"I figured," I mumbled. Sometimes it was as though our powers were all for naught. What was the point in having something so special if you couldn't always use it when it was needed most? Part of me wanted to say “screw it” and pull out my spell book anyway—I kept it on me at all times—but I knew Karen was right. Magic wouldn't bring back Nick Stowe.
"The police are here," one of the women on the tour announced, peeking out the front doors of the winery shop.
Sure enough, the sirens had stopped as what seemed like the entirety of the Napa County Sheriff’s Department accompanied a single ambulance down the road that led up to the winery. Dust and dirt kicked up on the road behind the long trail of cars.
"What, did they bring the whole squad?" Karen asked, echoing my own thoughts.
It didn't take long for them to partition off the body of Nick Stowe out of sight from the rest of us. A couple of police officers were speaking with Alicia, who was now curled up between Amanda and Kirsten on the bench, her arms thrown around her daughters as she held them close.
On one hand, everything was moving in slow motion—everyone's hushed whispers in the group seemed distant and muffled. On the other, though, time ticked by so fast that I was sure someone had sped up the ornate clock on the wall behind the shop counter. How had we already been standing there for an hour?
People had been ushered out of the way for the paramedics, who ultimately called Nick Stowe's time of death. A steady stream of police officers, and even a forensics team, worked to disperse the crowd that had gathered around. No one was allowed to leave yet, so plenty of us from the tour group were left to mill around, wondering what on earth had just happened.
The older man, who had been cracking jokes as we wound up and down the rows of grapes earlier, stood against the display of polo shirts, shaking his head. "Terrible affair. We always come here every summer before they do their annual harvest. The Stowes have always been lovely to me and my wife," he said to no one in particular.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please follow me over here so we can get everyone's information," the stoic-looking sheriff yelled out over the mumbling crowd. "We need to ask everyone some standard questions before anyone leaves."
Karen groaned behind me. "Ugh, of course they do. I bet you they probably think one of us did it."
"Shh!" I hissed at her. "Keep talking like that and you're absolutely right they will."
"My team will be interviewing each of you and collecting your name and contact information. Please be one-hundred-percent truthful with us as we try and help the family with our assessment. Thank you for your cooperation in advance."
The people closest to the front of the room were called on first, so Karen and I decided to take our chances and wait our turns outside, even in the heat. Neither one of us had much to say until the doors swung open as the first of people were allowed to leave, one of those people being the funny older man.
"A bunch of regular Barney Fifes, these guys, I tell ya," he said to me and Karen as he shook his head. "Those poor girls are going to have one heck of a time trying to figure out what happened to Mr. Stowe with those fools running the show. Maybe if they had the right people helping out they wouldn’t have to resort to blaming paying customers on the owner’s death."
As he walked off mumbling to himself, I could feel Karen's eyes burning holes into the side of my head. "What?"
She gave me a knowing look. "You know what. These dummies think we had something to do with it. That’s the angle they’re going for."
And of course, she was right. I knew exactly what she was thinking because to be honest, I was thinking it too. Tucking the pamphlet I'd been fanning myself with away in my purse, I nodded at her. "All right, all right. So, they're sucky cops."
The corner of Karen's lip quirked up. "And?"
"And… we should probably try and figure this one out ourselves. God knows we'd end up on their main suspect list somehow if we didn't."
I sighed as the realization dawned upon me. I was getting drawn into yet another murder investigation.
Chapter 3
I understood why weren't being allowed to leave just yet, but watching each person who belonged to the tour get escorted back to a small storage room for questioning left an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
It was weird, being left to meander around the winery shop, even weirder than the cheese and crackers that had been left out on a black table against one of the barrels of Riesling, left untouched. My stomach growled. How utterly inappropriate would it be of me to go have a quick snack?
"I wouldn't," Karen said, nodding to the black tablecloth full of deliciousness. "That's some tainted cheese now, you don't want that."
Sometimes I wondered if she could read my mind, but I knew better. She was just really good at guessing when I was hungry. To be fair, that was most of the time.
"Oh, whatever. It's just cheese."
"Death cheese," she corrected me, folding her arms across her chest. "You don't want that kind of juju."
"But it looks like a delicious kind of juju," I whined. Who knew how long we were going to have stay before it was our turn to be questioned?
I tried to ignore the growling in my stomach some more, focusing instead on watching the people from the county sheriff's office bustling around.
It was difficult, though, because every time I caught a whiff of the cheese my mouth watered a little.
"You can have some, you know."
Kirsten leaned over the table to grab a small paper plate. Her face was still wet with tears.
Guilt rose up inside of me. How could I be thinking about food at a time like this? This poor girl's stepfather was dead, and I was worrying about stuffing my face. I would've smacked some sense into myself if I could have.
"I don't really have much of an appetite right now, but I know that if this expensive cheese goes to waste my mom is only going to be that much more upset. Here, don't feel bad for wanting some." She loaded up the plate with two different types of crackers and the homemade fresh cheese, offering it to me.
