Decanting a Murder Read online

  “I have no idea.” Tessa leaned back in the seat. “That’s what they kept asking me inside, too. The last time I remember having it was at the table with you. I probably dropped it or something.” She shrugged. “Can we go?”

  I started the car and pulled out of the station. “Why do you have to smuggle wine to the lodge? Why can’t you just sell it?”

  Tessa tapped her empty ring finger. “Vanessa. She’s real big on money. I think she used to be poor or something. She didn’t want him selling that wine, even though it was his winery before she came into the picture eight years ago. Says the wine will be worth more money later on, but Mark knows the wine is peaking right now.”

  “How long have you been doing this?”

  Tessa stretched her neck and shoulders. “Um … Two months, maybe?”

  I stopped at the light. “How often?”

  “Can’t remember.” Tessa cracked her knuckles. “Do you think we can pick up fast food? I’m hungry.”

  “Tessa, focus!” I slammed my hands on the steering wheel, causing Tessa to jump. “This is important. How often were you taking the wine to the lodge?”

  “About every week or so,” said Tessa. “When Vanessa was busy or out of town, or something like that. We could never let her see. I didn’t do anything wrong, you know. Selling the wine was completely legal. It was Mark’s wine to do what he wanted with. There’s no law to say you can’t do something without your wife knowing.”

  “Yes, but you’re not under suspicion for stealing. They’re looking at you for Mark’s murder.”

  “Mark …” Tessa’s eyes watered. “He’s really gone.” She started to cry.

  “Tessa, tell me what happened with the text. What did it say?”

  She took a break from her sobs. “It said aerate the wine. That was our code to take the next shipment to the lodge, so I pulled my car up to the wine cellar and loaded three cases of wine into the trunk. Then I drove to the lodge.”

  I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. “What about the winery, did you go in there?”

  “Why would I go in there? I was taking bottles of wine to the lodge, not Dixie Cups of unfermented grape juice.”

  I pulled into the parking lot of Tessa’s apartment and turned off the car. “But why did you tell me to ask Seb? You said ‘ask Seb’ as you got in the patrol car.”

  “Because he saw me drive away. Did you ask him? He was in the back driveway as I drove past and he saw me. And that proves that I was off the property before anything happened. Ask him.”

  I slowly nodded. “I did. I went back to the winery tonight after you left the lodge with Detective Dean. I found Seb and asked him if he had seen you tonight. He said the only time he saw you was when we were drinking the Merlot.”

  Tessa jerked up in her seat. “But that’s not true. He was there when I left.”

  I looked at Tessa. “Are you sure it was Seb? I mean, if it was dark, how could you tell? What did you see?”

  “A tall lanky kid with brown hair named Seb.”

  “Well, if he was there, he doesn’t remember. Did you tell the deputies that Seb saw you leave?”

  Tessa put her finger to her cheek and tapped it. “I think so. Maybe. Hmm … Maybe not. I can’t remember. You’ve never been interrogated, Katie. It’s intimidating.”

  “Okay, but it still doesn’t prove to them that you’re innocent. Eye witness testimony can be incredibly inaccurate.”

  “Wait, no, it does work.” Tessa sat forward in her seat. “Because Mark was talking with Lisa when I left you.”

  “I thought you said you hadn’t seen him.”

  “Well, I’d forgotten until right now.” Tessa pulled her mouth to the side. “But I did see him. With Lisa. They were talking near the winery. So that proves that I’m innocent.” She wiped her hands together. “Easy peasy. I wonder if your dad solves cases this fast? Maybe I should have been a cop. Officer Blakely. Has a nice ring to it.”

  I sighed and got out of the car but Tessa didn’t move from the front seat. I knocked on the passenger window. “You coming?”

  Tessa slowly got out of the Jeep. “I’m hungry. We didn’t get any fast food.”

  “Seriously?”

  She nodded, her hair bouncing. “I want a burger.”

