Days of Wine and Roquefort (Cheese Shop Mystery) (9 page)

Rebecca paced in front of the desk. “Jealousy.”

“I would buy jealousy if Noelle was hitting on Liberty’s fiancé, or if Liberty had wanted Noelle’s job, but she didn’t.” Unless that was what Liberty and Shelton’s argument had been about.

“If you ask me, Liberty is a daddy’s girl,” Rebecca said. “She doesn’t want to share him with anybody. Did you see her when she came in? What was that fanning thing she was doing to move Shelton to the cellar?” She mimed Liberty’s fingers crawling up her father’s back.

I recalled Liberty doting on him downstairs, too. She had placed her hand on his. But that didn’t mean anything. Lots of daughters held their fathers’ hands. “She’s getting married.”

“Fine, so she’s betrothed. So what?” Rebecca perched on the corner of the desk. Rags eyeballed her. She hissed, “Cool it, buddy boy. I live here, too.”

Rags grumbled and hunkered down.

Rebecca smirked, the victor. “What if Liberty was afraid her father might abandon her for another woman?”

“You mean Noelle.”

“She was beautiful.”

“And his junior by a ton of years.”

“Fifteen, tops. That’s not so far apart.” Rebecca flicked her hand. “Let me remind you that Delilah’s beau is at least twenty years older.”

“They broke up.”

“No!” She patted her chest.

“Staying on point, Liberty and her father did have an argument, right after Shelton gave us a tour of his private cellar. I couldn’t catch everything, but I heard Liberty say the words
lover
,
phony
, and
charted for disaster
.”

“That sounds like Liberty was talking about a doomed love affair.”

I couldn’t dispute that. “At the end of the disagreement, they neared the door, and I heard every word.”

Rebecca did an arm-pump.

“Liberty was protesting something. She said, ‘Noelle,’ but Shelton cut her off, saying Noelle ‘is here to stay.’”

“That confirms it.” Rebecca hopped to her feet and began to pace. “Noelle was his lover, and Liberty was jealous.”

Forgive me if I wasn’t one hundred percent sold, yet adrenaline took hold. I rose, set Rags on the chair, and paced alongside Rebecca. “If Shelton and Noelle were in a relationship, that could have angered Boyd Hellman.”

“You know, Deputy O’Shea might be grilling Noelle’s ex this instant.” She jabbed a finger at the door. “When he’s done, I might be able to ply him for information.”

Matthew rapped on the door and opened it. He poked his head inside. “Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all. C’mon in.” Rebecca pulled him by the shoulder. “The more heads the better. We’re theorizing.”

“About Noelle’s murder?” he asked.

“Yes.” Rebecca brought him up to date with our speculations.

When she concluded, Matthew said, “Do you think Urso has something on Shelton? Is that why he questioned him at the precinct?”

I said, “Shelton was Noelle’s employer, however briefly, but rest assured, if Urso has something concrete, he’ll—” I paused and searched my cousin’s face. “You look worried for Shelton. Why?”

“SNW was one of my first accounts in Providence. Shelton and I have been friends for longer than that. He sold his wines at the restaurant where Noelle and I worked.”

“And he knows that you’re friends with U-ey.” Rebecca jabbed his chest with her finger. “He might be playing you so you’ll be his buffer.”

Matthew’s mouth fell open. “You don’t really think he killed Noelle, do you?”

“My money is on Liberty,” Rebecca said.

Not willing to rule out a soul, I said, “Can you think of any reason Shelton might have wanted Noelle dead?”

Matthew shook his head emphatically. “Absolutely not.”

“Were they lovers?” Rebecca asked.

“What?” Matthew’s voice thinned. “No. At least I don’t think so. She hadn’t visited town more than three times.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of love at first sight?” Rebecca said.

I fell hard for Jordan the moment I met him.

Matthew swiped a hand down his face then massaged the back of his neck. “Okay, what if they were? He’s single; she’s single.” He bit his lip. “
Was
.  She was single. When I introduced them, he was over the moon because she knew so much about wine. He called her his guardian angel.”

I wanted to be gentle with Matthew, but other than Boyd Hellman, Matthew was the one person who knew the most about Noelle. “You said she fashioned the job for herself and asked you to pitch her to Shelton.”

“That’s right.”

“Didn’t her wish to move to a small town seem odd?” I reiterated what Boyd had yelled at Noelle. “He said she was not a small-town girl. He thought she had something up her sleeve. Why would he say that?”

