Weddings & Wine Cake_A Culinary Cozy Mystery

by Nancy McGovern

  Taking a deep breath, she went on, “In my first marriage, we had passion, but no loyalty. It’s not his fault, either. I think my ex was just immature. I believe guys need to be a certain age before they’re ready to settle down. I think I roped him in too early. That’s all.”

  “That must have hurt.”

  “So much. I hated him at first. I wanted vengeance.” Valentina stopped suddenly, looking mortified by her own admission. “I mean…I was just angry. Really angry. But I took time, and I mended my broken heart, and I swore I’d make better decisions in the future. It was all for good, anyway. It led me to your father.”

  “So it did,” Rachel said, feeling a little uncertain. The more time she spent with Valentina, the more Rachel liked her. But she still didn’t know if she approved of her father’s marriage. Though, again, given what had happened to Leon, she still wasn’t sure if there would even be a wedding.

  As if she’d read Rachel’s mind, Valentina nodded. “Yes. It looks like we’re going to have to cancel this event for now. I certainly can’t bear the thought of having my wedding on this island anymore. I just don’t know how to tell Abuelita. She was so excited. Even more than me, I think.”

  “You’ll have to break the news to her eventually. Might as well be now,” Rachel pointed out.

  “I know. My hands are just so full at the moment between handling Denise and Ryan and calling all the vendors to cancel...” Valentina sighed.

  “About Denise — if you don’t mind me asking, how could you be okay with the way Denise and Leon lived their life?” Rachel asked. “I mean…you knew Denise was having affairs, right? Leon, too?”

  Valentina shook her head. “Look, a good marriage, true love — these are rare things. I guess a lot of people just make do with what they have. I told Denise so many times to just leave Leon if she wasn’t happy. But, like I said, Denise was used to a certain lifestyle. After a while, I decided that I could either be friends with Denise or judge her, but not both. So I chose to stay friends. It’s that simple. The truth is, I expected they’d be divorced by now. I think the only reason they were together is that Denise was stubborn and Leon doubly so.” Exhausted, Valentina finally shook her head. “Look. I really don’t want to talk about this anymore. Let’s go in, shall we? Abuelita will be wondering where we’ve wandered off to.”

  *****

  Chapter 11

  Wine Cake & Wishful Thinking

  “Ah, you’re back!” Abuelita said as Valentina and Rachel wandered in. “Come on, I’ve got the oven heated and waiting. You need to gather all the ingredients. Valentina, be a darling and fetch me that tin from my room. You know, the one with all the dry fruits?”

  “I’ll get it.” Valentina gave Rachel a wink and left.

  “Good.” Abuelita smiled at Rachel. “Now, you, get started! First, we’re going to whisk the flour, baking powder, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg and cocoa together. Make sure they’re thoroughly mixed. Then I want to see you beat the butter and sugar together till they’re nice and fluffy — fluffy like summer clouds, alright? Or like a poodle that’s just come out of the wash.”

  It was a pleasure to be using her hands again. The kitchen was fragrant with the smell of spices and wine — Dr. Gomez had somehow managed to convince Abuelita to use a Ruby Port in lieu of what had been in her broken bottle — and Rachel took great pleasure in slowly folding the rich, red liquid into the batter, incorporating it carefully. Valentina came back in between to hand her a tin of dry fruits that were puffy and fat after soaking in wine for the entire week. These, too, went into the batter and, under Abuelita’s instructions, Rachel took great care to stir the dry fruit in by hand.

  “My earliest memory is watching my own grandmother make this very cake for a cousin’s wedding. So, whenever possible, I made sure Valentina saw me baking it, too.” Abuelita smiled. “The smell just takes me right back — the smells of your childhood always stay with you, I find. Long after the physical places, the people or even the love has faded, the smells and tastes of your childhood stay with you and take you back to who you were, even if only for an instant.”

  Rachel smiled. “It’s true. My aunt’s gone now, but I always remember baking cakes with her. One of my favorite memories is mixing the batter for her amazing strawberry cake when I was a child.”

