Uncorking a Lie

by Nadine Nettmann

  twenty-nine

  pairing suggestion: pinotage—stellenbosch, south africa

  A dark red wine with bold flavors, ideal for intense situations.

  -

  I thought back to the map of Willamette hanging in Martin’s office. Specifically, Ribbon Ridge. Pinot Noir grown in the area had a peppery essence in part due to the marine sedimentary soil and microclimate. Was Martin also responsible for killing Cooper? And Simon, too?

  Simon. He said I should take an empty bottle to Alicia, Martin’s wife, to get her to talk to me. Maybe he really was trying to help all along. Maybe he was ready to tell me everything and that’s why he was killed.

  But if so, then Martin knew I was onto him. After all, Martin was the one who told me Simon was the seller. He led me to Simon, but did he also attack me?

  I called Dean’s cell to tell him. It rang a few times and went to voicemail. I tried again but the result was the same. If he wasn’t going to pick up his phone, he at least could have told me. What if I had taken a turn for the worse with my head injury? I sent him a couple of texts and waited. There was no reply.

  I could call Deputy Adams, but Martin might already be covering up his whole operation. I was at his office earlier and I didn’t see anything unusual, but now I knew what I was looking for. Fake bottles and perhaps wine. Specifically, peppery Pinot.

  I called Dean again but there was no answer. Time was running out and if I didn’t move fast, Martin might clear out any proof.

  I made a decision. I would go to Martin’s office to look in the windows and see if there was anything that could be linked to counterfeiting. I would make sure I wasn’t noticed, take photos of the evidence, and then drive to the station and report it all to Dean. There was no reason I needed to waste time sitting here when all the evidence could be disappearing.

  I wrote Dean a note in case he came back before I got in touch with him and grabbed my car keys. I left the apartment and closed the door behind me, then realized I was still wearing my wine-stained shirt and I didn’t have a way to get back in. As I went down the steps, a warning registered deep in my gut. I was stepping out of my safety zone, literally and figuratively. I pushed the feeling aside and got into my car.

  I arrived at Trager Imports sooner than I anticipated, the two-story building suddenly in front of me. I didn’t want my car to draw attention so I did a U-turn and parked a block away at the end of a neighboring vineyard. I shoved my purse under the seat so I could move more quickly and this time I brought my phone as well as my wine opener. My phone was necessary to take pictures and my wine opener was helpful in all situations and my only form of weapon in case I needed one. I tucked the opener into my boot and set off toward the Trager Imports building.

  The area was quiet but two lights were on at the rear of the building. A sudden trepidation swept through me. I had no idea what I was doing. I should be back at Dean’s apartment, studying and waiting for him to get off work.

  I paused as I stared at the building. There was a chance for answers right here, in front of me, before they disappeared. I needed to go through with it. I needed to know.

  I crept to the first window. The office was softly lit by the glow of a small lamp on the desk in the center of the room. There was a filing cabinet behind the desk and a potted plant in the corner. A normal office with nothing out of the ordinary and no signs of a counterfeit operation.

  I moved to the next window, where all the lights were on. This one was familiar. The desk, the couch, and the map of Oregon on the wall. This was Martin’s office.

  I grabbed my phone and took a picture of the room, making sure to include the map of Willamette. It wouldn’t prove anything, but it would be good to have the photo just in case.

  Two small windows around the corner blazed light, illuminating the start of the vineyards behind the building. They were located at the ground level, clearly from a basement.

  I crouched and approached a window, careful to keep to the side so I would be out of view if anyone was inside and looked up.

  The basement was a small rectangular room with wine barrels lining the far side. Not unusual for a building in Sonoma but as I stared at the barrels, the pieces started to fit. Martin imported bottles of wine, not barrels. If he was indeed forging wine, he would need something to fill the bottles with. A steady amount of wine.

  I took a picture of the room with my phone and then moved to the next window to get a better view of the other side.

  “Welcome, Katie.”

  I turned around.

  Martin stood a few feet behind me, a smile on his face. “Can I help you with something?”

  “No.” I stood up, trying to suppress my panic at facing a possible killer. “Just admiring your building.”

  “It’s a beauty, isn’t it?”

  My phone began to ring. I cringed.

  “Go ahead,” said Martin. “Answer it.”

  “No, I’d rather not.”

  He shook his head and crossed his arms. “Answer it. On speaker.”

  I looked at the phone, hoping it was Dean and I could signal that I might be in trouble. “Hello?”

  “Katherine, it’s Roberto.”

  “Hi Roberto.” My hand started to shake.

  “I found the name for you. The bottle came from Trager Imports.”

  “Yeah,” I replied as I stared at Martin. “I know.”

  He grabbed the phone out of my hand and ended the call. “Let’s go inside, shall we?” He took a set of keys from his pocket.

  “Actually,” I said as my heart rate skyrocketed, “I better not. I have to go. Dean will be waiting for me—”

  “It’s not an option.” Martin grabbed my arm and guided me to the door.

  thirty

  pairing suggestion: monastrell—jumilla, spain

  Also known as Mourvèdre, this grape is often used for blending

  but stands on its own in this full-bodied red wine.

