Uncorking a Lie

by Nadine Nettmann

  “Then you should go eat it,” said Leanor with a half smile on her face, as if she were trying to be polite, but not really.

  “You’re absolutely right.” I smiled and took a step back. “One last question. Alicia, I heard you liked the labels off of old wine bottles.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Simon.”

  “Simon?” Alicia locked eyes with Leanor, who kept the same dry expression on her face.

  “When did you see Watkins?” asked Leanor.

  “Yesterday in the city.” There was a notable tension to the air and I didn’t like it. “I have an empty bottle of 1990 Gevrey-Chambertin, Clos Saint-Jacques. Might you be interested in it?”

  Alicia rubbed her lips together and looked up to the sky before returning her focus to me. “Yes, I’d love to see it. Why don’t you bring it by the house later today? I live off of Boyes Boulevard. Do you know the area?”

  I nodded even though I wasn’t sure. That was a convenient thing about cell phones, I could look up anything.

  Alicia gave me the address. “Stop by after you’re done here. I have some shopping to do but I’ll be there.”

  Leanor smiled again. “Nice to see you again, Katie. Let’s keep in touch,” she said in a voice that meant anything but that. I knew it was my cue to leave and I thanked them and stepped away, but Leanor’s tone continued to go through my head. She didn’t like me, that was clear, and I wanted to know why.

  sixteen

  pairing suggestion: cabernet franc

  —sierra foothills, california

  This red wine has higher alcohol than its Cabernet Franc

  counterparts grown in other regions.

  -

  When I arrived back at the table, Dean had already finished his burger. I sat down and took a bite of my chicken and waffles. They were cold. I ate them anyway, cutting small slices of each as my mind turned.

  “Find out anything helpful?” asked Dean when I had eaten the last piece of cold chicken.

  I shook my head. “Not really. I mean, I’m already all set in my investigation, but it’s always good to keep an eye out for clues.” I motioned to Leanor. “But she doesn’t like me. That’s a clue. She didn’t like it when I said I had talked with her husband yesterday. Or not her husband. Her boyfriend, I guess.”

  “Why do you think that’s a clue?” Dean tilted his head to the side. “It could be something else.”

  I leaned back on the bench. “What do you mean?”

  “Listen, I don’t know anything about what went on over there and what was said, but I know how you smile. If she thought that’s how you were with him, she might be feeling threatened. Maybe she’s protective of her husband.”

  “He’s not her husband.”

  “Or whatever he is. I’m just letting you know.”

  “Can’t a girl talk to a guy without someone getting jealous? Sometimes we’re just talking to people.”

  Dean put his hands in front of him. “I’m only saying what I saw.”

  “You got jealous when I was talking to Jeff last fall.”

  “And he turned out to be a bad guy.” Dean smiled.

  “Okay, okay. But listen, I’ll be careful. Around everyone.” I motioned to Alicia and Leanor, who had stood up, already finished with their meal.

  “Good,” replied Dean. “Now let’s talk about wine instead. I had a bottle of Pinot Noir from Santa Rita Hills this week. It was really nice.”

  “I’m glad you liked it. The region is beautiful. I haven’t been there in a while but I should visit again.”

  “There’s the Katie I remember.” He winked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Anytime we talk about wine, your face lights up. Wine makes you happy. I like seeing you happy.”

  “Thanks.” I looked at our empty plates. “Thanks for having lunch with me. This was fun. We should do it again.”

  “Yeah?” Dean looked surprised.

  “Yeah,” I replied.

  “Are you heading back to the city now? Work tonight?”

  “Yes, but I’m going to Alicia’s house first. She said I could stop by there after this and show her the bottle.”

  “Be careful.”

  “I will.”

  Dean glanced at his car and back at me. “I wish I could come with you.”

  “You’d want to come with me?”

  “Of course.” He smiled and my stomach leapt. “So if I call you later, will you answer?”

  “Definitely.”

  When I was on Boyes Boulevard, I pulled my Jeep over to the side of the road and dialed Paul’s home number. After a few rings, he answered.

  “Are you with Henry?” he asked.

  “No, I’m in Napa. Why would I be with Henry?”

  “You were going to see him so I didn’t know if you were there.”

  “No, I went yesterday.” Paul’s question threw me. “I’m still looking into it and I’ll give you a full update when I have it, but I wanted to let you know that I’m close, Paul. I think I’m just one detail away. Which Roberto’s getting for me.”

  “Are you with him right now?”

  “No, I’m on my way to Alicia’s house.”

  “Martin and Alicia? Do you think they’re involved?” His voice was shaky.

  “I don’t know who’s involved at this point. But in case I needed to talk to Alicia, I brought an empty bottle of an older Burgundy with me. Apparently she likes old wine labels. I just saw her at lunch and she said she’d like to see this one.”

  “Oh yes,” replied Paul as relief flooded though his voice. “Katie, I think it’s imperative that you only tell people that you’re helping me with my cellar. I don’t want anyone to know about the bottle yet.”

  “Of course. I’ll give you a detailed update soon.”

