Uncorking a Lie

by Nadine Nettmann

  Roberto took a sip of his wine. “I met Paul back in New York and we’ve been friends ever since.”

  “And you’re just friends?”

  “Are you implying that Paul and I are romantically involved?”

  “No, nothing like that. I mean, sorry,” I tripped over my words. I took a deep breath and started again. “What I mean is, have you ever worked together?”

  “Worked together? I don’t understand. I’m in wine, he’s in law.”

  “But he’s bought bottles here?” I pointed to the shelves around us.

  “Yes, he’s been a devoted customer for many years.” Roberto looked down at his glass.

  “Did you know he was a fan of Chateau Clair Bleu?”

  “Of course. We’ve discussed wine at length over the years.”

  “Did you know he’d always wanted a 1975?”

  Roberto laughed. “I think all of his friends did.”

  “It’s a shame that you weren’t able to get it for him.”

  Roberto shook his head. “If I had one, I would have brought it to Paul’s attention.” He stared at me. “What is this all about, Katherine? Is Paul asking you to ask me?” He frowned. “I know Paul well enough that if he has a question, he can call me himself.”

  I shook my head. “No, not at all. It’s just that I’m helping him build his wine collection and I want to make sure this is a store where I can find rare bottles.”

  Roberto relaxed and took another sip of his wine. “Of course. I will do my best to get any bottle you or Paul desire.” He motioned to his glass. “I’m not a fan of drinking alone. What can I open for you?”

  “Thank you but I should go.” I smiled at him. “I have to drive back to the city.”

  He looked at his watch. “In fact, it’s time for me to get going as well. I’ll just put the inventory book away in the back.”

  “Book? You do your inventory by hand? Isn’t it easier to do it on the computer?”

  “Old habits die hard,” said Roberto. “I’ve owned wine shops for twenty years. My son tried to get me to switch over to computer records, but I love the paper trail.”

  I thought of my paper flash cards instead of digital ones and nodded. “Thanks for letting me in the store, even though it was closed. It was great to chat with you.”

  “My pleasure. Don’t be a stranger, Katherine.” He winked but it made me uncomfortable. There was some element to him that I didn’t trust. He was a salesman, always selling something to someone. I didn’t want to be the gullible one. Roberto denied having the Chateau Clair Bleu in the store, but Henry told me he had. One of them was lying, I just didn’t know which one.

  twelve

  pairing suggestion: prosecco—veneto, italy

  A sparkling wine aged with less pressure than Champagne,

  resulting in lighter bubbles.

  -

  When I arrived back at my apartment, I immediately set off for my run through Golden Gate Park. I usually ran in the morning, but right now I needed to clear my head before I went to work. I thought about Henry’s mention of Roberto previously owning the bottle and Roberto denying it. There had to be a reason for one of them to lie and I wanted to know what it was.

  My normal running path through the length of the park didn’t seem like the right choice today. Maybe it was time to switch things up. See things from a different perspective. I turned at Stow Lake and started running north, heading into the streets.

  I had to dodge more people, but the different route was a welcome change. I passed coffee shops where I would like to sit in the future, a few restaurants I might like to try, and some stores I would probably venture into at some point after I was financially stable again.

  I continued through the streets and started the climb into the Presidio, a former military base and now a park. With every turn I made, my feelings about the situation became clear. I needed to talk to Henry again, or to Roberto, or both.

  Deep breaths filled my lungs as my legs pumped toward the Golden Gate Bridge, the red posts in the distance closer with every stride. I should have stopped and turned around, but I didn’t want to. Like my goal to become a Master Sommelier, I wasn’t going to give up. My sights were set on the red posts, just like the red Master Sommelier pin I would achieve one day. I wouldn’t give up on that and I wouldn’t give up on my task for Paul, to find out the origin of the 1975 Chateau Clair Bleu.

  I could easily tell Paul about Roberto and Henry, but that wasn’t getting to the heart of the issue. I said I would figure out the name of the counterfeiter for Paul and at this point, I either had two possibilities or two clues.

  The bridge was beneath me now, the San Francisco Bay below. Built in 1937, the bridge connects San Francisco to Marin and although I had biked across it with Kurt, I had never run over it before. I maneuvered past people walking and biking as the traffic roared to my left. The length of the bridge was over a mile and half and I had already run longer than my usual routine, but I kept going.

  The ocean breeze was cold, but once I passed the midpoint, I didn’t see a reason to stop.

  Could Roberto have counterfeited the wine and then sold it? I needed to find out if it had been in his store. If not, I would go back to Henry but I would rather talk more to Roberto first. Eliminate possibilities, or in this case, perhaps find the one I needed.

  I was on solid ground again and my legs pumped up the slight incline as the city of San Francisco rose to my right across the bay.

  My muscles burned and I slowed my pace, arriving at the Vista Point where tourists often stop to take pictures of the city after crossing the bridge. It was a clear day, free of the fog.

