Steeped in Evil (A Tea Shop Mystery) (4 page)

After this morning’s
news, Theodosia was more determined than ever to figure out what was fact and what was fiction. What was Pandora’s true relationship with Jordan? And how had she gotten along with Drew? Had the two of them been friendly? Or had she hated Drew’s guts and somehow schemed to get him out of the way?

Theodosia stuck around until their lunch crowd had dwindled to just a handful of customers and Drayton and Haley assured her they could manage afternoon tea service just fine without her. With a backward gaze that was tinged with a small amount of worry, she hopped in her car and sped out to Knighthall Winery.

When she pulled into the winery’s parking area, the place had a decidedly different air than it had Saturday night. Gone were the tents and trestle tables; lights no longer sparkled in the trees. In fact, the place looked practically deserted except for a couple of dusty pickup trucks that were parked outside the enormous hip-roofed barn.

Theodosia climbed out of her car and headed for the tasting room, a low, white building that had a discreet
OPEN
sign propped in the front window.

But just as she was mounting the steps, the door flew open and Pandora came rushing out to greet her.

“You came!” said Pandora, looking pleased. Dressed in slim-fitting designer jeans and a light blue shirt with pearl buttons, she appeared upbeat and friendly. Almost a little too carefree for a woman who was about to bury her murdered stepson.

“I promised Jordan that I’d come, so here I am,” said Theodosia.

Pandora grasped her hand and squeezed it. “I can’t thank you enough. Drayton says the most wonderful things about you. Sings your praises to high heaven!”

“Really,” said Theodosia. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“But you will, my dear. I just know you will.” She leaned forward and winked. “Drayton tells us you’re the second coming of Nancy Drew!”

“I didn’t realize he was that enthusiastic,” said Theodosia. “And it’s all very flattering, but I’d feel slightly more confident if you placed your trust in Sheriff Anson.”

Pandora made a dismissive gesture. “Pah! Unfortunately, I have very little faith in Sheriff Anson’s abilities. Do you know he hasn’t come up with a single lead or suspect?”

Maybe he has
, Theodosia thought to herself.
But he just hasn’t told you. Maybe
you’re
the suspect!

“You know, Pandora,” said Theodosia, “I had no idea that you and Jordan were estranged. I was under the impression, as was Drayton, that the two of you were quite happily married.”

“Just a little bump in the road of life,” said Pandora, trying to give it a casual, philosophical spin. “Yes, we are getting divorced—the big D. But you didn’t come all the way out here to try to patch up our silly little marital spat. You’ve gamely agreed to talk to a few of our people. To ask around—dare I say snoop?—and see if you can come up with any of your clever ideas or impressions.”

Theodosia knew that Pandora was smoke screening her divorce, so she decided to drop the subject for now.

“I’m curious,” said Theodosia. “You mentioned yesterday that you had an option to buy Drew’s shares of the winery.”

Pandora’s smile never faltered. “That’s right.”

“How exactly did that come about?”

“Why, the boy simply needed money,” said Pandora. “He didn’t exactly work for a living, though he liked to party. And he did drive a Porsche.” She gave a little shrug. “You do the math.”

“And you had the cash,” said Theodosia. It was a statement, not a question.

“I do have a fairly tidy nest egg set aside, yes. My previous husband was a rather generous man.”

“So your relationship with Drew was amicable?”

“Heavens yes,” said Pandora. “I loved him like he was my own son!”

“Really,” said Theodosia. Now Pandora’s smile seemed tight and brittle. So . . . maybe an untruth?

“But I’m keeping you from doing your business,” said Pandora, easing away. “While I need to hurry and run a few errands in town.” She playfully shook a finger at Theodosia. “I’m definitely going to drop by that tea shop of yours one of these days. You just wait and see!”

Before Pandora could manage a clean getaway, Theodosia said, “How many people did you have working here Sunday night?”

Pandora tilted her head and thought for a minute. “I imagine there were almost three dozen. A few Knighthall employees and the rest from the catering company. Oh, and of course, musicians and parking valets, too.”

“And Drew had been in charge of—”

“You know what?” Pandora said, interrupting. “You really should speak to Tom Grady, our general manager. He’s the one who can best answer your questions.”

Interesting
, Theodosia thought.
She doesn’t really want to talk to me.

“And I’d find Mr. Grady . . . where?”

“That way,” said Pandora, hooking a thumb and pointing toward the barn. “His office is that way.”

• • •

Tom Grady wasn’t
thrilled to meet her, either. He was tall, lean, and taciturn—a man of few words with a chiseled, suntanned face and a head full of curly gray hair. He wore faded blue jeans and a T-shirt that said,
LIFE IS A CABERNET
.

“You’re here why?” Grady asked Theodosia.

“Jordan Knight asked me to look into things.”

Grady stood behind a gray metal desk in his bare-bones office, his arms folded protectively across his chest. “You some kind of investigator?”

“Just a friend,” said Theodosia.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” he said.

“How about if you show me around?” Theodosia suggested. “And I’ll just ask a few questions.”

Grady’s eyebrows shot up. “You want to see the operation?” Now he sounded a little less hostile.

“Sure. I’d love to.”

“Okay then.” He came around his desk and slipped out the door. “Down this way. Here’s where it all takes place.”

Theodosia followed Grady past a half-dozen gigantic stainless steel vats into the heart of the building. She was immediately greeted by the prickly, spicy, almost heady scent of fermenting grapes.

