The Corpse With the Golden Nose (9 page)

Ellen was pulling at my wrist. “I know Raj can't have had anything to do with Annette's death, but I do so want you to meet him.” She turned and looked toward the other side of the room. “Damn, that stupid Serendipity is talking to him now,” she observed.” Oh well, never mind, let's butt in—he won't mind,” and we were off, with Bud following meekly behind, and me trying to not spill my drink.

“Raj, this is Bud and his partner, Cait. Bud, Cait—Raj Pinder.
My
partner,” she grinned. “Oh,” she added, as if an afterthought, “and this is Serendipity—you just met her parents, Sammy and Suzie.”

We all nodded and said, “Hi.”

Both Raj Pinder and Serendipity Soul were slim and well formed, towered over me, which immediately made me feel short, and very wide. They made a handsome couple. And couple they were, I was immediately certain about that. Their body language, the way they related to each other, literally screamed
lovers
at me, but from what I had gathered from Ellen's notes, they weren't known to be an item. Or at least Ellen didn't believe them to be so.

Raj Pinder had finely chiseled features, latte-colored, even-toned skin and well-styled ink-black hair, with a few strands of pure white threaded through it here and there, as befitted a man of about forty. He wore his expensive suit and snowy open-necked shirt very well indeed. And he spoke with the twang you only develop if you've grown up in the north of England.

“Hello Bud and Cait,” he said, his voice strong, yet soft. “Pleased to meet you. As Ellen said”—he nodded first at Ellen, then Serendipity—“this is Serendipity Soul, a very talented chef and someone I enjoyed working with for several years. In fact,” and here he patted his annoyingly flat midriff, the way slim people do when they think they've gained an ounce, “I'm only just now losing all them pounds she made me gain, feeding me at her restaurant every day.” They smiled at each other.
Couldn't anyone else see that this was a couple?

Serendipity couldn't have differed more from her parents, both physically and, it seemed, in terms of personality: she was tall—maybe five-ten—had long, flowing, lustrous black hair, dark eyes, and a pale complexion that suited her perfectly. A rose-tinted lip-stain and a hint of mascara were all she needed to look stunning, yet fresh. She was clearly a woman in control of herself, obviously felt totally comfortable in her own body and her surroundings, and had a calm, unflappable demeanor that I suspected would stand her in good stead in the heat and noise of a busy kitchen.
Hmm
 . . .

“A pleasure.” She shook my hand with hers—short nails, perfectly clean, a strong grip, quite a low voice.
Nice.

“Is that a Welsh accent I detect there, Cait?” asked Raj Pinder affably.

“Yes, it is,” I replied, smiling. “Swansea. And you?”

“Aye, well, there's no hiding mine, is there? Bradford.”

“Do you miss Bradford?” I asked. Well, people always ask me if I miss Swansea, so I thought I'd get in first.

Raj smiled broadly, his teeth very white and even. “No, to be honest, I don't. But then, how could you compare this place with Bradford? I mean, don't get me wrong, Bradford's not a bad place, in fact, it's got a lot going for it. But not like the Okanagan. It's like a little bit of heaven here. When I first came to Canada to visit me Mum's cousin and help out with his blueberry harvest in the Lower Mainland, I couldn't get over how big and open and far apart everything were. Same for you, were it?”

Raj was very engaging. I smiled, thinking back to my arrival in Vancouver.

“Yes, you're right. I still grapple with it. The cities here are like tiny dots on the map. And isn't it amazing how even some suburban streets just end in wilderness? The emptiness is magnificent. But then, the
UK
has almost twice the population of Canada, with less than three percent of the land mass, so I guess we're bound to feel differently in our new home. There really
is
that much more space. I love it.”

“Aye, me too. It's grand.” He looked wistfully into the distance.

“Do you get back to the
UK
much?” I asked. That's the other one people always bring up.

Raj shrugged. “I try to get there a couple of times a year. You know, family and all that. Don't want to miss the little 'uns growing up. And you?”

“No, no family there anymore. But Wales will always be my ‘home,' even if no one's keeping the actual home fires burning for me. Blood is blood, after all.”

