Death By the Glass #2 (28 page)

“This sounds like a setup. I don’t like theatrics, and I’m not a snitch.”

“You won’t be snitching. You’re just going to tell the truth. If there’s nothing to be learned, we’ll all have a shot of brandy, wish Nathan well, and forget about the whole business. However, if my hunch is right, somebody at this restaurant is going to be very upset when they hear about your economizing.”

“I think I need to know where you found the bottle,” said Nick. “People will ask.”

“Just say it reappeared as silently as it disappeared.”

“That’s not true.”

“Okay, say that a certain individual removed it for sentimental reasons, then thought better of it and asked me to return it. When you saw it, you had the idea to use it to say bon voyage to Mr. Osborne.”

“Another lie.”

“That’s not a lie, that’s spin. I’m just trying to give you credit.”

“What’s this really about?”

“It’s about finding out what happened last Saturday night. Trust me.”

Nick shook his head. “Those are the two most dangerous words I know.”

The Rastburns did not need
to be persuaded. They were touched by the sentiment and more than happy to get up from their video, drive forty-five minutes down Valley, and join the party, despite the hour. Sunny thought it was testimony to their devotion to Nathan, or perhaps Eliot.

Rivka was a different story. “Why do you need my help? Can’t you have your inquisition without me?” she said.

“I could, except I need the Armagnac. It’s sitting on my kitchen table. Be a good lass and bring it down here? The key’s in the usual spot.”

“Inside the faux dog turd around the side of the house.”

“
Exactement.
”

“Mind explaining what you’ve got up your sleeve?”

“I would, but I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

“Throw me a bone.”

Sunny pinched the tiny phone awkwardly against her shoulder and opened her umbrella. She walked across Vinifera’s parking lot through the downpour to make sure she was out of earshot.

“Details later, but I think the only way to solve this is to force the guilty party to step forward, and I think I’ve found how to do it. This toast may be our last, best chance.”

There was a brief silence, then Rivka said, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Sunny hung up and dropped her phone back in her pocket. That was it. All she had to do now was wait until everyone arrived. She huddled under her umbrella and watched the rain strike the blacktop. She dug in her handbag for a mint, turned it on her tongue for a count of twenty, added five more for extra credit, then crunched it up, wondering what she would say to Andre when this was all over.

A few customers left the restaurant, no one arrived. The Rastburns pulled up sooner than she would have expected. They must have dashed for the door. They were more jovial than the occasion seemed to merit.

“A fine idea,” said Pel, striding up with hands in his pockets like a student. “Eliot must be coming to terms if he feels up to this. It’s a lot to lose your best friend.”

Sharon followed behind, beaming from under an umbrella. She stood beside them and shook off the water. “We wouldn’t miss it,” she said.

They lingered under the awning, the Rastburns lulled briefly by the rain, Sunny stalling for time. A moment later, Rivka drove into the lot, then walked up carrying a brown paper bag. Sunny introduced her.

“Shall we join the others?” said Pel.

Inside, the restaurant stood empty except for a foursome chatting over coffee in one of the booths along the far wall and another couple talking softly at the bar. A collection of staff from the front of the house had pushed a string of tables together and were serving themselves from platters of polenta, roasted root vegetables, and a pork loin. Family meal was going to be indoors tonight. Sunny led the way to the bar, where Nick was waiting.

“Are we ready?” she said.

“I’m ready if you are,” said Nick. He handed her a tray of empty glasses and took up another himself. He gestured to Remy, who walked to the kitchen door and leaned in. A few minutes later, several of the kitchen staff collected around the group seated at the long table. No one knew exactly what was going on and they whispered to each other, waiting for whatever announcement was to take place. Nick stood at the head of the table. Andre came out of the kitchen looking somber and sat down. Dahlia was already seated at the far end of the table, talking to one of the other servers. The Rastburns sat across from them with Rivka. Remy came over and Nick whispered something to him. Remy went to the phone by the bar and made a call. Soon after, Eliot appeared at the top of the staircase. He took in the group below him. A flash of surprise was swiftly replaced by annoyance, and just as quickly glossed over by enthusiasm. He jogged down the stairs with a gracious smile.

“What’s going on?” Eliot asked Nick.

