“In the tasting room,” he said as he counted pushes.
I left them in the shed and rushed into the tasting room. Tim’s sommelier, Stacy Randolph, was there, cleaning wine glasses. Luckily it was mid-morning, and they didn’t have a room full of tasters.
“What’s going on?” Stacy asked. “You look white as a sheet.”
“Tim said you have blankets in here.”
“Yes,” she said and put down the glass and the towel she was using. “What’s wrong?”
“Tim just pulled a man out of a fermenting vat,” I said. “Mateo is shivering.”
“It could be shock,” Stacy said. She opened a cupboard and handed me a stack of blankets. “I know first aid.” She followed me out of the tasting room back to the wine barn.
Robert sat outside on the grass with his head in his hands. “I’ll never un-see that,” he said over and over, and rocked himself. I handed Stacy a blanket and pointed to Robert. She nodded and went to put the blanket on his shoulders.
I hurried into the barn. Tim was still on the scaffolding, and it shook under the weight of the compressions as he did CPR. “Hang in there, Tim,” I shouted up at him. “Help is on the way.”
Mateo sat on a bale of hay and beat his chest as he shivered. I put a blanket tightly around him and squatted down to look him in the eye. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth that chattered. I wrapped a second blanket around him.
“It’s probably shock,” I said. “Try putting your head between your knees.”
I looked up at Tim, who worked fiercely, trying to revive the man. “I can hear the sirens,” I said. Then I took another blanket, threw it over my shoulder, and climbed up far enough on the scaffolding that I could reach Tim’s shoulders and dropped the blanket around them. He continued to work hard at CPR, and I could hear the man’s ribs cracking.
“I’m with you, Tim,” I said and reached through the bars to put my hand on his back. “I’m with you.
Chapter 4
Sheriff Hennessey was the first to arrive on the scene. He didn’t have Marsha or Chandra with him, so I assumed they stayed at the end of the drive to continue to direct emergency responders.
“Taylor, what’s going on?” he asked as he entered the barn and looked up at Tim and me. My heartbeat sped up a bit at the sight of him. There was just something about his action hero good looks that attracted me. I swallowed down my reaction.
“Tim and Mateo pulled this man out of the vat,” I said. “Tim’s been doing CPR for over fifteen minutes.”
“Stop,” Sheriff Hennessey said.
Tim froze.
“Is there a pulse?” The sheriff pulled me off the scaffolding. His hands on my waist were comforting, and the easy way he lifted me off was distracting. He didn’t seem to notice as he climbed up next to Tim.
“No,” Tim said, his expression uncertain.
I watched as the sheriff pushed Tim aside and checked the man. “He feels like ice. I think he’s been dead for a while.”
“So, my CPR?”
“Not ever going to save him,” Sheriff Hennessey said, his expression grim. “Why don’t you climb down and sit next to Mateo. I’ll call the coroner.”
Tim muttered something dark under his breath and climbed down. I helped him to the hay bale and tucked a second blanket around his lap. The ambulance pulled up next, and two EMTs got out.
“Stop!” Sheriff Hennessey said as they stepped toward us. “This guy is dead. I’ve called the coroner. All you two will do is further contaminate my crime scene.”
“Don’t you think you should let the professionals check him out?” one of the EMTs called.
“Listen, I know you can’t pronounce him dead. All you’ll be doing is wasting your time trying to revive him and taking him to the ER, where any doc in their right mind will pronounce him DOA.”
“Is he stiff?” the second EMT asked.
“No, but he’s dead cold,” the sheriff said as he climbed down. “Hand me that blanket.” The young EMT had a medical kit in one hand and a blanket in the other. “I’ll cover the body until Doc Abernathy can get out here. I’ve already put a call in to the station.”
“Are you sure you don’t want one of us to check him out?” the EMT with the name tag “Mathews” called as he passed the blanket over.
“I’m sure.”
Mathews shrugged. “It’s your call, Sheriff.”