  Abuelita nodded. “You’ll see, too. When you get to my age, you may not be able to remember the exact particulars of those days — how old you were or what you were feeling or thinking at those times — but if you ever pass by a shop and smell strawberry cake, your brain will immediately take you back. Just instantly make you a child again. You know, we weren’t much for taking photos and, some days, my mind can’t even reproduce more than a fuzzy image of my family in my mind. But this cake I still have — and I hope Valentina always has it, too.”

  “Have you taught her?” Rachel asked. “To bake, I mean?”

  Abuelita snorted. “Not a chance! I love my granddaughter, and she is many things, but a baker she is not. She could burn water! No, she’ll honor me by eating the cake and, since you will be part of the family now, I hope you’ll honor me by baking it for her whenever possible.”

  Rachel was touched. “You really mean that? I mean, about me becoming family?”

  “Of course.” Abuelita looked surprised. “You’re Ryan’s daughter. What else would you be to us?”

  “A stranger?” Rachel shrugged.

  “Only if you wanted it that way,” Abuelita said. “Now, come on. I think it’s time to add the caramel into the batter before we put it in to bake.”

  After the terror and confusion of the night before, it was sweet relief to bake and talk to Abuelita. Even after she’d placed the two tiers of cake into the oven, Rachel sat with a glass of orange juice and spoke with Abuelita about everything from politics to childhood memories. It felt effortless and real, as though there were truly a familial bond between them. It was the last thing Rachel had expected — to feel such affection and loyalty for both Valentina and Abuelita when she had barely known them a couple of days.

  Yet, she did feel it. And, despite having misjudged Valentina so badly, Rachel could see that she was a good person. That became clearer and clearer as Abuelita told her story after story about Valentina’s life.

  “…she was seven when she found that bird, and was so happy when she finally helped it fly again half a year later. Such a kind child,” Abuelita said. “Valentina really wanted to become a veterinarian for a little while. But she didn’t quite have the grades for it. Still, I know she has helped quite a few animal charities with her donations.”

  As the stories continued, Rachel became more and more convinced that her father was making a fantastic decision in choosing his bride. The problem was — could she say the same about Valentina when it came to choosing Rachel’s father?

  Her father’s words bounced around in her head. Marriage is just a contract. They rang in Rachel’s ears. How could he have become so cynical? What was the root of his bitterness? The answer was obvious: her mother had made him this way when she broke his heart. But even that didn’t satisfy her. Her father was a grown man. Surely, he couldn’t hold on to a decade-old breakup?

  “What is it?” Abuelita’s words were gentle but it was plain she saw the tension in Rachel’s eyes.

  “Nothing.” Rachel smiled, brushing it off. The timer pinged and she removed the cake from the oven. “All ready! Shall we cut us a slice?” She took a deep breath, appreciating the warm spices mixed with the intoxicating smell of wine.

  Abuelita only laughed. “Not a chance,” she said. “You know how they say all good things take time? Well, wine cake is one of those good things. Wait till it cools. Meanwhile, get out that brush and look in the fridge — I’d saved a cup of rum and wine. You’re going to brush all of it onto the cake and then wrap it up with plastic wrap and aluminum foil.”

  “For how long?” Rachel asked, expecting to wrap it for about an hour.

  “Five days.
” Abuelita smiled. “Then, we can cut ourselves a slice and toast the newly married couple!”

  *****

  Chapter 12

  Three Minutes

  Scott came back from Key West around lunchtime, his hair flopping all over his forehead instead of being neatly in place as was usual. Rachel was waiting at the dock for him and he greeted her with a tight hug, his face revealing nothing.

  “Well?” Rachel asked. “How is she? How is Mom? I wanted to come, too, but she called and told me to stay put. She said I’d only be a distraction.”

  Scott’s face softened. “I think she wanted to spare you the pain of seeing her that way. She was right. There wasn’t much you could have done anyway. She was mostly locked away with her own lawyers.”

  “Lawyers? Plural?” Rachel raised an eyebrow.

