Murder By the Glass Read online

  Andrés walked over and put his arm around Isabel. “I put Mary in charge of finishing this up. I’m going to drive you home. You need some rest. I’ll come back and make sure it all gets done.”

  “I should stay. It is my job,” Isabel protested.

  “Your brother is right. Have you spoken with the police?” Nikki asked both of them. They had.

  “Why do you two play parents to me?” Isabel laughed through her tears.

  “Because we both know what’s good for you,” Nikki replied.

  “She’s right. Now come on. Get your things. Let’s go.”

  Isabel stood and hugged Nikki. Andrés gave Nikki his usual sweet kiss on the cheek and she watched as they left through the kitchen’s back door.

  Walking back to the front of the castle, Nikki saw that the door to the den was open. She peeked inside the dimly lit room and spotted what looked to be the envelope that had been delivered earlier to Sara Waltman and it appeared to have been opened. In all the commotion someone had found it. The likely candidate would have been Sara herself since it was addressed to her.

  She knew she should have better control and should probably push aside her inclination to play Nancy Drew, but she didn’t. Instead she snuck into the den and before she could change her mind, she was reaching inside the envelope.

  “Oh, no,” she said to herself, holding the edge of a black and white photo and quickly thumbing through a handful more.

  “Excuse me? Hello?”

  Nikki looked up to see Sara standing in the doorway, her eyes squinting as if trying to focus. Nikki shoved the envelope behind her back and inched it back onto the desk, hoping the older woman hadn’t noticed that she’d been holding it in her hands. She was grateful that the room was poorly lit, but not so poorly that Nikki didn’t know that what she’d seen in those photos was indeed a reason for one or more members of the Waltman clan, or even someone else, to have murdered Susan.

  Chapter 5

  Nikki had to think fast on her feet and hope the older woman bought her story. “Hi. I was looking for my purse,” she said, knowing that Derek had offered to take it with him as he headed out to the car.

  “It wouldn’t be in here,” Sara remarked.

  “I realize that now. An attendant took it from me for safekeeping in one of these rooms when we first arrived for the wedding. With everything that happened tonight, I can’t remember which room she told me it would be in.”

  “The coat room, dear. All the coats and purses were to be put into the coat room.”

  “Of course,” Nikki replied, laying a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I can be a bit ditzy sometimes.”

  “Oh, I doubt that,” Sara replied. “You’re that young woman who works for Derek Malveaux. The one who helped solve the winemaker’s murder some months back. I recognize you from the papers. Such a brave girl you are.”

  “Not me. I didn’t really solve anything. I really should be going. Sorry to have gotten lost.”

  “Yes, you have to be careful around this old place. My grandfather walks these halls, you know. I hear him at times. He was a son of a bitch, even worse in death than life as he’s always banging around wanting to keep us from sleep since he can’t seem to rest in peace himself.”

  Nikki was startled by Sara’s terminology for her grandfather, albeit she couldn’t help but be amused by it.

  “I’ve even had a shaman over here to get the old bastard to go to the Light or somewhere but here, but no. He doesn’t have my grandmother or mother to torment anymore; because there’s no doubt when those two died they got on past him faster than you can say boo. No. The old fart wants to drive me crazy because he knows I never liked him and he never liked me. Hell, no one ever liked him! You hear that, Grandpa? You always were a pain in the ass and you still are a pain in the ass!” Sara lifted her cane up in the air, shaking it.

  “Gosh. Well.” Okay, so what do you say to that? Nikki had no clue, but she was ready to hightail it outta there. Listening to the ranting of a ninety-year-old was not exactly what she wanted to be doing at this point, and she didn’t need anyone else walking into the office and seeing her there. She got the feeling that Sara might be old, and even strange, but not stupid. Nikki couldn’t help wondering if Sara hadn’t seen more of what she had been doing in the den than she’d let on. Nikki knew there was a good possibility that Sara may have seen those pictures herself. Someone had. “I’ve got to go. Thank you for everything. I am terribly sorry for your loss.”

  “What loss? I never liked that blonde pickpocket hussy anyway. Good riddance. Maybe if we’re lucky she grabbed grandpa on her way out of here and took him to hell with her.”

  “Right. Good night.” Nikki wanted to leave that comment and Sara as quickly as possible.

  She met Derek at the car and before long they were on their way home.

  “You’re sure quiet,” he said as they drove back over the pass.

  “A lot happened tonight.” She’d already decided not to say anything to him about the photos she’d found. She knew Derek wasn’t crazy about her occasional side job of wine country snoop.

  “It did. I’m sorry you found Susan like that. It must’ve been terrible for you.”

  “It appears I have some sort of magnet that attracts me straight to dead bodies.” She tried to laugh at her own macabre joke, but couldn’t.

