Pinot Noir and Poison

by Sandra Woffington

  “A vegetable and herb garden. Come see.”

  Lizzy stepped out back, crossed the paver stone patio, and ducked under a white, vine-covered archway. A sign read, “Lizzy’s Garden.”

  “Ironically, it looks better than it has in years,” said Lizzy. “Being home to care for Danny left me a lot of time to prune and weed. Sometimes I had to get away. I couldn’t bear to see Danny suffer, so I’d come out here and dig in the dirt. Cry and dig.”

  Joy pointed to a messy patch where plants had been rent from the earth and hurled every which way. “And this?”

  Lizzy crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s the damage from the day Danny passed. I came out here and exploded. I needed to rip things apart. It wasn’t planned. I started pulling weeds, but in the end, I clutched at random, ripping out whatever my hands grabbed hold of, and I hurled them into the air.”

  Lizzy walked down a path past planter boxes and furrows of arugula, beets, carrots, squash, and more vegetables, and herbs of all kinds.

  “Lizzy.” Max stopped and so did Lizzy. “I was told you threatened Sally. Is that true?”

  Lizzy’s skinny frame rose two inches taller. Her face changed from malleable dough to rigid stone. “My sister is poison, Max! She poisoned everyone she ever met, and she poisoned herself too. I didn’t kill her, but I threatened to kill her, along with many, many others. I suspect that you know what Sally did to Rio, since you wanted to speak to him. My child. Her own nephew. Whoever poisoned her had had enough. I know how that feels, Max. But I didn’t kill her.” Lizzy ripped a stalky weed from the ground and threw it aside. “And I don’t blame whoever did.”

  Lizzy fell quiet. Her voice plunged into a pit of pain. “Do you know what she said to me when I confronted her and told her I’d kill her if she ever touched my son again?”

  Neither Max nor Joy needed to ask. They knew the answer was coming.

  “Sally said, ‘Sorry, Lizzy, but he isn’t your little boy anymore. He’s twenty-two, a grown man, and he can fuck when he wants and who he wants.’ She said that with Elliot standing right there. Like she didn’t care who it hurt. Elliot was making plans to divorce her.” Lizzy ripped out another weed and threw it down. “Sally is poison. Pure poison.”

  11

  The next morning, Joy picked Max up at home. She knocked on the door. It took Max a while to get there and open it. But Max walked to Joy’s black Chevy Tahoe without aid. He squeezed his hands into fists and unsqueezed them, again and again, to show her the progress he’d made before he opened the door and slipped into the passenger seat.

  Joy laughed. “Now that’s my Inca warrior—Friday night on life support, and by Monday morning, he’s ready for action. You are ready for action, right?”

  “Damn right, I am.” Max called ahead to Kinsey Pharmaceuticals to make sure Todd could see them.

  “He’s a lawyer,” said Joy. “He won’t gush like the others.”

  “True, but that makes him predictable. And this time, he’s a suspect. That makes him vulnerable.”

  Joy added, “I spoke to Beth. She had met with Alice. She also has a solid alibi.”

  Todd had an office on the same floor as Sally and Elliot. The office was about half the size of theirs, but it did have picture windows of the ever-sprawling city of Vinoville. Framed pictures of specific holes of various golf courses lined the walls. A golf ball collection hung behind his desk, displaying, presumably, the many courses he’d played over the years.

  Max and Joy shook hands and sat across from Todd’s heavy wood desk, which had an inlaid leather top.

  Todd tilted back in his plush leather chair, crossed a knee, and tapped his fingertips together waiting for a question.

  Max dove straight to the heart. “How long has the affair been going on with Sally?”

  “Twenty-four years.” Todd said it matter-of-factly. He didn’t even flinch. It was as if he’d expected the question.

  Joy tried. “At least you’re close to Sally’s age, right? Compared to the others.”

  “She is…was…four years younger, but that didn’t matter to her as much as my legal and other prowess.” He kept his eyes on Joy, as if attempting to dismantle her nerves like she worked to dismantle his. The duel had begun.

  “She left you her shares of the company?” asked Joy.

  “She did.” Todd adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. His salt-and-pepper hair matched his gray suit. His lavendar shirt and striped tie gave him a flamboyant edge, like that of a gambler.

