Ripe for Murder Page 20

  Antonia patted his hand. “The day will come when she turns to you. I’m certain. Barb has put up with a lot, but she was really angry that he hadn’t told her he’d been fired. Different people have different ultimatums. Keep your heart and front door open. She may walk through both of them yet.”

  “Antonia, you are a marvelous woman.” He squeezed her hand, letting his touch linger. “And now, enough of the problems of others. Let me have the bartender bring us some of our brandy. Something new we are trying at Berninni.”

  “I couldn’t really. You try it, Antonia.”

  “I intend to. I didn’t overindulge in chocolate.”

  “So.” Olympio returned moments later with two snifters and took a seat. “Before I go any further”—he turned to me—“I wouldn’t want you to think I’d forgotten your fright at my dinner party. I want to apologize again for any distress caused to you. I want you to know I’ve locked the system. Now it’s impossible for there to be any other accidents like the one that befell you.”

  The fear I’d felt in that total darkness descended on me once again, but I forced a small smile.

  Olympio had concern in his eyes. “Please, my dear, tell me you have recovered from your scare.”

  “I’m fine, Olympio. Honestly.” Whatever the killer intended for me at Berninni Winery wasn’t Olympio’s fault. I held his gaze until his shoulders relaxed.

  “You are most kind, Miss Penny. Now,” his gaze included Antonia, “what should we talk about?”

  I raised my palm. “No talk about who has the better earth, wine, seafood, town or anything else. You both get too competitive. It isn’t becoming.”

  “What nonsense,” Antonia said, but Olympio’s eyes shone.

  “I think Penny is right. We are competitive, Antonia. It’s in our nature. We both enjoy it, and I have a proposal you may find interesting.”

  “Isn’t it a little soon in your relationship?” I said.

  Antonia kicked me under the table. “What is your proposition?”

  “I suggest we have a blind wine tasting. A competition, tomorrow, at your hotel.” He leaned in. “You are stranded in my town through no fault of your own.” He took Antonia’s hand. “Or your daughter’s fault either, as I’m sure the police will soon prove.”

  Antonia inclined her head. “Thank you for that, Olympio.” She straightened. “But what about this tasting? Surely you wouldn’t be bold enough to put your wine where your mouth is. I mean, all this boasting I’ve had to listen to this week, actually put to the test?”

  “That is exactly what I am proposing. We can have the hotel invite guests to attend and vote without knowing which wines belong to you and which belong to me.” His eyes twinkled. “Until they taste them, of course. That will make everything clear, and they most certainly will vote for me.”

  “You windbag,” Antonia said, but there was a lightness in her voice I’d never heard. “I’d clearly love to take you up on your little, and I mean very little, challenge. You’re forgetting something, though. I don’t have any stock here.”

  “Ah, but I do!” Olympio grinned. “Didn’t you think I’d be curious, seeing you again after so many years, to try your wine? I ordered four bottles of everything you offer. I only just received it and haven’t opened any of them. So, no excuses, Antonia Martinelli. Berninni Winery challenges you to a duel!”

  “I’ll probably regret egging you on,” I said. “But you aren’t going to let him get away with it, are you?”

  “I can’t imagine why you think you’d have to ask me that question. Of course I accept his challenge. Not only that,” she leaned in toward Olympio, “I have every expectation of winning.”

  Twenty-six

  I DIDN’T see Chantal and Connor finish dinner and leave, but it wasn’t because I’d forgotten about them. They had looked pretty cozy at that corner patio table, in the dark, Chantal’s accoutrements spilling out all over the place . . . I turned to gawk out the window so many times Antonia finally reached over and closed the blinds.

  I spent the rest of the evening listening to Olympio and Antonia flirt with each other, which, considering my frame of mind, was both disheartening and a little weird. I followed that up with another restless night, giving up around four in the morning. I fought off the tangled sheets, threw on some slippers and curled up on the chaise. The chill in the air signaled cold winter weather was on its way, and I flicked on the fire. In the dim light, I thought about what Antonia had said the night before. Someone was in a panic. Mistakes happen when people panic.

  Reaching over, I flipped on the desk lamp and grabbed a pen and notepad. I made two columns, listing in the first column exactly where everyone had been on the train when Tara died. I then made a second list of everyone’s location during the time when I’d found Kim. It wasn’t a coincidence that Seth was at the top of both columns. His behavior earlier had been frightening and almost certainly contributed to the reason I was now awake. I was doodling a box around his name when I heard a soft knock. Wrapping myself in the comforter, I padded to the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s me,” Connor said.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Standing in a hotel hallway talking to a door. Can I come in?”

  Perfect. I had on an oversized T-shirt, pull-on granny travel slippers, and my hair looked like I’d been electrocuted.

  After a bit, he knocked again. “You still there?”

  I smoothed my hair. “Yeah, yeah. Hang on.”

  I twisted the dead bolt, threw open the door and stood back. He might as well know what he was passing up when he was with Chantal and her accoutrements.

  He stepped in and looked at my feet. “Cute slippers.”