  Neither did Derek. “I really didn’t want things to go this way tonight. I wanted us to be able to talk and laugh, dance . . . you know. We’re always so focused on our business and since I haven’t replaced Gabriel with a new winemaker yet, I’ve been busy trying to do it myself.”

  “I know. It’s okay.”

  He sighed. “Do you want to stop off at Hurley’s for a late supper? We can catch up. I’ve missed visiting with you.”

  Nikki knew what he meant. Since the loss of the Malveaux Estate winemaker shortly after Nikki came to work at the winery, he’d buried himself in his work. Nikki was so new that she’d taken his lead and worked constantly herself, learning everything she could about the wine business. When she’d first started working for him, they’d taken some time to hang out in the evenings and share dinners, while he educated her on winemaking and grape growing. The industry fascinated her and so did Derek Malveaux. But he was always the gentleman and never took it any further than the casual business relationship they shared. However, Nikki knew at least for her, that something was bubbling inside her for Derek and she wished that he felt the same way toward her. She’d realized soon after taking the job at Malveaux that he would need time to get over some of the rough stuff that had gone on in his life in the recent past, including an ugly divorce. And she’d decided he was worth the wait.

  “What do you say?”

  She wanted to. She really, really wanted to, but she also wanted to sort out in her mind what she’d seen in those pictures inside the envelope at the Waltman Castle. “Tell you what. We’re both tired. Why don’t you come back to the cottage with me for a nightcap and some snacky stuff? You like Saturday Night Live?”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Once inside Nikki’s cottage she poured them each a glass of chilled pinot noir.

  “Look at you,” Derek commented when she handed him the glass. “You continue to amaze me.”

  “What, with chilling the red wine?”

  He nodded and took a sip.

  “I recently read a small article in one of the wine magazines about which reds taste good chilled. This one topped the list.”

  “I can see why, with the strawberry and floral notes. I think the chilling enhances it. What do you think that floral note is?”

  Nikki brought the glass to her nose and inhaled the bouquet of the wine. “Violet, maybe?”

  “I think you’re right. I like this idea. Maybe we should see how our zin would taste chilled.”

  “I think it would be good.” Nikki went back to the kitchen and set her wine down on the center isle in the kitchen. Alrighty. She rubbed her han
ds together and then opened her fridge, finding what she was looking for—a roasted chicken. She roasted at least one a week and made it one of her staples. This one was perfect for what she was about to do because she’d roasted it in an ancho chili rub.

  Derek walked over to her and reaching around her set his wine next to hers. Having him so close inside her cottage sent her nerves churning. “Can I help you do anything?”

  “Um, sure. Grab a knife if you don’t mind peeling and slicing a couple of those mangoes.” She pointed to the ripe tropical fruit in a bowl.

  He selected three of them and the next thing Nikki knew, Derek was performing a juggling act for her. She opened her mouth and covered her laughter with her hand. “I would’ve never guessed.”

  “Yes, it’s true, I’m a closet juggler.” He dropped one of the ripe mangoes, which went splat on the floor. “Wait, let me change my title, I’m a world-class juggler.” They both laughed. Derek set the other two mangoes on the kitchen island. “I think maybe I should stick to winemaking.”

  “There does seem to be more money in that, and I hate to tell you, but it doesn’t appear juggling is going to be your claim to fame.” Nikki grabbed a dish towel off the counter and bent down to wipe it up. He bent down too, scraping the fruit into his palm. He looked at her and their laughter subsided.

  “Here, let me do that.” Taking the towel from her hands he finished wiping up the mess on the floor.

  Nikki stood and fanned herself with her hands, then grabbed her glass of wine and took a big gulp. Good thing it was chilled. Derek finished cleaning the mess and started peeling the mangoes. Nikki cut up an avocado and some scallions and then placed the ingredients over some mesclun. “Okay, I’m ready for those mangoes.”

  “Me, too,” he replied and then went suddenly bright red.

  Nikki opened the fridge and stuck her head inside to find a lime, figuring her face was as red as his, and not wanting him to see. It was funny how they seemed to always do that with each other. Those double entendres. For goodness’ sakes, innocent words should not make a grown man and woman blush.

  Nikki squeezed the lime on top of the mangoes, then mixed all of the ingredients together with some oil and balsamic. All in less than ten minutes a fairly healthy gourmet dinner was created.

  “Nice night, should we take it outside?” Derek suggested.

  “Why not? Let me get my sweater.” She went back into her bedroom and slipped out of the spectacular sea green Calvin she’d worn. She pulled on a pair of light blue cashmere sweats Aunt Cara had indulged her with last Christmas, the label on the inside reading Juicy. It made Nikki smile. How could you not feel good in something cashmere with the name Juicy on it? Even better—they were in a size small, a size she worked hard for everyday with the jogging and the Tae Bo, and those Firm tapes with the steps and weights. Those were some evil women on those tapes. But right now those insane “step up, step down, lift your leg to the side and do the samba up and over the two-foot step” tyrants were freaking goddesses because Nikki’s ass was fitting right into those Juicy sweats.