Nick made eye contact with Sunny and she nodded. “We all know how Nathan liked his Armagnac,” he began in a toastmaster’s loud voice. “Straight up and the more expensive the better.” Everyone chuckled. He went on. “Someone, and it seems we may never know who, took the liberty of removing Nathan’s favorite bottle after he died.” The chuckles stopped. “I assumed it was gone for good, but today it happens to have reappeared.” He put the paper bag on the table and pulled the bottle out of it. He took a moment to examine the label, then put it back down. “Which brings me to something of a confession. Since Nathan’s death I’ve suffered a guilty conscience for my complicity in a ruse originated by our own Remy Castels.”

The group turned to Remy, who stood stone-faced. Andre flicked his eyes to Sunny. She thought she detected more than a
hint of irritation. Pel and Sharon looked at Eliot, smiling slightly with anticipation of a heartwarming anecdote. Nick continued. He seemed to relish the opportunity to make a presentation. “It started a couple of years ago. Eliot, you’d been complaining about the comp tab at the bar. Remy pointed out that about half of it could be eliminated if we could persuade Nathan to drink a VSOP instead of his usual. As there was little chance of that, we decided to take matters into our own hands.” He explained about the two bottles. The group shifted nervously. Sunny looked at Dahlia, who stared at Nick with an amused look on her face. She turned to Eliot. His face had drained of color.

Nick held up the bottle. “As luck would have it, we’ve been blessed with the real stuff. Personally, I am going to assume it was the ghost of Nathan Osborne who returned it, and the fact that he chose to return the genuine article is his way of saying no hard feelings. Wherever he is, I hope Nathan will forgive me. It was, mostly, for the greater good of Vinifera.”

There was another round of chuckles. Most people seemed comfortable with the story. Nick pulled the cork and poured a splash in each glass. “Everyone take a glass and we’ll have a toast,” he said, as the glasses circulated. “Eliot, would you do the honors?”

Eliot stood rigid with his glass stiffly in hand. He looked around the table, his eyes darting from one face to another in a mute display of panic. All eyes on him, they waited, glasses at the ready. He looked from one end of the table to the other, woefully, then turned back to Nick. All the while he said nothing.

Andre cleared his throat nervously and put on an over-gracious smile. He shot Nick an icy look. “Maybe Eliot needs a moment to think,” he said. “It’s been a difficult week for all of us. It’s usually better to give people a little notice before they’re going to be put on the spot.” Nick looked suddenly deflated and
a deep blush spread across his cheeks.

Sunny avoided Nick’s eyes and pinched the foot of her glass, swirling the splash of golden liquid. Andre continued. “Nathan and I had our differences,” he said, “but we shared an appreciation for authenticity and craftsmanship. Nathan was a perfectionist, and if we differed in our opinions on what constituted perfection, we shared the belief that satisfaction was to be found in attention to detail. Nathan was exactly the kind of man who would have been deeply annoyed by the prank Nick has just described, if it weren’t for his sense of humor, the trait that saved him from being boorish. He will be missed.”

Andre raised his glass and around the table others stood, waiting to drink as soon as his toast was finished. “Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest. To Nathan.”

“Stop!” yelled Eliot. “No one drink. Do not drink.” Eliot cast a pleading look around the table. “No one must drink the Armagnac.”

“What is it?” asked Andre.

“Osborne,” choked Eliot. “That son of a bitch. You have to understand. He ruined me. He destroyed Denby’s, destroyed my dreams. But that wasn’t good enough. He had to play the same game all over again.” He turned on Andre ferociously. “He drained the restaurant. He didn’t even need the money, Andre. Do you know what’s in those precious alcoves downstairs? Nothing. Most of that wine is practically worthless. Everything I ever worked for was a big joke to him. When I confronted him, he just laughed.”

Monty heaved an armload
of vine canes onto the fire. He stared into the heart of orange embers and watched the flames lick up around the new fuel. Sunny picked up a stray cane and poked at the blaze, flicking errant stalks back into the heat. They’d been burning vine trimmings all morning in a light drizzle. Rivka stood meditatively testing the toe of her rubber boot against the fire, seeing how long it could tolerate the heat.

