Nikki filled the detective in on all that she’d learned, or thought she’d learned, placing an emphasis on Kurt Kensington’s odd behavior.
“That doesn’t make sense, Sands. Here this guy is shoving this shit in your face with his dream board. That sounds kind of stupid. Killers are not typically stupid and in your face, unless they want to get caught. But a guy who does what he did with the poster thing is more like a wannabe. It’s like someone who sees a mad guy in the media and writes in an anonymous note or calls in and says that he’s the killer. It’s an attention getter, but not the real deal.” Robinson pulled a couple of bottles of Cabernet out, setting them on the counter in the tasting room.
The private tasting room was by far Nikki’s favorite room at the winery. Painted in a dusky color, it felt warm and cozy, especially with a fire stoked in the corner fireplace. The area by the fireplace was set up like a living room with leather seating and shelves of books in the built-ins. It wasn’t filled with books like the library, but it still contained some classics and also some newer fiction. The best part of the room was that the walls displayed the finest artwork Nikki had ever seen. There were acrylics, oils, and watercolors as well as some bronze sculpted pieces on tables throughout the room. When Derek’s family built the place decades before, no expense had been spared, and Derek maintained that tradition, currently purchasing many local artists’ pieces.
“Don’t you think that Kurt displayed some really bizarre behavior? Shouldn’t you check it out?”
“I plan to. But he’s showboating, Sands. He’s trying to get under people’s skins. Freak them out, because that’s what he is, a freak. I doubt he’s a killer.”
“I have to ask about the cork thing. Whoever is sick and demented enough to slice a man’s throat and then stick a cork in his mouth, could be sick and demented enough to boast about it, even in a roundabout way. Couldn’t that be what Kensington was doing?” Nikki saw some water spots on a few of the glasses and grabbed a towel to clean them off.
“We’re looking at that angle. We’re looking at all of it.”
“But what do you think about the cork itself? Could it be a symbol, like, you know, ‘Put a cork in it,’ or ‘Shut up’? Think about that. Maybe the killer murdered Iwao because he wanted to reveal a secret or he had something on the killer.”
Robinson crossed his arms and rocked back onto his heels. “I only asked you to keep your eyes and ears open, not to go theorizing on me. It’ll get you in trouble.”
“All I’m saying is Kurt Kensington is not all there, and someone who puts a cork in their victim’s mouth has a few screws loose.”
“Killers do.”
Nikki sighed. “I know that. It only seems to me like he’s a decent suspect here.”
“That’s why I’m the real detective here and you’re not. But you are doing a fine job. You keep it coming, friend. I gotta few more leads to check out, especially on that Pearlman cat.”
“Ruben?” She stacked the glasses neatly in a row.
“Another first-namer with you, huh?”
She frowned.
Robinson ran his hands through his hair. “Yes. Pearlman may not be all that he seems to be. I’ll let you know if I find out anything more than that. For now, take it at face value.”
“That doesn’t seem fair. Here I am, all eyes and ears and giving you good information out the ying yang, and you’re not going to tell me what you’ve got?”
He pulled his shades from his front shirt pocket. It was one of those tighter-fitting, almost western-type shirts that the hipper young guys wore nowadays. Robinson was no spring chicken, but he still looked decent in the latest fashion. “That’s the way it goes. I’ll be in touch.”
It would be a waste of her time to try and fight him on this, so she shook her head and went back to her business. She had only about ten minutes and neither Marco nor Simon was there yet with the food. Where were those two when she needed them? Probably a good thing they didn’t see her with Robinson. She hadn’t exactly filled the detective in on their part in the scheme of things. She doubted he would agree to her Three Muskateer-ing it, and knowing Simon, he would come into the room, see Robinson, and ramble on about his own ideas as to who, what, why, when, and how.
“Hey, Robinson?”
He turned around, reaching the door. “Yeah?”
“Tomorrow, um, I’m having some friends over for dinner and I thought maybe you might want to come.”
He looked at the ground and then turned back to the door, his back facing her. “What time?”
