Ellen McKenzie 03-And Murder for Desser (7 page)

I didn’t say anything for a minute. I knew what he meant. I’d missed him, too. Long, lazy evenings, waking up the next morning with him warm beside me, sharing coffee and the news paper over my kitchen table, those things hadn’t been the same with Mark and Sabrina wandering through the house. I’d loved those times. Oh, Dan had continued to stay a couple of nights a week, and I’d spent a few nights at his condo, but that hadn’t worked out. His next-door neighbor, Mrs. Bloom, a friend of my mother’s, made a point of being on her front porch each time I left. I felt as if I were back in high school. It wasn’t much better at my house. Moving over politely for Mark and Sabrina in the kitchen, making sure we didn’t dawdle in the bathroom, ignoring closed bedroom doors, having to get dressed for breakfast. I knew exactly what he meant and looked forward to having my home back, and, sometimes, to being in it by myself.

“You see me every day,” I said.

“We’re never alone,” he said. “I like cuddling with you on the couch, watching dumb movies and eating ice cream.”

“We still do that.” Blast the man. He made me feel guilty because, deep down, I suspected I’d used Mark and Sabrina to slow things down. I loved Dan, but our wedding date was roaring toward me like a freight train run amuck.

“Yeah, but then I either go home or tiptoe around like some intruder. I like going to bed with you and getting up with you,” he said pointedly. “I like talking to you at midnight without wondering if I’m waking anyone else, and I don’t like sharing a bathroom. With anyone but you, that is.” He reached over and ran his finger slowly down my jaw and under my chin, tilting my face up toward his. “Nothing’s been the same.” He dropped his hand and looked away from me. “Anyway, I’m glad they’ve found a place. Do you think they need help moving?”

I stared at Dan for a moment, then burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“You,” I managed. “You’re as transparent as tissue paper!”

“Maybe so, but Ellie, if they’re out on Saturday, maybe Sunday we could.”

“So, this is where you’re hiding.”

The voice in my ear almost made me jump out of my skin.

“Hello, Carlton,” Dan said. If it were true looks could kill, Carlton would be in his coffin on his way to the grave.

“Isn’t this a wonderful dinner?” boomed Carlton, oblivious to danger. “And the wines!” He held up a glass with a little red wine in the bottom, made a show of holding it to his nose, then inexpertly swirled it. “What a stroke of luck Mildred wanted to sell,” he said, oozing self-satisfaction.

“And another that you had cash in your pocket, just ready to buy,” I said in my sweetest voice. Dan smothered a nasty laugh.

“Yes. It was,” Carlton answered. The look he gave me was uncertain, almost scared, but he quickly replaced it with his usual overconfident one. “I’d gone over to Mildred’s to see if she wanted to sell her house, we got to talking, and the next thing I knew, I was a winery partner.”

“You told me.” Carlton didn’t notice the sarcasm in my voice.

Dan did. “I thought you weren’t in real estate anymore,” he said, but it was me he looked at. I could tell he was holding back a laugh.

“I do a few deals,” Carlton said, examining his wine instead of looking Dan in the face. “Special ones.”

“Didn’t I read that you represented Otto when he bought the old Adams house?”

“No,” I corrected Dan. “Carlton had the listing. He represented the sellers.” I remembered how surprised everyone in my office had been when we found out Carlton had gotten the listing on that wonderful antique mansion. Not only was Carpenter Real Estate a one-man office, but old Mrs. Adams had hated him. Something to do with one of her granddaughters when we were all in high school.

“I had both the buyer and seller. It wasn’t fun,” he said, frowning.

That I was willing to believe. I wondered if his commission had bought his winery shares.

“I don’t see how you got the parking requirements met for a restaurant,” Dan went on. “The town is usually pretty strict about that.”

Carlton’s eyes shifted, and he swallowed hard. Our whole office had wondered about that parking, but there would be no answer tonight. Parking was not what Carlton wanted to talk about.

“Ellen, I told you Mark had stolen wine. What do you think now?”

“Mark didn’t steal anything,” I said in my coldest tone. “You heard him. It was a misunderstanding.”

“I’m not so sure,” Carlton said slowly, looking at everything but us. “You know, there are some pretty important people who are partners in Silver Springs. Cappy Lewis, the western singer, Nona Pickert, who was in that movie, some period thing.”