Monty tossed another armful of cane onto the fire and pushed the wheelbarrow back into the tool shed. He came back looking pleased with himself. “That’s it. That’s the last of it.”

“I still can’t believe you were right,” said Rivka.

“Neither can Steve Harvey,” said Sunny. She shivered. “He was still shaking his head when I met him this morning. Remy has been talking a blue streak. They’re going to test Osborne’s body today. I hope those guys in forensics make good money.”

“Forget the guys in the lab, what about the folks who have to dig him up?” said Monty. “You couldn’t pay me enough.”

They sat silently watching the bonfire until it had burned down to a circle of white ash with a marmalade core, then walked up to the house to make a late lunch. Monty and Rivka stood out on the deck, staring at the fog sitting low on the bare
vineyard. Wade Skord, whose home they were enjoying like it was their own, would be back in a week. The burning could have waited for his return or his return from the next year’s vacation for that matter, but the day had been perfect for it and Sunny had craved it: the smell, the mesmerizing undulations of flame, the crackle of the dry canes, the heat on her face and cold day at her back. Monty and Rivka felt the same way. They’d jumped at the first mention of the word
bonfire
.

Sunny came out of the house onto the deck carrying a bottle of wine. She splashed some into Monty’s glass. He wrinkled his nose. “Not the Safeway Red again.”

“You’re always so snobby about my
Falcon Crest
special,” said Sunny. “I think it’s entirely drinkable, especially for the price. You should give it a chance. Just taste it once without expecting to hate it.”

“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “You were extremely lucky. What if you were wrong and the poison wasn’t yew tree? All you tested that Armagnac for was taxine. What if it had arsenic or ant poison or who knows what else in it? What if Eliot hadn’t snapped? You could have killed off the whole staff at Vinifera in one blow.”

Sunny filled her own glass. “It frightens me to admit that I hadn’t thought of that.”

“You think it frightens you. I’m the one who’d have to deal with the ramifications. Who would I have dinner with on Friday nights if you two weren’t here?”

“Your girlfriend?” Sunny said.

“Annabelle? I should be so lucky. The woman spends more time on the road than Mick Jagger.”

“I suppose if no one had come forward I would have had the sense to stop everyone from drinking,” said Sunny. “At least I hope I would have. Except it honestly hadn’t occurred to me that
that bottle might have something else toxic in it. I was so focused on the yew tree aspect.”

“Can we stop poking around other people’s affairs now?” said Rivka. “I just want everything to get back to normal.”

“I’m still shocked that Nathan Osborne never guessed he was being duped by Castels serving him whatever wine happened to be around, let alone Cognac in place of Armagnac,” said Monty. “The guy knew everything there was to know about wine and brandy.”

“He was so busy practicing his own deceit he probably never had time to wonder what other people were up to,” said Sunny. “He spent more than a decade defrauding Eliot Denby.”

“What made Eliot suspicious in the first place?” asked Rivka. “He hadn’t figured it out in ten years.”

“I wondered that too,” said Sunny. “Apparently Eliot stumbled across one of Nathan’s phony invoices by accident. It was marked received with a date that was still a week away and he got suspicious. He confronted Remy, Remy confessed everything he knew to save his own hide, and they cut a deal. Eliot said he’d let Remy off if he kept quiet and didn’t tell anyone he had figured out what was going on. Eliot said he would straighten things out with Nathan; Remy didn’t know how. He thought Eliot was keeping quiet because he didn’t want the press to get hold of the story.”

“We nailed that whole broken bottle fiasco early on,” said Monty. “I’ll take credit for that, if you don’t mind. I knew it was Remy.”

“Uh, I think that was me, but you can take credit if you want,” said Sunny.

“And why did he do it? Why not just leave it there?” said Rivka.

“Remy was terrified,” said Sunny. “He had all the pressure he could handle worrying about whether or not Eliot was going to turn him in. The last thing he wanted was for Nathan to see his bit of handiwork with the wine-club Marceline. He probably knew Nathan well enough to guess that he would use it in any way he could. Blackmail, for example. So, in a panic, Remy decided to sneak into Nathan’s house and swap the fake Marceline with the real stuff, just like we guessed. Everything was fine until he spotted Nathan and was so startled he dropped the bottle he was carrying.”