Ripe for Murder Page 22

  If George had delivered Seth’s envelope, that could be the cause of his anger. He could also be trying to decide if I was behind it. I took a quick backward glance and his eyes once again rested on me.

  Olympio shook his head as though clearing his mind. “Enough of Seth for now. I was wondering, Penny, if I could call on you to act as the master of ceremonies.”

  I bit my lower lip. “Actually, I do have something else I need to take care of.”

  “Not until later,” Antonia said. “This will keep you occupied and give you something to do. Plus, no one will suspect you of being”—she glanced around—“you know what, if you’re up there running this thing.”

  “Fine.” I turned to Olympio. “Antonia says I’ll be happy to.” I gestured to the tables lining the room. “I think your voting system is perfect, Olympio. It will be easy and casual, with everyone milling around. We can’t be very formal with this many people. I can’t believe the turnout.”

  “It’s this wind,” Olympio said.

  Antonia sniffed. “It’s the chance to sample some really fine wine, namely, Martinelli wine.”

  “Already?” I asked. “It hasn’t even started yet. Behave yourself.”

  “She can bluster all she wants,” Olympio said. “These people will know what fine wine is, once they taste Berninni wines.”

  “Stop it, both of you!” I counted the tables. “It looks like we’re judging just a select amount.”

  Olympio nodded. “To simplify, I’ve brought only four of the wines that each of us produces: Cabernet, Pinot Noir, Zinfandel, and one white, the Chardonnay.”

  “That’s more than enough,” I said. “That’s eight tastes for each person and, let’s face it, everybody in this crowd’s going to finish off each glassful. I’m glad they’re all staying here.” I took a deep breath. “Well, here we go.”

  I moved to the front of the room and clapped a couple of times. “Okay, everyone, welcome to the Berninni versus Martinelli taste-off. You may be rooting for the local team”—Olympio took a bow—“which is why the bottles and their labels are hidden in silk bags. Before we begin, there are likely various levels of knowledge in the room, so let’s go over a few ground rules for the tasting.”

  I relaxed into the moment. I grew up knowing how to taste wine and occasionally taught wine classes at home in Cypress Cove. “First, this type of wine tasting is called a ‘horizontal tasting,’ where you taste the same wines of the same year, but from different wineries.”

  A voice came from the crowd. “I thought it meant drinking until you’re horizontal.”

  The crowd parted, because nobody ever wants to be associated with that guy, and I spotted Vance toward the back of the room. He smiled, looking relaxed and without a care. If George had already delivered the envelope to Vance, he was either innocent or doing a good job of acting.

  He raised a glass to his lips, a whiskey glass, which he promptly emptied. On the other hand, he could be guilty and just drunk, a likelihood I found more plausible. I ignored the comment and poured a glass from the bottle in front of me, holding the glass up to the light.

  “There are actually four main steps to wine tasting. The first is to take time to notice the color. There isn’t necessarily a bad color, but the wine should be clear. Jewel-toned.

  “Next, twirl the glass. Notice how the wine travels down the sides in rivulets. These are the wine’s ‘legs.’ This will give you an idea of the wine’s texture and, usually, the slower the wine travels, the higher the alcohol content.”

  A number of tasters started to tip their glasses; I raised my hand. “One last thing. The most important thing before you taste. Take a long, deep inhalation. What do you smell? Is it fruity or woodsy? Does it whisper of spices, or is it sweet?” I let them compare notes before I raised my glass once again. “Now you can taste. And remember, above all, wine and wine tasting should be fun, full of new flavors and a chance to make new friends.”

  I finished off the rest of the wine in my glass. Even with the bottle wrapped in gold silk, I recognized Antonia’s Pinot Noir. It was the perfect blend of spicy smoothness. I poured a glass from the bottle wrapped in blue. It was different but every bit as good, with a shorter finish, likely because it was so much hotter in the Napa Valley than along the coast in Cypress Cove.

