Days of Wine and Roquefort (Cheese Shop Mystery) (30 page)

“No, Daddy.” Liberty stamped her foot. “I’m not leaving Charlotte.”

“What has gotten into you, girl? You are as guilty as I am. You are every bit a part of this operation.”

“No-o-o-o.” Liberty ran at her father.

He swung out, smashing her across the head with his forearm. She stumbled backward and crashed against the wall. She slumped to the floor.

“Liberty.” I raced to her. Her chest was moving, but her head and neck were fixed at an awful angle and her eyes were closed; she seemed unconscious.

At the same time, footsteps pounded the foyer floor. “Charlotte,” Matthew called as he charged into the office. “I heard a—”

Shelton wheeled backward and pulled a gun from his pocket. He aimed it at Matthew. “I didn’t want to have to use this, but it seems I’m outnumbered.”

I had assumed right the other day. Shelton was the kind of man to pack a pistol. He was, as Tyanne would say, all hat with no cattle.

Matthew held up his hands. “Whoa, Shelton, take a deep breath. What’s going on?”

I quickly explained. Matthew whistled. “Noelle had documented evidence.” I gestured to the thumb drive and the labels lying beside the secretary desk.

Shelton said, “Pick them up, Charlotte, and give them to me.”

“No.”

He brandished the gun. “Do it.”

“I’ve called Chief Urso,” Matthew said.

“Liar,” Shelton said. “You had no reason to call him. You didn’t know Liberty or I were coming here. You have nothing. I was trying to avoid any confrontation, but I can see that’s impossible. This ends. Right here. Right now. The goods, Charlotte.”

I inched across the room, trying to figure out what I could do to quash Shelton. Rags poked his head out from behind the desk. I gave him an eye signal to keep hidden. As I spied the detached legs near him, the memory of the twins racing around the theater’s foyer, attacking each other with the fake roasted turkey leg, flickered through my mind, and an idea came to me.

“Matthew,” I said. “Tell Shelton about all the pictures we took at the cellar when we stole in the other night.”

“The pictures? Ah, the pictures,” Matthew said, vamping. “Yes, we have dozens of photographs. Of documents. And wine bottles and your secret passage.”

“Pictures won’t prove anything.”

“Sure they will.”

I drew near to the desk. I crouched down, as if to pick up the thumb drive and labels. Instead, I grabbed the desk leg. Before Shelton realized what I’d done, I charged him, swinging the desk leg like a sledgehammer. He fired. Luckily for me he wasn’t a crack shot. A bullet whizzed past me and spit into the wall.

I swung out and connected with Shelton’s forearm. He yelped with pain. The gun flew out of his hand. Wielding the desk leg like a baseball bat, I hit his torso. He caved in on himself and dropped to his knees.

At the same time, Matthew crawled across the carpet and retrieved the gun. While he trained the weapon on Shelton, his hand trembling as much as mine would have, I dialed Urso.

For the first time in an eon, the man was happy to hear from me.

Standing with my grandmother, Delilah, and Alexis in the doorway connecting the foyer and the theater of the Providence Playhouse, we watched the children take their bows onstage. What a difference ten days could make. The play was a smash hit. The flying duck had soared across the stage to wild applause.

“You look
très bonne
,
mon amie
,” Grandmère said to me. “Rested.”

“
Merci
.”

“It’s nice what you did for Noelle,” Delilah said.

“Yes, putting together a funeral and burying her properly,” Alexis said. “It helps the spirit move onward and upward.” She clutched my forearm, and I felt a tingling of something shimmy all the way to the roots of my hair. “Good things are coming for you, too, Charlotte. You’ll see.”

“Mother, stop.” Delilah peeled her mother’s hand off of me. “Charlotte’s fine.”

I knew, now, that I couldn’t have saved Noelle. She had set her own drama in action, but at least she could rest in peace; her sacrifice was not in vain. She had stopped a scam, one that could have damaged the reputation of so many of Providence’s vintners. I had to admit that, because of my involvement in the resolution, I felt stronger than I ever had. Surviving a confrontation with Shelton Nelson that had turned from verbal to physical in a matter of seconds made me a little giddy, almost jubilant. When I arrived at The Cheese Shop the next morning, Rebecca smacked my shoulder with pride. I was growing into a smart sleuth, she told me. What she didn’t add, and didn’t realize, was that something in me had changed. I didn’t feel like my impulses controlled me any longer; I felt clearheaded and discerning. I liked the transformation.

As for Shelton Nelson, he was officially charged with Noelle’s murder. Liberty, although she had been aware of her father’s deception, would be released from the hospital, once she was given the doctor’s okay, and would serve two hundred hours of community service. Her fiancé had enlisted the swift help of a powerful lawyer. The Shelton Nelson Winery, according to rumors, was already up for sale. Supposedly, Harold’s paramour had put in the first bid. Harold’s wife, Velma, had filed for divorce.

“Delilah! Bernadette! Delilah! Bernadette!” the audience chanted.

I nudged them. “Go. Get onstage with the children. Your fans await you.”

Both glowed with pride as they hurried down the aisle toward the stage.

“Oh, there’s Lois,” Alexis said, breaking away from me. “I have a man I want her to meet.” She trotted away.

“
Chérie
.” Pépère appeared and steered me toward the banquet table set up in the foyer. “Let us prepare for the
charge.
”

“It will not be an onslaught,” I said. “The children know the rules.”

“
Oui
, but the adults do not.” He chuckled. “And the food smells so good.”

