by Emma Belmont
“He said at dinner that he’d sold the murder mystery game to Hario,” Maris noted. “So the money might have come from there.”
“Except Pammy called that a punt,” the sheriff said. When he saw Cookie’s quizzical look, he added, “He sold the game to a competitor rather than publish it himself.”
At the greenhouse, Bear unloaded several glass panels from a wheelbarrow and stacked them against the now complete metal structure. He put a large bag of tools in the empty barrow and headed back to his truck in the front.
“They were angry at dinner,” the chef said, “but not that angry.”
Maris shook her head. “I didn’t think so either.”
Mac looked at them both. “That was my sense of it as well. Being stiffed a couple weeks salary, or coming to play a game instead of having a vacation are good reasons to be upset, but not lethal.” He hooked his thumbs behind his utility belt. “We don’t have any test results back yet, but I’ll bet dollars to donuts that someone put something in Reggie’s wine that killed him.” He looked at them both. “Did anyone in particular have opportunity?”
As Bear returned with another load of glass, Maris said, “It was a long evening, and a complicated game. Everyone had their own character sheet and Reggie seemed to have a script.”
Though she could have tapped her temple and brought up the evening, scene by scene, it would have been obvious.
Bear neatly stacked the glass, put the last of his tools in the wheelbarrow, and waved to them. Cookie and Maris waved back. “Thank you, Bear,” Cookie called out to him.
“You’re welcome,” he said, and headed down the side of the house.
“Do you still have all the game materials?” Mac asked.
Maris shook her head. “Forensics does. They’re with Reggie’s belongings. He took them up to his room at the end of the evening.”
Cookie snapped her fingers. “I know. We could re-enact it. Just run through it real quick.”
Maris smiled at Cookie, who grinned back at her. That was the perfect solution. She didn’t have to use her photographic memory after all—at least not here and now.
Mac regarded the chef. “That’s a good idea.” He gazed at the sky, and the now blazing sunset. Against the deeply blue background of evening, the vibrant pink tendrils looked as though they were lit from within. “It’s getting late though.”
“And it’s time for me to see to the Wine Down,” Maris said.
Mac frowned a little. “The Wine Down?”
“The evening wine and cheese,” she told him. “Affectionately known in the hospitality industry as the Wine Down.”
He smiled and nodded. “Ah, gotcha.”
“You’re welcome to stay for it,” she suggested.
Though he paused and seemed to be considering it, he finally shook his head. “I think that the county sheriff might put a damper on your guests.” He glanced at the B&B. “Seeing as how they’re all suspects.”
Maris had to laugh a little. “Then I guess you’ll just need to have your wine and cheese out here, and eavesdrop.”
“Out here?” Mac replied, smiling. “Well, as the poet once said, ‘Any place is good for eavesdropping, if you know how to eavesdrop.’”
Maris’s brows furrowed. “That doesn’t sound like Burns.”
Mac grinned at her. “Tom Waits.” At her look of puzzlement he added, “Blues and folk singer extraordinaire.”
She’d forgotten that the sheriff and her Aunt Glenda had both enjoyed the blues. “Maybe another time then.”
He tilted his head toward her. “Another time.” Then he checked his watch. “So tomorrow morning for the re-enactment?”
She nodded. “That sounds good.”
Cookie said, “Breakfast finishes at ten.”
“Right,” the sheriff said, “I’ll see you both then.”
14
In the living room, BJ, Pam, and Felix were chatting. As Maris quietly entered, she turned on one of the Tiffany lamps and then went to the fireplace. She’d already laid the kindling and stacked the logs earlier in the day. Though the evening had yet to become cold or foggy, a light mist was drifting in from the bay, bringing with it a little chill. She struck one of the long matches on the holder’s iron base and lit the fire.
“Oh how nice,” Pammy said, watching Maris light the kindling. “I love a fire.”
