Murder By the Glass Page 10

  Her cell phone rang in the middle of mentally beating herself up, and the question was answered as to how she’d get home when the voice on the other end heard her predicament.

  “I’ll come and get you. See you in about half an hour.”

  Cannelloni Florentine

  with Pezzi King Vineyard’s

  Old Vine Zinfandel

  Snooping and gossiping are the two hobbies in a woman’s life that require carbs. No—seriously. Look at Nikki’s situation. She has to solve a murder and dish the dirt with a gal who might actually be the killer! Now, granted, you may never find yourself in this exact situation. However, there has to have been at least a time or two when you found yourself with piqued curiosity where you just had to find out the truth. When that happens, there is no better remedy than energy food, and no matter what, the carbs might slow you down for the night, but the next day . . . you’ll be a mad woman, and ready to take on the world. So, go ahead and make a dish that will help you dish the dirt—cannelloni stuffed with spinach and covered in a meat and tomato sauce, which pairs beautifully with Pezzi King Vineyard’s Old Vine Zinfandel. This is a big, traditional Zinfandel with strong berry flavors, allspice, and a lingering maple syrup finish. It’s a classic!

  This recipe does not come straight from Della Santina’s, but is user friendly and tastes almost as good.

  1 (8 oz) package cannelloni pasta

  8 oz ground veal

  2 carrots chopped

  1⁄2 celery stalk, chopped

  1⁄2 yellow onion, chopped

  10 oz spinach, rinsed and chopped

  11⁄4 tsp salt

  11⁄4 tsp pepper

  2 tbsp olive oil

  2 cups dry white wine

  1 cup heavy cream

  1 cup Roma (plum) tomatoes, diced

  1⁄2 cup grated Parmesan cheese

  2 tsp Italian seasoning

  2 tbsp chopped basil

  2 tsp extra virgin olive oil

  2 cloves garlic, minced

  1 chopped onion

  1 tsp salt

  1 tsp black pepper

  4 leaves fresh basil, chopped

  Bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil. Add pasta and cook for 8-10 minutes or until al dente; drain, separate shells, and set aside.

  Preheat oven to 500°. In a 9 × 13 baking dish, combine veal, carrots, celery, chopped onion and spinach. Stir well. Stir in 11⁄4 tsp salt and 11⁄4 tsp pepper, 2 tbsp olive oil, and white wine. Place in oven and roast until veal is brown and vegetables are soft, 30 to 40 minutes. Stir frequently. If meat begins to smoke, reduce heat to 400°.

  Let meat mixture cool 15 minutes, then process in food processor until finely chopped. Return to pan and stir in cream, Roma tomatoes, Parmesan cheese, Italian seasoning, and 2 tbsp basil. Bake 20 minutes more. Remove from oven and let cool.

  While meat mixture is cooling enough to handle, make tomato sauce. Puree canned tomatoes with their juice in food processor until smooth. In large skillet over medium heat, heat 2 tbsp virgin olive oil. Sauté garlic and chopped onion until soft. Stir in puréed tomato, 1 tsp salt and 1 tsp pepper. Cook 5-10 minutes, or until no longer watery. Add four chopped basil leaves and cook one more minute.

  Reduce oven to 350°. Stuff pasta shells with cooled meat mixture, 2-3 tbsp per shell. Place shells in clean 9 × 13 baking dish. Pour tomato sauce over shells and bake 20 minutes, or until sauce is bubbly.

  Chapter 10

  After she’d returned from the restroom, Deirdre’s senses appeared to have taken hold of her as she’d asked Nikki not to repeat anything that she’d said. She’d also added that she was truly sorry poor Susan had been murdered. She didn’t buy that Deirdre was totally sorry, but for now Nikki was only accumulating information.

  Their conversation turned light as they talked about clothes and movie stars. Nikki never let on to Deirdre that it had once been her dream to be in the spotlight in Hollywood.

  Andrés arrived as the women were chatting about Brad Pitt’s abs. “Looks like you two are having a grand time,” he said. Then he offered to take them home.

  The quick ride down the road to Deirdre’s house was quiet, as the alcohol seemed to kind of settle in on both women.

  Nikki expected a lecture from Andrés once Deirdre was locked safely inside her place, but she was wrong.

  “I think it’s good that you’re making friends and having fun. I wish Isabel was more willing to venture out and meet people.” He stopped almost in mid-sentence. “Now, I only hope that she’ll have that chance.”

  “She will. We have to believe that, and I think I could be getting closer to finding out who really killed Susan Jennings.”

  He looked sharply at her. “What are you talking about, Nikki?”

  “You know, I wasn’t having a leisurely dinner with Deirdre. I think that would be kind of cold to be out with a ‘friend,’ while my dear friend sits behind bars. I know how it might have looked to you, but it’s not what you think.”

  “You were fishing, weren’t you?”

  “Yep, and I think I’ve set out some bait and we might be able to hook a big fish.”

  “No, Nikki. I don’t like this at all. I know you only want to help Isabel, but the fact is there is a killer out there, and your hunting around like this doesn’t sit well with me. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I’m not going to get hurt, and face it, the cops aren’t looking any further than your sister. I’ll be careful.”

