How to Dine on Killer Wine: A Party-Planning Mystery (11 page)

“Yes, of course,” Kyle said. “Except for a couple of bathroom breaks. That wine goes right through me.” He chuckled at his lame joke.

Bathroom breaks would place him in the hallway at some point, I thought.

“What about the others at the party?” the detective asked. “Did you notice anyone missing for any length of time?”

“No, not that I recall. Rob, Marie, Allison, and Javier made regular trips inside for more wine, but nothing unusual. You know how it is, hosting a party. There are a million things to do to make sure your guests are enjoying themselves.”

From the blank expression on the detective’s face, it was obvious he didn’t know how it was. I wondered if he’d ever even had a birthday party when he was a kid.

“So Rob Christopher left the party several times?”

“Well, sure, but I didn’t mean to imply…Look, Ken, talk to Nick Madeira or Dennis Brien. I overheard them at the party, talking about JoAnne showing up at Rob’s private event the night before. Maybe they saw her sneak in.”

“What did you hear?” the detective asked.

“Well, you’ll have to get the details from Nick and Dennis. But apparently JoAnne came bursting into their private room at the culinary college and threatened Rob, saying she was going to ruin his party. Everyone knows those two didn’t get along. But Rob wouldn’t hurt a fly. A grape moth, maybe. But not a fly.”

Kyle looked at me standing nearby, obviously eavesdropping. The detective caught Kyle’s look and turned to me. He eyed me a few seconds longer than was comfortable, then closed his notebook and headed to where the neighbors, the Madeiras and the Briens, were talking.

By the time I turned back to Kyle, he had dashed to Marie’s side and was sitting next to her, caressing her hand. The glassy-winged sharpshooter had nothing on this pasty-faced wine sucker.

I was about to mosey around the party area when I caught sight of Allison in the front doorway. She was busily thumbing the keyboard of her cell phone. What was she doing—tweeting the news?

I took a circuitous route until I was near enough to listen in on the conversation between Detective Kelly and the two neighboring couples. Dennis Brien was in the midst of lambasting the deceased, calling her and her Green Grape “fanatical do-gooders.”

“She was the one who’s been harassing Rob and the rest of us,” Dennis said. “The other night she came busting into our private room at the culinary college and accused Rob of practically ruining the wine country single-handedly. She thought his wine-tasting event last night had some kind of political agenda to kill her new bill. But that wasn’t true. He just wanted to celebrate his latest wine. The woman is—was—a nuisance.”

“Why did she single out Christopher?” Detective Kelly asked.

“Who knows? I mean, she had it in for anyone who wanted to expand, which Rob planned to do.”

“Maybe she was mad because she wasn’t invited to his party,” Dennis’s wife, KJ, suggested.

“I doubt it,” Dennis said. “I think he did something to rub her the wrong way. She was always on his case, from the moment they moved here. But still, it wasn’t enough to make him want to kill her, if that’s what you’re thinking. Whoever did this has to be some kind
of mental case. I should know. I was always getting threats while I was governor of California. Luckily nothing ever came of them.”

“It was awful how she died,” KJ said, wincing. “A corkscrew. How bizarre.”

“Did any of you see anything last night at the wine tasting that seemed unusual?” the detective asked the four of them. “Anything that might have been suspicious?”

They all shook their heads. Then Nick Madeira turned to his wife. “Wait a minute. Claudette, when you went to the restroom, you said you stopped to admire Rob’s collection and noticed the glass was broken on one of them.”

“Yes,” Claudette said, “but I didn’t think anything of it.”

“What time was this?” the detective asked her.

“Oh goodness, I have no idea. I was in and out several times.” She blushed, talking about her trips to the bathroom. Or was it something else that caused her to color?

“Was Rob there?”

“I might have passed him in the hallway. But then, I passed several people on their way to use the facilities.”

Uh-oh
, I thought, a sinking feeling settling in my gut. While I was glad the focus had temporarily been taken off me, I had a sense Rob was quickly becoming a viable suspect. Naturally his fingerprints would be on the frame. That didn’t mean anything. But would they also be on the Killer Parties corkscrew inside the frame? And on the one used to kill JoAnne Douglas?

I stood back, taking it all in, and remembered what Brad had taught me about determining who might be a suspect. It had to be someone who had MOM—motive, opportunity, and method. It sounded as if Rob had motive, since he wanted to protect his property from JoAnne’s new bill. He certainly had method—the corkscrew—but why would he use the one in the case? It would point directly to him. Why not one of the corkscrews on the serving tables? Weren’t they strong enough to do the job?

As for opportunity, everyone at the party had gone down that hallway to the bathroom. And anyone could have stabbed JoAnne under the table. Had she been hiding there all evening? Had she been killed there, or murdered elsewhere and her body dragged to the party table? And when had it happened? Before the party began or after it ended, when fewer people were around? Then again, maybe the killer did it during the party, when everyone was busy drinking, eating, and socializing.

Hopefully the ME would have a more specific time when she finished her exam.

Brad was on the phone when I found him a few minutes later. He held up a finger to let me know he’d be done in a minute, so I waited and watched the EMTs place the body into a body bag and transport it to the ambulance. The officers, including Detective Kelly, looked as if they were packing up. Apparently they were done interrogating the witnesses.

Brad hung up. “What’s up? Learn anything eavesdropping on everyone’s conversations?”

How well he knew me.

“A little,” I said. “What about you? Who were you talking to?”

“Luke.”

That would be Detective Luke Melvin from the San Francisco Police Department and Brad’s good buddy.

“What about?”

“I asked him if he could do a criminal record search on a few of these people.”

“And?”

