Read How to Dine on Killer Wine: A Party-Planning Mystery Online
Authors: Penny Warner
I started the car, stunned by something I had learned at Kyle’s office that he hadn’t told me. Inside the envelope
that Kyle had opened was a personal check from Angus McLaughlin.
For ten thousand dollars.
No wonder peeking inside had caused my hands to shake and the envelope to drop. I’m sure it was something I wasn’t supposed to see.
I drove off, certain that Kyle would come chasing me down the street when he noticed the envelope was missing. I hoped he’d spot it on the floor and just figure a gust of wind blew it off the desk. Otherwise, he’d know I’d been snooping—and think I’d stolen it.
And maybe kill me? Maybe—if he was hiding some kind of shady business relationship with McLaughlin. After all, he denied knowing the guy when obviously he did.
I had to find a safe place to think until I figured a few things out. The Christophers’ winery was only a few miles away. I wanted to check on Marie anyway, and ask Allison a few questions. I sped away, reaching the Purple Grape in record time.
The crime scene tape still encircled the party area when I arrived. Grabbing my purse, I hopped out of the MINI, followed the path to the front door, and knocked. No answer. I knocked again and rang the bell. Still no answer. Granted, it was a large home, but surely if someone was inside, they’d have heard me ringing and pounding.
A chill suddenly ran down my back.
Oh God. What if Marie had tried to commit suicide again?
I pounded on the door, rang the bell until my thumb
hurt, then remembered—I still had the key! I jammed it into the lock, turned the handle, and let myself in.
“Marie? Allison?” I shouted their names several more times.
The house was deadly silent.
I raced down the hall to Marie’s room. Empty.
Growing more frantic, I searched the other rooms, then knocked on the door of Allison’s “suite” at the back of the house.
No answer.
I tried the handle. It was locked.
I peered through the window. All I could see were strewn clothes, entertainment magazines, and food cartons, but no sign of Allison.
I wasn’t particularly surprised that Allison wasn’t around, but where had Marie disappeared to?
I returned to the kitchen and saw no signs of a struggle or anything unusual. Aside from Allison’s messy place, the rest of the house was perfect. I checked for a note or some sign Marie had gone out—missing car keys, missing purse—but I found her handbag where she kept it on a small stand in the hallway, her keys inside.
Maybe she’d taken a walk in the vineyard.
With a killer on the loose?
PARTY-PLANNING TIP #20
Add to your wine-tasting experience by having guests stomp harvested grapes! Sure, machines can get the juice out of grapes faster (and more hygienically), but where’s the fun in that? In fact, grape stomping is quickly becoming a championship sport, so help your guests start training for the Wine Olympics!
I was about to head out for a vineyard hike in search of Marie when my cell phone rang.
I checked the ID.
Uh-oh. Kyle Bennett. I had a feeling he was wondering where his check had gone to.
“Hello?” I said, bracing myself.
“I think you have something of mine,” Kyle said. His voice, low and even, scared the crap out of me.
“What do you mean?” I asked, playing dumb.
“You know exactly what I mean,” he said. “Where’s the check?”
I immediately went on the defensive. “You mean the
one for ten thousand dollars from Angus McLaughlin?”
No response.
“I’m curious why you received a check from the CEO of Napology,” I continued. “I thought you represented the underdog wineries in their fight against corporate takeovers. It looks like a conflict of interest, to say the least.”
More silence, then, “We have to talk. Where are you?”
I thought about telling him I didn’t have the check, that it had fallen under his desk, but decided I might be able to use this to gain information. Still, no way was I going to meet this guy alone again. For all I knew, he could be the killer.
“Okay, where do you want to meet?”
“Where are you?”
“In my car,” I lied.
“Come to my office.”
“How about somewhere public, like that café you mentioned?”
“From the Ground Up. It’s just down the street from my office. I’ll see you there in twenty minutes—or I’ll call the police and have you arrested for theft. And that will just be the beginning of your problems.”