“Aye, that it is, lass,” Raj grinned.

I was disappointed. Having come to the soiree thinking that Raj Pinder was the one man with a strong motive to kill Annette, I found myself warming to him almost immediately. Surely this pleasant, urbane, and apparently talented, man couldn't have murdered Annette Newman. I pulled myself together: some of the most murderous people in history have
looked
innocent. You really cannot judge a person by their outward appearance, by how they present and project themselves. You have to observe them, know and understand what you're seeing, analyze it and then dig deeper than their skin or their costume. I decided to do just that.

Raj had a good reason to kill Annette—to get his hands on half of the Mt Dewdney Family Estate Winery—and I needed to follow up on my initial instincts. However pleasant he might seem.

“So how's it working out for you, Raj, suddenly owning half a winery?” I asked. Quite out of the blue it seemed, judging by everyone's expression. I'd been thinking, not listening to the small talk they were all exchanging.

Raj seemed to not know what to say, so Ellen answered for him. “He's loving it, aren't you, Raj. We have such fun,
don't
we.” Her comments weren't questions, they were statements.

“We certainly do, Ellen,” he replied. His tone made me think of Laurel and Hardy.

“Raj is in even earlier than I am,” Ellen added brightly. “Then he scoots off to the gym to keep himself in shape in the afternoon, don't you. That's what he says—‘I'm scooting off to the gym now, Ellen.'”

“I certainly do, Ellen. I certainly do.” Again, Laurel and Hardy.

I tried again. “I suppose it was a surprise to hear about your inheritance?”

“That it were, Cait, aye. Maybe Ellen has told you how it all happened?” Both Bud and I nodded, with appropriate expressions on our faces. “Very sad,” he added. “Annette were a wonderful woman. Full of life. Extremely talented, and worked hard at it too. I admired her efforts, and envied her skills. She beat me every time, you know . . .”

“Except once,” interrupted Serendipity. “That tasting competition in Sonoma, just a month or so before she . . .” The poor woman realized she'd talked herself into an awkward corner.

“Yes, yes, just that once.” Raj jumped in and rescued her. “But, other than that, well—she had one of the best noses in the industry. Such a loss. Her death came as a shock to all of us, of course.” He smiled sympathetically toward Ellen, who dropped her eyes. “And then there were the will. No messing, you could have knocked me down with a feather. And that's the truth. I told Ellen at the time she should contest it. I mean, Annette's balance of mind, and all that. Not that I'm not grateful for the chance, of course, because it's not often that a vintner gets to part-own an ‘estate vineyard,' where the winery owns all the vineyards that grow all its grapes. Ellen and Annette's parents were such visionaries. They bought just the right pieces of land, in all the right places, to be able to grow the very best of the different types of grapes that give us . . . well, just about the widest choice in the area. It's an honor. A great chance to do something . . . 
meaningful
.” He chose his word carefully, and gave it a reverent emphasis. “I owe it to Annette's memory, and the memory of her parents who started the vineyard and the winemaking, to make sure that I do the
very
best I can.”

Raj's comments made me think again about how dashed Ellen's plans for the future must have been upon hearing her sister's wishes. Bad enough to lose her sister, but then to lose half the family business too? Now it wasn't Ellen's
family
business any more. Annette had handed something that should have rightfully passed to her sister, to a stranger—an outsider, a relative newcomer to the area. After all, what's three years or so in a place? Not much. True, Raj had almost as good a nose as Annette's, and maybe she'd honestly thought that the business wouldn't have survived as well without him. But, still, it was a hell of a bold move to make. I realized I'd have to try to get to understand Annette a lot better than I did, or I'd never know why she changed her will. I was certain that changing it had
something
to do with her death.

“Of course you'll do your best.” Ellen was speaking to Raj very earnestly. “I know you will. You're a good, good man, Raj Pinder. And I know, now, that she did the right thing,” she continued, addressing the whole group, “though at the time, it puzzled me a great deal. Annette knew that Raj would be good for the business, and so he is. The best
possible
person for the job. But it really was a shock, coming right after her death . . . which is a silly thing to say, because that's when wills
are
read, but you know what I mean. I don't think I handled the meeting at the lawyers' offices too well, and I'll always be sorry for that, Raj,” she added. I wondered what she meant.

