Murder Uncorked Page 6

  “Hello?” She had the choice to get out of there fast or do what she’d done yesterday and see who was behind the crashing noise she’d heard. Should she go and see what the hell had happened in the back room, or run? Common sense told her to run, but her curiosity took hold, and just like an idiotic teenage girl in a bad horror flick, Nikki couldn’t control herself.

  She flung open the door leading to the back room, where the wines were stored. Several of the bottles were shattered on the ground. A mixture of glass and pale yellow and red liquids swam together, blending into a dark pink.

  She looked around. There was no one in sight in the small room. It was necessary to walk carefully around the rows of wine bottles stacked on racks, because they could be knocked over with little difficulty. Someone had just been in here. Either the wines had been deliberately destroyed, or knocked off accidentally while someone attempted to get out. She carefully treaded around the shards of broken glass. Something in the mix that didn’t fit caught her eye. It was a small piece of gold. She bent down and picked it out from among the broken glass and wine. Holding it up to the light, Nikki saw that it was a gold charm piece. Strange as it was, it was a half of one of those charms in the shape of a heart. One friend took half of the heart with “best” on it, and the other friend took the part that read “friends.” She’d shared one almost exactly like it with her friend Tessa back home when she was a little girl. They’d saved up all summer working a lemonade stand when they were six and bought it as a gift for each other that Christmas. Seeing this one tugged at her own heart. Child Protective Services had removed Tessa from her home only two months after that. Nikki never saw her again.

  All the same, the charms were kind of a hokey thing to have. Nikki held the “best” half of the charm in her palm and realized her faux pas as she did. She’d picked up what could be evidence. Not a smooth move. Because she’d made the move without thinking first, she decided that maybe she’d leave the police out of this. She didn’t want to get into any trouble. Besides who was to say that she was in harm’s way in the first place? And furthermore, that the trinket in her hand meant anything to anyone?

  Whoever had been inside the stockroom may not have even known she was in there. Who was she kidding? If that were the case, then knocking over the wines wouldn’t have necessarily caused someone to run . . . unless they were stealing a bottle of wine for themselves, or maybe they didn’t want to get busted for killing several good bottles of vino. That had to be it. Yep. No need to alert the cops.

  Nikki could see the door the intruder escaped through, which now stood wide open. Whoever had been here had left in a hurry. She pocketed the charm, feeling that whoever had been inside the stockroom had definitely been watching her and Derek. Then a chilling notion came over her as she realized she didn’t have the Peeping Tom vibe when Derek was around. She fidgeted with the charm. She didn’t want to think what she was thinking, but the thought refused to be shoved aside. What if it had been Derek who’d been in the stockroom, taking a peek at her? He’d left only moments earlier. He could’ve easily snuck around through the back. She didn’t know why he would do that, unless he didn’t trust her for some reason. The goose bumps on her arms prickled as the hairs on the back of her neck rose. Maybe Derek Malveaux was the one with something to hide.

  Chapter 6

  Derek pulled into the police station parking lot. He hadn’t liked the sound of Jeanine Wiley’s voice on the telephone, telling him that the chief had a few questions for him. He’d known Jeanine all her life, and she’d never spoken to him like that.

  Jeanine’s father had worked for the winery as a security guard years ago, after he’d retired from the force in San Francisco. The winery had fallen victim to a few break-ins back in the early ’90’s, specifically in the tasting room, where a hoodlum who knew good art was stealing it and selling it cheap. Old Raymond Wiley had caught the thief, and they hadn’t had any problems since—not until now.

  Derek stepped out of his Range Rover. He spotted his brother’s silver convertible with Marco in the driver’s seat. Derek sighed and walked over to him.

  “What are you doing here?” Derek could at times appreciate Marco’s sense of humor, but for the most part was usually aggravated by the presence of his brother’s partner. Marco had a knack for stirring up all sorts of gossip and chaos at the winery, just for his own entertainment. He’d given Derek more than a few headaches. He was looking forward to Marco and his brother flying off for their annual fashion shows.

  “Oh, hello, Derek. It is so terrible what has happened to our poor winemaker? No?” he said in his thick Italian accent.

  Derek ignored the “our” part. Marco had no say or proprietorship in the vineyard. “Let me ask you again—what are you doing here?”

  Marco shrugged in an exaggerated fashion. “I am thinking that I am doing the same thing here that you are doing here. I had to bring Simon over to answer some questions. He is so saddened and angry about this horrible killing. That Jeanine Wiley policewoman called him in for a talk. You do not think they will want to speak with me?” Marco pulled out a cigarillo from an expensive leather holder.

  “I think you’re probably on the list somewhere. I’m sure they’re speaking with anyone and everyone who was at the winery yesterday.”

  Marco lit the cigarillo. The bitter stench wafted into the crisp air. Derek took a step back from the car. “Well.” He waved the smoke around with his hand. “I do not know why they would ask me a question. I do not know anything. I have nothing to say. Do you think they will want speak to your new amante?”