  “Come on.” I motioned up the stairs. “I’ll make you something. Plan on having an easy day tomorrow. They’re going to be watching everything you do. Stay at your apartment or only go nearby, around here. No big movements, okay?”

  “If I’d only ignored that text from Mark, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “Was the code he texted always the same code? Aerate the wine?”

  “No, we changed it every week so that no one would catch on.” Tessa fumbled with her front door key.

  “When did you choose this one?”

  “Two days ago.”

  The door swung open and Tessa headed straight to the couch, throwing her body down on the cushions.

  “Two days ago where?”

  “Um … In the winery. Behind the two large vats next to the wine press. We didn’t want anyone to hear us and we knew we’d be alone there.” Tessa pulled a cushion to her chest and snuggled into the couch. It was one of only two pieces of furniture in the living room, complemented by a small coffee table and boxes in the corner. Tessa still wasn’t fully unpacked from when she had moved in four months ago.

  “Anything else you want to tell me about tonight?”

  “Yes,” replied Tessa. “Definitely not enough drinking.”

  I shook my head and sat down on the couch next to her.

  “Katie?”

  “Yes, Tessa?”

  “Can you make me mac and cheese?”

  I exhaled. This was just like Tessa. Nothing was ever serious. Her emotions flared up and died out just as quickly. “Fine, I’ll make you mac and cheese.”

  “Thank you.” Tessa’s voice was muffled voice from the cushions. “And Katie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can you stay with me tonight?” She turned over and looked up at me. “Like a sleepover, like we used to do.”

  I looked at Tessa, her curls crushed by the pillows. “But I have work tomorrow, Tee.”

  “I know, but please. For me?”

  I hesitated, the events of so many years ago going through my mind. “Give me a sec.” I grabbed my phone and texted my coworker.

  Can you do inventory tomorrow? I’ll be back in time for my shift.

  Nerd, Darius texted back.

  Thxs. So can you cover inventory?

  There was no response. I watched the phone, waiting for it to light up. “Come on, Darius, come on.”

  The phone lit up with another text. I’ll do it for a bottle of Oban.

  Seriously? Oban.

  Yes.

  Darius and his love of whisky. Fine, a bottle of Oban.

  Cool. You’re covered.

  “Okay.” I removed a metal pot from the kitchen cabinet. “I have inventory covered for tomorrow. I’ll stay here with you.”

  “Thanks, Katie,” said Tessa as she curled up on the couch. “I owe you one.”

  I looked back at her and shook my head. “No, you don’t.” The playing field was far from even. It was time for me to repay the favor that Tessa had done for me. “I’m going to make everything okay.” My voice lowered to a whisper. “At least, I hope I can.”

  eleven

  pairing suggestion: chablis—chablis, france

  A dry Chardonnay with lots of minerality and rigid character.

  -

  When I entered the sheriff’s station the next morning, it had the same static atmosphere as hours earlier but the coffee smell was stronger. I was almost tempted to try a cup, but coffee always seemed to smell better than it tasted. The black suit I wore—one that
I kept in the trunk of my car in case I was called into work at a moment’s notice—smelled stale and I shifted uncomfortably as I approached the counter.

  An unfamiliar deputy was on duty, his eyes focused on the paperwork in front of him.

  “Excuse me. I’m looking for Detective Dean.”

  “He’s not in,” he said without looking up. “Can I help you?”

  “I wanted to talk to him about the murder at Frontier Winery?”

  The deputy raised his head, his brown eyes staring directly into mine. “The one from last night? What do you need?”

  I adjusted my stance. “Well, I wanted to ask about the wine opener that was found at the scene. Were there fingerprints on it?”

  “Fingerprints on what?” said Dean as he walked in from the back room.

  “Thought you weren’t coming in till ten, buddy,” said the desk deputy.