That was about all I could take. “She was in
Pride and Prejudice
and won the Oscar. What’s your point?”

“Well, I feel responsible. After all, I live here. No one else does. Why, we could get robbed blind if someone doesn’t keep an eye out. Dan, I thought you could do some kind of background check. Don’t you think that’s a good idea?” Carlton was back to his pompous self.

“No.” Dan didn’t bother to soften the single word. “Whatever happened is between Mark and Ian Applby. If he’s satisfied with Mark’s explanation, then you should be, also.”

Carlton flushed a little. Embarrassment? Frustration? Anger? I didn’t care. The man irritated me in the best of circumstances, and irritation was about to give way to plain mad.

“Well!” Carlton glared at both of us. We glanced at each other before looking blandly back at him. He repeated, “Well! Then I will take this matter up with my partner.” He turned on his heel and walked back to the group, many of whom were starting up the stairs.

“What a jerk,” I said.

“He gets first prize,” Dan agreed.

“Mr. Applby seems like a reasonable man. I wonder how he feels about Carlton as a partner.”

“If the expression he’s worn all night is any indication, he’s less than thrilled. I think he’s already discovered that Carlton’s a not-too-bright, name-dropping leech.”

I burst out laughing. “No one can ever accuse you of not calling them as you see them.” But my amusement didn’t last long. I watched Carlton disappear into a small group of people and watched a couple of them fade off into other groups who had started back up the stairs into the dining room. “Poor Mark. Poor Sabrina. First Otto, now Carlton.”

“I wonder,” Dan said, “what do you suppose that whole wine stealing thing was all about?”

“What? Is this the policeman in you showing through? Mark wouldn’t do anything like that and you know it.”

Dan slipped my arm through his and said, “I’m sure you’re right. Shall we go upstairs and partake of lamb?”

We, too, climbed the stairs, laughing as we reentered the dining room, but tucked away in the back of my head was a little thought: What had happened at Mark’s last job?

Chapter Six

Aunt Mary was the only one at the table.

“Where’s Frank?” I asked her. “He hasn’t had his hands off you since we arrived.”

“Really, Ellen.” Her tone was reproving, but there was a little self-satisfaction in those blue eyes. We never outgrow flattery, and if it comes by way of a handsome man, or woman, so much the better.

“Where is Frank?” asked Dan. “And everyone else? Don’t tell me they’re not coming back for the second act.”

“We should be so lucky,” I said.

We seated ourselves, and Dan started to count the new wineglasses on the table, shaking his head, and mumbling a little.

“For heavens sake,” I told him. “There are two more courses and then dessert, and there are eight people. Makes for a lot of glasses.”

I looked around the room, wondering if I should excuse myself and check on Sabrina, when I spotted Carlton boring a small group that contained our state senator and the newly elected mayor, who looked longingly at his chair. Ah, the trials of public office.

“Where is everybody?” I asked again.

“Jolene was in the ladies’ earlier. Trying to put on fresh lipstick.” Aunt Mary’s own lips pursed a little.

“Let’s hope she hasn’t passed out in one of the stalls,” Dan said. “Sabrina wouldn’t be pleased.”

“Really, Dan,” said Aunt Mary.

He grinned. So did I. “It will be interesting to read her review of this dinner,” I said, “since she hasn’t had more than three bites of it.”

“You can tell a lot from three bites,” Dan said, laughing.

“Where is everybody?” It was Ian Applby’s turn to ask as he sat down, nodding to each of us. “Ah, yes, there’s Carpenter. And Miss Bixby? Has anyone, ah—?”

“Last spotted in the ladies’,” I said irreverently. I heard a soft “meow” from Dan’s direction. I ignored it.

“Good, good. And Frank? Where is he?” Ian Applby addressed this to Aunt Mary, who flushed faintly.

“I lost track of Frank right after Mark’s wonderful talk. I met the Jensens. I had no idea they came to these things, and we got to chatting, and well, I haven’t seen Frank since.”

“A fine man, Frank,” Ian Applby said. “I’ve known him for years. I can’t for the life of me understand why he sold Tortelli’s. That restaurant was his life’s blood.”

I wanted to know more about Frank and his restaurant, but before I had a chance to ask there was a voice in my ear. “Ellen. There you are.” A hand rested on my shoulder. I jumped badly. Thank goodness there was no glass in my hand. “Hello, Mrs. McGill, Mr. Applby, Dan. Ellen, how do you like the dinner so far?”