  “Excellent job.” Antonia stood next to me.

  “Thanks. Everyone seems to know what they’re supposed to do.”

  “By the way, I saw you take a try of both of our Pinots. What did you think?”

  “I like them both. Obviously, I love yours, but Berninni’s is very good as well.”

  “But it’s a little short at the finish, right? It’s too warm here in the summer.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t. I liked the finish. I think it was different than yours, but quite good.”

  Antonia sniffed. “No need to tell Olympio that. He’s virtually impossible as it is.”

  I scanned the crowd and caught George standing at the main entrance. He touched the side of his nose and ducked behind the door. “I’ll be right back.” I scooted out the door and into the lobby where George waited behind one of the side columns.

  “It would probably be better if you acted a little more natural.”

  His shoulders sagged. “I thought I was pulling it off.”

  Great. Now I felt guilty. “You’re doing fine. How’s it going?”

  “I’m finished,” he said proudly. “All the letters were delivered with no problems.”

  “How did everyone take it? Did anyone read it in front you?”

  “A couple.” He ticked off on his fingers. “Vance read it, but he just laughed. I think he’s been drinking. Seth read his, got really angry and tore it up. Big Dave just turned and closed his door. I found Jim in the hall. He thanked me and walked away. Barb looked at hers then shoved it into her pocket. Funny thing about that one.”

  “What? Tell me.”

  “She checked to make sure it was addressed to her. Then she asked me if I was sure it wasn’t supposed to go to her husband. I didn’t tell her he got one too. I simply said that it was left just for her. Sounds like she suspects him of something.”

  “I’m sure she suspects him of a lot of things.” It probably wasn’t the first time someone had left a message for Seth at that same front desk.

  “The last one was Bill from the train company. He stuffed it into his pocket because he was helping the folks from Berninni set up for this event.” George glanced into the room. “It looks like a good time. I myself am partial to Cabernet.”

  “I think I can find you a nice bottle.”

  George waved away the offer. “I didn’t mean that as a hint.”

  “I know you didn’t,” I said. “But it’s the least I can do for your assistance.”

  “Well, let’s hope our little plot helps with the search.” He touched the side of his nose.

  “What is that?”

  He looked hurt. “It’s our code.”

  “Well, stop it!”

  “But we need a way to communicate without other people knowing.”

  I slapped my forehead. “Fine. Whatever.”

  I left him slipping along the corridor, and I reentered the tasting room.

  “What did George want?” Antonia asked.

  “Just to let me know the notes were all successfully delivered.”

  “What’s with the nose touch?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t ask.”

  “Oh, look there.” She grabbed my arm. “Big Dave just walked in.”

  “I’m going to talk to him,” I said. Antonia waved me on, and I made my way across the room. Big Dave lifted his hand in greeting when I stopped in front of him.

  “Are you going to do some tasting?” I asked.

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” he said. “I didn’t eve
n know this was going on. I came downstairs,” he patted his coat about chest high, “because someone left a note at the front desk for me.”

  I kept my face neutral. “A note? Something important?”

  “More confusing than anything. It was delivered to my room, but I was told it was left at the front desk. I just came down to see if anyone up front knew who left it for me.”

  “Did you have any luck?”

  He shook his head. “Nobody knew anything about it. Damnedest thing.” He patted his coat pocket once again, looking distracted.

  “Well, now that you’re here, you should at least have a glass of wine.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” He took a glass from the nearest table. “I don’t have anything to do for the next couple of hours.”

  “Oh? You have something planned for this evening?” Stress echoed in my voice. “I mean, I’m glad to see you aren’t sitting alone in your room, waiting for this to be over.”

  “Actually, I thought I’d go in to town.”

  “Any particular reason?” I smiled, going for casual interest.

  “Thought I might talk to the police.”

  Not what I was expecting, which might be what he intended.