Hennessey climbed back up the scaffolding and covered the body. I sat next to Tim and held his hand. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I lost a whole vat of wine,” Tim said. “My best grape blend.”
I patted his hand. Tim could be a smart aleck, but he wasn’t intentionally selfish. “You’re in shock. Do you know the guy?”
“I didn’t get a good look at his face. All I could think about was how the heck I was going to remember everything from my CPR training. I mean, you take the training and then never think of it again. Right?” He looked at me. “I didn’t want the guy to be dead.”
“No, no one wants that,” I said.
“Did you recognize him?” he asked me.
I shook my head. “He was pretty purple and, I think, a little bloated.” I cringed at the thought. “I think it was a good call to stop the CPR. You tried. You really tried.”
“I’m not sure I did it right.”
“You did,” I said. “They say you’ll crack ribs if you do it right.”
He put his hands over his face and rubbed his face. “A man is dead.”
Mateo sat beside Tim, silent, tears running down his face.
“Hey,” I said and stood. “Ron, er, Sheriff Hennessey?”
“Taylor?” he replied. I thought I caught a glimpse of heat in his gaze before he settled his expression into cop mode.
“It might be a good idea for the EMTs to check out Tim and Mateo.”
“Right,” he said. “Go out in a straight line, and be careful not to disturb too much,”
I helped Tim to his feet. He shuffled out of the shed, and I helped him to the back of the ambulance. Then I went back to help Mateo, and we followed the same line out. By the time I got both men to the ambulance, Marsha and Chandra had walked up the drive. Two more police cars arrived with their red and white lights flashing. Deputy Bloomberg and Deputy Hanson got out and huddled with the sheriff. A white van showed up, and an older man stepped out.
“Who’s that?” I asked Mathews.
“The medical examiner, Doc Abernathy,” he answered and went back to checking Mateo’s vital signs. I watched the coroner walk into the barn, followed by a younger man wearing a black jacket that said “CSI.”
“Taylor,” Marsha said and called me over to where she and Chandra stood.
“Thanks for flagging everyone down,” I said.
“I tell you what, this has put me off wine for a while,” Chandra said. “Maybe forever.”
“Tim likes to say that no known human pathogens can survive in wine,” I said with a half-smile.
“Not exactly comforting,” Chandra said.
My cell phone rang. “Excuse me a moment,” I said and walked away as I answered it. “Taylor O’Brian.”
“Taylor, it’s August Smith. I thought you had a tour scheduled for my winery this afternoon,” said the voice on the other side of the line. “We had a picnic planned?”
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, August,” I said. “There’s been an incident at Rocky Path Winery. We’ll have to reschedule.”
“Is everyone alright?” August asked.
“Not everyone,” I said. “Listen I can’t talk about it, but I’m sure the details will be out later.” I looked back at the group that I had brought to this disaster. They milled about in various stages of shock and uncertainty.
“Your tour group is investors, right? Will you be rescheduling?”
“I don’t think they are going to be coming back any time soon,” I said.
“Darn that Tim,” August muttered. “I
t’s just like him to keep all the investors to himself.”
“This isn’t about Tim,” I said. “Listen, I have to go, but I will take another tour through your winery soon.”
“Will they be investors?”
“I can’t promise,” I said. “This was my first such group.”
“Well, we’ll take what we can get, I suppose. I’ll talk with you soon.”
“Okay, bye,” I hung up the phone and dialed the two other places we were supposed to tour and let them know we wouldn’t be coming.
“Is everything all right?” Stacy asked as she came up behind me.
“Yes,” I said, looking at the empty parking lot of the tasting barn. “It looks like the police presence has killed your work for today.”
“I really don’t think it’s good to have any tasting near a crime scene.”
I frowned. “Did you see the man? Do you know who he is or what he might have been doing on the property?”