  I put down the phone and continued driving until I reached Alicia and Martin’s two-story house. It was Spanish style with white stucco and a red tile roof.

  Bottle in hand, I climbed the steps to the front door and rang the bell. I waited next to a clay bowl planter with succulents on the patio.

  No one answered.

  The neighbor next door, an older lady with curly gray hair, eyed me suspiciously as she stood watering her lawn for much longer than necessary.

  I politely smiled and rang the bell again. There was no answer.

  Even though Alicia was expecting me, she might not be home from her errands yet. Or perhaps the bell was broken.

  I lifted the iron owl-shaped knocker on the door and tapped it a few times, letting it land with a thud. The door opened an inch. “Hello,” I called out. “Alicia? Martin?”

  Hesitation filled me but curiosity won and I pushed the door open. The air inside was quiet and still.

  “Martin? Alicia? Are you there?”

  No response. Although I didn’t want to go into the house uninvited, it wasn’t the first time I had entered a house without permission. And Alicia knew I was coming. But I started to wonder if something was wrong. The door was open and Alicia had alluded to the fact that she would be home.

  I stepped inside the hallway. The living room was decorated in a cheery style full of yellows and baby blues with flower-patterned couches and curtains.

  “Alicia?” I called out as I walked along the hallway. My dad had investigated a few cases where family members or friends had been mistaken for intruders as they entered the residence. I wanted to make sure neither she nor Martin thought I was an intruder and accidentally shot me.

  I stopped.

  I was an intruder.

  I turned to exit, the door to outside still open a few feet behind me. I could leave right now and get in touch with Alicia later to give her the bottle.

  Or I could stay a few minutes longer and make sure she was okay. I tu
rned and continued into the kitchen. White tile with blue curtains, and every tile along the counter was glazed with a wine label. Farther along the counter were a few wine bottles, same as any wine drinker, but I noticed most of the wine bottles were empty. I dismissed it, since I knew several people who liked to keep the empty bottles but then I noticed a funnel in the sink. It was a kitchen, but a funnel next to empty bottles of wine? My mind started to turn.

  One bottle had a cork in it and I picked up the bottle. It was full, yet the cork had been removed and placed back in only halfway. Why would someone open a bottle of wine and then not drink any? And it was near a funnel. I held it up to look for the sediment.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I jumped and turned, the bottle slipping out of my grasp and breaking as it hit the floor, the wine filling the grooves between the tiles and spreading in every direction. Alicia stood in the doorframe, a shopping bag in each hand.

  “I was looking for you,” I stammered.

  “How did you get in?”

  “The door was open.”

  She put the bags on the center island. “You just walk into people’s houses?”

  “No, I …” I faltered as I figured out how to get through this. “When I knocked on the door, I thought I heard you say to come in.” Even as I said the lie, I knew it was incredibly unbelievable.

  “That sounds unlikely,” said Alicia. Clearly I wasn’t the only one who didn’t buy my fib. “Why are you here?”

  I picked my bottle off the counter. “At lunch today, you said you might be interested in this label.”

  “No, I meant in my kitchen. I can remember a conversation from an hour ago. Normally visitors wait outside.”

  “Yes—” My sentence was cut off by Alicia’s ear piercing scream.

  She scrambled to the other side of the island. “What did you do to him? What did you do?”

  “What?” I stepped over to the other side, where Martin lay on the floor. “No …” I stared at Martin, his face pale and his eyes closed. “No,” I repeated. “I only just got here.”

  “Martin! Martin!” Alicia patted his cheek. “Speak to me, sweetheart.”

  His eyes fluttered.

  “I’m going to get you help. You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.” She stood up and grabbed her phone from the counter as she pointed her other hand at me. “Don’t you move. Don’t you move a single step.”

  seventeen

  pairing suggestion: malbec/cabernet sauvignon blend

  —mendoza, argentina

  A strong red wine that holds up over time.

  -

  The Sonoma Sheriff Station was buzzing with activity when I was brought in, but the room where I waited was eerily quiet. Perhaps they were built so that no one else could hear, or maybe I was the only one being questioned at that moment. Lucky me.

  The door opened and two deputies, Adams and Garcia, entered. They were the same ones who had come to Paul’s house, yet their demeanor was different today. Their looks of concern over Cooper’s death were replaced by what should have been blank game faces but I could sense a hint of anger in their eyes.

  “Katie Stillwell,” said Adams as he sat down across the table. I took a deep breath as my lungs began to tighten. I wondered if Adams was going to play the good cop or the bad cop. Since they were in a team of two, I assumed one would take each role.

  “Deputy Adams,” I replied. “Deputy Garcia. Nice to see you again.”

  “I wish it were under different circumstances.” Adams opened a file folder. “Why were you at the Trager residence?”

  “Alicia was interested in wine labels. I was bringing her a bottle.” I glanced around the empty room. “I had it with me …”

  “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” Adams said as he stared at me.

  I waited, my game face on.

  “What was your motivation for attacking Martin Trager?”

  “I didn’t.”

  Adams raised one eyebrow. “We should believe you, why?”

  I waved a hand around to dismiss the anxiety building inside me. “I had just arrived. Someone must have attacked him before I was there.”