  “I’ve got the attorney pushing for more of an investigation from the Sheriff ’s department. I think that’s a better route than putting you in danger.”

  “Okay, I’ll leave it alone and let the police handle it.” Means to an end—the truth.

  “Nikki . . .” He looked sideways at her.

  “I’ll be careful, and I’ll be discreet. Let me just ask my questions and see what I can find out.”

  He groaned. “You can be aggravating.”

  “I’ve been told that before.”

  “By your aunt no doubt.”

  Nikki nodded.

  “Isabel is the only family that I have left. I want to be around her. I want her to marry and have kids so I can be an uncle and be a part of a larger family. I’m going to do everything I can to get her out of this mess.”

  “I agree, and that’s what I’m doing.”

  “Promise me you’ll be careful. I’d like to see you have a family too, one day.”

  “Cross my heart. What about you? Don’t you want to marry and have children?”

  Andrés shifted the car into lower gear as they started down Oakville Grade. He grew silent for a moment, and in a softer voice replied, “I want to get married and have children more than I can express.”

  At first Nikki didn’t know how to respond. “You just have to find the right woman.”

  “Who says that I haven’t?”

  Okay, now Nikki really didn’t know how to respond. Ask who? Ignore it? What? What to say? She was happy in that second that she was liquored up. She could use it as an excuse if it ever came up again that she didn’t have any recollection of him ever mentioning marriage or the right woman.

  They were quiet for several minutes as Andrés wheeled his truck down the hill and into Napa. He turned on the radio. An old Tears For Fears song was playing. “Head Over Heels.” When the song got to the chorus, Andrés stole another glance at Nikki. This time there was no meaning lost on her as the singer belted out the words, “Don’t break my heart, don’t throw it away.”

  They turned into Malveaux Estate and pulled up next to the cottage. “Why don’t you come in for some chai tea?” she asked. In spite of his last comment and the silence between them that had ensued, she didn’t want to end the night on that strange note, especially since he’d been so gracious as to take his time to drive to Sonoma and get her tipsy ass home.

  “Sounds good.”

  He turned off the engine and they walked toward the cottage. Reaching the porch, h
eadlights turned down the road and looked to be coming their way, but then they swerved and headed back up the hill.

  “What was that all about?” Andrés asked.

  “If I had to guess, I’d say that was the Boys of Summer.”

  “Simon and Marco have graced you with their presence again?”

  “You said it. It’s always a pleasure to have them around.”

  After making the tea, they sat and talked late into the evening. She sobered up after a while and enjoyed his company. He was easy to talk to and a good listener, and when he got on the topic of winemaking, the passion in him that she’d noticed when they first met shone through.

  “You know that saying about wine and women, how they get better with age? It’s true. The comparison, whoever made it, is brilliant,” he said.

  “Okay, you’re gonna have to explain this one to me.”

  “A young wine is tart and untamed. You never know how the wine is going to taste, like a girl who has entered that stage of being a woman. She’s unpredictable, emotional, and unstable. A wine that has sat in the barrel and mellowed is smooth, elegant, sweet with enough tang to be interesting.”

  “Tell me, what age of woman are you talking about? One who as you say, has all of those refined qualities?”

  “I don’t think a woman gets truly interesting until she hits at least thirty. Before that, I’ve discovered that finding the substance is usually difficult. And then, with each year after her third decade, a woman only gets better. My mother in her seventies was one of the most beautiful, interesting and wise women that I’ve ever known.”

  Nikki set her teacup down on the coffee table in front of her. “I think you’re an exception because lately I’ve encountered the opposite.” She told him about Daveed, and his bunny. She also reflected on Marty and Pamela, but didn’t want to bring up the subject of the Waltmans and the wedding gone awry again.

  “That’s an empty life. It’s not for me.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got to get going. I’m going to visit Isabel in the morning and we have another meeting with the attorney.” He kissed her cheek, lingering a bit longer than usual.

  After he left, Nikki touched the side of her face where his lips had been. She couldn’t help wondering what type of life Andrés Fernandez was looking for, and with whom did he want to live it?

  Chapter 11

  Nikki signed the sympathy card she’d bought the day before and after work took off for the Waltman Castle. She’d thought to add a bouquet of fresh flowers to go along with the card and had made a stop at a florist’s.

  Sara Waltman opened the door to the castle, and ushered Nikki inside. “Those are beautiful. I’m sure Kristof will appreciate them. But you shouldn’t have spent so much. They must have cost a fortune. That gold digger wouldn’t have appreciated them. Come on inside and make yourself comfortable in the sitting room. Marty has set out the evening tray of treats and has gone to visit the cellar for some wine. I’m going to change out of my house coat and into something a bit nicer.”

  Nikki looked down at her khakis and powder blue J. Crew sweater and wondered if the Waltmans dressed for dinner. They didn’t seem that uptight.

  As if Sara had read her mind she said, “I’ve worn this all day, and damn if I haven’t started to smell like an old woman.”