  I took deep breaths, my lungs aching from the extra effort and distance. When I had calmed my breathing, I stared at the city I had called my home for the last four years. Although it had its downsides, as everywhere did, it was a great place to live and I was happy to be there. A beautiful city full of culture and romance and only an hour from wine country. I wanted to stay there, which meant I needed to figure out my financial situation. And I would. By solving the problem for Paul.

  “Katie?”

  I turned around. Someone was waving from a black Mercedes Sedan in the parking lot. I stepped closer but still couldn’t recognize them. They knew my name so maybe it was a customer from Trentino.

  I took a few more slow steps toward the waving figure in the car until I could see his shiny bald head. It was Simon, a guest from the dinner at Paul’s house.

  “Oh, hey Simon.”

  “I thought that was you.” The car was still running.

  “You knew it was me in this huge parking lot?” I put my hands on my knees and took a deep breath. My lungs had tightened and I felt myself straining for a full breath.

  “I was just leaving and I drove by. It looked like you so I figured I would stop and say hi. Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb your run. I only called out ’cause I thought you were done.”

  I glanced around. “No, it’s fine. I’m finished. I don’t usually run this far.”

  “Do you live around here?”

  “No, I live by Golden Gate Park. I can’t believe I ran all this way.” It must have been close to seven miles. I would be hurting tomorrow.

  “Here.” He leaned over and opened the door. “I’m heading that way. I’ll give you a lift.”

  “Thank you, but I should walk. I’m pretty sweaty.”

  “It’s up to you, but I don’t mind. I can drive with the windows down.”

  I laughed as I looked across the bay. It would take me a long time to walk back to my apartment and I needed to get to work.

  “Actually, that would be great.” I went around and climbed into the car. It smelled like vanilla though there wasn’t a noticeable air freshener. “What were you doing at the Vista Point?”

  Simon pulled out of
the parking lot. “I have to drop something off in the city for work, but I like to stop and take in the view on my way in. Enjoying the little things in life, you know?”

  “What do you do for work?”

  “A little of this, a little of that.”

  “That’s pretty vague.”

  Simon laughed. “That’s what Leanor says, too.”

  He dodged the work question but I still wanted to know. “So what do you do?”

  A small smile grew on Simon’s face. “I work for a private company that deals with mergers and acquisitions. And you? What do you do, Katie?”

  “I’m a sommelier at Trentino.” I waited, unsure if I could trust Simon, but I needed to find out more information. “But right now I’m helping Paul with his wine cellar. Earlier I went to Grand Vino.”

  Simon smiled. “Roberto’s store.”

  “Have you shopped there?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe once. I’m not sure.”

  “Do you know Roberto pretty well?”

  He glanced at me. “Why, are you interested in him? I’m sure I can set you two up on a date, but he doesn’t seem like your type.”

  I laughed. “No, it’s not that. I was just wondering if I should build more of Paul’s collection from his store.” His earlier comment dawned on me. “And wait, what’s my type?”

  “I don’t know. Someone very down to earth. Except Leanor said you’d probably like someone with money.”

  “You and Leanor talked about me?”

  Simon shrugged again. “Leanor talks about everyone.”

  His comments rolled over in my mind. “Does Roberto not have a lot of money then?”

  Simon grinned. “So Leanor was right.”

  “No, just curious.” If Roberto was in a difficult financial situation, the money from counterfeit wine would give him a way out of it. But if he did have the Clair Bleu, why not sell it to Paul right away since he knew he wanted it?

  “But seriously,” Simon continued. “If you’re interested in Roberto, you should know a few things about him.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, he’s been married.” Simon tapped the wheel.

  “Okay.”

  “And he’s super devoted to his work.”

  “Seriously? Not an issue,” I replied.

  “But he’s a good guy. Always plays by the book.”

  I glanced at Simon. “Interesting. What about Henry Diven?”

  “He’s single and actively looking.”

  “I gathered.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard he can be rather forward. However”—Simon looked at me—“if you’re really interested in one of them, you should talk to Alicia Trager. She’s known both of them for years.”

  “I might do that.” I motioned ahead and gave Simon directions as we got closer to the park.

  “I bet you open a lot of great wines at Trentino.”

  “I do.”

  “You know, if you ever open any older bottles from Bordeaux or Burgundy, I know Alicia would be interested.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She likes to collect the labels and make them into tiles. You should see their kitchen. It’s pretty impressive.”

  “Thanks,” I said as I thought about the bottle of 1990 Gevrey-Chambertin, Clos Saint-Jacques, an expensive Burgundy I had opened for a table on Friday. They had finished the wine and since they left the empty bottle, Bill decided to keep it on display near the time clock. Or at least it was during my last shift on Saturday. My mind suddenly focused. Why was Simon telling me this? “Would she want to buy them from me?” I asked.

  “I don’t know about that, but since you said you might talk to her about your new love interest”—Simon winked—“it would be helpful to have something she’s interested in. That’s all I’m saying.” There was more to Simon’s comment, but I couldn’t read it.

  I realized the car had stopped and Simon was waiting for more directions.

  “I’m the third street on the right.”

  Simon turned and I pointed to the two-story Art Deco apartment building. “I’m over here.”