“Deputy Hanson asked me that same question,” Stacy said and hugged herself. “I didn’t see anyone besides Tim and Mateo and Mandy today.”
“Mandy’s here?” I asked and looked around.
“She left when I opened the tasting room,” Stacy said. “I think it was around nine. She has a day job.”
“Where does she work?”
“She’s got a couple of jobs—one is the office manager for a realtor. Do you know Jeffery Hoag?”
“No,” I said. “Is he the realtor?”
“Yeah, he’s around our age,” Stacy said. “He moved here from San Jose.”
“Strange for him to get into real estate up here if he’s never been here.”
“He’s got a group of investors backing him,” Stacy said. “He was out visiting all the little wineries in the area. I think he was taking notes on which ones had the best views. You can make more money off of resorts than you can from wine, you know.”
I winced. “I didn’t think any of the families would sell out.”
“They had a meeting last week,” Stacy said. “I’m not an owner, so I don’t know what was said, but Tim came back pretty darn upset.”
“Is that why he asked me to bring people by his winery? Is Tim in financial trouble?”
“That’s a good question,” Sheriff Hennessey said as he stepped in behind me. I turned toward him.
“Do you think Tim had anything to do with this? Because I highly doubt it. The man jumped into a vat of must and skins and pulled the guy to the scaffolding and then did CPR for twenty minutes.”
“I’m simply asking questions,” Sheriff Hennessey said. He was a handsome man with neatly cut brown hair and gorgeous blue eyes. We had a bit of a history. A few weeks ago, he’d given me the impression that he’d like to have dinner with me, but he never really asked. It felt awkward standing next to him now.
He might be square-shouldered and buff in his khaki uniform, but I could tell he was all business. The problem was, today I didn’t know when he wasn’t in work mode.
“I don’t know anything about Tim’s state of affairs,” I said. “Do you know who the dead man is?”
“He hasn’t been identified yet,” Sheriff Hennessey said. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
I recounted everything that had happened from the time I’d parked the van and let my tour group out, to the moment that the sheriff had showed up.
“That’s everything?” he asked as he took notes.
“Yes,” I said. “Do you know what the cause of death is? I mean, I didn’t see any obvious bullet holes. Did he drown?”
“Doc thinks it might be blunt force trauma,” the sheriff said.
“Oh,” I said and blew out a long breath. “So he didn’t drown.”
“We’ll know more after the autopsy.”
“Sherriff,” one of the deputies called out to Ron.
“Excuse me,” he said and left.
Stacy came up to me. “Is everyone all right?”
“Yes,” I said. “How’s Tim doing?” I scanned the now crowded drive to find my friend still covered in purple grape juice and sitting on the back edge of the ambulance.
“He’s taking it pretty hard,” Stacey said. Stacy was a gorgeous brunette, fresh out of college, and working her first full-time job as a sommelier. Tim liked to surround himself with pretty women and said it didn’t hurt the business any to hire them. The thing was that most of the people who came wine tasting were much older than struggling twenty-somethings. She looked over her shoulder at the sheriff. “I take it Sheriff Hennessey thinks Tim had something to do with this murder?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. Why would Tim ruin an entire vat of grapes and then pull the guy out and spend twenty minutes attempting to resuscitate him?”
“I didn’t say it made sense,” Stacy said with a shrug. “I still think he suspects Tim.” She tugged on the ends of her hair. “I can’t work here anymore. My dad is going to flip when he hears I’m involved in a murder investigation, or worse, that my boss is a suspect in a murder investigation.”
“I’m sure your dad will understand,” I said, patting her shoulder.
“No,” she said and eyed me with concern. “He’s going to be upset I stayed this long.” She leaned into me. “Listen, I don’t want to tell Tim I’m quitting. You’re his friend—will you tell him?”
“That you quit?”
She winced. “Yes?”
“I think you should be a grown-up and go talk to him,” I said. “He’s an understanding guy.”