“What do you mean?” I asked, sensibly enough. Bud glared at me again.

“Oh, it were all very understandable,” said Raj gently. “Of course, Ellen hadn't come to terms with Annette's death, and then she had to face this other shock, so soon afterwards. You lost it a bit for a while there, didn't you Ellen?” Ellen nodded, and cast her eyes downward once again. “But it were all summat and nowt. Right? Storm in a teacup, luv,” he said, his Yorkshire accent thickening by the second. “And, when you calmed down, you were just a darlin'. Worried about how I'd manage to tell Sammy that I'd have to resign, weren't you?” Ellen nodded, still looking at Serendipity's toes. “And she comes right back to SoulVine Wines with me and tells him herself, didn't she? Said he'd have to understand that I couldn't be working for him for a moment longer, and that she were there to help me gather up me bits and pieces and get out of there that very minute. Well, that took the wind out of his sails, right enough. And there I were, at Ellen's place, before the day were out.” He smiled, as did Ellen.

“We were sorry to see you go,” said Serendipity quietly.

I bet you were!
I managed to think it, not say it.

“But it's great to see you already achieving so much,” she added.

“What are you doing?” I wondered, aloud this time.

Once again Ellen answered on Raj's behalf. “Raj was with us for the last winter season and we both think, no, we both
know
, that Raj has created a winner for us. Obviously, we won't
really
know for certain for some time, because it won't go into competition for years yet, but the signs are excellent. Excellent.”

“Thanks,” Raj answered. “I've called it ‘Annette.' It's a pinot noir ice wine, and it's going to be
fabulous
. Dark berries, honey, caramel . . . it'll be a great hit, I'm sure. One hundred cases of magic, in honor of Annette.”

“And at a hundred dollars a bottle, it'll be a good way to raise funds for the scholarship I've set up in her name at the university. Oh Cait, I forgot, that's where you teach, right?” said Ellen.

I shook my head and shrugged, puzzled. “I'm sorry, do you mean the University of Vancouver?”

“Yes,” she replied, “
VORC
, at UVan. My alma mater.” She grinned.

I was in the dark about what “
VORC
” stood for. Before I could ask, Bud butted in. Maybe he felt a bit left out.

“Sorry, what's
VORC
, Ellen?” he sounded interested, which was good.

“It's the Viticulture and Oenology Research Centre. Surely
you've
heard of it, Cait? I know they do a lot of work on brand building with your business school there.”

Oh dear, I felt that I was about to be “hoist by my own petard.” Again. Frankly, a saying that means “to be blown up by a bomb you have planted yourself” was just about spot-on, because I only had myself to blame.
Damn and blast!

“Oh, maybe I've heard something about it, Ellen,” I lied, “but there's a good number of us teaching at the school and we don't all get involved with each of the inter-departmental programs that exist. Probably my colleagues who specialize in consumer branding are involved. I'm more business-to-business, myself.”

“Oh, really?” chimed in Serendipity. “I wonder if I could pick your brains later on. I'm developing a range of peanut-free sauces for catering companies, not direct to the consumer you know, and I don't really know what I'm looking for in terms of advice and so forth. A general chat through the whole field would be real useful, if you could spare the time?” She smiled a warm, hopeful smile.

“Of course,” I said cheerily. “But not at one of the events. It would spoil the food.” I forced a chuckle.
Oh dear God, how deep is this hole I'm digging for myself?

Bud looked alarmed, and chivalrously threw himself in front of the train that was hurtling toward me. “Oh, come on now guys, let's leave all this shop-talk and enjoy the food, eh? That's what we're here for after all, right?” His eyes were scanning for a server bearing canapés somewhere in the vicinity. He spotted one. “Oh, hey, over here,” he called, rather too loudly. “I wonder if we could have some of those . . .” he peered at the tray, “. . . those . . . things. They look great!”