by Penny Warner
Maybe she’d taken a walk in the vineyard.
With a killer on the loose?
Chapter 20
PARTY-PLANNING TIP #20
Add to your wine-tasting experience by having guests stomp harvested grapes! Sure, machines can get the juice out of grapes faster (and more hygienically), but where’s the fun in that? In fact, grape stomping is quickly becoming a championship sport, so help your guests start training for the Wine Olympics!
I was about to head out for a vineyard hike in search of Marie when my cell phone rang.
I checked the ID.
Uh-oh. Kyle Bennett. I had a feeling he was wondering where his check had gone to.
“Hello?” I said, bracing myself.
“I think you have something of mine,” Kyle said. His voice, low and even, scared the crap out of me.
“What do you mean?” I asked, playing dumb.
“You know exactly what I mean,” he said. “Where’s the check?”
I immediately went on the defensive. “You mean the one for ten thousand dollars from Angus McLaughlin?”
No response.
“I’m curious why you received a check from the CEO of Napology,” I continued. “I thought you represented the underdog wineries in their fight against corporate takeovers. It looks like a conflict of interest, to say the least.”
More silence, then, “We have to talk. Where are you?”
I thought about telling him I didn’t have the check, that it had fallen under his desk, but decided I might be able to use this to gain information. Still, no way was I going to meet this guy alone again. For all I knew, he could be the killer.
“Okay, where do you want to meet?”
“Where are you?”
“In my car,” I lied.
“Come to my office.”
“How about somewhere public, like that café you mentioned?”
“From the Ground Up. It’s just down the street from my office. I’ll see you there in twenty minutes—or I’ll call the police and have you arrested for theft. And that will just be the beginning of your problems.”
He hung up the phone before I could say, “Are you threatening me?”
Twenty minutes. I checked my watch. My search for Marie would have to wait. I just hoped she wasn’t in any kind of trouble. I headed out the door, planning to call Brad and let him know where I was going—just in case.
And I’d keep the corkscrew party favor in my purse handy too.
I was about to get in my car when I heard a noise coming from the wine-storage building, adjacent to the Christophers’ three-car garage. Thinking it might be Marie—and still anxious to make sure she was safe—I stepped over and peered in the open sliding door. The large, cavernous room was dim, but shards of morning sunlight pierced the semidarkness, allowing me to see the rows of giant wine barrels lining both sides of the walls.
The noise came again, from deeper inside.
It sounded like the clink of a bottle.
“Hello?” I called out, hoping to hear Marie’s voice.
The sound stopped.
Someone was in here. And I sensed whoever it was didn’t want me to know.
Javier?
I reached into my purse, pulled out the corkscrew, and gripped it in my hand like a knife.
I took a step forward, straining to see into the semidarkness ahead. Off to the right, I spotted a dim light emanating from another room. I recalled from the tour Rob had given Mother and me that this was a storage room for the bottled wine.
I broke out into a sweat. The corkscrew in my hand felt slippery in my moist palm. My heart pounded like something out of a horror movie. “The Tell-Tale Heart.”
I thought about backing out and calling the police. My mama didn’t raise no dummy, like that scantily clad teenage girl who hears a noise and goes into the dark basement, only to be murdered by a demented killer. Unless it’s just a cat. But what would I tell the cops? Someone is making noises in the Christophers’ winery? And then they’d ask me what I was doing there, and then I might be arrested for trespassing, and then I’d go to prison…
Forget that.
If it was Marie, maybe she was in trouble. Tied up, bound and gagged, stabbed with a corkscrew, and left for dead…
I really needed to stop watching old horror movies.
I took a few more steps, as quietly as I could manage on the cement floor. Luckily Mary Janes don’t make noise like spike heels. Another good reason to wear them, besides comfort.
Yeah, Presley. Good time to stop and think about shoes.
I paused and listened.
Silence.
I stepped closer to the lighted room. Just as I was about to reach the doorway, the lights inside went out.
Uh-oh.
“Who’s there?” I said. “I’ve got a weapon.” The “weapon” nearly slipped out of my hand from the sweat and shaking.
The light went back on.
“God, Presley, you scared the crap out of me!”
Allison stood in the doorway, a bottle of wine raised above her head. She lowered the bottle. “Don’t come sneaking up on people like that!”
“Why didn’t you say something when I called out?” I asked, eyeing the bottle.
She flicked one of the earplugs that hung around her neck. “I didn’t hear you.” She’d been listening to her iPod. “I saw your shadow.”
We both let out breaths of air. To my relief, Allison set the bottle on a nearby table just inside the door, which held about a dozen other bottles.
I followed her inside, relaxing my grip on my corkscrew. Allison spotted the weapon in my hand and her eyes widened. “You…?”
I realized she thought I might be the corkscrew killer. “What? Me? No! I was just holding this to protect myself.”
“You always carry around a corkscrew for protection?”
“No. I had it in my purse from the party the other night,” I said, defending myself. I tried to turn the tables of the inquisition. “So what are you doing in here, anyway?”