  “Are you going to Trentino now?”

  I opened the door. “Yes. In a bit.”

  “Leanor and I should come in some time.”

  “I agree. Maybe tomorrow …” I paused, debating how to approach it. I decided to feign surprise. “Oh, wait. Aren’t Leanor and Alicia meeting for lunch in Sonoma tomorrow?”

  Simon shrugged. “Possibly. I can’t keep up with her schedule.”

  “Aren’t you two married?”

  “Me and Leanor?” Simon laughed. “No, we’ve just known each other a very long time. You could say we nearly have a common law marriage, but it’s not even that. We’re like best friends and worst enemies all in one. It’s very complicated.”

  I smiled. “Isn’t everything in life?”

  “I guess it is,” Simon replied, but his focus was on the street in front of him.

  I stepped out of the car. “Thanks again for the ride. I appreciate it.”

  He turned to me. “You’re welcome.”

  I started to shut the door, but Simon put his hand up like he wanted to say something. “Katie?”

  I held the door and waited. “Yes.”

  “Whatever you’re doing, or whatever you’re going to do, please be careful.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled and closed the door, but Simon’s comment stayed with me as I climbed the stairs to my apartment. I already had my suspicions about Simon, suddenly being where I was across the bay where neither of us lived, and now with what seemed like a helpful warning. I didn’t know what he meant, but I wasn’t going to dismiss it. I needed to pay attention to all of the clues, including ones about my safety.

  I would pick up the empty bottle of 1990 Gevrey-Chambertin at Trentino during my shift in case I saw Alicia tomorrow. I didn’t know if I would need it, but just like going into the Advanced Exam, it was best to be fully prepared.

  thirteen

  pairing suggestion: pinot gris—willamette valley, oregon

  Oregon’s most widely grown white grape produces

  flavors of peach and nectarine.

  -

  Bill was standing next to the bar at Trentino that evening, the same great smile on his face as always. “Feeling okay? Your cheeks are a little pink,” he said.

  “Fine, still recovering from a long run. Hey, you know the 1990 Gevrey-Chambertin, Clos Saint-Jacques I opened on Friday? Do we still have it?”

  “Of course. It’s on the sideboard by the time clock.”

  Bill followed me as I walked down the hall. There was the bottle, its label perfectly preserved as if it still held the secrets and magic of the Pinot Noir that used to be inside.

  I picked up the bottle and held it. “Are you planning on doing anything with it?”

  “Well,” said Bill, “I thought it looked pretty nice adorning the clock.” He winked. “What’s this about?”

  “I thought I might offer it to a friend.”

  “Is this a romantic gesture for someone?”

  “Ha, no. Not at all.” I debated for a few seconds. “Bill, can I confide in you for a moment? Do you have time?”

  “Katie, I always have time for you.”

  I shared with him that the 1975 Chateau Clair Bleu was a fake.

  Bill kept shaking his head as I told him the details.

  “I can’t believe it. After all that money and for Paul to open it at a special dinner. Devastating to be cheated like that.”

  “Then Cooper’s death.”

  “The poor guy.” Bill looked at me. “But I’m proud of you for figuring it out. I can’t say I’m surprised. The Palate in full force.”

  “But I kind of broke the sommelier rule, the one when someone is enjoying
a bottle of wine they bought and don’t know it’s corked or spoiled. I told Paul it was counterfeit. Not at the dinner, because that ended when Cooper fell down the stairs. But here, earlier. I felt he needed to know.”

  “I don’t think you were wrong to tell him. He deserved to know. Especially after he paid that much for it.”

  “Well, Paul’s hired me to look into who counterfeited the wine.” I waited for Bill to tell me that I shouldn’t be doing it, for me to be careful, to not get involved.

  “Where will you start?”

  I paused. “Really?”

  Bill nodded. “Have you checked who the seller was at the auction?”

  “It was a private party, but I found out that the bottle used to be at a wine shop in Napa.”

  Bill opened his mouth to talk but I continued before he had a chance. “I’ve already been to the wine shop but he denied ever having it. I’m following up on it tomorrow.”

  “With the bottle?”

  “No, actually that’s just in case I get the opportunity to talk to someone who might know more.”

  Bill tilted his head. “Okay. So how are you going to follow up on it?”

  “Not sure yet. Either get him to admit he owned the wine without putting myself in danger, or go back to the person who told me he did.”

  “Let me know if you need any help,” said Bill.

  I smiled as an idea dawned on me about how to handle Roberto tomorrow with a little help from an old friend. I looked at the Gevrey-Chambertin. “So can I take this after my shift tonight?”

  “Of course. You opened the bottle, you served it, and the guest didn’t want to keep it. I would say it’s yours to do with what you like.”

  “Thanks.” I glanced at the bottle, wishing it was still filled with wine.

  “Will you be back from Napa in time for work tomorrow? Although I know Paul is great and I’m sure he’s paying for you, I don’t want to lose you as my sommelier.”

  “Bill, my number-one dedication is to Trentino.”

  Bill shook his head. “I disagree.”

  “What?”