Maris stood and smiled at her. “Me too,” she said. Then she took in the three of them. “Wine and cheese, perhaps in here tonight?”
It’d occurred to her that, given what had happened the previous night, that the trio might not be interested in the Wine Down at all.
“That’d be great,” Felix said.
BJ nodded. “I know I could use a glass.”
Both Felix and Pammy muttered their agreement.
Maris nodded, glad that they were sticking together through this, and also glad that they were recovering from the shock. She tossed the long match stick into the fire. “Coming right up.”
In the kitchen, Maris took out the oversize wooden cheese board, scored and stained from years of good service. Then she surveyed the cheeses in the fridge, keeping in mind the dry goods in the pantry as well as the wines in the cabinet and the cooler. Without overthinking it, a plan came together.
In her opinion a cheeseboard ought to have, at the most, four different cheeses. But four was plenty to showcase the local varieties from Cheeseman Village as well as provide a flavor and texture for every palette. She selected the triple cream Brie, the extra sharp six-year aged cheddar, a buttery Gouda, and the nutty Manchego. She took these to the large butcher block before returning. As a compliment she also chose the green olives, a black olive tapenade, and a spicy brown mustard.
As she sliced the cheeses, her mind turned to the sweet part of the board. She arranged the cheeses and fetched Cookie’s french baguette from the bread box, slicing thin slivers from it at a diagonal. From the pantry she brought a sweet chutney, the peach jam, and also candied pecans and dried apricots. With everything on the board, she stood back from it for a moment, hands on hips. Then she nodded to herself. Despite the grinding years in the hospitality industry, she never tired of the Wine Down. It was the last opportunity in the day to extend warmth and relaxation to guests.
When she took the cheeseboard into the living room and set it on the coffee table, there were appreciative murmurs all around.
“Oh my god,” Pammy said. “This could be dinner.”
Though Maris didn’t say anything as she went to get the wine and glasses, she smiled to herself. In effect, that was the point. Sometimes the last thing that guests wanted to do was venture out yet again after coming in from a long day—particularly the guests of the B&B. Although the restaurants in town and in Cheeseman Village or even the wineries down south were all top notch—Maris enjoyed recommending them—they were a bit of a drive. Many of the tourists who visited the lighthouse were active people who liked the sightseeing and exercise that the environs provided. They’d often spend all the daylight hours seeing and doing as much as they could, not unlike the guests here tonight.
She took a Cabernet from the wine cabinet that would stand up to the aged cheddar, and from the pantry’s wine cooler she chose a bright and fruity Sauvignon Blanc that would pair well with sweets. By the time she returned, Pammy was munching some of the Manchego dipped in spicy mustard. She’d moved to stand next to the fire, with her back to it. Maris showed them all the bottle labels. “Can I pour red or white for you?” she asked.
Red for Felix and BJ, and white for Pammy. She went to get the appropriate glasses from the dining room’s sideboard, and took them into the living room. Though she’d occasionally run across wine enthusiasts who dismissed the use of different shaped glasses for the different wines, Maris found that it indeed made a difference. The wider and larger glasses for the reds allowed for more aeration and distance from the nose. The slightly narrower white wine glasses concentrated their delicate aroma and kept the
m cooler for longer.
It also helped the guests keep track of their glasses.
Outside, the sun had nearly sunk below the horizon and the white mist of the early fog took on a rosy glow. Maris knew that the lighthouse beam would be rotating now, and sometimes urged guests outside to take a look. But as she poured and distributed the wine, the little group was settling in with their food, and their conversation had resumed.
“You saw that new board game from Butler & Company?” Felix said before sipping his wine.
BJ was coating a piece of bread with the chutney, but paused and looked at Felix. “They have a new board game? Since when?”
“Since two days ago,” Felix said. “It’s tearing up the charts.”
“The one about the Maya ruins and digging up treasure?” Pammy asked.