  -

  Panic rushed through me and I struggled to keep calm as Martin led me inside. I tried to think of what I could say to get myself out of this, but I couldn’t think of anything convincing enough for him to let me go.

  His grip tightened as he accompanied me down the stairs and into a doorway, revealing the room I had seen from the window.

  He closed the door behind us and released me.

  “Welcome to my operation,” Martin said as he motioned around the room. The space I hadn’t seen from outside had a long counter covered with empty wine bottles. Some still had their original labels while others were blank.

  “You didn’t need to bring me in here. I didn’t need to see this.” My lungs were tight but I kept my hands from shaking.

  “Ah, but you did. You were already taking photos from outside.” He grinned in a way that I hadn’t seen him do before. It was calculating and malicious.

  “All I saw were wine barrels. There’s nothing strange about a building with barrels. This is wine country, you know.” My voice was calm and confident, a stark difference from the fear I was actually feeling.

  “I completely agree,” replied Martin. “But I’m sure it wouldn’t have been long before you had someone else snooping. Which is why I thought it was time to bring you inside.” He waved his hand at the bottles. “So what do you think?”

  I looked around. “It’s a nice operation.”

  “Is that all you have to say?”

  “Bottles and barrels. All looks fine to me.” I hoped that would be enough for me to be able to leave, but I knew better.

  “You know,” said Martin as he leaned against the counter and folded his arms, “I was wondering if you would find us. To be honest, it took you less time than I would have expected. You’re a smart girl.”

  I stayed silent. Every word I said could lead me into more danger.

&nbs
p; “My offer from earlier still stands.”

  “What offer?”

  “That we could use someone like you around here. To help us.”

  I shook my head.

  “Oh, Katie. Come on now. Half of life is deceiving people. Look at the news, look at marketing, look at sales. It’s all about getting people to believe what you want them to believe. Don’t try and tell me you don’t do the same thing at Trentino. You tell people about wine in a way that will get them to buy it.”

  My fear turned to anger. There was everything here to fool innocent people. A complete operation set up to trick wine buyers and now he was asking me to join him. I wanted to tell him about the beauty of real wine and the story behind each bottle. The real story. The history of the wine and the years it was stored, waiting for its moment to shine, and how he was ruining that for innocent buyers. But I knew I had to remain composed in order to get out of there alive.

  I walked along the counter, looking at the bottles. “So they pay tons of money for something that’s not even real,” I said in a calm voice.

  Martin laughed. “It’s real to them. We’re allowing people who love wine to own a bottle they think is something special. Really, we’re selling the experience and the joy. They don’t know unless they open them, and most of them don’t. They store them like trophies in the cellar.”

  I turned to Martin. “Except for Paul.”

  His face shifted. “That one was a pity. It was tough that he ended up with the Clair Bleu. I knew he was going to open it so I tried to have my assistant outbid him at the auction, but he continued bidding. If he’d kept it in his cellar, proudly on display, we wouldn’t have this problem, now would we?”

  The door opened.

  “Speaking of,” said Martin.

  The young man I had seen in the office earlier entered the room along with another gentleman around Martin’s age, in his sixties. Panic pulsed through me. I shifted my feet, wondering if I could run to the door and up the stairs before they caught me. Probably not. I still had the wine opener in my boot, but it would do little against the three of them.

  “Christopher, I think you’ve met Katie already.”

  Christopher nodded and tucked his hand into his vest.

  “And this is Vincent, label maker extraordinaire.”

  I pointed to the blank bottles. “So that’s why they’re blank. They’re waiting for your labels.”

  Vincent beamed.

  “And the three of you do this,” I said, unable to withhold my thoughts.

  “It’s a business,” replied Martin. “That’s how things are. We all do what we can do in order to put food on the table.” He glanced at Christopher. “And sometimes that food is on a yacht in the middle of the ocean.”

  All three men laughed, but Martin stopped and turned serious. “Katie, this is an opportunity. We’d pay you a lot for your help.” He picked up a bottle from the counter. “Besides, you’ve already helped us.”

  I stared at the bottle. “I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t you recognize it? Take a closer look.”

  I stepped forward and the label became clear. It was the 1990 Gevrey-Chambertin, Clos Saint-Jacques I had taken to Martin and Alicia’s house.

  I looked at Martin and finally noticed what I should have seen all along. The bandage that had been on his head earlier was gone and there was no cut, bruise, or mark at all.

  “Were you even attacked?”

  Martin threw his head back and laughed. “We do what we can to try and throw the scent off the trail. Let’s be honest, you were getting a little too close to me. Coming to my house to talk to Alicia. Good thing she called to let me know.” Martin placed the bottle back on the counter by the window. “Thanks for that, by the way. It’s better to have an original bottle. Then buyers have at least half of what they think they’ve bought.” He smiled. “Besides, not every wine we sell is doctored. Just a few important ones here and there. We provide a nice variety.”

