Twisted Taste

by Michelle Dayton

  Jess nonchalantly pulled a lipstick out of her purse. “You feel someone watching?”

  “No, not that,” he said. “Something’s just not right.”

  She applied a coat of bright red lipstick. To anyone watching, her first concern would have been her impeccable appearance. But her voice was 100% focused and concerned. “What do you want to do?”

  He strolled out of the entranceway to the street, wondering if the building had a side door. Before he could answer her, the door buzzed unlocked—briefly. So briefly it was like Celeste tapped it for half a second. Shit. In the street he had no chance of reaching it.

  Jess’s arm shot out and pulled open the door in the last instant.

  He smiled in relief. “Ever tell you I dig your reflexes, Blondie?”

  “Not often enough.” With a pert wink, she sauntered in. He followed her down the hall looking for Unit 14.

  His amusement faded fast. It was a nice enough building, but as they approached Celeste’s apartment, the prickling between his shoulders almost started to hurt. Plus—

  “The smell!” Jess whispered. She covered her nose. He couldn’t blame her. The air was thick with the stench of vomit and worse.

  Dropping all pretense, he banged on the door, but there was no answer.

  Jess put her ear to the wood. “I don’t hear anything.”

  He reached for his kit on the inside of his suit jacket. “I’m picking the lock.”

  It took him less than a minute on the bottom and less than two on the deadbolt. When the door finally swung open, they saw Celeste’s legs right away. She lay on the floor, directly beneath the panel used to allow visitors in. She wasn’t moving. He froze in shock.

  “Oh my God.” Jess sprinted past him and knelt next to her. “She’s not conscious. She must have buzzed us and collapsed.” A pool of vomit was next to her mouth. In fact, much of the floor around her was covered in it.

  Adam pulled the phone from his pocket. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

  Jess rolled Celeste to her side. “I don’t want her to choke if she vomits again.” Adam nodded and gave terse directions to the 911 dispatcher while Jess ran into the bathroom.

  He hung up and called, “They asked me if it was a drug overdose. She never did drugs when I knew her, but what the fuck is this?”

  Jess came out of the bathroom with a wet towel and a white face. “I don’t know. I don’t think an OD, though. The toilet is clogged with bloody stool. An extreme sort of allergic reaction or something?” She started to lower the towel to Celeste’s face and then paused and handed it to him. “Maybe you should?”

  He took the towel and softly cleaned Celeste’s lips and chin.

  Her eyes fluttered open. “A-Adam?”

  “Jesus, C, what’s going on?” he sputtered. “Heroin? Tell me! The ambulance is on the way.”

  Her voice was low and thin, but he heard the next words. “I think...poison. Partner. He’s a...he’s a...”

  She passed out again.

  * * *

  Jess paced back and forth in the parking lot of the small community hospital. She was going to have blisters on her heels and every toe from the stupid red sandals on her feet, but she felt way too claustrophobic sitting in the tiny waiting room. With Celeste in and out of consciousness, Adam was doing his best to fill out the hospital intake paperwork and answer the doctor’s questions.

  What a crazy day! Had Celeste really been poisoned? Did that kind of thing happen all the time? Jess shuddered, suddenly a little nervous about her brand-new life. In her old job, the worst thing that could happen was a missed deadline and a reprimand from an angry boss. But in this one...

  Oh God, had she made a terrible mistake? Very uncharacteristically, she’d chosen to dive headfirst into a life of crime. Now, on her very first job, someone after the same prize had been seriously hurt. It was enough to make a newbie pause, that’s for sure.

  Adam exited the hospital looking a little shell-shocked. Immediately Jess felt guilty for her doubt and wallowing. A woman was seriously ill, and Adam was worried sick. She needed to focus on the people who needed help instead of worrying about unlikely future danger.

  She waved him over and they both climbed into the car. “How is she?”

  He rubbed his eyes and gave her a bewildered shrug. “Stable. They put her on an IV and she stopped throwing up. She’s awake and feeling better, just weak. She says she just wants to sleep.”

  “Did she talk any more about being poisoned?” Jess asked.