  “That’s a pretty big motive,” Max said to Joy. Joy picked up on his tactic. If Todd wouldn’t talk to them, then they could discuss the case in front of him and make wild conjectures, hoping he’d jump in to correct them.

  “Huge motive,” agreed Joy. “And, since Sally had a younger lover…”

  “Or two or three…” Max glared back at Todd. “Your situation became dicey. You put in all those years. You hung in there. You never married. Waiting for your big payday.”

  Joy glared at Todd too. “Or you made the fatal mistake of falling in love with Sally Kinsey Fee.”

  “I did love her,” said Todd. “I loved her for who she was—no pretense. I would do anything for her. She knew it.”

  “Like scuttle the deal Harold made with his chemist and give it all to Sally,” added Joy.

  “Not all,” reminded Max. “He couldn’t get rid of Lizzy.”

  “How disappointed Sally must have been after that,” said Joy.

  Todd didn’t stir. “I knew Sally better than anyone else. Sally was ruthless. What we did was perfectly legal—not moral maybe—but perfectly legal.”

  “We need a copy of the will,” said Max.

  Todd reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a manila envelope. He handed it to Max and Joy. “I figured as much. The reading has been set for tomorrow morning at nine. You’re welcome to come.”

  Max checked the date. “This is dated a couple of years back.”

  “Sally had promised me her shares a long time ago—Elliot was, perhaps, the other contender. But she found him weak. She sure as hell didn’t want Lizzy to get them. I finally asked her to put it in writing. The attorney is a friend of mine.”

  “Why hadn’t she done it sooner?” asked Joy.

  Todd shook his head. His voice softened. “You didn’t know Sally. She could never face the idea of death—or aging. Putting final wishes on paper was hard for her. But she did it because she loved me and my loyalty to her.”

  Joy saw a pained expression cross his face. “But…”

  “But recently, she suggested that I get some plastic surgery and dye my hair.” Todd pulled a photo from the same desk drawer as the one that had contained the will. He flung it across the desk toward Max and Joy. The picture showed an exhuberant couple on the dance floor. Todd dipped Sally, who arched her back and grinned from ear-to-ear—practically upside down and with her clevage spilling from her tight red dress. “That’s the Sally I knew. I’ve never known anyone so alive! So carefree. So driven. That was taken on our trip to the Bahamas to celebrate her taking over the company. Sally could ignite an entire room—put her on the dance floor and every man in the room wanted to be with her, but she was with me. She always came back to me.”

  Max pushed him. “She used you, Todd. She kept you on a string, begging for more. You did her dirty work.”

  “She cheated on you,” added Joy. “You were never enough for her. Inadequate. When did you first find out there were others?”

  Todd’s mask of confidence fell. “No one could ever have all of Sally. She couldn’t be tamed. I accepted it. Elliot did too.”

  Joy dropped her voice a notch and leaned in for the kill. “I believe what you saw in Sally is what you saw in the mirror, Todd. You both used people to get what you want. You stayed with Sally for the same reason she stuck with you—two peas in a pod. She wanted power and sex. You wanted the same. Only Sally demanded that her lap dogs obey her. She could cheat on you, but you could not betray her
.”

  Max added, “You were rather protective of Alice at the party. Anything going on there?”

  Todd scowled. His lips sealed tight.

  “I guess we’ll have to ask Alice,” Max said to Joy.

  Todd leaned in to narrow the distance between his opponents. “Yes. We’re having an affair. It’s not like Sally will find out.”

  “How long?” asked Max.

  “A few weeks.”

  “Sally didn’t know?” Joy seemed surprised.

  “Not a chance. We’ve been discreet.”

  Joy added, “I doubt that you could be discreet enough when it came to Sally. I saw the way her eyes burned into you when you took Alice’s hand after Sally insulted her at the dinner party. Maybe Alice wasn’t as discreet as you thought, not as used to fibbing, and Sally saw through her.”

  Todd reminded them. “Sally is dead.”

  Max rose to his feet, “And you had plenty of motive. Get rid of Sally, you get the shares she long promised you, and a new girl.”

  Todd leaned back in his chair. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, Detective. I didn’t kill Sally. But if you get any hard evidence, I’ll be here, running my company.”