  “They must have something solid by now. I’d just like to know they’re making some progress and that soon someone will be charged in Tara’s death. Kim’s too, of course.” He glanced across the room at Antonia. “I’m sure everyone here is looking for an answer, even if it’s not the one they were hoping for.”

  “Not if you’re the killer.”

  “What?” He patted his pocket once again, then turned his eyes to me. “I’m sorry. I just can’t seem to concentrate right now. I think I’m going to pass on the rest of this event here.”

  He set the glass down and turned toward the door. Antonia joined me.

  “Big Dave read his note.”

  Antonia looked surprised. “He told you?”

  “Not what it said, just that someone left it for him. The interesting part is that he’s heading into town tonight. Said he’s going to stop by the police station to check on any updates.”

  “Maybe that’s not the only stop he’s planning on making, and afterward, he’s heading down to the train station.”

  “It’s possible,” I said. “I need to leave soon. If he does show up at the train, I want to be there to see it.” I scanned the room. “How’s it going?”

  Antonia sniffed. “I hate to admit it, but they’re just about done collecting the tickets, and it’s going to be close.”

  “How close?”

  “Very close.” She pointed to the front table, where two stacks of collected votes were growing. They looked exactly the same height. “I wonder if he’s found some way to rig it.”

  “Antonia!”

  “His male ego will never survive if I win.”

  “Sure, his ego is the problem. Look at those results.” I gestured with my palm. “You two are virtually a tie at this point.”

  “Ha! A tie.” Olympio stood behind me. “That would make it easy, wouldn’t it?”

  “Easy for who?” Antonia put her hands on her hips.

  “Well, I was thinking of you, my dear Antonia.”

  Antonia’s cheeks brightened and she took a step forward. I moved between them.

  “Stop it! Look, let me go do a quick preliminary count and then you can decide how you two want to proceed.” What I needed was a way for both of them to save face.

  Antonia tapped her foot. “I’m fine with that. It is obviously closer than I anticipated, but I have absolutely no concerns.”

  “Nor do I.” Olympio winked at me. “Go, count and tell us what you find.”

  I walked to the front of the room and a solution presented itself. Barb stood just inside an exit door, holding several empty wine bottles.

  “Here, let me get that door for you.” I scooted around the table and pushed against the center bar.

  “Careful,” she said. “Just open it a small bit. The wind is ferocious.”

  I threw open the door as wide as possible. “What? I can’t hear you over this wind. It’s really something.”

  Whatever she said was lost in a huge gust that pulled the door from my hands, rolled through the room and lifted the votes into the air, showering them over the room like clouds of confetti.

  Thirty

  “DON’T think I don’t know what you did back there,” Antonia said a short time later when we stood at the foot of the bike path. “You knew perfectly well what would happen when you threw open that door.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. And anyway, it was left as it should be. As a tie. I can’t help it if it’s windy.”

  “Well, it certainly is that.” She peered around in the lengthening dusk. “And it’s getting dark.” Her brows knitted together. “I’m not sure this was the best judgment call we’ve ever made.”

  “Now you’re telling me you have doubts?” I wasn’t feeling that brave either, to be honest. The skies were clear, so I wouldn’t have to contend with rain, but gusts of cold air coiled around me and ripped through my sweater. I pushed my hair out of my eyes and wrapped the shawl tighter around my shoulders.

  “Tell me the plan again.” Other than an occasional grimace, Antonia didn’t look fazed by the wind. Her perfect silver chignon remained motionless.

  “What kind of hair spray do you use?” I was stalling.

  She glared at me. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Okay, okay. The plan. The plan is to get to the train and see who shows up.”

  “That’s it, huh? No wonder Connor was worried. You really aren’t much of a planner.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “If you do your job and the police are there, the hope is that the person will either panic, run or start talking. In any event, they’ll need to explain why the opportunity to retrieve something left at a murder scene would entice them to show up.”