  “Active murder investigation. Who needs rest?” Dean nodded at me. “Good morning. You’re here for the case? Or to see me?” A smile spread across his lips, creating dimples on both cheeks. He looked like a regular person, no longer a figure of authority.

  “Ah, actually”—I hesitated—“about the case.”

  “Just teasing.” Dean put his arms on the counter, his toned muscles showing through his dress shirt.

  “I didn’t know you were funny.”

  Dean laughed, his demeanor softer than the night before. My dad never softened, at least not when he was in a work capacity. They were different after all. “So let’s hear about these fingerprints.”

  “On the wine opener. Did you check it for fingerprints? I mean, I know Tessa’s will be on there, but were there anyone else’s fingerprints?”

  “You’re really invested in this, aren’t you?”

  “I know in my heart that she’s innocent. I’ll do everything in my power to clear her name.”

  “Investigations take time. Surely you know that from your dad.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I can’t wish for a quick resolution.”

  “True.” Dean leaned forward. “The only fingerprints they found on the wine opener were Tessa’s.”

  I could read something deeper in his eyes. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “You’re perceptive. Some of her fingerprints were smudged. As if someone used gloves or a towel to hold it.”

  A wave of relief swept through my body. “See? I told you.”

  “It doesn’t clear her or implicate her, it’s simply a fact of the investigation.” Dean let out a deep breath as he stood back up. “Katie, your friend hasn’t been arrested. She was only brought in for questioning.”

  “But that doesn’t mean you’re not filing the paperwork to charge her right now. I want to make sure she’s going to be okay. If she’s innocent, I’m going to prove it.”

  Dean stared at me. “Interesting that you said if.”

  I stopped. I had a habit of using the word if in my blind tasting group. If this wine is a Chardonnay, if this wine has high acidity. My group constantly reminded me to only speak with certainty. No wonder I had failed. I straightened my posture and pulled my shoulders back. “She’s innocent.”

  “Great. Then we’ll see where this case goes, shall we?”

  I studied Dean for a moment. If he was like my father, a little kindness could go a long way. I needed to get on his good side. “You’re right. Hey, where can you go around here to get a decent cup of coffee? I’ve had a heck of a twenty-four hours and could use some caffeine.”

  Dean motioned to a side desk. “We have some here, I’ll get you a cup.”

  “Ah, no thanks. I’m looking for something bet …” My voice trailed off. “Something different.”

  “Grandma’s is a block away. They serve good coffee.”

  “Nice.” I leaned on the counter. “You don’t start till ten, right? Want to join me?”

  Dean moved back. “Um, what are you exactly … I mean, coffee?”

  “Yes, coffee.”

  “But you’re Tessa’s …”

  I put my hand to my chest and dropped my head. “What do you think I am doing?” I almost laughed inside. Drama had never been my strong suit, but I was certain this was coming off perfectly. “I just want a cup of coffee. I’m not hitting on you, I’m trying to be polite.” I shook my head. “Anyway, a block away? Thanks.”

  I turned and walked toward the door. Even though my dad was all business, he couldn’t stand it if he hurt someone. I hoped Dean would be the same.

  “Katie, wait,” replied Dean from behind the counter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  “You weren’t rude. You were blunt. There’s a difference.” I stepped outside the station. As I headed down the steps, I heard the station door open.

  “Wait, Katie.”

  I hid my smile before I turned around. “Yes?”

  Dean hesitated at the top of the steps. “I’d like to join you.”

  “Even if I’m Tessa’s friend?”

  “Even if you’re Tessa’s friend.” He reached my side as he slipped on his suit jacket.

  “Great.” I motioned to the street. “Which direction is the coffee shop?”

  “Up here to the right.”

  I glanced at Dean as we walked along the sidewalk. He seemed to be on the lean side, but his suit made it hard to tell.

  We reached Grandma’s Coffee Shop, a white wooden building with red trim.

  “Have you ever been here?” Dean held the door open for me.

  “No. I’m not in this area too often.”