“Sixish.”
“Why not? I guess that’s what friends do.”
She laughed when he shut the door behind her. He was a strange duck, but a duck one couldn’t help liking. She wondered if her powers as Cupid would work. And she had a few more guests to invite. Nikki knew her dinner party would be far from dull. And who knew? There may even be a killer amongst them.
Sixteen
SIMON and Marco set platters of stuffed mushrooms, shrimp scampi skewers, beef Wellingtons, and various cheeses, fruits, and veggies out for the members.
“I didn’t expect all of this,” Nikki said. “Did you get it from the restaurant?”
“What? No. Marco did all of this himself. He slaved away over the last few days, prepping and then freezing the Wellingtons.”
Marco blushed.
“You did all this?” Nikki asked.
He nodded. “I wanted everything to be perfecto, and I know how hard you have worked to help us and the S.E.E. group. We are grateful.”
She knew that Marco was a fantastic cook. He ran the café and he and Simon did the breakfasts together in the morning, but Nikki had an inkling that Marco would have liked to take over the chef position at the gourmet restaurant on the property, Georges at the Vineyard. Since Georges’s death, they’d gone through a few chefs and none of them had worked out spectacularly yet.
“I should really talk to Derek about you being the head chef at Georges.”
“You would do that, Bellissima?” He batted his long eyelashes.
“I told you to put the idea out there and our little Goldilocks, Snow White of a girl would come through.” Simon wrapped an arm around Marco’s shoulder.
“Hold on, you two. I said that I would talk to him, but try not to put the pressure on. Be realistic, okay? Derek may say that Marco already has enough to shoulder here, which is true.”
“I can take over his duties.”
They both looked at Simon and, without saying a word, started setting food out for the members, who would be arriving shortly. He opted not to fight their silence, probably knowing that the underlying meaning beneath it was accurate—everyone knew, including Simon, that he’d much rather be getting a facial or massage, or working on enlightening himself, than tackling any real work.
“I need you two to do me a big favor.” Nikki lowered her voice and looked from side to side to make sure that no one else had entered the room.
“I thought we already were.” Simon smirked.
Give him his kudos. “I know, hon, and you have been awesome. But I’ve got a little break-and-enter job for you.”
“Oh no. After that time in San Fran, I don’t think so,” Simon replied. “It’s enough that we’re pretty much phonies here at our first intimate S.E.E. gathering and now you want us to be common criminals.”
“Didn’t seem to bother you before.” Nikki picked up the plate of tropical fruit and set it on the serving table they’d brought in.
“What do you need?” Marco asked.
“Kurt Kensington is superstrange,” she said.
“I’ll concede to that,” Simon added. “Cute, but strange.”
“I told you two that last night,” Marco said, lighting the burner under the buffet server that held the Wellingtons.
“Did you tell him about the vision board session?” She glanced at Simon.
“My word, I can’t believe I forgot to do that.” Simon did a quick rep
lay of what had happened with Kurt during the session.
Marco shook his head in disbelief. “Not a good man. He must need a lot of enlightenment.”
“So now that you two know what a strange bird we’re dealing with, I need you to get into his room and see if there is anything completely off. Anything at all out of the ordinary.”
“Like what?” Simon asked.
“For starters, see if the guy really does have a suitcase that looks like Iwao Yamimoto’s, but filled with books.”
“What does Iwao’s look like?” Marco asked.
“I don’t know. I haven’t been in the storage room yet,” Nikki said. “But take pictures of his luggage and then I can compare.”
“Do you see how her mind works? Take pictures. With what? My DCS Pro Back Plus? Am I a photographer now?”
“Use the camera on your phone. I just need a visual to compare. And I have a feeling that nut job might have something that will stand out to you.” Nikki knew that Robinson could be right that Kensington was simply one of those strange types who sought attention any way he could, but Nikki still thought he should have taken her story a bit more seriously. What if Kensington was less of an attention getter and more of a deranged killer?