  The trees rattled around us and I raised my voice. “A few minutes before six, you need to call the police and make sure they get to the train. Connor too. If they don’t show up, it becomes my word against the killer’s.”

  “Only if you get a chance to repeat it.”

  My face started to tingle and Antonia tipped her head.

  “You just lost every bit of color in your face,” she said. “Listen, as long as you’re careful, you should be fine. It’s entirely possible nobody will show or, better yet, you can see who turns up before you get anywhere near the train. Then you can wait from a safe distance until the police arrive. Look around before you get close to the train, avoid enclosed areas with only one exit and don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

  “All good advice.”

  Antonia sniffed. “Of course it is.” She looked at her watch then abruptly wrapped both her arms around me, pushing me away a moment later. “Now go.”

  I braced myself and turned away. The night was closing in faster than I’d anticipated, and she disappeared after the first few steps.

  The path itself was well lit, with streetlamps every twenty feet. Biking at night was a popular sport, but tonight I was alone. I did a semi-jog just to get warmed up. That lasted about three minutes and I settled into a brisk walk.

  The gusts were stronger now, even moving the metal light posts. Dried leaves swirled around my legs, and I tasted grit kicked up from the vineyard next to me. I continued to walk as fast as I could, but it was difficult; the cold wind buffeted me and I was forced to keep my eyes down because of the dust.

  “This is crazy,” I muttered to myself and after about fifteen minutes stopped to assess my surroundings. I dropped the idea of turning around only because I made out the scattered lights of town just ahead.

  Moments later I was at the edge of the depot parking area. The train waited on the other side of th
e lot, silent and still.

  When I’d first had this idea, my version had me staying right where I was, well back from the train. Now, looking out over the depot, it was clear that remaining in this spot wouldn’t work. Anyone arriving could easily get to the train from the other side, completely out of my line of vision. I needed to be closer.

  There weren’t any cars in the parking area. It would be easy to see me if anyone watched. I ran as quickly as I could across the exposed lot.

  At the edge of the tracks, I ducked into the covered bench area where passengers normally waited to board. Three sides were protected from the wind. I took a seat.

  After rubbing the dust from my eyes and warming up a bit, I felt better. The train stood silent. The inside lights were on but set to low. The entire length of the train was visible, but I didn’t see anyone. My watch said I had twenty minutes to decide where to wait and see who’d get there next, if anyone. What had Antonia said? To look around before I got on the train, steer clear of enclosed areas and avoid any unnecessary risks. Right.

  It stood to reason that if anyone showed, they wouldn’t park in the lot. If they lived in town, like Seth, they’d park at home and walk. If they were visitors, like Vance, that Porsche of his would be easy to spot in the empty lot. If anyone came this far, they would be on foot.

  I still had time to walk around the entire train before six. I wrapped the shawl tightly around me, took a deep breath and left the protected enclosure.

  Scooting to the edge of the platform, I stepped over the tracks and around the back of the train. Behind the caboose the wind was lighter and I breathed easier, which didn’t mean I was able to walk any faster. The gravel crunched under my feet as I stumbled over train ties. Gradually my eyes and gait adjusted and I was able to step from one tie to the next. Without the gravel underfoot and out of the wind, I was able to move silently. Stealthy. Like a cat. Yup. That’s me. Catlike.

  The thought occurred to me that nothing was going to come of this, and I might actually get out of this mess in one piece, when I stopped. The unmistakable crunch of gravel from somewhere along the tracks reached my ears. This wasn’t good. This definitely was not good. There wasn’t anywhere to hide, and the roar in my ears made it difficult to hear. I took a couple of deep breaths and focused on where the steps were coming from. They were behind me one minute, then beside me the next, and I realized it was someone on the other side of the train. I moved closer to the car and scanned between the wheels. A flashlight played along the ground. When it flickered beneath the train and glided toward me, I hoisted myself up on the wheel. My heart was pounding and I struggled not to panic.