It was Larry Whittaker. I had forgotten all about him, but here he was, smiling that proprietary little smile.

“It’s wonderful, Larry.”

“Good. I’m especially looking forward to your opinion of the dessert. That is my creation, no matter what Otto says. You will let me know how you like it?”

“Of course.” I barely got that out before he rushed away. His hat didn’t bob as much as Otto’s. Why, I wondered, but quickly decided I didn’t want to find out.

“It seems you have an admirer,” Ian Applby smiled.

“No. Larry and I knew each other in high school, that’s all.” I took a look at Dan out of the corner of my eye. He wasn’t paying attention to us. Instead, he was looking at the picture window that looked out on the wine tanks.

“Did you know there’s some kind of catwalk up around the top of those tanks?” Dan asked.

“Yes,” I answered.

“You can barely see it. I’ll bet you can see the whole cellar floor from that window, though,” he went on. “What a great idea. You can watch the winemaker, or whoever, do whatever he does.”

Mr. Applby smiled. “It’s especially interesting when they are blending the wine, putting the raw juice into the tanks, or emptying the tanks into the barrels. You can watch the whole thing from the comfort of the tasting room, glass of the finished product in hand.”

I thought Dan was going to get up and take in the view, but the waiters were filling glasses and serving plates. The lamb course kept him in his seat.

Jolene sat down, fresh lipstick in place, followed immediately by Carlton.

“I was talking to the mayor,” he began in a ponderous tone.

“We saw you,” said Dan. He took his first bite of lamb. It must have been good. He paused, took another bite, and smiled.

Aunt Mary examined Jolene carefully and said, “Are you all right? You were a long time in the bathroom.”

Jolene looked startled. “I’m fine, just fine.” She reached for her wineglass. “It was my hair. It just wouldn’t cooperate at all. You know how that is.” She smiled at me.

I wasn’t prepared for that little barb, so my usual snappy comeback didn’t come. Dan, however, came to the rescue. He leaned over the table toward Jolene. “Tell us your opinion of the meal, so far. Is this up to Otto’s usual standard?”

Jolene, who hadn’t as yet tasted anything on her plate, looked a little surprised and quickly snatched up a fork, gingerly dipping it in the sauce. She hadn’t had a chance to do more than that when Frank slid into his place, looking harried. He was followed closely by Mark.

“What have we here?” Frank took a deep breath and picked up his fork. “Hmm. Lamb, the sauce is a little tricky. You can overdo the mint. Stir-fried vegetables, they don’t look too bad, and Mark’s wine. Shall we try it?”

We did. Conversation stopped. The lamb disappeared; the fromage course arrived, and all plates, except Jolene’s, were empty before it started again.

I had leaned back a little in my chair, blocking out the talk, when I saw Sabrina. She was outside the now closed French doors, waving at me frantically.

“What now?” I pushed back my chair.

“Where are you going?” asked Aunt Mary.

“Outside. I need a little air.” Sabrina was still signaling, but with more gestures. Now her finger was over her lips, and she was shaking her head. Then she pointed to me and shook her head some more. Evidently I was to come alone.

“I’ll come with you,” offered Dan. His back was to the doors and he hadn’t spotted Sabrina.

“I’ll be right back.” I smiled brightly at his puzzled face and headed for the doors. Sabrina had disappeared.

“What’s going on?” Sabrina was over by the railing, looking down at the crush pad. There was a tray with several empty glasses on our picnic table.

“Look.” The tragedy in her voice would have made Lady Macbeth proud. “Tell me I’m seeing things, because I don’t want to believe this.”

“Believe what?” I walked toward the edge of the deck, to where one side of the gate that had been securely fastened a short time ago now swung open, and looked down. She didn’t have to explain, and she wasn’t seeing things. There was Otto, half submerged in the fermenting tank, the thick cap the only thing keeping him from sinking. One side of his head dripped a trickle of bright blood into the duller, dark red juice. His tall hat, no longer white, lay quietly beside him. On his other side was the champagne bottle.

“Oh my God,” I got out.

“Mark will be so upset,” Sabrina said, shock making a blank mask of her face. “I don’t think they will be able to use that wine now.”