  I shut the door. “What are you doing loitering in hotel hallways in the middle of the night?”

  “I was going for a run and saw your light on.”

  For the first time I took in what he was wearing: little blue shorts, a sleeveless tank and running shoes.

  “I couldn’t sleep.” Master of the obvious.

  “I know. Me neither.” He picked up the list of suspects. “I take it this is what you’ve been doing.” His eyes scrolled down the page. “One of these people is a killer. One of them is trying to kill you.”

  I shivered. “Wow, and here I was thinking I might sleep again someday.”

  “I just want you to understand the danger you’re in.”

  “I get it! I’m wide awake in the middle of the night listing names.”

  “You can’t blame me for spelling it out for you. Don’t forget, this isn’t the first time you’ve been in this position.”

  “Thanks so much for stopping by. Cheering me up.” I shivered.

  He reached over to rub my arms through the comforter. “You’re cold. Here.” He dragged one of the armchairs closer to the fire. “Take a seat and let’s go over these names together.”

  “What about your run?”

  “I was only going because I couldn’t sleep. This is more important.” He studied the list. “So you’re feeling pretty strong about Seth here.”

  “He’s the only one with a motive to kill both women—Tara for rebuffing his advances and Kim for getting him fired.”

  Connor rubbed his eyes. “In Seth’s crazy world, of course it’s Kim’s fault he was fired, not the way he treated his wife.”

  “I know, right? That’s what I told him.”

  “What do you mean that’s what you told him?”

  I fiddled with the edge of the comforter. “We saw Seth last night at the restaurant. He came up to our table, and I basically said the same thing you just did.”

  “He’s dangerous and you’re taunting him?”

  I tried a little deflection. “Antonia came right out and asked him if he’d killed Tara.”

  He shook his head and mu
ttered something. We sat in silence as he studied the other names.

  “Have you narrowed it down any more than this?”

  I shook my head. “It could be any of them.” I grabbed the list. “Big Dave swears he wasn’t worried over the possibility Tara might leave him and take half his money. But does a man really get that successful being careless with his money?” I threw up my hands. “It’s hard to believe, but he seems sincere.”

  Connor rubbed his eyes. “He didn’t have any reason to kill Kim, but if he thought it was you and he needs you to stop digging around . . .”

  “Exactly,” I said. “And he doesn’t have an alibi for when Kim was killed. He said he’d been in his room watching a movie.”

  He tapped the list. “Why do you have Bill on here? He wouldn’t have killed Tara, especially on his own train. On top of that, she wanted to invest. And he wouldn’t have any reason to kill Kim either, unless he was trying for you.”

  “I’m leaving him on, along with Jim.”

  “Jim didn’t have any reason to kill Tara, and he couldn’t have killed his wife. He was with me at the time, playing bocce ball.”

  “In principle, I agree with you,” I said, “but for now I want to leave all of them. The only one left is Vance.”

  “He had the perfect motive with his stepmother.”

  “He sure did. And the way he pitched that tennis ball the other night, barely missing me, shows what he’s capable of.”

  “I wonder where he was when Kim died,” Connor said.

  “The police found him at the tennis courts. I saw them go and get him for questioning. He could have killed Kim, thinking it was me, and been back on the tennis court in less than ten minutes.”

  Connor’s eyes were dark. “Either Seth killed both women, or someone killed Kim instead of you by accident.” He shook his head. “If the killer did mistake Kim for you, she’ll just be considered collateral damage. It doesn’t change the fact that someone still wants you dead.”

  The world started spinning and Connor grabbed my shoulder.

  “Are you okay?”

  I dropped my head between my knees. “Not really.” It came out muffled by the comforter. “In the last four days I’ve found two bodies, and one of those was supposed to be me. I’ve been chased, gassed and threatened.” I sat up, my voice louder. “I haven’t slept since we got here, and now you’re making it painfully clear that none of this is going to be improving anytime soon.” The last part was practically a shout. I exhaled and lowered my voice. “I’ve been better, actually.”

  Connor knelt in front of my chair so our faces were close. “You aren’t alone.”

  The room was still spinning. “I’m certainly not alone right now. There are about twenty of you.” I buried my face in my palms and waited until my head stopped its inner twirl. When I opened my eyes, there was only one Connor, and his face was just inches from mine. His brows were drawn together, and he wouldn’t let go of my gaze.

  “I mean it. You aren’t alone.” He moved closer.

  My heart started thumping around, and I closed my eyes again, ready for what was coming next.

  Knocking. That’s what came next. Not my knees. The front door.

  “No kidding, I’m not alone. It’s Grand Central in here.”

  Connor sat back on his heels. “You expecting anyone?”

  “Oh, sure. It’s the middle of the night. When else would I be expecting someone?”

  I peeked through the peephole. Antonia stood there. I opened the door.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I heard you yelling a couple of minutes ago. Both of our terrace doors are open.”

  “You could have called.”

  “You want me to call first? I thought I was listening to your murder.” She moved into the room. “The thought has occurred to me that someone might feel a greater need to silence your inquiry.”