“I was…just getting some wine. For personal use.” Her eyes shot to a large envelope lying on the table next to the bottles. On top was a stack of wine labels that read “Purple Great Merlot.”
I looked at her. “Oh my God. You’ve been selling the Christophers’ wine on the Internet, haven’t you? Under your own homemade label. Just like JoAnne was supposedly doing.”
“So?” she said, stuffing the labels back into the envelope to hide them. “I’m part of the family business now.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think Rob and Marie meant for you to undersell them. On the sly.”
“Listen, Presley, you know nothing about me or my sister. We’re very close. No one, not even you, can come between us. So just butt out and mind your own damn business.”
“Allison, I’m trying to help Rob,” I said. “From the way you’ve been behaving, it doesn’t seem as if you’re doing much to clear his name.”
She gave a cold smile that made me shudder. “Don’t worry. Kyle is taking care of Rob. And I’m taking good care of my sister.”
“How? By stealing bottles of wine and selling them at a discounted price? If he finds out you’re undermining his business—”
“His business? This is Marie’s business. She’s the one who built this company up from nothing. Rob is a dreamer. Sure, he knows a lot about wine, especially about drinking it, but he has no idea how to run a company. If it weren’t for Marie, there would be no Purple Grape.”
“Selling behind their backs isn’t helping things,” I argued. “Obviously Marie doesn’t know you’re doing this or she wouldn’t put up with it.”
Allison sighed. “Listen, Presley. I had no choice.”
“What?”
She took a deep breath, then said, “JoAnne was blackmailing me. She…found out about my affair with Rob and threatened to tell Marie unless I helped her with her online business.”
“Wow,” I said, stunned at these revelations. �
��So you two were doing it together?”
“Like I said, I had no choice.”
A look of panic crossed Allison’s face, then faded just as quickly. Maybe it suddenly dawned on her that I might rat her out.
It suddenly dawned on me that she might try to stop me.
Where was Javier?
Where was Marie?
Would anyone hear me if I screamed?
Allison took a step toward me.
I took a step back and gripped the corkscrew I still held in my hand.
“I don’t think you’re going to do that, Presley.” Her eyes almost glowed under the fluorescent lights.
I took another step back, ready for fight or flight.
“Why not?” I asked, stalling, hoping to keep her talking.
She smiled. “Because I got a call from Kyle before you came in here.”
Kyle! I’d forgotten all about meeting him at the café to get his check back. Maybe he had news about Rob.
“Why did he call you? Was it something about Rob?”
“No, actually. It was something about you.” Allison picked up one of her newly labeled bottles by the neck, supporting it with the other hand while she continued talking. “Kyle and I are, well, you could say we’re close. He told me you took something that belonged to him this morning. A check?”
I felt the blood leave my head. “But I didn’t—”
She cut me off. “You wouldn’t want the police to hear about your theft, would you?”
My legs felt wobbly. Pretending to steal that check was quickly becoming one of the stupidest things I’d ever done. Now both Kyle and Allison were threatening me.
I decided to go along with it. “Listen, Allison. I’ll go to jail if I have to, to protect Rob and Marie, so go ahead and call the cops. I’ve got a bigger issue on my mind—unlike you—and that’s trying to save your brother-in-law’s neck.”
Allison snickered. “Yeah? How’s that going for you?”
I shook my head in disbelief at her callous attitude toward Rob. “You really are a piece of work, Allison. What do you think this is going to get you? The winery?”
Allison set her jaw. I was onto something.
Allison took another step toward me, bottle in hand. “It’s time for you to leave, Presley. The party’s over for you. Your services are no longer required. And from this point on, you’re trespassing here. So stop sticking your nose into my family’s business. Got it?”
“I’ll stop if and when Marie tells me to. She’s the one who asked me to help clear Rob, and I’m not leaving the Purple Grape until I see her—alive and well.”
Allison’s face hardened. She looked as if she wanted to stomp me like a plump grape.
A bloodcurdling scream pierced the tense air, startling us both.
Allison froze.
My heart stopped.
“That sounded like Marie,” Allison said. Bottle still in hand, she dashed past me and fled the storage room.
I was right behind her.
Chapter 21
PARTY-PLANNING TIP #21
Dress up your wine bottles by making your own personalized labels! Find some clip art, such as a picture of grapes, or scan in a snapshot of yourself dressed like Lucy in her wine-stomping episode. Make up a name for your wine, such as “Presley’s Pinot” or “Blood Red”; then print the labels out on adhesive paper. Cut out your labels and adhere them to your wine bottles.
“Marie!” Allison yelled as soon as she reached the outside of the building.
Another scream.
Allison ran in the direction of the sound, which led her—and me—to another storage building behind the garage, where the Christophers kept their winemaking equipment. I followed her as she darted past giant metal tanks, large glass jugs, wine bottles, siphons, funnels, oversized rubber stoppers, and what looked like a complicated printing press.
Marie stood in the center of the room, her back to us. She appeared to be staring into a large metal vat, about the size of a hot tub.
Allison slowed her pace as she neared her sister.