  “No.” Frown lines wrinkled his forehead. “When we were alone for a moment, I asked her who the asshole partner is and why he’d poison her, but she just shook her head. The only thing she said the other night about her partner was that he was too emotional about the target. And unfortunately, there is not a short list of people who hate Todd.” He sighed. “I’ll get it out of her later.”

  He reached over and squeezed Jess’s thigh. “Not exactly the trip I had planned for us, Jess. I’m sorry.”

  She put her hand on top of his. “None of this is your fault.” She glanced at the clock on the dash. It was just after one. “Do you want to stay here?”

  Adam shook his head. “No. Both Celeste and the hospital staff have my cell phone number. She was unconscious when I was doing her paperwork, so I listed myself as her emergency contact person. They’ll call if I’m needed. I think the best thing we can do is act normally and stay in our covers. If Celeste’s partner did try to get rid of her to steal the Scarlet on his own tomorrow night, I still don’t want any suspicion on us. We’ll do the engagement weekend activities today and go get alibied in Napa tomorrow night.” The lines on his forehead smoothed. “Maybe we’ll hear about other guests getting sick after the barbecue last night. This whole thing with Celeste would make a lot more sense if it was run-of-the-mill food poisoning brought on by bad seafood.”

  * * *

  A couple of hours and a couple of glasses of Chardonnay and Pinot Noir later, Jess felt a little guilty about having such a good time after such a rough morning. But it was hard not to enjoy oneself in the surroundings: it was almost eighty degrees and sunny, the tour of the vineyard and winery was actually really interesting, and acting like a young woman in love was...not difficult.

  The touring and tasting party today was made up of about thirty guests. “Friends or family?” Jess had asked, surveying the group and taking in the expensive clothes and sunglasses everyone wore.

  “Probably neither,” Adam answered. “Probably all acquaintances who pretend to be friends, like me-as-Chase. Todd is nothing if not a brand and a publicity hound. These are all folks who buy expensive wine and talk about it. With each other and on social media. It’s a microcosm of his market.” He shrugged. “With his ‘colorful’ personality, I doubt Todd has many true friends.”

  The group started the afternoon amongst the vines, sipping at glasses of the Fielding Sparkling. While most of the group checked their smartphones or whispered to one another, Jess craned her neck to hear their guide’s explanation of the grapes Todd chose to grow, the Fielding harvest techniques, and why the soil conditions in the Napa and Sonoma Valleys were so unique. When Adam teased her about her studious expression, she flicked her eyelashes up at him. “Don’t look at me like I’m an overly impressed hick,” she said. “I know you all have done this a thousand times before but I haven’t.”

  The smirk dropped right off his face. He put his arm around her and pulled her close. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. From start to finish, wine can be fascinating.”

  From the fields, they viewed the mechanical presses, where the harvested grapes would be de-stemmed and crushed. A large building next to the presses housed the enormous steel fermentation tanks. “Fermentation can take anywhere from ten days to a little more than a month
,” the guide said. Jess had to force herself not to raise her hand and ask a dozen questions. Even though Jess the eternal student was fascinated, Grace the art expert likely wouldn’t care about the ideal amount of yeast or the pros and cons of using just wild yeast in the air or adding a commercial cultured yeast.

  “Almost time to drink yet?” A guy wearing a fedora held up his empty champagne glass in the air. As Chase, Adam hooted along with him. But Jess saw him do an eye roll too.

  “Not until you see my barrels,” Todd shouted.

  The guide led them into a specially built cave lined with barrels. “Oak barrels used for aging wine come from special areas in France and the United States.” He gestured at Todd. “Mr. Fielding prefers—”

  “I only buy the French shit,” Todd announced proudly. “It’s more expensive.” He patted one of the barrels. “These babies cost more than two grand a pop and I only use them once.”

  “That’s one reason his wines are so pricey,” Adam murmured.

  Todd kept going. “Inferior wineries use them up to four times.”

  “Which is a very common practice,” the guide protested.

  “Maybe,” Todd sneered. “But that’s how you get common wines.”