He hung up the phone before I could say, “Are you threatening me?”
Twenty minutes. I checked my watch. My search for Marie would have to wait. I just hoped she wasn’t in any kind of trouble. I headed out the door, planning to call Brad and let him know where I was going—just in case.
And I’d keep the corkscrew party favor in my purse handy too.
I was about to get in my car when I heard a noise coming from the wine-storage building, adjacent to the Christophers’ three-car garage. Thinking it might be Marie—and still anxious to make sure she was safe—I stepped over and peered in the open sliding door. The large, cavernous room was dim, but shards of morning sunlight pierced the semidarkness, allowing me to see the rows of giant wine barrels lining both sides of the walls.
The noise came again, from deeper inside.
It sounded like the clink of a bottle.
“Hello?” I called out, hoping to hear Marie’s voice.
The sound stopped.
Someone was in here. And I sensed whoever it was didn’t want me to know.
Javier?
I reached into my purse, pulled out the corkscrew, and gripped it in my hand like a knife.
I took a step forward, straining to see into the semidarkness ahead. Off to the right, I spotted a dim light emanating from another room. I recalled from the tour Rob had given Mother and me that this was a storage room for the bottled wine.
I broke out into a sweat. The corkscrew in my hand felt slippery in my moist palm. My heart pounded like something out of a horror movie. “The Tell-Tale Heart.”
I thought about backing out and calling the police. My mama didn’t raise no dummy, like that scantily clad teenage girl who hears a noise and goes into the dark basement, only to be murdered by a demented
killer. Unless it’s just a cat. But what would I tell the cops? Someone is making noises in the Christophers’ winery? And then they’d ask me what I was doing there, and then I might be arrested for trespassing, and then I’d go to prison…
Forget that.
If it was Marie, maybe she was in trouble. Tied up, bound and gagged, stabbed with a corkscrew, and left for dead…
I really needed to stop watching old horror movies.
I took a few more steps, as quietly as I could manage on the cement floor. Luckily Mary Janes don’t make noise like spike heels. Another good reason to wear them, besides comfort.
Yeah, Presley. Good time to stop and think about shoes.
I paused and listened.
Silence.
I stepped closer to the lighted room. Just as I was about to reach the doorway, the lights inside went out.
Uh-oh.
“Who’s there?” I said. “I’ve got a weapon.” The “weapon” nearly slipped out of my hand from the sweat and shaking.
The light went back on.
“God, Presley, you scared the crap out of me!”
Allison stood in the doorway, a bottle of wine raised above her head. She lowered the bottle. “Don’t come sneaking up on people like that!”
“Why didn’t you say something when I called out?” I asked, eyeing the bottle.
She flicked one of the earplugs that hung around her
neck. “I didn’t hear you.” She’d been listening to her iPod. “I saw your shadow.”
We both let out breaths of air. To my relief, Allison set the bottle on a nearby table just inside the door, which held about a dozen other bottles.
I followed her inside, relaxing my grip on my corkscrew. Allison spotted the weapon in my hand and her eyes widened. “You…?”
I realized she thought I might be the corkscrew killer. “What? Me? No! I was just holding this to protect myself.”
“You always carry around a corkscrew for protection?”
“No. I had it in my purse from the party the other night,” I said, defending myself. I tried to turn the tables of the inquisition. “So what are you doing in here, anyway?”
“I was…just getting some wine. For personal use.” Her eyes shot to a large envelope lying on the table next to the bottles. On top was a stack of wine labels that read “Purple
Great
Merlot.”
I looked at her. “Oh my God. You’ve been selling the Christophers’ wine on the Internet, haven’t you? Under your own homemade label. Just like JoAnne was supposedly doing.”
“So?” she said, stuffing the labels back into the envelope to hide them. “I’m part of the family business now.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think Rob and Marie meant for you to undersell them. On the sly.”
“Listen, Presley, you know nothing about me or my sister. We’re very close. No one, not even you, can come
between us. So just butt out and mind your own damn business.”