“He said he’d get back to—”

Brad stopped midsentence. Someone was shouting. I turned to see Rob arguing with Detective Kelly, shaking his head and gesturing with his finger. He kept repeating the words “No! No! I told you!”

“Either you come to the station for questioning on your own,” Detective Kelly said, “or I’ll take you into custody in handcuffs right now. Is that what you want?”

Rob shot a frantic look at Kyle, who stood hovering nearby. “Fine!” Rob said. “I’ll come. But you’re wasting your time. I’ve told you everything I know. And I have no idea how that corkscrew got there, but it wasn’t me.”

Kyle Bennett put a reassuring hand on Rob’s shoulder. “Calm down, buddy. I’ll handle this. They’re just taking you in for questioning. They can’t hold you without cause, and they don’t have anything. I’ll follow you downtown.”

Rob looked disoriented, as if the ground had been pulled out from under him. If he was innocent, why was he so upset about going to the police station to be
questioned? I assumed Kyle was his attorney by the way he’d stepped up, so Rob would be protected once there. But still, no one likes being questioned by the police. I knew that from personal experience.

Marie stood up and rushed to Rob’s side. She said something to him; then he gave her a kiss on the cheek and got into the back of a police car. Moments later he was gone.

Mother wrapped an arm around Marie and led her into the house.

I called my team over. Dee, Berkeley, Duncan, Rocco, and Raj gathered around, waiting for my orders.

“Guys, sorry about this,” I said. “If the detective wants you to stay for more questioning, I’ll comp another night at your B and B. As soon as we’re packed up here, take the rest of the day off, go enjoy the wine country. Thanks again for all your help. You did a great job, as usual.”

I got sympathetic pats and smiles as my crew headed back to finish the last of their cleanup tasks. The guys, including Brad, put the heavy stuff in the rental truck, while Rocco and Gina took care of the kitchen. Mother helped me load the smaller boxes of party fare into Brad’s SUV, and Dee collected the party platters and bowls. By lunchtime, with no sign of Rob’s return, Rocco and Gina brought out sandwiches and fruit to my hungry and tired crew.

Marie appeared briefly, looking tired, and thanked everyone. She insisted Mother and I stay an extra night until “this mess” was cleared up. “I could use the company,” she said wearily, slurring her words slightly. I wondered if she’d taken some medication or started
early on the wine. After exchanging a few words with Allison, she returned to the house and disappeared inside.

I marveled at the dissimilarity of the two sisters. Allison, dressed in her tight jeans shorts, purple beaded tank top, and glittery Pedro Garcia sandals, had a bounce in her step and a smile on her face. Marie, wearing khaki capris, a loose-fitting white blouse, and flat Burberry sandals, appeared deflated, drowsy, and worn out. Allison got into one of the cars from Rob’s garage—a white Mercedes—and drove off without a word to anyone. I wondered where she was going—and what she was thinking.

After lunch, my crew left to do some touristy stuff. Brad took a call about a cleanup in the city and left before he got a call back from Detective Melvin. “I’ll try to be back tonight,” he said, giving me a kiss good-bye. “And you try not to get anyone killed while I’m gone.”

I gave him a dry smile and the stink eye, then returned his kiss, wishing he could stay and enjoy an afternoon in the wine country with me.

“Presley dear,” Mother said, appearing after he’d gone. “I’ve got a great idea!”

“What’s that, Mother?” I said, sighing. “Another mud bath? I don’t think I’m up for it this afternoon.”

“No, no. Something better that will take your mind off things.”

I knew there was no arguing with my mother. Besides, I had promised her a nice relaxing mini-vacation in the wine country. And there was nothing I could do for Rob at the moment.

“All right, Mom. What would you like to do? You don’t drink, so wine tasting is out. Go to an art show? Take the wine train? Hot-air balloon?”

“None of those things. I thought we’d do something that I’m sure will help you solve this murder case.”

I couldn’t help but grin at her. “Oh really? Like what? Search for hidden clues? Interrogate a list of suspects? Put together a sleuth kit with a flashlight, magnifying glass, and notebook?”

“Don’t be silly, Presley. You’ve been reading too many Agatha Christies.”

“Agatha’s more your style, Mom. I prefer Nancy Drew. So what exactly is your big plan to figure out who done it?”

“Bingo!”

“Bingo?” I repeated. “You’re kidding, Mother. We found a dead woman at my party and you want to play bingo? I don’t think this is an appropriate time—”

“Oh, Presley,” Mother said. “You wouldn’t believe the way people gossip at that place. Every time Larry left the table to get me a snack, the other women there told me all kinds of stories about some of the more colorful characters in the valley. When I mentioned I was staying at the Purple Grape, tongues started wagging about the Rob-and-JoAnne feud. You want information, play bingo.”

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

“Well, first of all, I’m not one for idle talk…”

I nearly laughed out loud at that prevarication.

“And secondly, gossip is just that—gossip. It’s not fact until proven. You taught me that with your murder investigating.”

“Then why go there now and listen to more gossip?” I asked.

“Because. You know what Barbara Walters says.”

“No, actually, I don’t.”

“‘Show me someone who never gossips, and I’ll show you someone who isn’t interested in people.’” She gave a “so there” nod of her head.

I couldn’t argue with that. I checked my watch. Nothing to do here, now that my stuff was packed up and the party area was a crime scene. Plus, that cop had told me not to leave town. Brad most likely wouldn’t be back until evening. What the hell. A little bingo might not be a bad idea. And who knew? Maybe I
would
hear some gossip about the people involved in this murder. One of our topics in my abnormal psychology class was on the evolutionary biology of gossip. I’d asked my students to discuss the social-bonding aspects of gossip, which can actually bring people together. Mother had a point. Gossip offered a wealth of additional information—as long as it wasn’t misinformation.