  “That’s right. You’re a San Francisco girl.”

  The noise of plates clanging together and jumbled conversations met us along with the scent of cinnamon rolls and strong coffee.

  Dean put up two fingers to the waitress, who pointed to a red booth next to the window. Dean waited for me to sit down before he slid onto the seat across from me.

  “What can I get’cha?” The waitress held a small pad of paper in front of her pale blue and white uniform.

  Dean motioned to me.

  “Oh, I don’t know yet.” I scanned the menu, but a cup of coffee didn’t seem to fit the bill anymore. “Can you give me a second?”

  “Sure thing,” said the waitress as she stepped away.

  Dean raised his eyebrows. “I thought you wanted coffee.”

  “Yes, I did want coffee.” I paused. “But that’s because I was thinking only of coffee and wasn’t exploring any of the other options.”

  “You know,” said Dean, “you’re not as stealth as you think you are.”

  I grinned. “I never said I was.”

  The waitress returned. “Ready?”

  “Yes, I’ll have a hot chocolate with whipped cream.”

  “Coffee,” said Dean. The waitress left and Dean winked at me. “A sweet tooth, huh?”

  “A little.” I put my hand on the table. “Tessa—”

  “So you do want to talk about her. Or did you want to keep talking about coffee?”

  “Funny. Obviously she’s on my mind.”

  “Understandable.”

  “And you’re here. So maybe we could talk about her. Nothing to it, just two people talking about Tessa.”

  The waitress placed the cup of coffee in front of Dean and the hot chocolate with a generous dollop of whipped cream in front of me.

  “Obviously my goal is to get her free of suspicion.” I took a sip of the hot chocolate.

  “If she’s innocent.”

  “Correct. Which she is.” I licked whipped cream off of my lips.

  Dean stirred sugar and milk into his coffee. “Okay, so let’s say she is innocent. Who killed Mark?”

  “That’s what I want to find out. Do you have any other suspects besides Tessa?”

>   “I can’t share that, you know that.”

  “Okay.” I nodded. “If you can’t share, then let me say this. I heard Vanessa and Jim Garrett arguing last night, after the murder. It sounded pretty heated.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  I gave a mild shrug. “I’m telling you now.”

  Dean took his black notepad out of his pocket and started writing. “What were they arguing about?”

  “I don’t know, I couldn’t exactly hear. Something about decisions.”

  “But you know they were arguing?”

  I nodded. “The tone wasn’t two people talking. It was tense.”

  Dean flipped through his notebook. “Let’s see. Vanessa and Lisa were together when they heard the caterer scream at seven forty-eight. We assume the approximate time of death was between seven fifteen and seven forty, as Seb was the last one to see him around seven fifteen.” Dean turned a few more pages in his book. “Jim Garrett said he was talking to different groups of people until he ended up sitting at a table.”

  “With anyone?”

  Dean looked at the notes. “Nope. Apparently he’s quite the drinker and from what I heard from other guests, they know to avoid him.”

  “That’s it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I sat back in the booth and crossed my arms. “Garrett doesn’t have someone that can account for him during the murder?”

  Dean looked again at his notes. “No, I guess he doesn’t. With Tessa missing from the party, all the attention was on finding her. But Garrett doesn’t have a motive.”

  “Neither does Tessa.” I met Dean’s gaze.

  “Not that we know of yet.”

  “Yes, but Garrett could also have a motive that we don’t know about yet.”

  “Good point,” said Dean. “Okay, I’ll look into Garrett and his whereabouts during the party.”

  “Also”—I took another drink of my hot chocolate, the warmth burning my throat as I swallowed too fast—“Tessa said that Seb saw her drive away last night while Mark was still alive.”

  Dean tapped his pen on his notebook. “Why didn’t she say that during questioning last night?”

  I shook my head. “Tessa doesn’t always think of the right thing at the right time. It’s one of her, well, characteristics.”