  “I get it. Someone is trying to kill me.”

  Antonia turned and spotted Connor. “Oh, I didn’t know you had company.” She turned sideways so Connor couldn’t see and gave me the facial equivalent of two thumbs-up.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Connor was going for a run and saw my light on.” I looked at the both of them. “I appreciate all this concern, but we need to channel that energy into action.” I pointed to the list. “What we need is a trap.”

  It was Connor’s turn to roll his eyes. “Oh, this should be good.”

  “I’m not kidding. Force someone to show his hand.”

  “I think it’s an excellent idea, Penny,” Antonia said.

  “Of course, you do.” Connor sighed. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  “Hear what?”

  “Your ‘trap.’” He used the air quotes. “I hope it’s better than the ‘plan.’”

  “It’s not as well developed as the ‘plan.’ It’s really more in the idea stage.”

  “And your idea is what?”

  “My idea,” I said, “is that someone must really want to get out of here. They can’t pick up and run because that would prove their guilt, but they must want to. Someone needs to push them over the edge.”

  “And that someone is you?” Antonia asked.

  “Exactly. Let’s say I let it slip that I’ve found something.”

  Antonia raised her palms. “What?”

  “It doesn’t matter. As long as we make that person think they’re out of time, maybe we can force them to act.”

  “I don’t know. Seems a little weak,” Antonia said.

  “Do you have anything better?”

  “Twenty minutes ago I was asleep,” Antonia snapped. “Give me some credit for just following along.”

  “Okay, okay.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “The next time, and probably the last time, we’ll all come together will be at the wine tasting tomorrow.” I looked at the gray sliver of dawn through the curtains. “I mean later today.”

  “What wine tasting?” Connor asked.

  “I forgot to tell you. Last night Olympio challenged Antonia to a taste-off. Berninni Winery versus Martinelli Winery.”

  “Oh, this should go well. It’s the North versus the South all over again.”

  Antonia sniffed. “I can handle it if Olympio can.”

  “My point is that we’re out of time,” I said. “Harding is going to release us to go home soon. He’s going to have to, and once people leave, this same group will never be together again. Something has to happen now.”

  Connor shook his head. “Back to the trap. You let it be known that you’ve found something out. Then what?”

  “No clue yet, but I’m working on it.” I walked to the terrace door and stepped into a gray and sullen morning. “I’m working on it.”

  Twenty-seven

  I WASN’T any closer to a solution when I entered the restaurant later that morning. A chilly breeze had kicked up, and the restaurant was crowded. The server recognized me and brought coffee to my table.

  “You’re busy.” I cradled the warm cup.

  He indicated the patio. “Too windy to eat outside. Looks like everyone staying at the hotel is in here.”

  I scanned the crowded room. Antonia and Chantal sat in silence in the back corner, while Big Dave and Vance shared a table on the opposite side of the room. Vance leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed, while Big Dave kept his head down and just drank coffee.

  The mood of disillusionment and fatigue that clung to both tables spread through the rest of the room. All the guests knew about Kim being killed at the spa, of course; the police had interviewed most of them, and the building was still sealed and taped off. Conversation this morning was sparse and mixed with an uneasy silence. It was into this that Jim walked.

  It was clear the diners knew who he was when he entered the room. The smatterings o
f remaining conversations dropped like stones. People seated in his path moved to give him more room, although the aisles were all more than wide enough for him to pass.

  “It isn’t logical, but they don’t want to catch whatever he has.” Connor came up behind me and pulled up a chair. “His wife being murdered somehow marks him.”

  I nodded. “Even though he has an alibi, he’ll never quite get rid of the doubt in some people’s minds.”

  Jim moved through the dining room. As though he sensed what was expected of him, he avoided eye contact and settled alone at the end of the coffee bar. His cheeks were hollow and there were bags under his eyes.

  “He should try and eat something,” I said.

  “You can’t stay out of anything, can you?” Connor gave me a nudge. “But if it makes you feel better, he’s ordering now, and we should too.”

  The conversation slowly resumed as we plowed through a breakfast of crepes, fresh fruit—with cream, of course—and dark French roast. I plowed, anyway. Connor didn’t finish his, and I swiped a cream-covered strawberry off his plate.

  “Not hungry?”

  “Sure,” he said. “But if you recall I didn’t get my run in this morning. I try to be careful on those days.”

  His lean muscular torso verified the sensibility in that approach.

  “How very wise of you.” I filched the last spoonful of cream. “I’m stress eating.”

  Connor raised a brow.

  “What? It’s a real thing. And apparently I’m not alone.”

  Jim was polishing off a large plate of food.

  “See that? His wife was killed and it hasn’t bothered his appetite.”

  “No, it hasn’t.” Connor watched Jim. “That surprises me. If you were to meet your end the same way Kim did, I wouldn’t be able to tuck into a plate of food like that.”

  “I’m touched. Nothing says ‘I care’ more than turning down hickory smoked bacon.”

  “No need to be sarcastic,” he said.