Karen was still whispering the words 'bad juju' behind me, but I ignored her. If it made Kirsten feel better for me to eat the cheese, then I was going to eat the darn cheese.
"Thank you. I'm Taylor, by the way. And I just want to let you know how terribly sorry I am for your loss," I replied softly, taking the plate from her. "I know they're just words, but still."
She nodded and took a seat in one of the two metal folding chairs that were behind the food. Not wanting to leave her feeling alone, I sat down in the other one beside her.
"Hey Kirsten, I'm sorry to bother you, but could you tell me where the restroom is?" Karen asked.
"In the back of the shop. There's a door that leads to part of our warehouse. The bathroom is inside of it, on the left," Kirsten said, her voice completely lacking any emotion.
We sat in silence for a few minutes, and as awkward as I felt eating the food right in front of her like that, she didn't seem to mind. Once I'd returned from dumping my plate, Kirsten was wiping a whole new set of tears from her face, quickly jamming her phone in her pocket.
Straightening up in her seat, Kirsten dabbed at the corner of her now ruined eyeliner with the collar of her shirt and took a deep breath. "I just can't believe it. It's too much." Her voice sounded like it had been raked over the coals. "He was just there this morning before the tour and then,"
I handed her a tissue from my purse, nudging it into her hand. "It's hard, I know it is. I lost my parents not that long ago and it really just sucks. There's nothing anyone can say that will change that."
Taking the tissue, she nodded. "It's just been one thing after another today. I mean, sorry, I'm being such a selfish brat."
"No, don't say that. Did something else happen?"
Kirsten looked around before blowing her nose and nodding again. "Ugh. I'm such a mess. My boyfriend, Mark, dumped me first thing this morning before I even got out of bed." There was
a not-so-quiet sob. "He said I was too clingy, or something stupid like that, can you believe it? And now th-this? My mom. And A-Amanda?" She shook her head, dropping it down to her chest. "I don't know how they're going to deal with any of this."
The people standing around were staring, and as much as I wanted to shield Kirsten from it, it was no use when she was crying so hard. With Karen still in the bathroom, I threw my arm around Kirsten and stood up, guiding her out the front doors for some fresh air.
"Wait, Miss!" one of the deputies, a younger guy who looked like he barely had to shave, called out to me, catching up to us outside. "We need you both to stay on the premises."
It was hard not to roll my eyes. What did he think, that I was going to kidnap her or something? "We will. She just needs a break from everyone," I said as calmly as I could manage.
Beside me, Kirsten was shaking. "Thanks," she whispered.
Once the officer had stopped pestering us, I turned back to her. "I know this is a lot to deal with all at once. And I'm sorry your boyfriend was a butt who couldn't even do you the service of breaking up with you face to face. Seriously, you don't deserve someone like that, anyway."
It wasn't that I was trying to gloss over everything else, but being a teenager could be difficult at the best of times. And I wanted her to know that people were concerned about her, too.
"I know you don't actually know me, but if you want to talk about anything, I'm here to listen."
It wasn't a smile, but there was definitely an understanding between us as she looked up at me. "Thanks."
Thinking about the conclusion Karen and I had just come to, it hit me that now was the best time to get some answers. "So, do you have any idea what might have happened to him? I mean, did he have a health condition maybe? Or," I trailed off.
"No. No, he was perfectly healthy. He kinda bragged about how he healthy he was, actually."
"Really?" Nick Stowe had to have been in his late-forties. I supposed I kind of assumed that most people that old didn’t really stay in great shape.
"He was always running marathons and stuff. He has one of those bumper stickers with his clocked finish time on it, you know? So I don't think it was anything to do with his health. And, well, it looked like he'd been hit with something. At least from where I was standing."
She had been on the other side, trying to keep her sister away so she must have gotten a better glimpse than I had while I was checking for his pulse. And it did match with what Karen had thought.
"Oh," I said softly, not really wanting to put Karen's suspicions out there just yet. Especially to the family. But Karen and I did decide we were at least going to look into things further.
"Kirsten, do you think anyone else might be hurt? Is there anyone else here on the farm that isn't accounted for yet?" I asked, going at it from a different angle.
"Anyone else? No, I don't think anyone else would be hurt. It's just me, my mom, and Nick here today. Oh, and Tom. But I just saw him a while ago. He was running the forklift to carry some of the barrels from the corking room to the warehouse for Nick. He seemed fine to me. Then there's Janice, but she didn't come in today. At least, I haven't seen her. She's the office manager."
I remembered seeing Tom too, he was the guy who had rushed in from outside when we all found the body. "Maybe you should check on her, just in case?" I suggested.
Kirsten just shrugged her shoulders, frowning. "Maybe. Wait, there's also Kevin. But he's probably okay, too. He's Nick's younger brother. He's staying with us at the main house this week, visiting."
"Oh, okay." I shuddered, thinking about how awful it would be for Alicia to have to break the news to Nick's brother.
"There you are." Karen joined us, her face softening as she saw the look on Kirsten's. "I'm really sorry about your dad," she said to her, patting her shoulder somewhat awkwardly. Karen was generally way better with animals than people.