  “Mrs. Trager said she found you in her kitchen, standing over her husband,” said Garcia.

  “That’s not true.”

  “So you weren’t in her kitchen?”

  I was digging myself into a hole. I needed to stick to the facts. But mostly I needed to be very precise. “I mean, I was in her kitchen but I wasn’t standing over Martin. I didn’t even know he was there until she came in and screamed.”

  “But you entered without permission.”

  I could fight this, but I knew he was right. And it wasn’t the first time I had entered a house without permission. I had nearly been arrested for the same thing as a teenager, but Tessa covered for me.

  “The front door was open. I was worried that there was something wrong. And I was right.” It wasn’t exactly the whole truth, but it would work. Or at least, it could work.

  “Were you following Mrs. Trager?”

  “If she arrived at the house after me, how could I be following her?” I leaned forward. “Listen, I was meeting her to give her the bottle. Ask her. She knew I was coming. In fact there was a witness to the invitation. Leanor Langley.”

  “Rosanna Davis,” the deputy continued. “Does that name mean anything to you?”

  I shook my head. A small tingle of panic began to creep up my arm. What was he talking about?

  “She’s a neighbor of Alicia and Martin. She said she didn’t see anyone else go into their house, besides you.”

  I swallowed hard. It might be time to call a lawyer.

  Adams flipped to the next page in his notebook. “Which leads me to my next question. Destroying Mrs. Trager’s property.”

  “What property?” I thought back to the kitchen. “Do you mean the bottle of wine? That was an accident. I was looking at it and dropped it as she came in.”

  Adams leaned across the table. His aftershave was musky and pungent. “I think you were trying to steal it and dropped the evidence when she entered.”

  I stared at Adams. His five o’clock shadow seemed to get darker by the minute. Unlike with Dean and my father, I wasn’t sure if being strong and looking him in the eye was going to get through to him, but I needed to be straightforward, declare my innocence, and tell him the truth.

  “Deputy Adams, I was looking at the bottle in case it was fake. A counterfeit.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In case the wine inside was not what was on the label.”

  “Why would that matter to you? It’s in Mrs. Trager’s house, it’s her business.”

  “It doesn’t. I mean, it does.” My anxiety was muddling my words. I took a breath, my lungs failing to reach their full capacity. I was going to have to proceed no matter what my anxiety was going to do. “I’m helping Paul Rafferty look into a counterfeit bottle of wine that he opened on Sunday. Paul told me not to tell anyone. Originally I thought Alicia could help me.” My mind drifted to Roberto and his research and the phone call that would hopefully come any minute.

  “Ms. Stillwell?”

  “Sorry.” I focused again. “She likes old wine labels, so I was taking her the bottle in case she had information. I saw her at lunch and she said to meet her at the house.”

  Adams nodded. “Paul Rafferty, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay then.” Garcia pulled out a second file from the stack and flipped it open on the table. “Since you mentioned Paul, let’s talk about his assistant.”

  “Cooper? What about him?” I stared at Garcia. “You guys were there on Sunday. He fell down the stairs.”

  “Did he?” replied Adams.

  “What? Now that you think I attacked Martin, you somehow believe
I’m involved in Cooper’s accident?” I shook my head. This wasn’t going anywhere. “Look, this is all a big misunderstanding. I wanted to show Alicia the bottle. I went into the kitchen, she came in, saw Martin, and that was it. End of story.”

  “You’re very verbose, aren’t you?” said Adams.

  I shifted in my seat but stayed silent. I didn’t want him to think he was right.

  “I was only going to ask how well you knew Cooper.” Garcia moved the pages in the file.

  I waited, unsure of how to answer. I didn’t like where this was going. “Not too well. I mean, he came into my work, but I didn’t know him outside of there.”

  The door opened. “Adams, we have an update.”

  “Excuse me for a moment.” Adams stood up and left the room. Garcia stayed seated but silently flipped through the file.

  I stared at the table as I thought about what I had seen at Alicia’s. The door had been open, but nothing else seemed to be disturbed. No chairs tipped over, no signs of a struggle.

  Adams returned to the room. “You’re in luck. Martin is going to make it. Just a bad bump on the head, that’s all.”

  “Good.”

  “Is it?” asked Adams.

  “Yes, Martin was really nice when I met him at Paul’s. I’m glad he’s going to be okay. Not that you’ll ever believe me.”

  “We believe you,” said Adams.

  “What?”

  He nodded. “Martin said that someone hit him over the head but he doesn’t think it was you.”

  “Someone asked him directly if it was me?”

  “No. But in the statement at the hospital, he said his assailant was male. Mrs. Trager has also agreed not to press charges on breaking and entering.”

  “That’s a relief.” I pushed back the chair and stood up.

  “We’re not done here yet, Ms. Stillwell.” Adams waited to continue speaking until I sat back down. “We’re still talking about Cooper. You were the one who found him, correct?”

  “Yes, but you knew that. I told you on Sunday.” I stared at them. “Why all of these questions about Cooper?”

  The deputies glanced at each other but didn’t comment.