“A feeling? Okay, so you want us to get into the creep’s room, take some photos, and check it out all CSI style, just based on your funny feeling.” Simon walked back over to the wine and poured himself a glass of red. “When is this shenanigan supposed to go down?”
“You said so yourself that the man is a weirdo. I’m thinking a good time might be during the wine tasting. Everyone will be focused on the wines, they may even get a bit tipsy, and your presence won’t be missed. And if it is, I’ll explain that you’re grabbing a few more things for me.”
“My presence is always missed.” Simon took a sip of his wine.
“That wine is for the guests, you know,” Nikki scolded.
“I am a guest. Remember? I’m a S.E.E. member. I’ll probably get kicked out, because now I’m a traitor, thanks to you.” He pointed at Nikki.
“Leave the guilt trips for someone else.” She looked at Marco.
“Not me. I don’t like them either. Come on, Simon. Nikki needs our help.”
“Fine.” He shook his head. “She’s spoiled. You’re spoiled.” Simon pointed at Nikki. “We spoil you. That’s the problem. No boundaries.”
“Okay, Dad. And one more thing,” Nikki said.
“Oh, just one more thing. It’s never only one more thing with you, Snow White. It’s like ten, twenty, two hundred fifty.”
“You’ll like this one.” Nikki flashed them a smile in hopes of appeasing their display of irritation. “Since you have been a good mom and dad, boys, I am going to make your favorites for the dinner party tomorrow night.”
Both men raised their eyebrows. “Chili and cornbread?” they both said.
“That and some other treats.”
“You are up to something. You only do chili for a lot of people. Who else did you invite besides us and Alyssa?”
“I thought I’d ask Alan Sansi and his family.”
“You are?” Simon was looking at her dubiously, his voice rising.
“Yes. I thought that it would be good to get to know everyone a little better for myself in an intimate setting,” Nikki replied.
“You are not telling us something. You don’t want us there to get to know us better, you want us there so you can keep snooping. I’m telling you that Alan had nothing to do with Iwao’s murder.”
“Maybe not, but one of his clan might have and I want to get to know everyone and see how they react. I also have another motive. You actually gave me the idea, Simon, when Alyssa mentioned liking the rock star look and then you brought up Detective Robinson.”
Simon twirled around her. “Oh, you! I get it. Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match,” he sang. “You are so sweet, but Snow White, arranging romantic liaisons is not your forte. It’s never a good idea to try and get involved in other people’s love lives.”
“This coming from Cupid himself?” Nikki strained to keep the incredulous sound in her voice at a minimum. “You practically stood over me and Derek with an arrow aimed to fire.”
“Yes, but I am good at it.” He bowed.
“He is,” Marco said in serious agreement.
“Debatable,” Nikki replied and grabbed his wineglass from him.
“You two live together, don’t you? I sort of had something to do with it, I think. Before you know it, there will be love, then marriage, and then one baby or two in a baby carriage.” Simon clapped his hands excitedly.
“Aren’t you moving a little too fast?” Nikki commented.
“No. You two are moving a little slow if you ask me.” He tapped his wrist with a finger. “You don’t have a lot of time on that clock.”
“Simon!” Marco and Nikki said in unison.
“What? It’s true. Forty is on the way, baby, and you know that is middle-aged and not exactly perfect for chasing babies around. Your back starts hurting and then the knees go. Before you know it, you’ll be a mess. It’s time to get that brother of mine with the program. Come on, get a ring on that finger, start doing some baby making. I am ready to be an uncle.” He snapped his fingers in the air.
“I thought you wanted to be a daddy,” Nikki said.
Marco looked at Simon with a stunned expression. Uh-oh. Looked like Simon hadn’t shown his better half the dream board.
“I like babies, and I want to be an uncle, and yes, if I could be a daddy and Marco wanted to have a baby, too, then I would say yes to that.”
Nikki could tell that Marco didn’t know how to respond. “Look, here come the Pearlmans.” This was the first time Nikki had been relieved to see the cranky wife.
