Death By the Glass #2 (24 page)

“That’s sort of a burden, isn’t it? At the end of a busy night?”

“It wasn’t exactly a pleasure, but it’s not that big of a deal. We took turns. I only did it once every couple of weeks.” He looked across the parking lot at a stretch of vineyard. “You didn’t have to drive down here to ask me that. You could have called Andre or anyone. Or waited until you’re back here in a few hours. You could have asked me then. What did you really want to talk to me about?”

She fastened her eyes on Nick. “You’re right. There’s more.” She took a drag on the cigarette, letting the nicotine go to work. “Late on Saturday night, Remy Castels took an order from Nathan Osborne for a glass of Armagnac.”

A flicker of something, she wasn’t sure what, passed over Nick’s face. He recovered quickly, resuming a bemused expression. He didn’t say anything.

“Do you remember?” she asked.

“Nathan always has a glass of his Armagnac after dinner.”

“His Armagnac?”

“We keep a private bottle of 1944 Francis Darroze Bas-Armagnac behind the bar for him. That was his drink. Made the year he was born. That’s how he ended every meal. It’s insanely expensive stuff.”

“Did you pour it, or did Remy?”

Nick’s eyes widened slightly, surprised at the question. “I’m pretty sure I did. Why?”

“I’m just trying to picture it. So Remy takes the order and walks over to the bar. You pour the drink from a bottle you keep right there, yes?”

“It’s behind the bar.”

“But you don’t have to go anywhere to get it.”

“No. Sunny, what’s this about?”

“Bear with me. What happens next? Does Remy take it to Nathan?”

Nick rolled his eyes. “I feel like I should be in a room with a bare bulb. Yes, Remy takes it to him. No, wait, I’m pretty sure Dahlia took it to him.”

“If she didn’t put in the order, how did she know to pick it up?”

“It’s pretty obvious what it is. It was late and most of the tables were empty. You can spot that snifter a mile away. She knew whose it was.”

“So she spots the snifter and knows its Nathan’s Armagnac. She comes by the bar, picks up the drink, and walks over to the table with it. Do you remember where they were sitting?”

“They were sitting at Nathan’s usual table, the corner booth. He was like a mobster. He liked to sit where he could see the door.”

“Dahlia would be facing you when she picked up the drink, and facing him when she turned around to take it to him.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Sunny took one last hit, then stepped on the edge of her cigarette and slipped the butt in her pocket. She exhaled. “I’d like to take a look at that bottle.”

Nick laughed nervously. “So would I. I’ve actually been meaning to mention it to Eliot. Somebody swiped it after Nathan died.”

“The bottle is gone?” she exclaimed, forgetting to temper her reaction. “Do you know when it was taken?”

“Not exactly. It was there Saturday night and not there Monday afternoon. Remy asked about it after the police left on Monday, and when I looked for it, it was gone.”

“Any idea who might have taken it?”

“It’s hard to say. We keep the really expensive stuff in a locked cabinet behind the bar, but it’s not exactly one hundred percent secure.”

“Was the lock broken?”

“No, it wasn’t broken,” he said, “but it wouldn’t have to be. It’s only locked at night after we close, and several people have keys. There’s also a key in the register. I might have even left the key in the lock. It’s possible. I don’t really think it’s necessary to lock up the good booze. That was Remy’s idea, not mine. Personally, I think it conveys a sense of distrust to the employees. Who’s going to steal from behind the bar other than one of our own people? Nobody is going to break in for a bunch of open bottles of alcohol.”

“Somebody did, apparently.”

He looked away. “I need to get back. Are you coming in?”

She shook her head. “I have to get going. I’ll be back at ten.”

“When you’ll tell me what this is all about.”

“I will.” She sighed. “A favor? Don’t mention this conversation to anyone?”

“No problem.”

Back at home, the light outside Sunny’s house did a good job of blinding her and a bad job of lighting the front yard, but she could see well enough to identify purslane among the other weeds. She could almost identify it by touch alone. It had a robust, plump feel, almost like a succulent. Sunny pulled up enough for a large salad and went inside. If all else fails, forage for weeds. There was nothing in the refrigerator and she didn’t want to go out. She needed to think.

Based on what she knew about Vinifera and what Nick had said, it would have been difficult but not necessarily impossible for someone, especially Nick himself, to slip a lethal concoction into Nathan’s drink. With a little sleight of hand, Dahlia could have done it. Or Nick could be lying—he was obviously hiding something.

Regardless of who did it, it would have been extremely risky. The tall mirror behind the bar, the stairway leading to the upstairs seating, the catwalk to the offices, and the open floor plan all made for maximum visibility in the restaurant. It would have been next to impossible to be sure no one was watching at any given moment. How much easier to stop at the bar at the end of the night on Friday, dose the bottle only Nathan drank from, then get rid of it after service the next night. Or they could have done it at the beginning of the Saturday shift, when no one was around. It would be so easy, especially if they knew Nathan would be coming in with the Rastburns that night. Remy and Dahlia would both know that the Rastburns never joined Nathan in his Armagnac. The fact that the bottle was missing shouted confirmation of this theory. Whether the poison was in the glass or in the bottle didn’t really matter.

Sunny let out a loud sigh. There was one huge problem. The only way to confirm her suspicions was to convince Steve Harvey
to test the body for taxine. That was going to be a tough sell. If she hadn’t been so sure about the wine, he would be much easier to convince now.

She tossed the purslane with what was left of a warm bacon vinaigrette and ate it standing up in the kitchen.