  The guide led them deeper into the cave, pointing out different vintages and varietals. Jess had to suppress more questions about which species of oak tree were used for the barrels and the differences between French and American oak. She promised herself that the next time she went to a winery she’d ask any question she wanted.

  The tasting room was the last stop on the tour and the place most of the party was itching to get to. It was a gorgeous space, a huge room with a vaulted ceiling. The walls were covered with huge canvases of modern art. One whole wall was floor-to-ceiling windows that looked down the hill at the vines. Small groupings of elegant tables and chairs formed a seating area, but most visitors chose to belly up to the large bar against one wall where winery staff poured tastes of Fielding wine.

  Todd called over to the staff. “It’s a party, team. Pour my friends here anything they’d like.”

  With a whoop, the guests swarmed the bar, clamoring for Todd’s special reserves. Jess worried about maintaining her Grace-act with so much wine flowing, but she figured she better learn to handle it. After all, Adam did a lot of his heist role-playing at parties and social occasions. She needed to learn to stay in cover under any circumstances too. Also, hell, she’d probably never get a chance to taste so many different kinds of expensive wine again. It was an educational experience, right?

  Plus, the wine tasted—

  “Outstanding, mate.” Adam toasted Todd with a glass of his prime Cabernet, The Miracle Fields. “I didn’t think this vintage could beat the one we sampled at your wine dinner in Singapore last year, but I was wrong.”

  Another wine producer might have modestly accepted the compliment with a nod and sheepish admission like “Well, 2014 had a great growing season and all the wineries benefited from it.”

  Todd, however, preened and said, “Fuck yes it is. Best Cabernet in the world, bar none. And the ‘15s, ‘16s and ‘17s are only going to get better.”

  Jess watched as several members of their tour elbowed one another and rolled their eyes. While some members of the party found him endlessly entertaining and cheered his outlandish statements, there were others who clearly found him less than amusing.

  One man in particular grew visibly agitated whenever Todd boasted about the Miracle Fields. He was tall with a weathered face that spoke of years of outdoor work. His worn jeans and battered fleece stood out in the crowd of visitors, most of whom were visiting from out of state and wearing designer labels. He eyed the touring party with a look of resigned acceptance and spent most of his time talking to the staff pouring the wine.

  As the afternoon wound down, Todd instructed members of his staff to pour dessert wine. He grabbed a bottle himself as well and worked the crowd, topping off glasses that were getting low. When he approached, Jess held up her glass, smiling. “Does that man work for you?” she asked, pointing.

  Todd followed her gaze to the man in the fleece. “Aw, hell no. That’s Ray. Ray Lyons. My next door neighbor—he owns Lyonsgate Wines. Our families have lived next to one another for decades. Our fathers used to be poker buddies. Ray took over Lyonsgate about ten years before I took over Fielding. They do a decent Cab, actually.” As Lyons came within earshot, he raised his voice. “Nothing like the Miracle Fields, of course, but Lyonsgate is satisfactory if you’re into cheaper stuff.”

  Jess watched as Lyons’s leathery face grew almost purple. He set down his glass on the counter with a loud clink and stalked out of the tasting room. “Yikes.”

  Todd looked concerned for a moment, but bounced back into character swiftly enough. “Old Ray-Ray never could take a joke.” He topped her glass off with a healthy pour of port, and moved on to his next guest.

  Jess took a sip of the port and savored the nutty flavor. So, so tipsy, she thought, beyond relieved when she noticed the kitchen staff setting up a buffet in the corner of the room. It was piled high with finger foods and mini-desserts. She made a beeline for the table and ate four small crab cakes followed by five pieces of bruschetta, piled high with fresh tomatoes. She ended her “snack” with a piece of rich chocolate cake, grateful when all the carbs kicked in and some of her buzz faded.

  A woman wearing chef’s apparel came out to restock some of the trays. Ah, a moment of opportunity. Jess smiled warmly at the woman. “The spread is magnificent.”

  The woman returned her smile, her cheeks flushed from carrying a heavy tray of shrimp cocktail. “Thank you.”

  “The food at the welcome party last night was wonderful too,” Jess gushed. “All those sushi rolls and everything—wow! Did you guys make those on-site or did you work with a restaurant? It was all so beautiful!”