“I know,” she said and chewed her bottom lip. “That’s why it’s so hard to tell him, you know? Because he’s nice, and I’d hate to hurt him.”
“I’ll walk over there with you,” I said, “but you have to talk to him.”
“Fine,” she said. “But I’ll blame you if he starts crying.”
“He won’t cry,” I said and took her hand. I pulled her toward Tim. The poor man smelled of yeast and grape juice. “Oh boy, I hope that doesn’t stain.”
He sent me a brotherly half-smile. “I’m going to have to watch out for the purple people eater.”
“Stacy has something to say,” I said and pushed her forward.
“What’s up, Stacy?” he asked.
“Listen, Tim, I’m going to have to go now. There’s no way my dad is going to let me work for a murderer.”
“Wait—what?”
“There was a murder just a few yards from where I was working. He’s not going to let me come back. And he’s going to be very angry that I haven’t left already.”
“Aren’t you a little old to be worrying about what your dad thinks?” he asked.
“I’ve got to go,” she said and took off her apron and handed it to him. “You know where to send my paycheck.” She walked off.
He watched her in silence for a moment. “Well, you know what they say …”
“What?” I asked.
“Good help is hard to find.”
I patted him on the back. “Holly and I can help fill in until you hire someone new.”
“Thanks. I might take you up on that. I think it might be a few days before they let me have my winery back.”
“It is a crime scene,” I said. “I can tell you that it takes longer than you think to process it.”
He ran his hand over his hair. “Do you think the same thing that Stacy thinks?”
“What’s that?”
“That I’m a killer.” He shrugged. “I know I have killer good looks, but …”
“But I don’t believe you’d harm anyone,” I said. Picking up a towel, I brushed grape skins off his shoulders. “I mean, look at you. You jumped right in to save the guy. A killer wouldn’t do that.”
“What if I was jumping in to save my grapes?”
“A little late for that, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” he agreed and tussled grape skins out of his hair with another towel. “That was probably the best batch of zin since I took over the winery ten years ago.”
>
“You should change the name of your winery from Rocky Path to Deadly Zins.” I teased.
“I have more than seven of them.”
“You better hope murder isn’t one of them,” Sheriff Hennessey said as he walked up.
“Not this time, at least,” Tim replied. “I don’t have any reason to kill a man.”
“Let’s hope not,” Sheriff Hennessy said. “For your sake. What about you, Taylor? What do you know about the people on your tour?”
I tilted my head in confusion. “The guys on my tour? Why? They got here with me.”
“I’m working on getting a clear picture of what happened,” he said.
“Oscar Webb called me and asked me to do a tour of smaller wineries in the area. He and the rest of the group were thinking about investing in wineries and wanted a good look behind the scenes at a local place.”
“I see,” he said.
“Tim asked me to bring a group by his winery, and I thought this would be the perfect one. Like I said, they came with me. I really doubt they had anything to do with the murder.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Perhaps, but what do you really know about them?”
“They are businesspeople who have money, and they are up from San Francisco for the day.” I shrugged. “What more should I know about them?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you should check and make sure you aren’t hauling around a murderer,” he said, his eyes suddenly concerned. The flash of emotion left as fast as it arrived, and he was back to wearing his flat cop look.
“I’m a businesswoman,” I said. “People pay for a tour, and they get the tour. I can’t do a background check on everyone.”
“Hey, Taylor, when can we go?” It was Peter. “I can call an Uber if this is going to be longer.”
“Have you given your statement?” I asked and pointed to the sheriff.
“I talked to the other dude,” Peter said and pointed his thumb over his shoulder. I saw Deputy Bloomberg taking notes and asking questions as well. “Sam and I have been hanging around for over an hour. We didn’t even get any wine.”
“Not that I want to drink any right now,” Sam said.
“Is it okay if they go?” I asked Sheriff Hennessey.
“I have everyone’s information,” he said with a nod. “You should probably take your people home.”
Seven Deadly Zins Page 3