“Marie! What is it? What’s—”
Allison choked on her words as she looked down into the vat.
I caught up with them and peered inside.
My stomach lurched.
A body was floating facedown in a pool of red wine.
It wore a flannel plaid shirt. A straw hat lay at Marie’s feet.
“Oh my God!” I croaked, unable to find my voice.
“Javier,” Allison said, recognizing her co-worker. The back of her hand covered her mouth.
Marie grabbed her sister’s arm. “I just found him here…floating…,” Marie said through tears. “I came in looking for him, and saw his hat…then, there he was…Javier…” More tears flowed down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook.
I stepped back, not wanting to see the horrible scene anymore, and pulled out my cell phone with shaking hands. I punched 911, waited for the operator, and said, “We have an emergency. A man has drowned.” I gave her the particulars and hung up, my hands still trembling.
I was about to call Brad when I noticed there were two phone messages I’d apparently missed. No wonder, considering the day I’d had. Both had come from the same caller—a number I didn’t recognize. While Allison guided Marie outside to wait for the police, I pressed the button on my phone and listened to the first message, in case it was Brad calling from someone else’s phone.
“Ms. Parker,” the Spanish-accented male voice said. “This is Javier Montoya, Mr. Christopher’s winery manager. I know you have been working to free him from jail. I have some information that could help. Can you come to the winery today so I can talk with you? You can call my cell phone when you get here and I will meet you. Please do not tell anyone of this. Is very dangerous.”
He left his number and hung up.
I shuddered, remembering the disturbing scene I’d just witnessed.
Javier had called me sometime before he died!
I checked the time: nine ten a.m. He must have called during my drive to Napa. I’d had the radio on and hadn’t heard the phone ring.
I listened to the second call from the same number. Nine fifteen. A hang-up.
He’d phoned back only minutes later. Why?
Javier had wanted to tell me something. Something urgent, if he’d called twice. Was it about the murder? What had he known?
And how had he gotten my number?
“Presley!” Allison called from outside the storage building. “Would you mind waiting for the police? I’m taking my sister inside.” She wrapped her arm around Marie’s waist as she walked to the house.
I dialed Brad. No answer. He often couldn’t answer the phone while he was on a cleanup job, with his gloved hands full of chemicals. I left an urgent message asking him to call me back ASAP but decided not to offer the details until I could talk to him in person.
After hanging up the phone, I stepped back to the entrance of the building and looked around for anything that might explain what had happened. Obviously this was no accident—a person didn’t just fall into an open vat of wine and drown.
So how had Javier ended up there?
The barrel was at least six feet across, four feet deep. There were no steps to climb on, if a person suddenly wanted to take a wine bath, but one could lean over and perhaps try to take a sip. But who would?
I moved in closer, avoiding the sight of the body, and instead focused on the floor around the vat. I saw the hat and some wine stains, but there were no weapons lying about. I glanced at the shelves nearby and spotted plenty of solid, heavy objects the killer could have used to clobber the victim—a steel bar, a metal tool, a heavy piece of equipment. But none of those lay near the vat. Did the killer grab one of the objects and hit Javier over the head, then carefully replace it, making it a needle in a haystack for the cops to find? A careful killer would probably have wiped off any fingerprints as well.
But if the killer beaned Javier first, wouldn
’t he have to drag the body over to the vat, lift it up, and dump it in? That took muscle. And would surely cause a splash. There would be wine stains on the killer’s clothes, as well as on the floor around the barrel. There were plenty of stains around the vat, but all appeared to be dry.
I’d have to see what the police found before spinning my wheels any further. All I knew at this point was that Javier had had something urgent to tell me and had wanted to meet.
And now he was dead.
A light went on in the fog of my brain. Rob couldn’t have killed Javier—he was in jail. That meant Rob could be released—right? It didn’t clear him of JoAnne’s murder, but it had to be the same person—didn’t it?
Or would the police think there were two killers running around Napa Valley?
I heard sirens and stepped out of the storage area into the daylight. Two police cars pulled up, followed by an ambulance and a crime scene van. Detective Kelly stepped out of the car.
“You again?” he said by way of hello, and signaled his men to go inside. “What happened this time?”
“I don’t know,” I said, then nodded toward the storage building. “Allison and I were in the building next door and we heard a scream. We came running and found Marie hysterical, staring into that vat of wine. She’d discovered her manager, Javier, floating inside.”
The detective entered the crime scene building while I waited in the doorway, not wanting to see the body again, yet hoping to overhear any discoveries the police made. After a preliminary search by the detective and crime scene techs, the EMTs began removing the body from the vat. I turned my head, not eager to view Javier’s wine-soaked corpse. Again I wondered what he had been planning to tell me. Was it something that could have saved his life?
After the body was placed on a stretcher and taken to the ambulance, one of the officers searched the shelves. I thought he might be looking for the murder weapon, but instead he picked up a long-handled sieve the size of a butterfly net. He rolled up his shirtsleeve and dipped the sieve into the barrel, dredging the wine. After a few moments, he raised the sieve. Inside was a small round object.