“That’s the one,” Felix said, pointing at her. Then he rolled his eyes. “I can hardly imagine the amount of research on that one.”
“The artwork is to die for,” she said. “What a fun project that must have been.”
Maris poured herself a Sauvignon Blanc. “Did you say charts?” she asked Felix.
The producer had just popped a slice of cheese in his mouth but nodded.
“There are web sites that sell all kinds of games,” BJ said. “They all have bestseller charts, and also the highest rated. They’re not always the same.”
Felix crooked his thumb at BJ. “This guy had his game in the top ten for months. Months. Should have won Game of the Year.”
Maris raised her eyebrows as she went to stand with Pammy. “It sounds like a hit,” she said smiling. “What was it about?”
BJ shrugged. “Classic RPG but a mafia setting.” When he saw Maris’s puzzled look, he added, “RPG, role playing game. Everyone takes on a character, but the game play is around a table.”
“You roll dice,” Pammy said. “Sometimes there’s a map or tokens.” Although Maris nodded, she couldn’t quite picture it. “It was definitely a hit but…that was a while ago.”
“Yeah,” BJ sighed.
There was silence in the room as the little group seemed to be remembering better days. But then Felix finished what remained in his wine glass and got up to refill it. Maris could already see that there wasn’t a full glass left in the bottle.
“Would everyone like another Cabernet?” she asked. “Or would you enjoy something else?”
Felix poured what was left in the bottle. “This was great. It gets my vote.” He looked at BJ. “Another one?”
BJ toasted him. “Sounds good.”
By the time Maris returned with the opened bottle, Felix had already finished his glass. She poured him another, a full one this time. As she offered to pour for BJ, he declined but Felix took a big, loud gulp.
“Geez, Felix,” Pammy said. “You’re going to drink poor Maris here out of business.”
Although Maris was about to tell them about buying in bulk from the wineries down south, Felix picked up the small cheese knife from the board and clinked it against the side of his glass a few times.
“Attention everybody,” he said, a touch dramatically. “Can I have your attention, please? I have an announcement I’d like to make.”
15
Maris took a step back, in front of the fireplace, as Felix took center stage in the living room. Pammy and BJ exchanged puzzled and bemused looks. But Felix stood up a bit straighter, looked at Pammy and BJ, and then cleared his throat.
“This is something that I’ve been working on for a long time,” he said, but paused and looked down into his wine glass. He stroked his goatee once. “I just didn’t know when to say something, but I guess there’s no sense in waiting now.” He took a deep breath and looked up at them. “I’m starting my own company.”
“What?” Pammy said, just as BJ said, “You’re what?”
Felix held a hand up to them. “I know, I know. But that’s not all.” They both fell silent. “I want you guys to be my partners.”
“But–” BJ began.
“I’ve already got the money,” Felix said, stopping him. “I’m fully capitalized for the first year.”
“Money?” Pammy asked. “For a year? How did you do that?”
Felix nodded, as though he’d been hoping someone would ask. “That’s what’s taken me so long. I wrote the most detailed business plan that the Small Business Administration has ever seen. It took me months of research and writing, working on calendars and ideas, and spreadsheets and projections. It’s been like an entire second job.” He glanced at each of them. “But I got the word last week. I’ve been awarded an SBA loan.”
“Wow,” Pammy said. “Those are super hard to get.”
Felix grinned at her. “Like extremely hard.”
“What’s the name of the company?” she asked.
“I’m tentatively calling it Power Play,” he said, “but that was just for the SBA. It’ll be up to all of us. I’m not interested in dictating how we do things. You guys will have complete creative control. I’ll bring the business side, all the usual production stuff, and we’ll share in the profits equally.” He quickly held up his hand again. “But don’t give me your answer now. I want you guys to think about this. When we get back home, I can show you the business plan.”
Pammy shook her head. “I don’t want to see a business plan.” She beamed at him. “I’m in.”
Felix blinked at her and cocked his head back. “Awesome!”