  The chef’s smile widened. “We did it all on-site,” she said proudly.

  “What an accomplishment!” Jess exclaimed. She leaned closer to the woman, improvising. “My sister runs a catering business and she would never do something as complex. One time she served sushi at a party and several people got sick. It wasn’t her fault; it was just the heat. But it was very upsetting.”

  The chef looked sympathetic. “Oh, poor thing. It’s definitely tricky to make sure all the items stay fresh when you’re serving outdoors.”

  Jess leaned over and nonchalantly filled a new plate. “So you guys didn’t have any issues then? No complaints from the guests?”

  The chef’s eyes widened. “Not a one!”

  So much for Adam’s hope that the entire party had been afflicted with some sort of food poisoning. “Well, everything’s just wonderful,” she said again, excusing herself.

  Back at Adam’s side, she spoke in a low tone. “According to the kitchen staff, no one else complained of illness.” She gestured to Todd’s loud crowd of rich acquaintances. “If any of this group got sick like Celeste, I think the staff would have heard.”

  Adam sighed. “Agreed.” His expression turned proud. “Nice initiative, by the way.”

  Jess maintained her placid expression, but she felt warm inside. She knew Adam was attracted to her and cared about her deeply. But she wanted more than that. She wanted to dazzle him with her skills, for him to be constantly impressed and happy he’d taken her on as a partner. I’ll get there, she promised herself.

  “Party’s almost over, everyone,” Todd announced to good-natured groans. “Grab your last taste of something.” When everyone’s glass was full, Helen approached and said something in his ear. “Right!” he stage-whispered. She winked at him and went back to the bar.

  “Everyone, I’d like to make a toast,” he said, raising his glass. The mostly tipsy crowd, Jess included, followed suit. “To Simon Hess,” he said, aiming his glass in the direction of
a small man in the corner that Jess hadn’t even seen join the group. He was a small, bald, wiry man with gray-framed glasses and a sullen twist to his mouth.

  “Simon,” Todd continued, “has been with Fielding for twenty-five years and will be retiring in a few weeks. He’s been the financial backbone of our organization since I was yay-high.” Todd lowered his glass to a foot above the ground. “We appreciate your work and service. You’ll be missed. Cheers to Simon!”

  “Cheers to Simon!” the crowd repeated. Jess was impressed with Todd’s restraint. It’d actually been a fairly typical retirement speech. Why it made Simon Hess shake with anger, she couldn’t fathom.

  “This is a people-watcher’s paradise,” she whispered to Adam, who promptly took advantage of her lips near his face and stole a long, lingering kiss.

  So long, in fact, that she was up on her tiptoes, had her free arm completely wrapped around his neck, and was licking into his mouth before she became aware of the catcalls around her.

  Embarrassed, she tried to pull away, but Adam wouldn’t let her. Clearly, she hadn’t been the only one over-served that afternoon. He just bent her over backwards and kept kissing her.

  At least until Todd walked up and gave him a clumsy shove. “None of that, Chase. Can’t have you hoggin’ all the romance at my own engagement celebration. That’s just not fair to me and Helen.”

  Adam released her lips, but nestled her close against his side, giving Todd an easygoing, sheepish grin. “Sorry, mate. Your wine and my redhead...lethal combination for the old libido.”

  Todd chortled. “Well, to that I can relate. Where did the world’s most perfect woman disappear to anyway? Ah, here she is, my fated love.” Todd’s fiancée walked up and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  Jess examined Helen through wine-soaked eyes. She’d been introduced when they first arrived, but it’d been brief and she hadn’t been able to really stare. Helen was extraordinary-looking. Very exotic. She had the most cut-glass cheekbones Jess had ever seen. Her skin was luminous, her eyes onyx and her shiny black hair fell to her hips. Her lips were full, and at the moment, tilted up at the corners. “Don’t be ridiculous, my darling. The more romance the better.” Jess couldn’t pinpoint her accent at all. Her English was tinted with a hint of British, a hint of French. She’d ask Adam about it later since he was good with that kind of thing.