  Nikki stifled her laughter at this and reached across to the marble coffee table for a piece of Havarti cheese on Waterman cracked pepper crackers.

  She took a glance around the room, and though she’d been inside the castle the other day, she hadn’t taken in this room spruced up with chintz, velvet, silks, and damask in shades of cream and pale yellow. The furniture was comfortable but looked way too nice to allow anyone to sit on it. It was twice the size of her cottage and reminded her of the movies she’d seen with an eighteenth-century backdrop where everyone goes to the party and dances around in their flowing gowns with men wearing white curly wigs. At the far end of the room stood a massive fireplace with a mahogany and marble mantel. Above the mantel was an oil painting of Marty and Kristof when Kristof was probably about eight. If memory served Nikki correctly, that would’ve been only a couple of years after his mother left the household.

  There were other oil-painted portraits on the wall and as Nikki scanned them she was sure she found the one of Ben Waltman, Sara’s grandfather—the bastard geezer. Looking at the portrait Nikki could see that Ben didn’t appear to be a happy man, with an almost turned-down lip, a hook nose, long neck, black hair, and coal-colored eyes that made Nikki gasp. She could’ve sworn those eyes were staring at her. It was unnerving.

  “Hello,” a woman’s voice from behind her echoed off the walls in the room.

  Nikki jumped and dropped her cracker and cheese onto the Oriental rug that lay atop the walnut hardwood floor. She scooped the scrap into her hand and stood up. Pamela Leiland entered the room looking as gazelle-like as always, with her dark hair slicked back into a long ponytail. She wore a white one-piece jumpsuit which tied into a halter in the back, revealing quite a bit of cleavage. Apparently the Waltmans did dress for dinner. Pamela’s flawless skin reminded Nikki to continue wearing sunscreen daily. The amazing thing was the woman was so beautiful that she only wore a hint of lip gloss and possibly some pale pink blush.

  Pamela extended her arm and manicured hand out to Nikki. In the other hand she held a glass of champagne. “Nikki Sands, isn’t it?”

  Nikki nodded. “Yes.”

  “I know we’ve bumped into each other before and I saw you, I think, over at Grapes having lunch with Isabel the day before the wedding, but we haven’t formally met. My apologies. I’m Pamela Leiland. Please sit down. Can I get you anything to drink? Some wine, tea, water?”

  “No, thank you.” Pamela had definitely settled right into the Waltman Castle without a hitch. She was running this place like the mistress of the manor.

  “Marty will be in momentarily and I believe Kristof might try and join us this evening. He’s still quite depressed over Susan.” Pamela sat down in a velvet wing backed chair.

  “He must be.”

  “We all are. It’s been very difficult. I’m still in a state of shock. I suppose that explains the formalities and the champagne and continuing to do everything the way Susan would have done them, or would be doing them right now.”

  “I don’t know if I understand.”

  Pamela brought her hand up to a diamond necklace around her neck and nervously toyed with it. “You have a best friend, I’m sure. You seem like a nice woman. Someone who probably has a lot of friends.”

  Nikki shrugged. She didn’t know about the plethora of pals, but she did have a best friend who was now in jail for a murder she didn’t commit.

  “Susan was my best friend. We had been for years. I loved her like a sister, a lot more than her real sister.” Pamela smirked. “There’s this part of me that keeps saying that she’s just on a vacation, one of her jaunts to a new spa, and that she’ll be back. I keep thinking, God, if I go about my day the way I would normally, then maybe she’ll come waltzing in.”

  “Denial.”

  “Yes, I suppose,” Pamela whispered, and reached for a tissue off the table beside her and dabbed at her cheeks and eyes.

  “It must be hard. I am so sorry, especially since you lost your husband only a year ago.”

  Pamela’s pale face went alabaster at this comment.

  “Antoine Ferrino. You were married to him. Weren’t you?”

  Pamela nodded slowly. “I was, and it has been hard. Antoine was a very good man and I loved him deeply.”

  “I’m sure you did.” Nikki would have to tiptoe around this one, but she had questions to ask. Either Pamela Leiland was one helluva an actress or she truly was in mourning for her friend. The thing bugging Nikki was Pamela’s attitude. She was indeed playing lady of the house, and it didn’t totally ring true. She knew how Sara Waltman felt about Susan. Wouldn’t she feel that same way about Pamela? The woman had to be the second of a two pe
as in a pod couple—money-hungry gold diggers. Or was Pamela’s friendship with Susan based on that old adage about opposites attracting? “You seem pretty close to Marty.”

  Once again, the eye dabbing with the tissue. “I didn’t expect to fall for Marty. Not at all. I obviously met him through Susan and Kristof and we connected. He’s actually been very healing and helpful for me.” She lowered her eyes and voice. “He’s not Antoine. Antoine was the love of my life, but I know I need to move on. That’s what Antoine would’ve wanted and that’s what I’m trying to do and Marty is trying to help me. Now with Susan being gone, I don’t know. I can’t go back to the city right now. Susan and I shared a condominium near the embarcadero before she made the move out here. There’s still so much of her in the condo that I don’t feel like I can go back there. Not yet. Jennifer, her sister, is there now.”