“Watch your step,” Grady warned. “Don’t go slipping in any grape goo.”

“In the winemaking process,” said Theodosia. “What exactly happens first?”

“Well, we’ve got thirty acres under cultivation,” said Grady. “And we’re smack-dab in the middle of harvest time. So what happens is this—the grapes are carefully harvested by hand and then placed in small plastic tubs.”

“Okay.”

Grady led her to an enormous stainless steel tank. “Once all the grapes have been washed, destemmed, and crushed, they end up in fermentation tanks.”

“How long does fermentation usually take?”

“Two or three weeks, depending. Then we do the pressing and set the juice aside for additional fermentation. Our white wine gets transferred into a number of smaller tanks while red wine goes into oak barrels.”

Theodosia flinched. “Like the kind that . . .”

“Yes,” said Grady, gazing at her. “I’m afraid so.”

“And those barrels are stacked where?”

Grady indicated the four walls where large oak barrels, exactly like the one Drew came sloshing out of Saturday night, were stacked floor to ceiling. “Anywhere. Everywhere. Knighthall Winery started out doing white and blush wines, but more recently we’ve been focusing mostly on reds. So we’ve been experimenting with aging times. Winemaking may be a science, but there’s a lot of artistry involved, too.”

“Going back to the unfortunate events of Saturday night,” said Theodosia. “That wine barrel had obviously been tampered with.” She glanced down at the concrete floor and noticed the number of drains. Had Drew been shot right here? In the production center? Had his blood sloshed down one of these drains? The idea unnerved her.

“Yes, the barrel had been tampered with,” said Grady. “But I really don’t know how. That particular barrel had been earmarked and set aside for the barrel tasting.”

Theodosia decided that maybe the killer
wanted
Drew’s dead body to be rudely displayed. “Did any tours go through here on Sunday afternoon?” she asked.

Grady shook his head. “Nope. In fact, there haven’t been any tours for the last two weeks, what with the harvest being under way.”

Theodosia thought for a minute. “What can you tell me about the people who own the golf course down the road?”

“Plantation Wilds?” said Grady. “Nice place. Supposed to be a bit pricey to join, though. Some of the managing partners were guests here Sunday night.”

That notion startled Theodosia. “Seriously? I thought there was bad blood between Jordan Knight and the golf course people.”

“There had been,” said Grady. “The golf course people kept making offers on this property and Mr. Knight kept refusing. In fact, things got kind of heated. Anyway, I suppose the invitations were intended as a sort of peace offering.”

“Extended by Jordan Knight?”

“That’s right.”

“When the golf course people were trying to negotiate to buy this place, did any of the partners want to accept their offer? Perhaps Pandora or Drew?”

“I’m not sure,” said Grady. “You’d have to ask them.”

Theodosia decided to take another approach. “I understand there were quite a few people working here Sunday night. Musicians, bartenders, caterers, the waiters who were passing around the hors d’oeuvres . . .”

“I didn’t have much to do with that. Just handed out purchase orders and collected invoices.”

“Who did the catering?” said Theodosia.

“That was handled by Crabs and Dabs, a small local restaurant just down the road from us. As you can imagine, their specialty is crab and other seafood. They fry up a killer crab cake and serve it with a real nice aioli sauce.”

“Good to know. And the servers?”

“All the bartenders and servers came highly recommended by Virtuoso Staffing.”

Theodosia wondered if anyone had talked to Virtuoso Staffing yet, and she made a mental note to do so.

“In your opinion,” said Theodosia, “do you think Drew’s murder will hurt your winery’s credibility? Or put another way, will this undermine its financial stability?”

Grady glanced down and shuffled a toe along the nubby concrete. “I don’t know that it’s going to make a whole heck of a lot of difference either way. This place hasn’t been all that profitable.”

“Jordan Knight had mentioned to me that there were financial concerns. But he seemed quite optimistic that Knighthall Winery was about to turn a corner.”

This time Grady met her gaze full on. “First I’ve heard of that. Seems to me if Mr. Knight wanted to nudge this company into the black, he would have done that deal with Mr. Tanaka.”

Theodosia shook her head. “What deal? Who’s Tanaka?”

“One of the Japanese guys who was here Sunday night.”

Theodosia did recall a pair of Japanese men who’d been guests at the party. “Yes, Jordan Knight did mention that he was working on a distribution deal. So why wouldn’t that still be on the table?”

“Because the rumor is, Mr. Tanaka was more interested in becoming a partner than just a distributor. My impression was that his company, Higashi Golden Brands, wanted to manage the entire operation.”

“You mean take over the winery?” said Theodosia.

“Call it a takeover, a partnership, whatever you want. Basically, the Japanese investors would have infused a serious amount of much-needed capital into this operation.” He hesitated. “And they’d probably have been a lot more aggressive with sales and marketing.”

“So venture capital in exchange for partial ownership,” said Theodosia. “That’s fairly interesting.” She was perturbed that neither Jordan nor Pandora had mentioned any of this to her.

“Is Mr. Tanaka still around?” Theodosia wondered. “Can that deal be salvaged?”

“I don’t know if he’s still here or if he’s gone back to Japan with his associate,” said Grady. “But if
something
doesn’t change fairly soon, I may not be here for long, either.” He turned and stepped over to a large sliding door. There was the sound of ball bearings moving smoothly on rollers, then the door slid open to reveal a picture-perfect view of the vineyard and surrounding lands.