“I don’t know.” Matthew sighed. “Noelle told me that she hoped the switch might add a layer to her résumé and boost her career to another level. Sommeliers can get stuck doing the same thing. Sometimes you have to take a step sideways to get on the right path.”

Her death had ended that prospect.

After a respectful moment of silence, I explained Rebecca’s theory that Liberty, being a daddy’s girl, might have killed Noelle out of jealousy. “What do you think?”

Matthew worked his teeth back and forth.

“Wait a sec.” Rebecca slashed the air. “How about a different theory? Charlotte, you heard Liberty argue that the winery was ‘charted for disaster.’ Matthew, do you know of any financial problems at the place?”

Matthew eyed me. “You heard what they were saying? I couldn’t pick up a word.”

“Good ears.” I tapped my left one. “After my folks died, Grandmère and Pépère whispered for months. I trained myself to listen well.” I repeated what I’d heard at the winery.

Rebecca said, “I’ll bet Noelle asked for a large paycheck. Maybe large enough to break the bank.”

I concurred. “Maybe Liberty demanded her father fire Noelle so they could remain solvent. Liberty said to Shelton that it was ‘always about money.’”

Matthew waved away the thought. “Noelle had a contract. If Shelton had wanted out, he could have paid her off with a minor penalty. I had the same kinds of contracts for all my full hires back at the restaurant. If business went down the tubes—” He paused.

“What?” Rebecca and I said in unison.

“While we were touring the winery, I spotted some financial breakdowns on Shelton’s desk. I only caught a glimpse, mind you, but they appeared bleak. No futures. Little demand. You’ve got good ears. I have fast eyes.”

I edged toward my cousin. “Were they recent?”

“I can’t be sure.”

“Is his product bad?”

“No, it’s good. Excellent, in fact. The winery makes delicious wines. Not plentiful, mind you. Only two hundred barrels, which tips the price upward. Vineyards all over the world do this.”

Rebecca pivoted. “Charlotte, maybe you were right.”

“I was?”

“You said earlier that
hell’s key
might have been
Shel’s key
.” She recapped my earlier theory. “Maybe Noelle saw Shelton lock up financial information in a desk or a safe that required a key—”

“Hold it.” Matthew raised his hands. “What if the winery was struggling, and Liberty thought Noelle, the new kid on the block, was spurring her father to sell?”

I nodded in agreement. “What if Liberty killed Noelle to prevent the sale?”

“
Shel’s key
could mean that Shelton knew the truth,” Rebecca said. “He was the key witness.”

Matthew smacked his hands together. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this, no matter what.”

Rebecca patted him on the shoulder. “Welcome, Matthew.”

“To what?”

“The Snoop Club.”

That evening, as I was closing up shop, Meredith called and demanded my presence at her house for a game of Bunco, a dice game that had been popular in the United States since the Gold Rush. She promised it would be an evening of fun, food, and laughter. She said she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

When Rags and I entered Meredith’s baby blue Victorian, Rocket, the Briard that had doubled in size since Sylvie had gifted him to the twins, danced around us and whimpered with joy. I set Rags on the floor with a strict order to both animals to be good. The two romped away like bosom buddies—Rags scampering in and out beneath Rocket’s legs like the dog was a moving bridge.

“She’s here!” Amy and Clair chirped as they scampered toward me.

“Aunt Charlotte.” Amy clutched my hand. “Meredith wants you to come to the kitchen. Delilah is making stew, and Meredith is fixing an autumn salad with pears, cranberries, and Cowgirl Creamery Pierce Point.”

“What is that?” Clair said.

I petted her shoulder. “That’s their fall/winter cheese. Its rind is washed with Muscato, a sparkling Italian wine, and then dredged in dried herbs.”

“Will I like it?”

I tweaked her nose. “Yes.”

“And Grandmère is baking gluten-free cookies,” Amy added. “Chocolate cherry mascarpone bars.”

“Sounds yummy.” Following the girls, I traipsed down the hall drinking in the rich scent of bacon and onions simmering in red wine.

“Pépère is working on a project,” Amy said.

“What kind of project?”

“He’s renovating the plumbing beneath the sink. We’re a little worried.”

“For heaven’s sake, why?” I asked. My grandfather was adept with every tool.

“Daddy’s helping out.” Amy winked.

I laughed. Matthew was proficient with a corkscrew but not much else. “Pépère isn’t letting him take the lead, is he?”

“No.”

“Then relax. They’re having a guy’s bonding time. Go play with the animals.”

Amy and Clair thundered upstairs. In minutes, youthful squealing joined yipping and meowing.