  This fool was priceless. “She’s not my lover. She’s considering taking employment with the winery.”

  “Hmmm. Vintner, perhaps? No?”

  Derek ignored the remark, turning to walk away.

  “Derek, you need to be careful with what people are saying. There is a tale traveling at the winery that says you may have had a reason to send Gabriel to meet the angels.”

  Derek kept walking, refusing to buy into the viciousness Marco was peddling—the kind of bullshit Derek knew could cause him problems.

  He walked up to the reception area and was told to take a seat, that someone would be with him in a moment. A few minutes later, he watched as the redheaded Jeanine Wiley showed his brother out of an interrogation room. The two of them came his way. Simon wore a smirk on his face. Derek remembered a brief time, when Simon was only a toddler, that he actually thought his brother had an angelic face; now, it looked anything but, with his high cheekbones and spite radiating from his eyes—spite Derek knew was directed solely at him.

  Derek stood. “Hey, little brother.”

  Simon kept walking. “Hey, yourself,” he said, his tone singsong and dripping with sarcasm. “Be careful in there. Watch what you say.” Simon turned around and winked at him.

  Jeanine Wiley looked at Derek curiously. Derek shook his head. He didn’t have time for this, not today.

  “Follow me, Mr. Malveaux,” Jeanine said.

  “Jeanine, you can call me Derek. I’ve known you since you were in diapers.”

  She lowered her voice. “Not here. I’m working. I’m a professional, you know.”

  Derek smiled at her, following her into the same room where she’d questioned Simon. He could still smell his brother’s strong cologne—some overrated, grossly expensive stuff he special-ordered from France every month. That was his brother, always figuring that if something cost more, it must be the best.

  Seated at the far end of the table was Police Chief Horn. Stan Horn had been the police chief in Napa Valley for the past thirty years. Even at sixty-five, Stan would probably have to be forced out. With his grandfatherly face, crinkly lines across the forehead and around his eyes and mouth, and head full of white hair, Stan Horn’s resemblance to Santa Claus didn’t go unnoticed by many. His hair was all white, but all there. Stan also had warm brown eyes, and a smile that drew people in to smile right along with him. But he wasn’t
smiling now. “Have a seat, Derek.”

  Derek sat in one of the cold metal chairs and crossed his arms in front of him. “What can I do for you, Chief?”

  “You got yourself quite a problem out there at the vineyard.”

  Derek nodded. “What do you know about Gabriel’s murder?”

  The chief set his gnarled hands on the table and folded them together. He sat up straight in his chair. “How about you tell me what you know?”

  “I told you what I know yesterday,” Derek replied calmly.

  “You were in your house filling out some paperwork for the winery, after escorting Miss. . . .” The chief glanced down through his spectacles at his notepad. “Miss Sands to the guest cottage.”

  “Yes. I was finishing up paperwork I needed to complete before I could travel to Europe with an extensive wine collection. I’d like to take it to London next year to sell, which requires a list for shipment, and that’s what I was doing. The deadline to get it in is early next week.”

  “No one can vouch for you, or was with you at that time, when you were filling out this paperwork?” Chief Horn asked.

  “Unless you consider Oliver someone, which I do, but as far as a human someone goes? No. I was alone. What’s this all about, Stan? You’re not considering me a suspect, are you?”

  “You know I can’t rule out anyone, and there’s a situation here I have to discuss with you, which is rather delicate. You may want an attorney present.”

  “I don’t need an attorney, Stan. I haven’t done anything wrong. I loved Gabriel like a brother. He was the main reason for Malveaux’s success. The last thing I would want would be to see him dead. Ask your questions. I have nothing to hide.”

  The chief shifted his head from side to side. Derek heard his neck crack. “Were you aware that Gabriel had a job offer out at Sumner Winery?”

  “Cal was always trying to woo him. Gabriel never would’ve gone. Cal doesn’t have much to offer a winemaker like Gabriel. Certainly not the money. Besides, Gabriel was totally loyal.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Positive. Who told you this, anyway?”

  “That’s confidential.”

  “Right.” Derek figured that it was Simon who’d been doing all the talking.

  “We do have it on good authority that Gabriel was considering another position, and that you and he had recently had a row of some sort.”

  Derek shifted in his chair. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “You didn’t accuse him of any underhandedness going on at the winery, like maybe skimming the profits?”

  “I’m not going to deny that I suspect that someone is taking money from the accounts. They don’t add up, and both Minnie and I have been confused by it. But as far as Gabriel was concerned, I didn’t consider him the culprit. I did ask him what he thought about it.”

  “What did he say? Did he get upset?”

  Derek shook his head. “I don’t believe this. Yeah, okay, he did get a bit defensive. Why? I don’t know. But we talked about it later and cleared the air. I never meant him to take it the wrong way.”