  Max and Joy stopped by Elliot’s house to interview Maria next.

  “Walk us through the night, Maria,” said Max.

  “I was so busy. I know nothing.” Maria shrugged.

  Joy tried. “People always see more than they think, Maria. Close your eyes. Tell us what you did see.”

  Maria, middle-aged but with only a wisp of gray hair in a front curl, closed her eyes. She rested her hands on her apron that covered her slacks. “I left here a little early. I got to the Wolfs’ by five. Mrs. Wolf and Rosa were already preparing food. I helped chop vegetables. Mostly, Mrs. Wolf cooked, but we all watched the pots and stirred and checked on things. Alice got there about half an hour later. She jumped in. She had us laughing with work stories—she imitated Sally. Mrs. Wolf laughed extra hard.”

  “Good,” said Max. “Who else came through?”

  “Mr. Wolf came in to let Mrs. Wolf know he was there. She sent him to set up the bar. Alfie helped set the table. Logan and Matteo arranged the snack platters. The last son—he popped in with his pretty wife, but they didn’t help. Mrs. Wolf sent them to the patio to greet guests.”

  “Liam and Cathy?”

  Maria shrugged again.

  Joy used her calmest voice. “Excellent. Who put the flowers on the salad?”

  Maria’s eyes popped open. “I did. I put them on everyone’s salad.”

  Max interjected, “It’s okay, Maria. We are just collecting facts, not accusing anyone. No one else was poisoned, so who gave you the flowers?”

  “Mrs. Wolf. She handed me a bowl full of the white flowers and said to put a couple on each salad. She called them Queen something.”

  “Queen Anne’s Lace?” asked Joy.

  Maria nodded. “That one. Yes.”

  “Who heated up Sally’s soup?” asked Max.

  “Mrs. Wolf took it from the refrigerator and put it in a bowl. I don’t know after that. I ran back and forth.”

  “The lab is testing the soup container left in the fridge,” Max reminded Joy. “If it contains hemlock, then anyone in the kitchen could have put it there.”

  “Was soup ever on the menu?” Joy asked Maria.

  Maria nodded. “Yes, but Mrs. Wolf changed her mind. She was not satisfied with the soup. When she arrived home, a worker from the winery followed her into the kitchen with boxes of fresh vegetables, and we made salads instead.”

  “Anything suspicious happen that you can think of, Maria,” asked Joy.

  Maria shook her head. “No. Everyone was having a good time, then happy birthday, and Sally falls dead in the cake.” Maria’s face twisted with the memory. “Poor Mrs. Fee. She never had it easy like some people think.”

  “How long have you worked for Sally?” asked Max.

  Maria wiped moist eyes on her apron. “I started working for Mr. Harold when I was only twenty. I was new in America from Mexico. Mr. Harold had just married Sylvia, Sally’s mother.” Maria shook her head. “She was no good. Booze and drugs. I stepped into the bathroom once, and there she was, sniffing up white powder. She just smiled like no one would believe me. When Sally was born, I tried to protect her. I helped raise her, made sure she did her homework. One night, her mother didn’t come home. She’d been drinking and drove off the road, down the mountain. Killed.”

  “How old was Sally? asked Joy.

  “Twelve. She needed her father then, but Mr. Harold looked at her and saw Sylvia. I let her know I loved her. But years passed. Mr. Harold married Allison. Lizzy was born. Sally left for college. I think by then, Sally didn’t care about anybody. Not even herself. Sally worked for her father. She saw me around town with Lizzy—I used to take Sally and later Lizzy to Belle’s for a milkshake when I picked them up from school, a treat before going home. After Mr. Harold died, Sally begged me to work for her. Sally always hoped her father would see her. One day. You know. Look at her and see her. But, he died.”

  “Never happened?” asked Max.

  Maria lifted her apron to her eye and caught a tear that had formed in the corner of it. “She just wanted his love.” Maria straightened up. “She never got it. But I loved her. I tried to speak to her once about Lizzy. But she cut me off. Said to never mention Lizzy’s name again. I didn’t.”

  “Thanks, Maria,” said Max. “You’ve been helpful.”

  “Please. Find who did this to Mrs. Fee. I know she did mean things, but she…” Maria sobbed into her apron.

