to ask her how the concert was. She wasn’t there. I panicked and then woke my mother, who woke my father. The police were called. They found her bike only half a mile away up the road from the house. Her friends said that she never made it to Riley’s Diner where they agreed to meet. They figured she’d been forced to stay in. I never have copped to the fact that I knew she had snuck out. That guilt eats at me daily.

  I stood and poured the rest of the beer on the lawn next to the pool. Cass and Mac remained indoors, curled up tightly next to each other. Against all odds, they had become fast friends. I was kind of jealous because it meant I only had a beer to provide comfort while they had each other.

  As the sun slowly dipped towards the ocean and the sky turned a myriad of orange, pink and red, I decided to make myself a BLT. Suddenly, I had two loyal fans next to me in the kitchen. Behold, the magic of bacon! Mac walked a figure eight between my legs, and Cass twirled in circles as if she were dancing. “Fine! I give in.” I pointed the knife down towards Mac. “Don’t think this means I’ve forgotten about your diet, mister.” I then shifted my gaze to Cass, “I see you’re teaching Mac all of your bad habits.”

  “Trust me. I don’t think he needs her help,” a male voice said.

  I jumped, nearly slicing off my thumb with the knife. I immediately changed my grip on the knife, holding it more like a weapon and less like something I’d just been using to slice tomatoes. “Who’s there?” My voice sounded wary and not as threatening as I would have liked.

  No one answered, but Cass started to growl and Mac stopped brushing against my legs. “Hello?” I could hear the tremor in my voice. I did a quick search around the kitchen and nearby family room. Nothing. I went back to prepping my sandwich. “I’m losing my mind. I am totally losing it. Maybe I should go home, back to Texas.”

  I turned on the stove and buttered the bread. And then I thought I heard a noise coming from the family room. I cautiously walked over, my animal entourage following closely behind. Again, nothing. The hair on my arms stood straight up but I reluctantly turned my back on the empty room and returned to the kitchen. A small billow of smoke curled up from the frying pan…the bread! I shut off the stove, leaned my back against the counter with my head down, and started sobbing.

  And that’s when it happened.

  “No woman no cry. Nooooo woman nooo cry.”

  What in the hell?

  “Little sister, don’t shed no tears….”

  I was dreaming. Or Nick’s murder had pushed me over the edge. Because when I looked up, Bob Marley stood in the middle of my kitchen, guitar in hand, singing.

  Cass just stared and Mac, the fat little traitor, was doing the figure eight thing between Bob’s legs. Bob-frigging-Marley! In my kitchen!! Bob was smiling, the smell of pot drifting in the air, and I was, quite frankly, shocked speechless.

  And then (I know, right? As if Bob Marley in my kitchen weren’t enough)...

  …a gorgeous specimen of a man wandered in and leaned back on the counter next to the dishwasher, just a few feet from where I stood with my mouth hanging open. The knife, which I’d been clasping for dear life, clattered to the floor with a sharp bang. The guy was in soft, muted colors...like he’d been digitally altered. Between dead-Bob Marley and Sexy Kitchen Guy, my brain was spinning and all I could think was how much better Bob sounded live (no pun intended). As for Cass, well, she was completely mesmerized by the entire scene. We all stood there for a moment…all of us, that is, except Mac, who continued to wind his way through Bob’s legs. Suddenly, the sexy guy sort of floated over to my side. His edges sharpened and he got a lot brighter (think Technicolor). He reached out and gently wiped a damp tear trail off my cheek. I could feel the brush of his fingers on my skin…but his touch was not like anything I’d ever felt before. Imagine soft, combed silk—feathery and sweet. It was both cold and warm at the same time and left a lingering imprint even after he removed his fingers from my face. He spoke in a hushed tone. “Bob is right, no more crying.”

  This man, ghost, being…whatever the hell he was, shimmered. He was steeped in a golden glow surrounded by the deepest indigo, and his eyes were that deep purple color of a mountain at sunset. Yeah, I know. Hokey as hell, right? But seriously, his eyes were that incredible looking. He had jet black hair that framed his face in thick waves. All I could think was—beautiful.

  I tentatively reached out to touch him and then retracted my hand quickly. I could feel…something. But it was simply a sensation—cool and then, slowly, growing warmer. There was no form, nothing solid, just a vibration. I felt tingly—literally—all over my body. And no thoughts of trauma. No visuals at all, just this really nice tingle all over!

  Meanwhile, Bob was crooning Positive Vibration in the background, but he was singing softly now and started to fade out. I didn’t want him to go. I mean, yes…this was all incredibly insane, but it sure was beating the heck out of the pity party I’d been throwing myself only moments ago.

  And then someone pounded on the French doors just off of the kitchen and my two mystery guests disappeared.

  “Edie! Evie! Open the fucking door!”

  Simone! I ran to the door and opened it. Cass started barking and Simone sidled in, scowling at Cass who growled and slunk away.

  “Simone, what are you doing here?” She ignored me and made a beeline for the fridge. “Are these the only beers you have? No Champagne? Wine? What the fuck? Heineken is all?”

  “Uh, yes.”

  “Really? No wine? What?” She sighed, popped the top off, took a deep swig, and turned to face me. “Okay Edie. What the fuck is going on?”

  And that is when I saw him again. He was behind her, making a face, and holding up two fingers over her head. I started to laugh. She turned to see what I was looking at. He was gone.

  Simone smoothed her hair down and asked again, “Seriously, what is going on?!”

  I shook my head and muttered, “I wish I knew.”

  THE GREY TIER

  Available on Amazon

  http://www.amazon.com/Grey-Tier-Celeb-Mystery-ebook/dp/B007R98NYM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1335677517&sr=8-1