  “There’s something else we need to talk about.”

  Derek stared at the chief. He had a feeling he knew what was coming next.

  “Meredith.”

  “I know the rumors. They’re not true,” Derek insisted, waving his hand, dismissing the suggestion.

  “You sure about that? More than one story going around says that they are true, and that the two of them were carrying on during your marriage, and that they only recently had a falling out.”

  “I know Meredith was not faithful to me, and that in itself is a total embarrassment. The fact that she’s still residing on my vineyard is an even bigger embarrassment. I don’t believe that my friend had anything to do with her. But even if he had, trust me, it would’ve been her I would’ve killed, not Gabriel.” Derek was sorry he’d said that, the minute the words escaped between his lips. The chief looked at him with disbelief. Maybe he should have had a lawyer present. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. This is all so crazy. You’ve known me for a very long time.”

  “Since you were a boy.” The chief nodded.

  “Right. Do you really think I’m capable of murder?”

  The chief didn’t answer right away. He sucked in his breath and finally said, “No, son, I don’t think you’re capable of murder. But there are some signs, and they aren’t good ones, I have to say, that point in your direction.”

  “You’re listening to hearsay and gossip.”

  “That’s about all I’ve got to go on for now.”

  “Fine.” Derek stood up. “If you don’t need me any longer, I have a fund-raiser to prepare for.”

  “Yes, indeed. Grace and I’ll be there, in honor of your mother.”

  “Thank you.”

  Derek walked to the door. The chief called out after him. “Be careful, son. I don’t think you’re capable of murder, but someone on that vineyard is, and my gut says it might be someone trying to set you up.”

  Derek closed the office door behind him and headed for the front entrance. Jeanine Wiley lifted her head and gave him a wan smile.

  He got behind the wheel of his car and couldn’t help wondering if the chief was right. Was someone trying to set him up? If so, who and why? Well, there were people with reasons. For starters, his own family. Simon couldn’t stand being low man on the totem pole. Could Simon have murdered Gabriel with the intention of setting Derek up? He knew Simon loathed him, but was he intelligent enough to plan and execute a murder, and then divert the focus from himself and frame his brother?

  Then there was his stepmother, who despised him for the same reasons his brother did. Derek knew that his father’s will stated that if Derek were incapable of running the vineyard, then his percentage would fall into the hands of Patrice, and she would finally have total control. Being behind bars would certainly cause him to lose his grip at the vineyard. However, like Simon, Patrice was no rocket scientist, either. As much as his relatives disliked him in control, he found it difficult to believe that they would go as far as murder. Then again, anything is possible.

  Craziness. Sheer and utter craziness, and now it was causing a sense of paranoia that disgusted Derek. He needed someone to talk to who had a brain and sound ideas. And if she had a gorgeous smile, well, all the better. That someone was Nikki Sands.

  Chapter 7

  After finding one of the maintenance crew to help clean up the mess in the wine room, Nikki headed back to the cottage. She took the charm from her pocket, fingering it, then tucked it away inside her travel bag.

  She kept coming back to the theory that she and Derek had discussed before her scare in the wine-tasting room. Nikki refused to believe that Derek had any part in the murder or anything else that had gone on since she’d been at the vineyard. What she couldn’t shake from her head was the idea that Gabriel had made an enemy of Andrés Fernandez, and why. She looked at a map of Napa Valley that was hanging in the living area of the cottage.

  Spaniards’ Crest was only a mile away. Good. She’d kill two birds with one stone. She’d clear her head by taking a run down to Spaniards’ Crest Estate. Hopefully Andrés Fernandez would be around and willing to talk with her.

  “Okay, Oliver, I’m going to need some backup. You game?” The dog cocked his head to the side. “How about this, then? You wanna go? Wanna go for a run?” These particular words elicited a response, as Oliver did a dog dance with a twirl that Nikki assumed meant “yippee, let’s go.”

  A few minutes after donning a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, with Oliver frolicking beside her, she set out for Spaniards’ Crest Estate. It was almost two o’clock, and the air was cool in the early-November afternoon. The sun shone through a small section of clouds and beat down on the blacktop, reflecting some warmth. The beauty of the surrounding area continued to amaze her as it had the day before. The autumn colors of olive, sienna, and rust weaved together like silken threads withi
n an intricate tapestry. Awe-inspiring and breathtaking in its glory, so much so that Nikki almost forgot where she was headed and why, until she spotted the sign in front of the Spaniards’ Crest Estate.

  Spaniards’ Crest was far less assuming than the mega-glamour of Malveaux Estate. Oaks and evergreens bordered the extended drive leading up to the Mission-style winery and estate home. Arches with fuchsia-colored bougainvillea growing tall and spreading across the adobe-tiled rooftops opened out into what looked to be a patio area. The baritone voices of the Gypsy Kings singing one of their Spanish melodies echoed through the covered arched hallway.