  “A man and his assistant.” Scott nodded. “Your mom’s taking these allegations seriously, Rachel. Don’t worry. She’ll have the best defense.”

  “But that means they think she’s done it?” Rachel asked. “The police think she’s the prime suspect?”

  Scott sighed and ran a hand through his hair, pushing the dark strands down till they covered one of his eyes. “Well, it’s only been 13 hours since he died. But, so far, they’ve got no leads.”

  “What were you able to find out?” Rachel asked.

  Scott hesitated. “This stays between us, right? I got my information from a new friend at the PD and I don’t want him compromised.”

  “Of course, it does, Scott. Now tell me!”

  “The gun that was used as the murder weapon? It belongs to Leon,” Scott said. He gulped. “Have you heard of the Colt Python?”

  Rachel shook her head.

  “It’s a classic revolver. Shoots a .357 magnum. Basically, it can do some real damage.”

  “Clearly,” Rachel said.

  “Well, the thing is, remember when we were all at the gun range yesterday? Leon was showing off that gun. He claimed it used to belong to Clint Eastwood himself. Total rubbish, I think. But, hey, who was I to claim otherwise?”

  “Okay?”

  “Now, remember. You, Valentina and Denise were out yesterday. Dr. Gomez was with us for a very short time. Mostly, it was just me, Tony, your dad, Mason and Leon who were hanging out at the gun range in the big house.”

  “Right.” Rachel nodded.

  “So, around 7pm, Leon starts pestering us to go to Key West and hit the bars. I didn’t want to. Neither did Ryan and Mason. Leon got slightly angry at them. At this point, I can clearly remember he went and placed all the guns in a safe near the gun range. A safe with a key code.”

  Rachel nodded.

  “He was very careless. I’m a total stranger and even I can tell you what the code was — 1234.” Scott shrugged. “I guess the island was private enough that Leon didn’t worry about safety.”

  “Oh...” Rachel’s face fell. “So, then, anyone could have gotten that gun?”

  Scott nodded. But he had a slight smile on his face. “Anyone on the island, maybe. Your mom wasn’t with us, though? How could she have known the code?”

  “Right!” Rachel brightened. “Go on. What did you do after?”

  “Well, like I said, I decided to go back to the cottage, maybe read that new sci-fi book like I’ve been itching to. No offense, Rachel, but three hours with your father and his friends was enough socializing for me. It didn’t help that Mason never once called me anything but Steve. I wanted to keep the peace, so I didn’t push any buttons.”

  Rachel winced, but nodded. “I understand.”

  “I heard this secondhand from Tony but, after I left, Ryan decided to go back to his cottage, too, despite Leon’s protests. According to Tony, Mason left, too. So Tony and Leon went to Key West. Tony said that Leon kept glancing at his phone until your mom walked into the bar. Tony said they’d clearly arranged that meeting.”

  “Oh, no...” Rachel sighed.

  “Right.” Scott nodded. “Lily made it clear she wanted to talk to Leon alone, so Tony went back to the island at that point. He says this was around 10pm. Records at the bar show that your mother and Leon left at 11pm, which means they would have arrived at the island at about 11:30. They would’ve reached the cottage by 11:40 or 11:45, at the latest.”

  “And, at twenty minutes past midnight, Leon was killed.” Rachel nodded.

  “Right.” Scott nodded. “Twenty three minutes past, to be precise. You came back around midnight, along with Valentina and Denise, right?”

  Rachel nodded. “Val and Denise went off together and I came to our cottage.”

  Scott nodded. “According to Val’s statement, she and Denise decided to have a slumber party of sorts. Dr. Gomez, his wife and Abuelita were also together — and fast asleep — in their own cottage.”

  “Which leaves Mason, Tony and my Dad,” Rachel said.

  “All of whom claim to have been alone and asleep in their own cottages,” Scott said.

  They’d reached their own cottage by now, and were sitting on the table in the little kitchen. Scott stretched and turned his head this way and that, loosening his neck. “So…there it is. In a nutshell.”