“Allison, I’m trying to help Rob,” I said. “From the way you’ve been behaving, it doesn’t seem as if you’re doing much to clear his name.”
She gave a cold smile that made me shudder. “Don’t worry. Kyle is taking care of Rob. And I’m taking good care of my sister.”
“How? By stealing bottles of wine and selling them at a discounted price? If he finds out you’re undermining his business—”
“His business? This is
Marie’s
business. She’s the one who built this company up from nothing. Rob is a dreamer. Sure, he knows a lot about wine, especially about drinking it, but he has no idea how to run a company. If it weren’t for Marie, there would be no Purple Grape.”
“Selling behind their backs isn’t helping things,” I argued. “Obviously Marie doesn’t know you’re doing this or she wouldn’t put up with it.”
Allison sighed. “Listen, Presley. I had no choice.”
“What?”
She took a deep breath, then said, “JoAnne was blackmailing me. She…found out about my affair with Rob and threatened to tell Marie unless I helped her with her online business.”
“Wow,” I said, stunned at these revelations. “So you two were doing it together?”
“Like I said, I had no choice.”
A look of panic crossed Allison’s face, then faded just as quickly. Maybe
it suddenly dawned on her that I might rat her out.
It suddenly dawned on
me
that she might try to stop me.
Where was Javier?
Where was Marie?
Would anyone hear me if I screamed?
Allison took a step toward me.
I took a step back and gripped the corkscrew I still held in my hand.
“I don’t think you’re going to do that, Presley.” Her eyes almost glowed under the fluorescent lights.
I took another step back, ready for fight or flight.
“Why not?” I asked, stalling, hoping to keep her talking.
She smiled. “Because I got a call from Kyle before you came in here.”
Kyle! I’d forgotten all about meeting him at the café to get his check back. Maybe he had news about Rob.
“Why did he call you? Was it something about Rob?”
“No, actually. It was something about you.” Allison picked up one of her newly labeled bottles by the neck, supporting it with the other hand while she continued talking. “Kyle and I are, well, you could say we’re close. He told me you took something that belonged to him this morning. A check?”
I felt the blood leave my head. “But I didn’t—”
She cut me off. “You wouldn’t want the police to hear about your theft, would you?”
My legs felt wobbly. Pretending to steal that check was quickly becoming one of the stupidest things I’d ever done. Now both Kyle and Allison were threatening me.
I decided to go along with it. “Listen, Allison. I’ll go to jail if I have to, to protect Rob and Marie, so go ahead
and call the cops. I’ve got a bigger issue on my mind—unlike you—and that’s trying to save your brother-in-law’s neck.”
Allison snickered. “Yeah? How’s that going for you?”
I shook my head in disbelief at her callous attitude toward Rob. “You really are a piece of work, Allison. What do you think this is going to get you? The winery?”
Allison set her jaw. I was onto something.
Allison took another step toward me, bottle in hand. “It’s time for you to leave, Presley. The party’s over for you. Your services are no longer required. And from this point on, you’re trespassing here. So stop sticking your nose into my family’s business. Got it?”
“I’ll stop if and when Marie tells me to. She’s the one who asked me to help clear Rob, and I’m not leaving the Purple Grape until I see her—alive and well.”
Allison’s face hardened. She looked as if she wanted to stomp me like a plump grape.
A bloodcurdling scream pierced the tense air, startling us both.
Allison froze.
My heart stopped.
“That sounded like Marie,” Allison said. Bottle still in hand, she dashed past me and fled the storage room.
I was right behind her.
PARTY-PLANNING TIP #21
Dress up your wine bottles by making your own personalized labels! Find some clip art, such as a picture of grapes, or scan in a snapshot of yourself dressed like Lucy in her wine-stomping episode. Make up a name for your wine, such as “Presley’s Pinot” or “Blood Red”; then print the labels out on adhesive paper. Cut out your labels and adhere them to your wine bottles.