  Joy put a hand on Maria’s shoulder. “We will, Maria.”

  When they left, Joy stared straight ahead without saying a word.

  “I know that look. What’s up?” asked Max.

  Joy shot him a half smile. “I was just thinking about poison, Max. Not the real kind—the human kind. We can all be poisonous to others. Sally’s father poisoned her in a way. He destroyed some part of her. And she became toxic to others.”

  “I know. I have to admit, I totally understood why so many people hated her or wanted her dead even, but there’s always another side to people, isn’t there?”

  Joy tilted her head in that way she did when she needed to think through a serious problem.

  Max knew exactly where she’d gone, because he had gone there too. He stared out the window, wondering who had poisoned them? Why? How deep did it go? Were they toxic to others?

  Without a word, Joy drove Max “home.” Not to his house, but to a place with attachments. They sat at a table on the wraparound porch and waited for Belle.

  It didn’t take long before Belle shooed away the waitress to take their orders personally. Only she didn’t pull the pen and pad from her apron right away. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Max, gave him a genuine hug, and kissed the top of his head. “Boy, you ever get yourself that near death again, I’ll shoot you myself, you hear? We just lost your pa. Losin’ you would have put me in my grave.”

  Belle was in her seventies. She had a strong face with prominent Native American cheekbones, skin wrinkled by the sun as much as from hard work, and a long gray braid that swished down her back. She wore her usual white canvas apron over jeans, a faded yellow T-shirt, and well-worn nothing-fancy tennis shoes.

  Max rose to his feet and embraced Belle in a warm hug. “Belle, I can truly say that would have been sucky for me too.”

  Belle, aka “Grandma” to the original inhabitants and three generations of visitors to Belle’s Burgers and Brew, shook her head. “I came to see you in the hospital. I was gonna slip you a burger, but the nurse told me you’d checked yourself out. That made my day. I knew you was gonna be okay, Max. You’re ornery like your pa.”

  “He is for sure, Belle.” Joy clasped her hands in complete agreement.

  “Sucky—is that even a word?” Belle asked Joy. “Never mind.”

  Belle pulled a pen and pad from her apron pocke
t. “I ain’t gonna ask you if we got ourselves ‘murder or mayhem,’ because it’s now murder, mayhem, and complete mania. This town used have no more ‘an a good caterwaul or a kid ditchin’ school for the afternoon—not murder.” Belle rolled her eyes upward.

  “You talkin’ ‘bout yourself there, Belle. The ditching school part?” teased Max.

  “Maximus Pride King, I never ditched a hard day’s work in my life, and I ain’t starting now. What’ll ya have?”

  “I’ll take one of those fabulous strawberry shakes and the usual salad,” said Joy.

  “My usual too—biggest burger you got smothered in whatever’s bad for me, French fries, and a chocolate shake.”

  “Did you know Sally Kinsey Fee?” asked Joy.

  “When she was growing up, Maria used to pick her up from school and bring her by for a shake or a scoop of ice cream. Never saw her much after her mama died. Maria brought Lizzy by quite a bit. Both your meals are on me—and that ain’t ‘sucky.’” Belle strolled away.

  “Who’s next on your list?” asked Joy.

  “Kate. She’s a family friend. I can’t picture her as a murderer.”

  Joy peered at the tourists and locals passing by on Stagecoach Street, which ran through the oldest part of town, known back then as a place of importance by virtue of having an official post office—established in the mid-1800s and one of a mere handful in California. Locals affectionately called the old part of town Grape Gulch. “Max, Kate threatened to kill Sally the day she invited us to the dinner party. I believe her words were something to the effect that the last time she saw Sally, she wanted to take the lance from the medieval knight on the pedestal and ‘run her through.’”

  “She said it in jest, like ‘I’m going to kill you,’ but she didn’t mean it.”

  Joy exhaled a deep breath. “Max, think like a detective not a family friend. A jury won’t see it that way.”

  “Then we have to prove her innocence.”

  The waitress set down their shakes, and Joy sucked the sweet, creamy mixture, full of fresh strawberries, into her mouth and swallowed with pleasure. “You know what my favorite anti-hero, Wednesday Addams, would say about homicidal maniacs? ‘They look like everyone else.’”