Grandmère had arranged for a pre-Thanksgiving banquet that included appetizers galore, turkey potpie, sweet potato tartlets, cornbread, and a veggie platter complete with a turkey-shaped centerpiece made of fresh vegetables.

The applause inside the theater died down, and attendees started to file into the foyer.

“Oh no,” Pépère said as he fiddled with a cheese platter.

“What?” I asked. “Didn’t I bring enough cheese?” I had sliced an assortment thinly, laid the choices in two S-curves down a white oval platter, and added mounds of gluten-free crackers, green grapes, almonds, and a pot of apricot preserves.

“There is never enough cheese, but that is not my concern.” He pointed. “What is she doing here?”

Outside the theater, Prudence Hart, wearing a DayGlo red suit, marched in front of the theater while pumping a protest sign that read:
Do Not Support Sylvie Bessette
.
She is evil!!!!

“Don’t worry.” I petted his cheek. “Prudence won’t attack anyone. She is simply utilizing her freedom of speech rights. Many would applaud her.”

He ogled me.

“One voice will not ruin this evening,” I continued. “I promise. Ignore her. Prudence will tire of her protest and retreat. She’s merely upset because Sylvie was able to convince the town council to vote against Prudence’s expansion plans.”

“But I heard that she was able to seal the deal on two shops.”

I giggled.
Seal the deal
. My grandparents loved what they liked to call Americanisms. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Charlotte, love.” Sylvie broke from the pack of theatergoers, and I bit back a smile. Where did she find her clothes? I mean, really. She was wearing a floor-length, Dracula-style black cape with a pointy red collar. If she opened her mouth and I spotted fangs, I might scream. “Weren’t my girlie-girls fabulous?”

“Everyone was,” I said. “Um, where’s your date?”

“Date?” She waved a hand that sported long bloodred nails. Had she missed Halloween? “Who needs a date when I’ve got my talented girlie-girls?”

“No date?”

“I’ve sworn off men. They are lying, cheating—”

“Not all,” I said.

“Oh, but of course. I forgot you have snared the dream man of the century. Except he is in absentia, isn’t he?”

Her potshot zinged me right where she had intended. Given my newfound confidence, however, I refused to give her that kind of power. I smiled.

Sylvie looked past me and gasped. “Is that Prudence protesting outside? No, no, no. She will not ruin my daughters’ night.” With the swiftness of a raptor, she collected her cape and flew through the foyer and into the cold after her prey.

The drama that ensued, with both women finger pointing, reminded me of two fierce beasts having at it. If I could have gotten away with it, I would have sold tickets and donated the proceeds to the theater fund.

“Charlotte.” Rebecca sashayed to me looking as pretty as I had ever seen her, with her long hair loose and her slim figure dressed in a maroon sweater dress. Over her shoulder, I spied both the deputy and the honeybee farmer ogling her with interest. She hadn’t attended the play with either of them, but I had no doubt that the remainder of the night would include some heavy-duty flirting. “I’ve been thinking about the shop. There are some changes we should make to draw in new customers.”

“Not tonight, Rebecca.” Meredith wedged in between us. “No business talk.”

“Just a little,” Rebecca said.

“Uh-uh.” Meredith clutched my hand and squeezed. I returned the gesture. We could never be mad at each other for long. Thankfully, Matthew had no lingering side effects from the beating he had taken at the winery. The fact that he had aided me in the capture of Shelton Nelson and was fast becoming a local hero didn’t hurt, either. “I’m here on a mission,” Meredith continued. “The chief wants a word with you.” She tilted her head.

Urso stood across the foyer looking slightly uncomfortable in his brown suit.

I sauntered to him, my shoulders back, my chin held high. When he had arrived at my house after Matthew and I captured Shelton Nelson, he was terse. Yet again, he protested my involvement in the case, but when I explained that I did not deliberately summon Liberty or Shelton to my doorstep—I was merely trying to find the evidence that Noelle had hidden so I could hand it over to the police—he cut me a little slack. I hadn’t seen him since he put Liberty into an ambulance and hauled Shelton to the precinct.

“Hi, Chief,” I said.

“No more U-ey?”

“I should show you more respect.”

His eyes sparkled with humor. “Yes, you should, but you won’t.”

“I’ve changed.”

“Ha! How about calling me Chief Urso whenever we’re involved in an investigation, which I hope is never again.”

I heard the slip. He had said
we.
I ignored it. “Any word on your brother’s running for election?”

“He’s still considering.”

“And you? Will you help with the campaign?”

“Other than the job, there’s not much that holds me here in Providence.”

I felt a pang in my stomach; I was pretty sure it was hunger.

He slipped his hands into his pockets. “But enough about me. Right now, I think you have a visitor.”

I pivoted and delight whooped out of me. Jordan was strolling through the front door looking as handsome as I had ever seen him. Crisp white shirt. Slim blue jeans. A relaxed smile. He strode forward, arms outstretched, and drew me into an embrace. The scent of him was delicious, like honey and pine all mixed into one. He kissed my hair, my forehead, my mouth. When we came up for air, he whispered into my ear, “I’m free.”

I pressed apart, keeping hold of his arms, and gazed into his eyes. “What are you saying?”

“The trial is over. Weeks sooner than expected. We won. The man I testified against is going away for life, with no possibility of parole.”

“Is there an enforcer he might send after you?”

“They don’t know my name. They don’t know where I live.”

“But the tentacles of all of those inmates.” My stomach panged again, this time with fear.

“It’s over, Charlotte. Trust me.” He hugged me and twirled me around so fast my feet flew off the ground. “Now, let’s plan that wedding.”