When I entered the kitchen, my grandmother drew me into her arms. “
Bonsoir, chérie
.”

“
Bonsoir,
Grandmère.” I pecked both of her cheeks.

She held me at arm’s length. “How are you managing?”

I treasured her concern, but I didn’t want her to worry. “I’m fine.”

“
C’est tragique
.
Noelle was a lovely girl,
non
?”

“
Oui
.”

She widened an eye. “And you? Did you sleep at all last night?”

“I stayed at Lois’s Lavender and Lace.”

“What about tonight?”

“I’ll sleep at home, in my own bed.”

“But the killer—”

I broke free. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”

“Hi, Charlotte,” Meredith said. “Welcome to girls’ night out. But boys are allowed.” She strolled to me and handed me a glass of red wine. “For you. Matthew tells me this is terrific. It’s a pinot noir from the Evening Land Vineyards in Oregon. It’s fresh and light with cherry and pepper overtones.”

“Pepper?” I wrinkled my nose.

“Don’t mock it.” Matthew peered up from where he sat on the floor near the sink. Pépère was doing the work; Matthew was providing the tools on demand. “It’s good with hearty dishes like stew.”

“And that’s what we’re having. Beef bourguignon.” Delilah, who was standing at the stove, pointed to a cast-iron pot. “It’s Julia Childs’s recipe, but I’ve tweaked it. She never added enough bacon for my taste.”

I took a sip of the wine and definitely detected the flavors.

“Have a bite of the Nuvola cheese your grandfather brought,” Meredith added. “The wine goes great with it, too.”

Nuvola di Pecora—the name meant sheep’s milk cloud—had a snowy crust and ivory interior, rich with the aroma of damp caves. A gal who taught cheese appreciation classes in San Francisco had introduced my grandfather and me to the cheese.

I slipped a morsel of Nuvola into my mouth and savored the mild mushroom flavor. “Thank you, Pépère.”

“For the cheese?”

“For installing new locks on my doors.” After working a short stint at The Cheese Shop earlier, he had switched out all the locks on my house.

“
De rien
. I like to be busy.”

“Ladies.” Grandmère clapped her hands. “Let’s move to the dining room for our dinner and dice. We have five players, so one will have to be a ghost partner.” She traced a finger along the back of Pépère’s neck. “
Mon ami
, when you and Matthew are ready to eat . . .” She made a grand gesture to the two places she had set at the knotty pine table in the kitchen nook. “Serve yourselves. Charlotte, do you know where Rebecca is?”

“She’ll be along. She wanted to swing by her house and get a jacket.” The air had cooled to a brisk forty with promise of more rain in the forecast. As the women shuffled out, Matthew beckoned me.

I crouched beside him and patted his back. “How’s it going, Mr. Plumber?”

“Fine. Listen, after today’s wine tasting, I went to have a chat with Urso.”

“About?”

“What you and Rebecca and I spoke about—Shelton’s finances.”

Uh-oh. Urso would not appreciate knowing that I was encouraging others in our fair town to, um, theorize. “What did he say?”

“He’s being tight-lipped.”

Big surprise.

I said, “Did you also raise the theory that Liberty might have been jealous about her father having a relationship with Noelle?”

“No. I still don’t agree Shelton and Noelle were involved.”

Pépère glanced over his shoulder. “I believe they were.”

“You do?” I said.

“
Oui
.” He asked Matthew for a wrench and hunkered beneath the sink, his voice echoing as he spoke toward the pipes. “I saw Noelle and Shelton together on one such occasion. A month or so ago.”

“She was in town?” Matthew said. “She didn’t call me.”

Pépère nodded. “I believe they were having
une liaison amoureuse
.”

“Where did you see them?” I asked.

“At the park. And again at the Country Kitchen diner.
Ils ont regardé
intime
.”

“You think everyone looks intimate, Pépère.” Matthew buffed our grandfather’s lower back then eyed me. “He’s become the town crier. Mr. Jones is having
une liaison
with Mrs. Smith. Mr. Doe is playing footsie with Mrs. White. Why, Prudence Hart and my ex-wife have nothing on you, Pépère, when it comes to gossip.”

Pépère scuttled backward and sat on his haunches. “You chide, but it is so. I know of what I speak. I see with my eyes. At the diner, they were sitting at a corner booth. Their faces were close together.” He indicated with his fingertips. “Their eyes were lit with
amour
.” He laid a hand on his chest. “I am sorry.”

“For what?” Matthew said.

“If I have upset you.”