Naturally, all eyes fell on BJ.
But Maris had been watching the game developer, ever since Felix had cut him off. The jaw muscles at the side of his face were working overtime, and his lips had pressed into a thin line. Now he turned a glare on Felix that should have melted the producer’s wine glass.
“How can you be so…so callous?” BJ ground out through clenched teeth. “The man hasn’t been dead twenty-four hours.”
It was as though the temperature in the room had ratcheted up several degrees. Quietly Maris stepped away from the fire, watching the trio.
“It doesn’t have anything to do with Reggie,” Felix protested, though he sounded less sure of himself.
“Really?” BJ barked at him. “Really? If he were alive, would we even be having this conversation? Were you going to invite him to be a part of your company?”
Felix’s face fell. “Well, no,” he admitted. “I wasn’t thinking of it.”
“He wasn’t just our boss,” BJ said, still seething. “He was our friend.” He put his glass on the coffee table. “At least he was mine.”
Felix opened his mouth as though he might protest, but then shut it.
BJ stood and looked at Maris. “Thank you for the wine and cheese.”
Then without glancing at Felix or Pammy, he stalked out of the room. They heard him stomp up the stairs and then his bedroom door slammed shut.
For several moments the only sound was the crackling of the fire, but then Pammy said lowly, “Don’t worry about BJ. He’s hurting right now. He’ll come around.”
Felix hung his head. “He’s right, though. That was callous. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He regarded his wine glass, and purposefully set it aside, frowning. He glanced at Pammy and Maris, his face a bright red. “Sorry I ruined the evening,” he said weakly, before hurrying from the room.
Pammy sighed heavily. “Well,” she said to Maris, as she put her glass down too. “I’m still in, because where else am I going to go?”
Then she left as well.
Maris sighed and looked down at the barely touched spread. As she picked it up, Mojo appeared in the doorway and trotted over to rub his sides against her leg. She smiled down at him.
“Were you waiting for them to leave?” she asked him. Though he didn’t answer in words, the fluffy black cat purred as he circled around her ankles. She chuckled a little. “Must be time to call it a night.”
She took the glasses to the kitchen and loaded them in the dishwasher, Mojo staying close. Though he hadn’t gone to sit by h
is bowl, Maris decided it was time for a treat. She opened the fridge and took a little pinch of smoked salmon from the container. Mojo eagerly took it from her fingers.
As he snacked, she fetched the cheeseboard. While she put away the leftovers and washed the board, he used his paw to wash his face. But as Maris set the board aside to dry, she thought about Felix’s timing.
With the award of the SBA loan, just before arriving at the B&B, Reggie had in effect become the producer’s competitor. Given BJ’s long history with his friend, had Felix really thought that the game developer would leave Whiz Kid Games? She wondered if, like Pammy and Felix, he hadn’t been paid his salary either.
She pursed her lips, turned off the light in the kitchen, and bent to pick up Mojo—who immediately began to purr. As she headed to her room, carrying her warm little bundle, she put her lips to the soft fur at the top of his head.
“It’s not making sense,” she murmured, “at least not yet.”
16
“Well,” Maris said to Cookie, “at least they’re eating.”
It was one of the more awkward breakfasts she could remember. As though the three game designers were on some sort of rotation schedule, each had come down separately, loaded their plates, and then gone to a separate porch: Pammy to the front porch, Felix to the back, and BJ to the porch on the south side of the building, under the balcony.
Cookie was serving herself one of her signature scrambles: soft scrambled eggs combined with shredded Gruyere cheese, red potatoes, and thin sliced scallions. The morning buffet also had fresh cranberry muffins, accompanied by just-picked strawberries, and they both were having tea. Maris took a seat at the table with the chef, and recounted what had happened during the Wine Down.
Cookie frowned a little. “That was poor timing.” She broke off part of the muffin’s top. “To say the least. Maybe even a touch insensitive.”