“Goody gumdrops,” Simon said while Marco continued staring blankly at him. Simon felt his eyes on him and said, “I know. Shocker. Can we talk it about it later? Don’t we have to go play Agent 007 or something?”
Marco nodded and went around to the bar to pour small tastings for the guests. Nikki could tell by the change in his demeanor and how silent he’d become that Marco’s dream board probably didn’t replicate Simon’s. Where might that lead? She also couldn’t help wondering about her own fate—the whole marriage and baby carriage thing. That sure sounded good. In fact, more and more it sounded exactly like the vision she had for the future. The near future. She only hoped Derek shared it, too.
Seventeen
“WINEMAKING is really like making art,” Nikki said, speaking to the group members, who were all seated with two separate flights of wine in front of them. Flights of wine were several glasses of wine with a few sips poured in them, designed simply for tasting. One flight would be white and the other red. For the whites, Nikki had a Sauvignon Blanc, Pinot Grigio, Riesling, Viognier, and Chardonnay. For the reds, she’d selected a standard Pinot Noir, Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah, Zinfandel, and a nice Malbec the winery had started producing a couple of years ago.
“It begins with the soil. At Malveaux we grow the majority of our grapes but we do buy some grapes from vineyards in Sonoma and Monterrey counties. Many of you may be aware that we recently partnered with a wonderful Australian winery, the Hahndorf Winery. The Sauvignon Blanc and Viognier you will be tasting in the white wine flight is from the Hahndorf Winery. The Australians grow those grapes nicely and blend them well. In the red flight, you’ll be tasting Aussie wines in the Pinot, the Malbec, and the Syrah.”
One of the S.E.E. members interrupted her. “What makes one region better than another in terms of grape production? For instance, why do Sauvignon Blanc grapes taste better from Australia than from here in Napa? Same goes for the Zinfandel. I heard one of your employees talking about the old vine Zin grapes you blend here. What goes into that?” It was Rich Higgins. Next to him stood Hayden—less Chanel today and more J.Crew with her pressed jeans, button-down, and argyle vest.
“Excellent question,” Nikki said.
“It’s not necessarily that the wine tastes better, because that all depends on your palate. There are so many factors that go into the winemaking process. As I mentioned, it starts with the soil and with the quality of the grape. And the quality can be affected by the soil, the weather during growth, the way the grapes are pruned, and if they’re harvested correctly at the right time. After the harvest, we look at sugar levels, which we call Brix, acidity levels and pH balances, the color, the seeds, the taste. It’s all well thought out and created in hopes of making a superior product. There is a strong science aspect to wine production, but there is an equally strong creative aspect. Blend the two together and you can get an outstanding wine. Once the harvest and science are planned out, the grapes go through the crushing and primary fermentation process.” All eyes were on her and everyone looked interested. She enjoyed speaking to groups of people. Maybe that came from her acting days.
“Basically crushing is liberating the fruit from the skin. Did you ever see the I Love Lucy episode where Lucy stomps on the grapes?”
Everyone laughed.
“Right, that’s not typically how it’s done now except for maybe the really small operations or a few in Europe. We have a mechanical crusher and destemmer. Red wines get their color from the grape skins, so during fermentation of a red wine, the skin of the grapes needs to be in contact with the juice. Most white wines are processed without destemming or crushing and are transferred from picking bins directly to the press.” Nikki went on to explain the fermentation process, how cultured yeast is typically added even though grapes already have a natural yeast on them, and how that yeast feeds off the must. The must is made up of skins, stems, seeds, fruit pulp, and when it comes in contact with the yeast, together they produce CO2 gases and alcohol. She also explained the second fermentation and the aging process. She hoped no one had become bored as most of the members were not oenphiles, only enlightened souls. “That’s a real basic how-to on winemaking. If you have other questions, I’ll walk around and we can talk, but please eat and drink and enjoy. I know that Alan is going to talk about how winemaking and the growing of grapes are akin to soul growth.” Nikki stifled a giggle. She wasn’t sure how he’d tie it all together, but knew he would in some bizarre fashion.
Corked by Cabernet Page 12