Rivka rang the doorbell at eight-thirty sharp. She was dressed for a party in tall boots and a red jersey dress cut low. A long scrap of indiscriminate black fur was draped around her neck and her hair was pulled back tight.

“Zow, you look hot. Part biker chick, part flamenco queen,” said Sunny.

“And you aren’t even dressed yet. I thought we were going to go early so we could relax.”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Let me guess. Wait, I have news. I can tell you while you get your body on.”

Rivka followed her into the bedroom and reclined against a heap of pillows while Sunny rifled through her closet.

“I went over to Dahlia’s after work.”

“More secret potions?” said Sunny without turning around.

“Do you want to hear this or not?”

“Of course,” Sunny said, choosing a pair of low-slung tweed pants and a clingy paprika sweater. She slipped them on, then sat on the bed and zipped into a pair of suede boots.

“I don’t know how you wear those things,” said Rivka.

“No pain, no gain.” She went over to her dresser and rummaged among the earrings in a little box for a pair of tiny gold hoops.

“Dahlia went to the reading of the will this morning.”

Sunny looked up. “And?”

“Osborne didn’t have any relatives. He left Dahlia his car and the contents of his house, including his art collection.”

“This could be key. He breaks her heart, then leaves her his furniture. Anything substantial?”

“Uh, yeah. You might want to sit down.”

Sunny finished putting on her earrings. She turned to her friend with her hands on her hips. “I’m ready.”

“It’s not a big collection. He only bought art when a friend or a friend of a friend needed money back in the seventies. He was one of the few guys in the early days of that whole hippie artist Marin scene who had what you’d call discretionary income.”

“And his friends of friends were?”

“Well, not all of them became famous, but Roy and Wayne did okay for themselves.”

Sunny’s eyes widened. “No. He has paintings by Roy De Forest and Wayne Thiebaud?”

“Two original dog paintings by De Forest and some kind of pastry by Thiebaud.”

Sunny whistled. “They’re worth millions,” she said breathlessly.

“Maybe. It depends on exactly what they are, but it’s a fortune no matter what. Dahlia says it doesn’t matter what they’re worth because she won’t sell them.”

“You’d only have to sell one of them to live on the proceeds for a long, long time. What else was in that will?”

“He left instructions to sell the house and use the proceeds to settle his personal debts, which were evidently substantial. Remy Castels inherits Osborne Wines. Eliot Denby gets Nathan’s half of Vinifera.”

“Very tidy. Everybody’s got a motive,” said Sunny. “Eliot, Remy, Dahlia. Even Andre, since Eliot owning all of Vinifera will have a direct and substantial impact on his peace of mind and the success of his career.”

“I’m sure Eliot knew he would get Vinifera,” said Rivka. “Remy might have known about his take, and Andre could reasonably assume that removing Nathan would mean he only had to deal with Eliot, but Dahlia had no idea she was going to inherit a fortune in art.”

“You don’t think he would have told her?”

“No way. She’s in a state of shock.”

“What about Pel and Sharon Rastburn?”

“She didn’t say anything about them. I don’t think they were part of it. The only people at the reading were Dahlia, Eliot, and Remy.”

Sunny put on a long camel jacket and ruffled her hair. “How do I look? Ready for date number two?”

“Classic textures, sexy lines. Nicely understated. Well done,” said Rivka. “Before we go, I want to show you something.”

She dug around in her bag and produced a digital camera. “Sit. I want to show you something Dahlia made. I know you’re still sleuthing, but you have to believe Dahlia would never harm anyone, especially Nathan. I took these at her house.”

Sunny sat on the edge of the bed and peered at the little screen on the back of the camera. It showed a wooden box open on one side, taller than it was wide, elaborately painted in crimson, orange, yellow, and purple.

“You can’t tell because it’s so little, but that’s a portrait of the seated Buddha floating in the top half of the box,” said Rivka. “Really beautiful.”

A ruby fringe hung down from the top edge. In front of the box, arranged on a scrap of orange silk, was a collection of votive candles, an ornate brass urn full of sand with the remains of incense sticking up from it, a copper bell of the sort that comes from India or Nepal, and a vase holding one white lily. There was a framed photograph that looked to be Nathan with
his arm around Dahlia. A candy necklace was draped over a corner of the photograph, and a Hershey bar and a fat navel orange sat in front of it. Standing in the corner in back was a bottle.

Sunny handed the camera to Rivka. “Look at the bottle in back. Can you tell what that is?”

Rivka shook her head.

“We need to get a better look at this.”

Sunny stomped into the front room and turned on the computer before Rivka could protest. She popped the tiny flash card out of the camera and into a port in the side of her printer, scrolled through to the frame she wanted, and hit print.

“So much for going early,” said Rivka, watching impatiently.

“It’s a test print. It’ll just be a second.”

The printer spat out a grainy eight by ten. Sunny examined it. In back, standing under the floating Buddha, was a clear glass bottle of liquor, shaped like a wine bottle, less than half full, with the distinctive tan label and rounded cursive font of Francis Darroze Bas-Armagnac.

“That’s it,” said Sunny. “I can’t see the bottom of the label, but that has to be the bottle of Armagnac Nathan kept behind the bar at Vinifera. Have a look.” She handed the print to Rivka. “Nick told me somebody swiped it between Saturday night and Monday afternoon. Obviously, it was Dahlia. We need to go out there and get that bottle.”

“Hang on,” said Rivka. “I’m having déjà vu. We went through this with the wine. If Dahlia put the poison in the bottle of Armagnac, she would have disposed of the bottle afterward. She wouldn’t have left it hanging around in a shrine at her house waiting for someone to come along and have it tested.”