  Vincent handed something to Martin.

  “That’s right, I almost forgot. This is for you.” He pushed a wad of bills into my hand.

  “What’s this?”

  “Your payout for the bottle. See, there’s good money in this.”

  “That was for Alicia to use the label.”

  “You think she still does the labels on tiles? You’ve seen our kitchen. She already has enough tiles. Now she enjoys the finer life, a benefit of our business, and she helps out from time to time.” Martin paused. “Let me guess. You’ve never done anything wrong in your entire life.”

  “No, that’s not it,” I replied as the night thirteen years ago went through my mind, when I had broken into a house with the intent to steal.

  I looked down at the wad of bills in my hand. It was all twenty-dollar bills and by the size of the bundle, there were a lot. I had to admit, the money felt good in my hand. I could pay off my debts, get my car fixed, easily pay my rent. I had been raised to respect the law and to do things the right way, but that didn’t mean it was easy. And here was easy money.

  My dad’s voice came into my head. Be on the right side of the law and you can’t go wrong. But I could go wrong. I’d done it once before and I could do it again.

  But then my mother’s words came through stronger. My mother who had passed away years ago. Her voice drifted through my thoughts. Always stay true to your dreams. Wine and becoming a Master Sommelier.

  “I don’t need this.” I held the money out to him, cringing that my fingerprints would be on it.

  “Sure you do.” He tilted his head sideways. “Maybe you can get a bigger apartment than your tiny place near Golden Gate Park.”

  The moment clicked. “So it was you. You stole my flash cards.”

  Martin glanced at Christopher. “I think that was my friend here.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll give your cards back,” said Christopher.

  “I don’t want them back.” It surprised me that I didn’t want my flash cards back, but in truth, I didn’t want anything from the three of them. I wanted to go home. Or at least back to the safety of Dean’s apartment.

  Martin put his hand up to stop Christopher from replying. “We needed to give you a warning and I figured it was a good way to do it,” said Martin. “And I was right. But now that you know everything”—he waved his hand around the room—“it’s time for you to work with us.” He studied me. “Okay, Katie. What’s your decision? Are you in or are you out?”

  I looked at the money and then the bottles of wine on the counter. They had already killed Cooper and Simon and I could easily be next. I needed to play along.

  “I’m in.” I put the money into my pocket. Even the movement of it left me with a bad feeling. “You’re right. I need to pay my rent and my bills. This will be good. What do we do next?”

  “You’re really going to help us?” Martin studied me.

  I nodded, my game face hiding the fear inside me. “Of course. As you said, it’ll be good money.”

  There was a familiar noise behind me and I knew exactly what it was. Perhaps my subconscious had heard the click of the safety latch, or maybe it was the noise as it came out of someone’s waistband, or it could have been the stillness in the air, but I knew there was a gun and I knew it was aimed at me.

  thirty-one

  pairing suggestion: assyrtiko—santorini, greece

  A bone dry white wine made from grapes cultivated in volcanic soil.

  -

  I turned around to look at Christopher and Vincent, to see who was holding the gun, but I had been wrong. There wasn’t one gun. There were two.

  “Seriously? Guns? Come on, guys,” I said as my heart pounded. My breathing was shallow and my hands were shaking, so I looped them behind my back. “Listen,” I said as I tried to take a breath, “I’m on you
r side. Let’s make wine together.”

  “I don’t trust her,” said Vincent.

  “Why not?” asked Martin.

  “Why should I? We have a good team here, now that Simon’s gone.”

  I felt my game face start to crack. I did my best to keep it on even though my bottom lip trembled. I needed to find a way out of this and my mind began to turn with an idea. “Simon was a traitor, wasn’t he?” I knew there was a reason he felt he was in danger and I hoped this was it. “Selling bottles and not giving you guys the cut, am I right?”

  Vincent stared, unflinching, the gun still aimed at me. Christopher had his gun in his hand, but it was casually pointed at the floor and I appreciated that.

  “He shouldn’t have sold that bottle at Red Heart,” I continued, “which is why you guys tried to outbid Paul. You didn’t want him to open the bottle.” I felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of my face and I hoped they were far enough away that they couldn’t see. “It was Simon who messed up. He got greedy. But I think now we have the perfect team with the four of us.”

  I turned to Martin. I knew him the best out of all of them, though I definitely didn’t trust him. “It’s going to be great. Right, Martin?” My voice was calm, but I could hear the slightest tremor in it.

  “Simon was a fool,” said Vincent. “You don’t cross us.”

  “See, now I know that,” I replied. The details turned in my mind. “Wait, so did Cooper work for you, too?”

  Christopher laughed. “No.”

  “That was an unplanned casualty,” said Martin. “I didn’t realize he had such a discerning palate but when he approached me at Paul’s that night, I knew he would be a good addition to our team. I asked him to join us.” He opened his hands and shrugged. “Cooper said no. He said he was going to tell Paul and that was that. So I took care of it and protected my business.”