  “Look…” Rachel paused. She took a salt shaker and placed it in the center of the table. “Let’s say this is Leon’s cottage.”

  Scott nodded.

  “We’re one door away.” She placed a packet of mustard on the left of it.

  Scott nodded again.

  “The big house with the gun is a two minute walk or a 30 second run in this direction—” A ketchup bottle was used this time.

  “Correct.”

  “Which leaves us with the cottage to Leon’s right—”

  “Your father’s cottage,” Scott said. “If you keep moving clockwise, the other cottages are Tony’s, Valentina’s, Dr. Gomez’s and then Mason’s, followed by ours. The central house is equidistant from all the cottages.”

  “So, whoever the murderer is, assuming they were quick on their feet, it would take them less than five minutes to go to the big house, get the gun, shoot Leon and go back?” Rachel tried to calculate.”

  “Less, if they were running.” Scott nodded. “Theoretically, no matter what cottage you were in, you could murder Leon and be back in your cottage in as little as three minutes.”

  “Right.” Rachel sighed. “So we know nothing. Plus, it’s always possible an outsider did it, right?”

  Scott shook his head. “Actually, it’s not. Leon had heavy security for anyone wanting to enter his private island, and nearly none once you were on it. But, basically, if anyone had taken a boat or a helicopter, Leon’s cameras would have caught it.”

  “But there are no cameras trained on the cottages themselves?”

  “Exactly. Maximum privacy for his guests.” Scott sighed. “In short, this island was invitation only and, like it or not, one of the people here killed your father’s partner.”

  Rachel sighed again. “No wonder my dad’s freaking out.”

  “I wanted to ask you about that.” Scott paused. “I know it might be tough for you to talk about, but you mentioned your mom broke his heart…”

  Rachel looked away. It wasn’t exactly something she’d told him about, nor something she wanted to.

  “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I think you need to,” Scott said.

  *****

  Chapter 13

  How To Break A Heart

  “Do I have to?” Rachel asked. She shifted a little, wishing that the weather wasn’t quite as hot. Her shirt was sticking to her skin and her hair was plastered to her head. She thought back to when she and Scott had had their dip in the ocean and realized with a start that it had only been yesterday. So much had happened since.

  “Please, Rachel. I really need to know the equation between them. It’ll help make sense of… well…a lot of things, really.”

  “They’re divorced and had a child together…me,” Rachel said. “The equation between them? It’s complicated.
That about sums it up.”

  “Rachel, come on,” Scott coaxed her. “I know parents are a messy topic to get into...”

  “Not really.” Rachel sighed. “I mean, I don’t want to offend you, Scott, and I know you’ve had your share of messy family issues to deal with. But, basically, your mom and dad always shared a healthy bond. They loved each other, they loved you. It was that simple. Maybe your mom died way too young but, even then, your dad’s grief was…natural, you know? Wholesome, in a way.”

  There was a tinge of red in Scott’s ears and a light in his eyes. Rachel knew she was putting her foot in her mouth, but there wasn’t a better way she could think of to say it.

  “Look, I’m not making light of what your family went through. Obviously, it was tough. But it was different,” Rachel said. “You and Emily — it’s obvious your parents loved each other, and the two of you show it. Where love is concerned, your thinking is clean and uncomplicated and almost naïve. You give it freely, you receive it freely, and there’s no angst. You know? I know I sound stupid right now...”

  “You sound like you’re trying to tell me something that you haven’t even fully articulated to yourself,” Scott said. But his voice was gentle as he said it. He stretched out his hand and took Rachel’s in his own. “How about, for the next five minutes, you stop worrying about offending me, and stop worrying about me judging you, and we just talk about what you’re feeling? Can we try that?”

  Rachel took a deep breath and gave him a grateful smile. “Okay. We can try that.”

  “Great. Go.” Scott pulled her hand toward him and kissed her gently on each of her five fingers. “I’m listening.”

  “It’s...” Rachel took a deep breath. “As far back as I can remember, Mom and Dad loved each other. Deeply, passionately, loved each other. But as far back as I can remember, they also hated each other.”