“You have a right to your opinion, you romantic fool. Now, back to work.” Although my cousin sounded jovial, when he returned his attention to the toolbox, he was grinding his teeth. He had to be wondering the same thing I was wondering. If Noelle and he had been such close friends, why hadn’t she told him she was in town? Why had she kept her relationship with Shelton a secret from him?

• • •

Rebecca whisked through the front door of Meredith’s home, a winter scarf riding the wind behind her. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, out of breath. “I got distracted. I turned on the TV for a minute, and the next thing I knew I was hooked on a show. Have you ever seen
Homeland
? It’s all about conspiracy and lies. I think it’s in its second or third season. I can’t keep count of all these shows.” She removed her scarf and coat and set them on the back of a chair in the dining room. “Anyway, I’ve started watching reruns of the first season, and the show is addictive.” She pointed at the kitchen door. “I’m going to grab some dinner, okay?” She didn’t wait for a response.

“Speaking of addictions,” Grandmère said, setting out the Bunco tally sheets, dice, and a bell, “I have chosen a drama for our winter play.
Days of Wine and Roses.
I am casting over the next few weeks.”

“I’ve seen the movie,” Delilah said. “Jack Lemmon and Lee Remick starred in it. Both were nominated for Academy Awards.”

“First it was a teleplay,” Grandmère said. “The author got the title from an 1896 poem.” She shut her eyes and recited: “
They are not long, the days of wine and roses: out of a misty dream our path emerges for a while, then closes within a dream.
”

“You don’t normally put on a drama unless it has a wicked twist to it,” I said. “Why are you doing this one?”

“I have been thinking lately of the difficulty of not being able to change one’s past.” Often, my grandmother alluded to a painful past that she could not escape. I hoped one day she would share the details.

Delilah said, “That’s the theme of this play. The leading man changes his path in life, but the leading woman cannot. It breaks his heart.”

I flashed on Noelle. Her face had clouded over when we were chatting that first night. She said so much was
at stake
. Had she hoped for more than a boost to her career when she came to work for Shelton Nelson? Had she banked on changing her life’s path by marrying him? The use of a heart-shaped corkscrew as the murder weapon felt significant.

“Charlotte, you’re up first,” Delilah said. “Come on, partner.”

We sat at the table opposite each other. Rebecca was learning the game and would occasionally sit in for one of us. Otherwise, she would circle the table and observe.

I grabbed the dice and shook. Of the three, two showed single pips. Spots on the die were called pips, a British term. Because we were playing the first round, only dice showing one pip counted. “Two points.”

“It’s a start,” Delilah said. “Meredith, your turn.”

Meredith shook the dice and said, “Two, as well.” She pushed the dice to Delilah.

“Your mind, it is wandering,
chérie
.” Grandmère petted my hand. “Are you thinking about Jordan?”

I loved how she said his name, with a soft J and the accent on the second syllable. “I was thinking of your play and how difficult relationships can be.”

“Especially long-distance ones,” Meredith inserted.

“Didn’t you talk to Jordan recently?” Grandmère said.

“Yes, but it isn’t enough, not with all that has transpired since then.”

“Why can he not call
tous les jours
?”

“He can’t risk using his cell phone every day,” I said. “As it is now, he uses a disposable telephone.”

Grandmère grumbled. I knew she worried about me, and she was concerned that whatever Jordan was involved in might follow him back to Providence, but Jordan assured me, once the trial was over, he would be a man who could roam freely, and I would never have to look over my shoulder. He wanted to show me the world. We planned to taste every cuisine and swim in every lake or ocean.

“Five,” Delilah said. She had shaken three sixes, which would have been Bunco if we were in round six, but we were still playing the first round. At least three of a kind, difficult to roll, earned five points. She pushed the dice to my grandmother.

Grandmère shook and scored one point for one pip, then passed the dice to me. “Round two. Seize the moment,
chérie
.”

Her words shot me back to the night Noelle died. Someone had seized the moment. Noelle had been new to town. Who else but someone who had known her could have killed her? Had Liberty killed Noelle out of jealousy, or was Boyd Hellman the culprit? What if Boyd had found out about Shelton and Noelle? Boyd could have waited for me to leave for the theater that night and then pounced. On the other hand, if he loved Noelle, wouldn’t he have killed Shelton? And Noelle had mud on her boots. Where had she gone?

Footsteps pounded the upstairs hall overhead. I startled.

Grandmère clutched my forearm. “
Chérie
, it is only the animals and the twins.”

Amy and Clair shrieked with laughter. Rocket barked.