"Stepdad," Kirsten said, shrugging. "Me too."
"Mom wants you, Kiki," Amanda called out from the front doors of the shop. She looked so little and scared standing in the doorway. My heart went out to her.
"I better go," Kirsten said, turning away from me and Karen. "Thanks for, being nice."
Chapter 4
I filled Karen in on the brother, the missing office manager, and Tom. "We should see what we can find out about them, if anything."
Whipping out my phone, I searched for the winery and clicked on the website. The contact information luckily named a Janice Winchester as the point of contact for business inquiries, with a picture of a smiling blonde with an overly-tanned face and bright red lipstick. "Bingo."
"What did you find?" Karen asked, leaning over to see my phone screen. "Is that the office manager?"
"Yup. And let's see here," I said, typing in her name and finding a Facebook profile that looked like a match. "It looks like this is her, too. Did you find anything on the others?"
"I don't know about the brother yet, but that guy that ran in earlier, who was all out of breath? That's Tom, right?"
I nodded.
"It's a small world," she said under her breath. "I thought his face looked familiar. I actually went to high school with him."
My jaw dropped and I pulled her further away from the throng of people that was starting to make its way outside with us. "Are you serious?"
"Obviously," she said, rolling her eyes. "We’re really not that far from Rosemary Creek. He was one of those super ambitious kids that got all A's and a full-ride scholarship to Stanford. I think he and Ken were pretty good friends, too."
My cheeks blazed at the mention of Ken Leeman, the cute junior attorney she swore up and down had a crush on me.
"Mm-hmm. Very subtle."
"Anyway, I guess he came back at some point. He was a nice guy back in high school, but I didn’t know him all that well even then, and as much as I hate to admit it I did graduate a while ago now."
I swiped around on my phone to check out Janice's profile, but everything was set to private. "Ugh, come on. I guess I need to work on my hacking skills because I'm not seeing anything useful here," I said, flipping the phone around to Karen. "Now what?"
"Now," she said as looked past me, "we divert our attention elsewhere. Here comes Tom right now."
Apparently recognizing Karen from the crowd, Tom slowly made his way towards us, the corners of his mouth turned down into a frown.
"Oh, wow, hey Tom!" Karen said, pretending to only just have seen him. "How have you been?"
He gave Karen an appraising look and the frown slid into half a smile. "I've been okay. Well, until just now, I guess," he replied, pointing his thumb in the opposite direction toward the barn. "This whole thing is freaking insane. I’m still waiting for someone to tell me this is just some whacked out dream.”
"Some dream, more like a nightmare. You work here, right? I mean, I see your nametag and all," she said casually. "So, Mr. Stowe was your boss?"
He shuffled his feet a bit, nodding. "Yeah. I started working here in February. Nick hired me to help out around the place. Operating the forklift, moving the heavier barrels, helping out in the vineyard, that sort of thing. It's my first harvest coming up and geez." He let out a long sigh. "I don't know what to think now. It just sucks, you know? I like working here. Nick was a pretty solid guy, showing me the ropes on running the business and everything." Tom leaned in closer to Karen, the frown returning. "Nick told me he was considering selling me a small portion of the vines, to help get me started on my own winery. It's sort of my dream. And I don't want to bring any of that stuff up with everything going on. The last thing anyone's worried about is that."
I couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy; I'd always been of the philosophy that you should go through life stepping on as few toes as possible.
"Did you have any sort of formal agreement with him?" I asked.
"What, like a contract? Nah. Like I said, he was considering it. It wasn’t something either of us knew needed to
be rushed."
The doors to the shop swung open again behind Tom, and this time, a taller detective with the sheriff’s office was not-too-subtlely pushing his way towards us. His small, beady eyes and prominent teeth reminded me of a big rat. "Excuse me. Excuse me!"
"Sorry, officer? Did we do something wrong?" Karen asked with one hand on her hip. She and I were obviously on the same wavelength about this guy.
"It’s Deputy Rattray,” he corrected her. “And I can't have you questioning suspects and tainting this investigation," he said through gritted teeth.
Deputy Rattray? That was an incredibly fitting name.
Tom stumbled back, his eyes wide. "Suspect? In what happened with Nick? Are you serious?"
Deputy Rattray glared at him, opening his mouth to argue when Karen quickly stepped in to diffuse whatever was about to go down.
"Hey, hey, hey. At this point they're just trying to cover all their bases. No need to get upset about it. Besides, you don't have anything to hide, right? So, no harm, no foul." Turning back to the deputy, she put on her most innocent smile. "I was just catching up with an old friend from high school. I promise I wasn't doing anything to taint the investigation, sir."
That was impressive. Even I was surprised to hear how sweet Karen managed to sound. Of course, I also knew a lot better, too.
This guy came across as someone who liked to throw his weight around, though, and by the looks of it, there was enough of it to go around. "That's what Facebook is for. You two, we're going to need you to come back inside so we can ask you some questions," he said, pointing to Karen and me. He didn't bother waiting and turned on his heel, leaving us there to stare at one another.
Merlot and Murder Page 2