  When she came back out, Derek had not only taken the food and wine onto the front porch, but he’d lit candles all around and had put her Jack Johnson CD on the stereo.

  “Hope you don’t mind. This is such a great CD. I always wanted to learn to play the guitar. This guy is really good.” He was sitting on the porch in her wicker love seat. The dinner plates were in front of him on a matching table.

  “Of course I don’t mind. But I have to give you some advice about learning to play the guitar. If your musical talent parallels your juggling ability, then don’t do it. Just listen to someone else play.”

  “Harsh. Very, very harsh.”

  She laughed and sat down next to him, brushing up against his bare arm. He’d rolled up the sleeves on his button-down shirt after taking off his jacket and tie.

  “Soft. Nice,” he said. “Your outfit I mean, because you are a mean woman.”

  “Yes, well, it is something I pride myself in. I promise I’ll be sweet for the rest of the night, but I can’t promise what might happen when the clock strikes midnight.” She picked up her wine glass, which he refilled. “You sure know how to treat a girl.” She bit her lip the minute the sentence rolled off her tongue. God, how dumb could one sound? She hadn’t been a girl for over twenty years.

  “Yeah, no kidding, especially after taking you to a wedding where the bride dies and you find her.”

  Thank God, his comeback was almost as dumb as hers. “It was really weird finding her like that.”

  “Let’s not talk about it.”

  He raised his glass for a toast. “To you.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “Why not? You’ve lasted here for half a year, and you deserve a toast after what these past months have thrown your way. After tonight, I figure I better at least toast you, because, if I were you, I’d be running from the wine country as fast as I could.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. Not much scares me away.”

  “So we’ll drink to you, my unafraid, ever curious um . . .”

  “Assistant?”

  “No. Friend.”

  She brought her glass up. “I’ll drink to that.”

  They clinked their crystal together. She couldn’t help but follow Derek’s lips from the time they touched the glass until he moved it away. And when his eyes caught hers, she could’ve sworn he’d been watching her in the same way.

  “So, what’s up with you and Andrés?” he asked, setting his wine glass down.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “What do I mean? Like you don’t know? Come on, Nikki, I’ve seen the way he looks at you and I’ve also seen the way he hugs you and always gives you that almost too-nice of a kiss on your cheek, whether it’s to say hello or goodbye.”

  Was someone jealous here? If she didn’t know better, she’d think that maybe Derek had been bitten by the green-eyed monster. “We’re just friends. That’s all. Like you and me.”

  Derek raised his eyebrows in mock pretense. “If that’s what you think, I mean about you and Andrés, then you’re blind, because he is after you.”

  “I think you’ve got it wrong there. How is your love life going, by the way? Tara Beckenroe still chasing you around town at every opportunity?”

  “The blonde devil? Yeah, she’s a royal pain.”

  “No kidding. Talk about somebody who has the hots for someone. She’s not going to give up until she sinks those phony acrylic claws in you.”

  “She’ll have to do it after I’m dead and six feet under, because Tara Beckenroe is certainly not my type.”

  Nikki looked pointedly at him. His comment getting her interest. “What is your type?”

  Derek leaned back against the sofa. “That’s a loaded question. I haven’t thought much about it since Meredith,” he replied, referring to his ex-wife. “Tell me, is Andrés Fernandez your type?”

  “You don’t get off that easy. You didn’t answer my question. And I don’t know if Andrés is my type. I mean, do we really have to have types? Isn’t falling in love or liking someone and falling for them more of a natural progression than simply type casting, and searching out that perfect ‘type,’ or what you think is that perfect type? At my age . . .”

  “Oh right, you’re so old.”

  She socked him lightly on the shoulder. “You know what I’m saying. At least for women in their late thirties and on, forming relationships takes a different path than it once did. In your twenties it’s all about who is the hot guy, but I’m finding that friendship and a building of trust is what creates a real attraction.” What a bunch of crap. The fact was, yeah Derek was a great guy and someone she felt close to because they’d built a friendship, but when it came down to it, he was not a hard man to look at. His baby blues, square jawline and tanned biceps were still the initial attraction.

  “I feel the same way, too.”

  “What a cop-out.”

&nbs
p; “Goes both ways,” Derek replied. “I’ll let you off the hook for now.”

  “Let me off the hook? Ha! You’re the one getting away with avoiding answering the third degree about relationships.”

  “It’s all a matter of point of view. I’ll change the subject. Let’s talk about your family.”